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bonjour-rainycity · 3 years

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Making Amends

Summary: Five years, you thought he was gone for good. After the War, he disappeared. Now, after months of zero contact, he shows up at your bridal salon. A somewhat bitter Reader and a post-FATWS Bucky

Pairing: Bucky x F!Reader

Word count: 2381

Warnings: Mentions of past violence and killings, adult language

I sigh, securing the train of the dress so it doesn’t drag against the floor. The dress is stunning, as they all are. This one—pouffy, ivory, grand—has a bateau neckline and falls to the floor in a long, glittering train.

The glitter gets everywhere.

I bend down, trying to wipe some of it off my pants leg, then work on my blazer. Every day, only black clothes. It’s tradition, but a stupid one — the glitter stands out on my clothes more than it does on the white dresses.

“Miss, someone’s here to see you.”

I grit my teeth, digging my hands into the fabric of the dress. The receptionist is young — barely out of her teens, really — and still quite new at her job. She, like others, disappeared on that awful day five and a half years ago.

The day I lost everything.

And she’s here today because of my friends’ sacrifices.

I try to remind myself to be patient. “We’re appointment only, Lydia. Tell her to call, make an appointment, and come back then.”

“R-right,” she stammers, and I can hear the bottoms of her heels scraping against the floor as she shifts her weight. “It’s just—well, he said it’s really important, and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

That gives me pause. He?

As a product manager at a bridal salon, my day is mostly spent in the company of women. Brides, their mothers, bridal parties, wedding planners, etc. There’s the occasional fiancé, father, brother, friend come to support, or a groom shopping for a dress, but overall, men tend to stand out.

“Fine, send him in,” I allow. It’s obvious he’s not listening to Lydia, but I know I’m more intimidating than she is. I’ll tell him to schedule an appointment. “And then do me a favor — there’s a list of designers on my desk upstairs. Can you give their offices a call and update the contact info for each brand representative?”

She sounds relieved. “Sure, no problem.”

As the sound of her heels meeting the ground fade away, I breathe in the sweet, floral-scented air. We’re under-booked today. There are only a few brides occupying our east fitting rooms, so I’ve decided to spend my afternoon in the west, making everything look perfect for the weekend ahead. Having this section alone — just me, the soft piano music playing over the speakers, and the dresses — is almost peaceful.

It would be peaceful if I were anyone else.

I continue to straighten the dresses. Everything needs to be perfectly spaced, meticulously tucked and folded to make each dress impressive in its own way. There’s no room for imperfection, here.

The sound of heavy boots clicking on the floor rings through the empty room. “Hey, Doll.”

My body runs cold.

That voice. I know it well.

My mind flashes to late nights, stealing smiles and kisses, tight hugs, adoring eyes.

And then falling to the ground in grief. Changing outfits to attend my second funeral of the day. His. And, after years of grieving, healing, and suffering through, one chance to fix it all. The joy of having him back. Locking eyes on the battlefield.

And then nothing.

Nothing.

All my air leaves me in one, quick, sigh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I turn, both dreading the sight and longing for it.

And just like that, standing between two rows of eggshell and pearl and ivory, he’s here.

Dark denim jeans, a deep blue shirt—long sleeve, knowing him—a grey button-up open on his chest, and two thick gloves, despite the summer heat.

I cross my arms.

He purses his lips together and raises his eyebrows, crossing one foot over the other casually. “So, bridal, huh?”

I feel my jaw clench. “I’ve got to make a living, don’t I? Evidently you do, too.” I can’t stop the bitterness from seeping into my voice.

He sighs that long-suffering sigh, one that tells me he’s more resigned than upset. “I wanted to come back.”

I turn my attention back to the dresses, walking down the row of gleaming white. “No one was stopping you.”

He turns to face me as I continue my inspection of each and every gown. “It’s not that simple. I—I was working hard. I had to get freed from him.”

I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to feel something. But of course, I do. Ever since I’ve known Bucky, he’s been wrecked by the things he’s done and terrified he’ll be called to do them again.

Terrified that he’ll lose his mind once again to the assassin.

When I saw him on TV, in a random news report from months ago, I’d broken down into sobs. I’d fallen to my knees and said prayer after prayer of thanks. Because the clouds had faded from his eyes. The fear, the ever-present dread, was gone. He stood taller, more assured —

Happier.

I knew then, that somehow, he’d gotten the Winter Soldier out.

I bend down, fluffing layers of crinoline in a ballgown. “You’ve been in the news.”

He hears the accusation in my voice. You’ve been back for months.

He approaches me slowly, coming to stand in front of me as I straighten. “I had a job to do.”

“What, the new Captain America doesn’t allow cell phones?”

He ignores the jab. “Doll, I had to wait to make sure, to be sure, but I’m safe, now. I’m not him anymore.”

“Bucky, I always felt safe with you,” I whisper, the emotion nearly winning. “I loved you more than anything. And despite what you said — that you loved me, too — you just left. Five years I waited for you. I didn’t think there was any way I would ever see you again, and then by some miracle, after so much loss, you came back! We fought in a war together. We killed. And we won. And then you disappeared. It’s been six months! I-I mean, I hate to think the worst, Bucky, but I really thought—” I cut off my words then, unable to continue without dissolving into tears.

His jaw tightens in that heartbreaking way it does when he’s sad, and he reaches forward. When I don’t protest to his gloved hand on mine, he pulls me into a hug. I want to melt into him. I want to collapse under nearly six years of unresolved grief, stress, worry, and let him hold me up, let him bear this burden for just a few minutes.

But that’s not the way I’m made.

I’ve entrusted my heart to him too many times.

And every time, I’m left alone and broken.

I push myself out of his arms, wiping my tears away quickly. Once again, the dresses act as my anchor, my distraction. I gather one in my arms, crossing the aisle to re-hang it in its proper place.

Bucky watches from a distance.

His hands are tucked into his pockets, and he looks at me sadly for a while before his eyes turn to the ground.

Silence falls between us. The only noises are the coos of elated brides and their adoring guests coming from the east side of the building.

After a while, Bucky raises his head towards me. “Does working here make you want it?”

I sigh. He can’t do that. Can’t come in here after so much time away with zero contact and then casually ask me stupid questions. “Want what?”

“You know,” he shrugs, leaning against the receptionist’s desk. “It. A wedding, a marriage, a…life.”

I purse my lips, shaking my head. I reach to adjust a hanger slightly out of my arm span, trying my hardest not to sound sad. “I’m not the kind of girl you marry, Buck. Not anymore.”

He scoffs, making a face. “What does that even mean?”

I turn on him, more than done with this conversation. “Exactly that! I see it every day — brides come in here, all starry-eyed, happy, innocent. They’ve got love, or at least the excitement of planning their ‘big day,’ and they just glow with all the life in them. I don’t have that, not anymore. I—” I lower my voice, gritting my teeth against the emotion that attempts to fight through. “I’ve killed people, Bucky. For a long period of time, that’s all I did. And, look, I’m really, really happy for you being able to heal and move on and be freed, but I can’t do that. I can’t come back from who I turned out to be.”

“That’s bullshit. You did what you had to do.” He pushes himself off the receptionist’s desk, adamant. “Every life you took was to stop the slaughter of others. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

“I can.”

We stare each other down.

He’s always had a good stare.

Steady, intimidating, unwavering. It’s like he can see into the depths of your soul and know he can outlast you.

But I work with furious mothers of the brides.

I raise an eyebrow, showing him I will not back down from this challenge.

He blinks and moves his gaze past my right shoulder. Something shifts in his eyes. “You’ve got a client.”

I force my expression to soften, maneuvering around Bucky to grab the clipboard from the receptionist’s desk. I give him a look that clearly says do not move, and hurry to the front door to welcome the bride and her guests in. Amidst the flurry of excited chatters, gushing about wedding plans, and a clear description of what she does not want, I check them in on the clipboard and take them to the east wing to meet a consultant. When I return, Bucky is exactly where I left him.

He smirks at me. “What the hell was that? Your voice rose like three octaves.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s called customer service.”

He shrugs, leaning against the desk in a way I should not find ridiculously attractive. “Well, why don’t I get any of that?”

I grit my teeth. “Because they are going to buy a dress, which will pay my salary, which will make me happy. You on the other hand, have caused me nothing but anger, sadness, and worry.” I blink, absently shocked that all that truth escaped despite my best efforts.

Something flashes in Bucky’s eyes—regret, maybe—but he covers it well, tilting his head to the side and keeping his playful tone. “Really? Nothing but that? Gosh, I must have been a terrible boyfriend.”

I dig my teeth into my lower lip, staring down at my clipboard. It’s been six months. You may as well continue with the honesty. You don’t know the next time you’ll have a change to talk to him like this. “Buck…” I approach him slowly, buying myself time. Too soon, I come to stand in front of him. “You were a great boyfriend. I…” I sigh, shaking my head. “I thought you were it. I didn’t want anyone else. And we were happy, overall. You know—up until you disappeared without so much as a text and ignored me for six months.”

A muscle twitches in his cheek. He leans forward, locking his eyes with mine. “We were good together. I loved you, more than anything, I—well Doll, I still love you. And look, I know I’ve messed up. In more ways than seems is humanly possible, but I,” he sighs, shaking his head. “I’m as clean as I’m ever gonna get. I shouldn’t have disappeared without warning. I should’ve called when I left Wakanda. I should’ve let you hear from me rather than seeing me on the news. I should’ve come back and done the work to rebuild what I broke. I’m sorry. I really am.”

I feel the clipboard digging into my stomach. I don’t move. I stare at him, terrified of the way his words, the honesty in his eyes, makes me react. Too easily, my walls are coming down. “What did you come here for?”

“I—just,” he digs his hands into his pockets, sighing lowly. “I’m back in town. And I’m here to stay for a while. If you’d allow it, I’d like to try to make amends.”

Don’t do it, I beg myself. Don’t set yourself up for more pain.

In the face of my silence, he nods slowly, taking on a look of sad understanding.

“I work till seven.” The words rush from my mouth before I can stop them, before I can think of the consequences. I grip the clipboard even tighter.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, the start of a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I nod, my heart racing at the prospect of being with him again, of maybe fixing things. “I live in the same apartment.”

He grins fully now, but at my stern look, attempts to wipe it off his face. I’m still mad at him, he shouldn’t get too comfortable yet.

But the light doesn’t leave his eyes and, despite my fear that this will all turn out terribly for me, I feel my own lips threatening to turn up.

He pushes himself off the desk, standing closer to me than I think either of us intended. “Can I take you out?”

I release a long breath, not moving from my spot despite our proximity. “Yes.”

He nods slowly, not pulling his gaze from mine. “It’s a date.”

“It’s a trial period,” I correct, unable to keep myself from teasing him a little.

He tilts his head to the side, laughing indulgently. “Alright, I deserve that. Then, sure, I’ll pick you up at eight for our trial period.”

He smirks cockily at me, winking in that way he knows makes my knees weak, before turning and swaggering to the door.

Despite our play, he’s not getting off this easy. There’s a lot we have to work through, and we might not even be compatible anymore — he knows that, too.

But for just this moment, I allow myself to enjoy feeling comfortable with him, joking like we used to. When his gloved hand reaches for the doorknob, I call after him, keeping my tone light. “You’re on thin fucking ice, Barnes.”

He turns his head to mine, nodding solemnly in a way I didn’t expect. “I know, Doll.”

A/n Whoops, couldn’t get this one out of my head after seeing Bucky in FATWS, so here’s some angst, bitterness, and hopefully a little hope!

|masterlist|

#fatws #fatws spoilers #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #reader x bucky #bucky fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #marvel #marvel fanfiction

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leafs-lover · 3 years

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If He's Lucky I'll Let Him Join

Part 6: Things shift

Series Masterlist

A/N: Sorry for the delay on this, hope you like it. I only plan on 2 maybe 3 more parts of this.

Warnings: Swearing, smut (oral female receiving) unprotected sex (wrap it kids), voyeurism, 18+

Word Count: 6600

April 8, 2021

A: Hey want to go for a walk with Felix and I?

You stare at your screen for a few minutes, the message sitting on read. Since giving Auston your number a week and a half ago he has text you three times. Two were pictures of Felix, and the third was a meme.

The Leafs had a few days off during that stretch, you saw Fred a little but you haven’t seen Auston since you left his house. You also haven’t told Fred about Auston, and since he hasn’t brought it up you don’t think Auston told him.

It’s not that you did anything wrong or cheated on Fred; you aren’t in a relationship, with either man. You haven’t talked about what you are, or where this is heading, if anywhere. The season is almost half over and you have no idea what will happen after that. Last time the season ended you barely heard from Fred for three months, and Auston almost 4.

When you agreed to sleep with Auston, you never specified it would only be with Fred, only in threesome situations. You never discussed the dynamics of you and Auston, and what the boundaries were. You know all of this.

Yet something feels wrong. Like you shouldn’t have done that behind Fred’s back and you shouldn’t keep doing it without with Fred knowing. That you should talk to Fred before you and Auston sleep together again, assuming you do sleep with him again. You don’t even know if you want to sleep with him when it’s just Auston. Not that you had a bad time, it was far from it. You just don’t know what it means, if anything.

There is so much you are uncertain of, all you know is how you felt about Fred last year. Things were going great, and you talked about summer plans. They were loose plans like being his plus 1 to a teammates wedding, going up to the Muskoka’s for a weekend with Mitch and Steph. He even mentioned a five day trip to Iceland, though that seemed unlikely to happen given the amount of planning required. But everything was heading towards a relationship until the world stopped.

And now a year later, the world is spinning. People are getting vaccinated everywhere except Canada; but they say they are coming, and the countries with vaccinated people are easing restrictions. Everything seems to be heading for a new normal, but where does that leave you and Fred?

Some nights you feel like a set of holes for him to use like target practice. But other times you wake up to Fred gently brushing your hair, legs tangled beneath the sheets placing soft kisses on your forehead or shoulder and you feel like so much more.

Intimate dinners.

Sex.

Cute text messages.

Sex.

Lazy Sundays.

Sex.

Bubble baths together.

Sex.

So much back and forth, it’s very confusing. And that’s just with Fred, you can’t even begin to understand the dynamic of Auston.

He has been a roller coaster, and not just the way he throws you around in bed. The first time he was dominant, but ended it with a soft kiss. The kiss lingered on your lips for days, your mind was swirling from it. Sometimes his eyes are dark and full of fire, but other times you get glimpses of him and that kiss.

Sure you had some feelings for Auston last year, but you told yourself they were feelings of lust. Completely, 100% sexually driven. But they were just feelings of sex right? Just the heat developing in your core from being around him fogging the sense and reason of your brain.

Auston finds moments to wrap his arms around you, placing soft kisses on your forehead or your lips. Doesn’t matter if Fred is in the other room or 5 feet away he will do it. While he drives his hard dick into your walls, he’ll have eyes dark with hunger. But after they are soft, and he doesn’t hesitate to lay soft and passionate kisses on your lips while Fred is lying inches beside you.

He exudes so much dominance, both men do. You are actually surprised it doesn’t turn into a pissing match with them, but they direct it all to you. They let you think you are in control, but the first chance they get they take over. Spilling words of venom, pulling orgasm after orgasm, juices coating their cocks and fingers.

The sight alone is enough to send you home with an ache between your legs. They are patient while you are with the other one, knowing their turn is coming. Not too patient though. But through all of it they don’t fight or get jealous of you.

Until last week ago that is, running into Auston in the elevator.

When he was hovering over you, kissing along the marks Fred had left earlier in the day, you got the feeling he was jealous you had spent time with him. You don’t know if it’s because he wasn’t there or that he didn’t like that you were sleeping with someone other than him, but he seemed bothered by it. But he would be naïve to think you and Fred only sleep together with him right?

An hour before that he was mumbling in your ear while cuddling on his couch. He looked at you like he wanted to hold you tight to his chest and never let you leave. Maybe it’s just a part of who he is, how he plays girls. You know he has a reputation around Toronto, besides his performance on the ice. There are rumours that over his first four seasons he has a revolving door of women while on road trips.

Obviously this year with Covid he has been much more mellow, no rumours or stories. But you don’t know if there is any truth to the rumours, you don’t know if he’s sleeping with other women. Not on road trips, the league has strict protocols in place for road teams. But at home they are supposed to follow local health guidelines. He could easily have another girl, and you are just someone he uses when called upon.

Maybe you are just a piece for him to bide his time with until restrictions are loosened, just an easy solution with the leagues COVID protocol’s. Or maybe he sees you as something more. Either way it’s all very convoluted.

Fingers hovering over your screen you mull over everything. Just before you go to type three little dots pop up as if he can sense your hesitation. You decide to wait before replying and are met with a selfie of him and Felix cuddling in bed, tattooed arm fully on display due to his lack of shirt. A “please play with me Y/N” text obviously supposed to be from Felix coming in immediately afterwards.

You can’t help the way your legs snap shut, rubbing together in search of friction. Or the involuntary groan that tumbles out as you stare at over his arm and down to his abs. But it’s the big beady eyes of Felix that win you over and without a second thought you quickly reply with a yes.

“Miss, I think you dropped your keys,” you hear someone call out. Ignoring it you pan around the somewhat busy street. Car horns are sirens are heard on the streets, wind howling between the buildings making the air crisp against your face. A hand gently touches your arm and you quickly spin around on your heels, wide eyed. “Sorry,” he chuckles seeing the shock on your face “I called out but I don’t think you heard me. Are these yours?”

He holds up a keychain in your view and you sigh slightly, “yes, thank you.”

When getting ready you decided to leave your purse at home, they aren’t the most convenient while walking a dog. You threw your debit card, TTC pass, phone and keys into your pocket. Arriving out front the coffee shop a couple minutes ago your hands were cold so you reached into your pocket for your gloves.

“No problem,” he smiles.

Scanning over his face you immediately notice his bright blue eyes grazing over your face. Thick flowing dark brown hair sticks out under his Montreal Canadians ball cap, a short scruffy beard on his chiseled jaw. He looks familiar but you can’t place it.

He is tall, similar in height to Auston and Fred. Even through his black peacoat you can tell his shoulders are just as wide. A red scarf gently popping out under the collar of his jacket. “I’m Josh,” he says, and you see him smile once again, instantly you think that it is just the best smile you have ever seen.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you smile back.

“Can I buy your coffee? “he asks glancing to the shop behind you. “I assume that’s why you’re here,” he chuckles. “It’s not free though, it’ll cost you a half hour of your time through the park.”

You chuckle slightly, if you weren’t supposed to meet Auston in a few minutes you would struggle to say no. His wide smile and soft eyes are drawing you in, but on top of that he seems nice. Someone you would actually have a good afternoon chatting with. “I’m actually meeting someone,” you reply.

“Oh that’s a shame, I’m leaving Toronto in a few hours. Think I can get your number; take you out when I come back?”

Before you can answer you feel Felix brush against your legs and let out an excited bark. He jumps up on you almost knocking you over and you immediately feel Auston’s hands on your hips and Josh grip your elbow, holding you upright. Auston mumbles some bullshit to Felix about manners, but you ignore it. Trying to focus on the eager pup, when in actuality you feel fire ignite where their hands connect to you.

“Hey man,” Josh says to Auston releasing your elbow.

“Hey Josh,” Auston says politely stepping beside you. You immediately sense the tension, Auston puffing his chest keeping on hand on the small of your back. Josh’s gaze flicks between you and Auston a little, realizing this is the person you are meeting but he doesn’t seem too bothered by it. You take a harsh swallow, the cold Toronto air burning your throat.

Tick tock, tick tock.

You have no longer how long you all have been standing there, likely only a few seconds but time feels like it has stopped. The only sound besides passing cars is the excited whines and yelps Felix lets out while he circles around your feet. Shifting awkwardly you stare between the two men not wanting to be the first to make a move. Finally Auston clears his throat glaring at Josh, pulling you in tighter to his chest. So close you can smell his cologne.

“Well I’m going to grab my coffee. Nice meeting you y/n,” Josh smiles, stepping around you to go through the door.

“A Hab really?” Auston jokes kissing your cheek, following Josh with his eyes until the door shuts behind him. His lips are warm on your cool skin, eyes look slightly heavy from the previous night's game, and dark curls pop out under the toque he’s wearing that barely covers his ears.

“What?” you ask confused, bending down to pet Felix who is still enthralled by your presence.

“Josh,” he nods inside and you shake your head shooting him a puzzled look. “That’s Josh Anderson. He plays for the Montreal Canadians.”

“Oh that’s why he looked familiar,” you say glancing back inside briefly, you watched the game last night and you remember him. He looks a little different without the equipment or covered in sweat, but his thick hair and smile is what stood out to you. Felix takes the opportunity to kiss your cheek causing you to laugh and look back at Auston. “You watch him for a sec so I can get our drinks?” Auston asks, handing you the leash.

Josh comes out first saying goodbye to you and giving Felix a few pets before making his way down the street. Auston is out not too long after, 2 paper cups in hand. You try to hand the leash back, but he tells you to keep it, feeding you some line about Felix being happy to see you. You know Felix doesn’t care who holds his leash, he is just happy to be on a walk but you aren’t going to object.

It’s only been two days since you saw him. Fred watched him for the Leaf’s short road trip and you spent some time over there during it. While Fred went to physio you would take him on long walks, walks too long for Fred and his knee right now. Fred joked about how close you were thinking it’s the first time you met him.

You took naps on the couch and played with him. He followed you around everywhere, whining and clawing at the door when Fred locked him out for an hour. When you finally opened the door he almost tackled you with his excitement. That night when you went to go to bed he climbed between the two of you resting his head on your chest while you fell asleep, gently petting the top of his head. Every time you saw him Felix would be more excited than the last.

“Thought you Canadians are inferior to the cold,” Auston jokes when a strong wind gust blows from the lake and through the streets. Shivering you pulling your zipper up further, pulling your toque further down your ears.

“Lets go warm up, my place is only a couple blocks away,” he puts a hand on your back to guide you. It’s the smallest contact, a slight brush against your back before his hand falls into his pocket for warmth. But through your jacket and sweater your skin burns from the ever so slight touch.

Stepping into the lobby you instantly feel the warmth of his building hit your face. “You had a good game last night,” you smile knowing he can’t see it through your mask.

“Woah you actually watched,” he teases, pulling his mask over his face.

“Yeah, you know hanging around hockey players all the time figured I should watch a game or two,” you joke. “You know with not teaching I have some spare time.”

“I’m glad you find time in your busy schedule to watch me on TV.” You give him a playful nudge hitting the button for the elevator. “How is it going with work? Find anything yet?” he asks, bending down to give Felix some pets for patiently waiting.

“No, all schools in Ontario go 100% online Monday so there are a lot of us in the same situation right now across the province. I’m sure something will come along I’m not too worried right now.”

“You’re smart, you’ll figure something out,” he says looking up at you. His black mask is covering half of his face, but from the creases beside his eyes you can tell he is smiling at you. Before you can reply you hear the doors creak open and turn your attention to it.

You notice a body in the elevator who shifts into the corner to make space. Taking a step in you are met by a tall man with broad shoulders, hood of his Nike sweater pulled over his red hair, mask covering half of his face. But you immediately recognize the eyes, stopping you in your tracks.

Auston walks into your back not realizing you stopped and Felix jumps up at his feet. Fred stares at the two of you for a second with a look of confusion, blinking a few times. Like he doesn’t believe it’s actually you behind the mask; but his eyes soften and he turns his attention to the eager pup. You shift uncomfortably, eyes darting between Auston and Fred. Auston looks unphazed a small smirk tugging on his lips.

“What’s going on?” Fred asks standing up, still petting Felix’s head.

“Just grabbed some coffee,” you say quietly.

“Yeah just hanging out,” Auston adds in. “What about you?”

“Just getting home from the rink, was gonna see if you wanted to hangout.”

Auston glances over at you briefly before back to his friend, “yeah for sure man,” Auston replies. Stepping off the elevator on Auston’s floor the three of you head towards his apartment. The two of them chat about something from the game last night, almost oblivious to the fact you are there while you trail a few steps back.

Once inside Auston takes of Felix’s leash and wanders to the kitchen to get him some fresh water. Fred lingers once his shoes are off watching you remove your jacket and boots. Once you hang up your coat Fred’s hands are on your hip backing you against the door, handle digging into your back, “you two having fun.”

His words hang thick in the air, stepping closer he pushes you in further, his breath hot on your neck. When you don’t reply he squeezes your hips, driving the handle further into your back causing you to hiss out a yes. His musty cologne and hot breath has moisture pooling between your legs, the only thing holding you up is his nails digging into your skin.

“Hmm,” he hums as you take a few uneasy breaths. “How long has this been going on smuk,�� he places soft open mouth kisses on your neck waiting for you to reply.

“Uh...” you stutter, voice catching in your throat when he nips your skin. “Just the,” you mumble groaning, “one other time

“Cute,” he mumbles placing a kiss to your cheek, the edge of his lips brushing the corner of yours. Pulling back slightly he smirks at you and turns his gaze down the hall, smugness plastered on his face while he locks eyes with Auston who silently watches the exchange.

Your chest heaves and you swallow dryly taking a minute. Without another word he leaves you trying to catch your breath while he walks down the hall. Craning your head slightly you see Auston at the other end watching the entire interaction. Expressionless he follows Fred to the couch, as you try to compose yourself.

You don’t know why but you contemplate walking down the hall and saying you aren’t feeling well and heading home. But that seems obvious. And Fred didn’t seem mad did he?

The three of you sit on the couch, Felix circling, constantly bringing someone a toy or whining for pets. It’s a lazy afternoon and easy, the boys watching some golf tournament that you have no interest in. Fred mindlessly runs circles over your ankle while they chat, your head resting on his pillow.

His touch is soft but soothing. Every circle he draws you feel your blood pressure drop before you finally are at ease. Fred is smiling, Auston laughs at something he said. Everything seems fine, like you worked yourself up over nothing.

“So y/n has the hots for Josh Anderson,” Auston says part way through golf which immediately catches your attention, turning your gaze from Felix to the boys. Auston has a smug look plastered on his face while he winks at you, and Fred has a dark mischievous grin.

“Oh yeah,” Fred grins as you feel your cheeks heat up.

“Apparently we aren’t doing a good enough job,” Auston grins and your eyes go wide. You hear Fred laugh lightly squeezing your ankle tightly.

“Never said that,” you whisper, so faintly you aren’t even sure you spoke. Fred’s hand on your ankle tightens and he pulls you so you’re back is flat to the couch. Quickly his body is on yours, pinning your wrists to the couch at your side.

“Is that true baby? Are me and Auston not satisfying you? Not fulfilling your needs?” he murmurs eyes locked down at you. His chest presses into you, the air around you shifting. You try to swallow, but your throat is dry being starved of saliva.

“Pretty sure he asked you a question princess.” You didn’t even notice but Auston moved across the room, his mouth is millimeters from your ear.

Tilting your head slightly, you feel a hand on your jaw holding you in place, forcing your gaze up to Fred. You aren’t even sure whose hand it is until you feel the leather bracelet brush your neck and immediately know its Auston.

“What do you say man, should we take her to your room? Show her how good she has it,” Fred doesn’t pull his eyes away, while his comments are fully directed at Auston. Another display of his dominance over you making the slick between your legs build even more. “Make her regret even mentioning thinking of him”

You practically can hear the smugness oozing off the man beside you, only answering a quick but firm, “yes.”

Fred’s body is off yours as fast as he was on you. In an instant he easily throws you over his shoulder, carrying you down the hall to Auston’s room. Once back on your feet they begin to remove your clothing. Fred on your right, Auston on your left, both sucking on your neck working in unison; articles of clothing littering his bedroom floor, leaving you in just your matching underwear. If it wasn’t for the two hot bodies pressed against you goosebumps would be popping all over your body.

Auston unclasps your bra, sliding his tongue along your collarbone. Fred sucks on your neck when you hear fabric ripping, your underwear being torn off of you. Fred smirks against you, knowing you have been on them for all the shredded underwear they have left you with over the last three months, but neither seems to care.

Auston’s hand makes work of your breast, massaging and pinching the nipple. Gently rolling it through his thumb and index finger while Fred manipulates your legs apart, thrusting two thick digits inside of your folds. The unexpected nature causes you to whine while both men chuckle against you.

“Most women would be happy to have one man and you have two” Auston murmurs.

“Let’s make sure she never thinks about him again,” Fred sneers. Your head falls back and you begin to moan louder, his fingers quickly thrusting in and out of you. Auston’s other hand roams your back, sliding down to your ass, giving you firm squeezes to roll your hips forward further onto Fred’s digits.

If it wasn’t for both men on either side practically supporting your entire body weight, your knees would buckle. Fred pulls away slightly to get a better look at you, to watch you fall apart over his fingers. Your gaze meets his and his pupils are dilated, black with lust.

Increasing his fingers, thumb finding your clit you know you won’t last much longer. Incoherent thoughts are all you can manage, whimpers and curse words falling from your lips.

“Hear how wet you are princess?” Auston’s mouth is pressed against your ear. One hand cupping your breast his other firmly squeezing your ass. “Freddie’s hand is coated because of you,” he mumbles, you head a chuckle from the man on your right.

“This is nothing,” Fred asserts, but before you can process the weight of his words your orgasm crashes over you. Knees trembling, walls fluttering; blood pulsates through your body causing you to groan loudly.

As soon as you come down the boys release you and you almost fall over. Walking like a newborn deer on ice, you make your way to the bed while both men quickly strip. There must have been a silent exchange because Auston is quickly sitting in the middle of the mattress pulling you towards him.

Your back is to his chest and you can feel his hard erection pressed into your back as he brushes your hair aside exposing one side of his neck for him. “How many do you think it’ll take princess?” he hums his voice soft in your ear. “How many until you can’t even remember Josh’s name anymore?”

His words go right to your core, vibrating through your folds. Your chest heaves and your body shudders thinking of his statement. You know the question is rhetorical, but even if you had a number it wouldn’t be enough.

Fred stands at the end of the bed, eyes switching between yours and the slick dripping between your legs. Every time his eyes drop they stay a little longer, licking his lips at the sight. You begin to feel like a piece of meat and both men have been starved of food for weeks. You move your legs to close them, but Auston’s hands quickly grip your thighs holding you open for him.

Fred shakes his head while Auston rasps, “you know better than that princess,” in your ear; digging his thumbs into your flesh. Your entire body shivers and you take an uneasy exhale, knowing you are in for it. Quickly Fred crawls onto the bed, making his way towards your heat while someone, you aren’t sure who, bends your knees. Fred places soft kisses on the inside of your thigh and knee. The thought of what he will do has you dizzy. Flattening his tongue he licks up the mess from before, your entire body jolts but Auston firmly grips your legs open holding you is place.

“Such a good girl,” he mumbles as Fred laps up all your juices. A few more licks and Fred thick fingers find your heat, curling back inside you “taste so good hun” he adds.

Throwing your head back against Auston’s shoulder you groan “fuck,” but all it does is give him a better view.

“Look at you taking Fred’s fingers,” Auston hums as you feel Fred’s mouth attach to your clit. Auston’s voice is hot and heavy, Fred’s fingers hitting your g-spot with every thrust and soon your second orgasm is building deep inside you.

“Oh fuck,” you hiss while Fred’s tongue circles your clit, swirling in a figure eight on a continuous loop.

“You gonna cum again princess,” Auston says in your ear. “Coat his face?”

Incoherent sounds fall from both sets of your lips. You’re so wet that the obscene sound of his fingers fucking in and out of you makes your entire body heat up. Between both of their sinful mouths, Fred’s attached to your cunt and Auston’s whispering a string of filth on your ear, you are right back on the edge. Your heels dig into the mattress and it’s only a matter of time. Auston’s mouth purring in your ear, Fred’s tongue carefully circling your clit is more than you can take.

Your second orgasm rolls through you, little fires exploding in your hear. Fred slows slightly to draw it out while Auston holds you firm against his chest and you tremble in his embrace. His dick twitches against your back watching as white spills out. You sag against Auston’s chest, body tingling as your juices coat Fred’s face.

Pulling away from your heat your fog begins to settle. Fred has a dark smile, his beard coated in your slick heat. “What do you think does she need one more? Or should we fuck her ‘til she can’t walk anymore?” Fred says to Auston.

“She definitely needs one more,” Auston replies, hands digging harshly into your thighs keeping them spread apart.

“Ungh,” is all you can whimper in response, closing your eyes to take a few uneasy breaths while your legs relax, falling back to the mattress.

There must have been an exchange between the two or maybe you are still coming down from your high and don’t hear the question, but you do hear Auston say, “all you man I’m really enjoying the view.”

A hand is on your throat pulling your face away from Auston’s shoulder. Next a pair of lips are on yours, in a hot and hungry way. Immediately you know it’s Fred; not from the facial hair but the taste of yourself on his tongue.

Fingers are thrust back inside you, but your groans are swallowed by Fred’s mouth. Auston throws his calves over your shins, keeping you spread for his friend while his hands trail up your body. One finds your breast, the other finding your clit, thumb concentrating on pressing harsh circles into it.

Your pussy quivers at the contact it all becoming a lot. It’s almost too much. And then you feel Auston’s mouth on your neck and you know its game over. Being sandwiched between these men, fingers and tongues all over your skin has you pulling away from Fred for some much needed air.

“Holy fuck,” you moan, your eyes rolling into the back of your head, beads of sweat are rolling down the valley of your breasts. Your scream gets ripped from your throat and your vision goes white, wave after wave of euphoria rolling through you. Both men groan as your warmth spills around Fred’s wrist and onto the bed.

“God you are so beautiful when you cum,” Auston groans in your ear.

“Bet Josh would never make you feel like that,” Fred mumbles, finally pulling his fingers from you. Grabbing your jaw he forces your mouth open, shoving his fingers inside for you to lick clean. You have barely caught your breath and almost choke, but quickly work to clean your slick from his finger.

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” he purrs. Pulling away he lands beside you on the mattress, Auston quickly crawls out from behind. Falling backwards landing on the mattress, Fred brushes your sweaty hair from your forehead mumbling something to you in Danish.

Before you can react Auston in between your legs, hands on the back of your ankles pulling you closer, his throbbing tip pressing against your entrance “Remember the word,” Fred asks.

“Yeah,” you barely manage to say, throat incredibly dry.

“What is it,” Auston asks, waiting to continue.

“Yellow,” you manage to whisper through some uneasy breaths.

“You okay,” Auston asks, and you turn your head to stare up at him with a nod, tears resting in the edge of your eyes.

“You have to say it,” Fred says softly.

“M’okay” you say smiling at the softness of the two men, no matter how dominant or aggressive they are they always make you’re okay.

With that Auston thrusts inside your walls, Fred’s handiwork providing an easy lubrication so he gives you no time to adjust. Snapping his hips he sets a fast pace eyes dark and staring between your legs, watching his thick cock slide in and out of your sopping cunt. Pulling your bottom lip through your teeth you whimper, warm tears now rolling down your cheek.

“Just be thankful he is letting you off easy by being on top,” Fred winks rolling onto his side gently pressing his lips into your shoulder.

Wrapping your legs around his waist he snaps his hip, “figured she could use a minute,” he grunts. “But only a minute,” his hands are on your hips and he forcefully pulls you back increasing his pace causing you to cry out.

“Y/N,” Auston calls forcing you to whine as your head turns. “I think you should say thank you to Fred for taking such good care of you earlier,” he nods down to Fred’s hard member resting beside your hand. You honestly don’t think you could do much even if you tried, but when you slowly turn to meet Fred’s gaze he smiles at you.

“It would be nice if you said thank you skat,” Fred mumbles, sucking on your sweet spot beside your ear. Reaching out you wrap your hand around his length giving him a few slow tugs.

“Faster baby,” Fred mumbles, his words vibrating through your body. You try to set a fast pace, but Auston quickly has you distracted. Every thrust is hard and deep, brushing your g-spot before he pulls back. He knows exactly what he wants, each thrust calculated as he drags his cock along your walls. Every time he pounds into you your hand stutters around Fred’s length, but he’s loving it, smirking against your neck.

Each time Auston hits your g-spot you squirm and he is getting off on it. His eyes getting darker and darker, a grin tugging on his lips a little more each time. Fred continues to pepper your collar bone with kisses before working his way down your chest and back up again. His mouth is everywhere when his thumb attaches to your clit.

“Fuck Fred,” you jolt from the contact.

“Pretty sure it’s Auston making you feel this good,” Fred mumbles in your ear. “He’s the one with his dick buried inside you right now.”

Every statement is accompanied by harder faster circles on your bundle of nerves. Nails gripping your hips harder, cock sliding in and out faster. “He feel good baby?” Fred hums. “He feel good stretching you out? You’re taking him so well, you gonna cum all over his cock?”

“Fuck she’s close,” Auston announces as if you and Fred didn’t know. Releasing your hand from Fred’s cock you feel your body erupt around Auston’s dick.

If you thought the first three were intense, the fourth is pure fireworks. Every extremity is tingling and you feel lightning bolts erupt inside. Your walls flutter and both men groan as you disintegrate under Auston, melting into the bed. Neither man stops and soon you are met by Auston’s sticky warmth flooding your walls. He grunts and slows his hips, a few shallow thrusts and he spills everything he has inside you.

Fred pops his head up and looks towards your cunt, watching his friend coat your insides white. Momentary confusion crosses his face before turning back to you. Apart from the first time which Auston didn’t mean to, he has never once spent inside of you. Always spilling on your ass, tits or sometimes thrusting his cock inside your mouth so you can swallow it down. He doesn’t know when you and Auston fucked last week you told him can doesn’t need to pull out. He doesn’t know how every time over the past three months you have a moment of disappointed when Auston pulls out of you. How you are excited for your pussy to overflow with a mixture of both men’s cum.

Auston pulls out and falls beside you and Fred’s face softens. He smiles at you, a smirk tugging on the corner of his lip as he takes in your face. Absolutely fucked out and flush, hair a mess, splayed across the bed, makeup likely smeared down your cheek. Licking your lips you pull Fred’s face down for a searing earth shattering kiss.

Your hand tangles into his roots, his thumb drawing circles just below your ribcage. Tongue sliding into the others mouth and you tug harder trying to pull him on top of you but he doesn’t budge. Instead he falls onto his back pulling you on top of him.

“We all can’t go easy on you,” Fred winks while adjusting you over him. A mixture of sticky white fluids spill out and onto Fred while he lines himself up.

“Got one more in ya princess? You gonna cum for Freddie like you did me?” Auston asks and you shake your head, body barely functioning at this point.

“Oh baby we all know you do”

“Umph,” you mewl as he easily pulls you down, Auston’s cum spilling out around his girth.

Your hand quickly lands on Fred’s stomach, his abs covered in a thin layer of sweat. Your breath hitches when he bucks his hips while you try and take a minute, slowly grinding your hips, trying to compose yourself as best you can.

“Cocks not gonna ride itself,” Auston chortles from beside you.

Your eyes go wide and Fred smirks, shooting you a wink, you start rising and dropping around him, Fred bucking his hips to press deep inside you. Feeling his tip almost in your belly a slew of curse words fall from your lips. With every thrust you can feel more of Auston’s cum spilling out. A part of you thinks Fred thrusts up and pulls your hips down so harshly to fuck it out of you, but either way you are heading back towards the edge.

“That’s right take me deep baby,” Fred praises his back arching off the bed slightly.

You can tell he is enjoying watching you squirm above him. Your overly sensitive cunt barely able to take any more. Luckily the time you spent with your hand wrapped around him earlier means his high is close too.

“You’re taking me so well, baby girl,” Fred praises.

“You gonna cum for him like you did for your me, huh? Milk his cock for all it’s worth?” Auston asks, drawing your gaze to his dark brown orbs. You had almost forgot Auston was there, you are barely able to focus on Fred the pound driving up into your cervix let alone the man beside you catching his breath.

“Mmgh, I don’t… I don’t think I can,” you keen helplessly into thin air.

“Yeah you can, princess,” Auston urges gently.

Auston sits up pinching your nipple and you hiss from the friction his hand is causing, mouth grazes along your throat, his mustache brushing it ever so slightly. You don’t need him, Fred’s cock driving into your throbbing pussy with every thrust. Fred will get you there, but Auston’s mouth on your neck, hand on your nipple sends you catapulting over the edge.

Fred’s hands dig into your hips and Auston’s arm catch your body as you tremble above his friend. Auston spews filth in your ear, Fred mumbling Danish praise below you, but you hear none of it. Vision whiting out, ears filled with a high pitch ring as Fred fucks you through your high. Wave after wave of ecstasy overwhelms your body, Fred gives you a few more sloppy thrusts before painting your walls white. The two men support you while Auston slowly lowers you onto Fred’s chest while you catch your breath.

Auston leans on his elbow beside you, brushing your hair drenched with sweat from your forehead. Both you and Fred are breathless, clammy with sweat as his dick softens inside of you.

“So you learn to keep other guy’s names out of your mouth,” Auston sneers .

“I was obviously joking,” you groan while Fred brings a hand up to lightly draw on your back.

“Wasn’t very funny,” Fred adds.

“One Andersen is more than enough,” you try to push off of Fred put he tightens his grip wrapping his arm around your back, pulling you back down to his chest.

You hear Auston’s feet on the wood floor, and he returns a minute later with some water and a damp wash cloth. Fred gingerly lifts your body, sliding his cock out as some cum spills out. Once off him, Auston hands you the glass and Fred the towel who gently wipes between your legs while you whimper from the contact.

Auston having found some boxers, pulls a t-shirt over your head and pulls you back into the bed with him. Lying on your side you curl into his arm, using his tattooed bicep as a pillow, your hand lying on his chest. Fred crawls in behind you, hand on your hip, warm breath on your neck.

You hear the click clacking of Felix’s nails on the wood floor as he gets closer. The bedroom door finally open, he lets himself in jumping onto the bed and curling up between your legs and Auston as you all quickly fall asleep.

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wildlittlefoxsworld · 3 years

Text

Marry me and you never have to be alone

That is my first Harry Potter fanfiction on my blog. Of course, the fanfiction has a reader-insert.

Pairing: Harry Potter x female!reader

Words: 1.8k

Harry Potter Masterlist

***

The sun was slowly rising over the Burrow, but it was still dawn and grey light shined through the curtains. You turned your head towards the window and opened it to let the fresh morning air in your room. A light breeze puffed the long white dress up you wore. You liked the dress; it had a little lace on the neckline and thin straps over your shoulders. You hoped that Harry would like it. You knew it wasn’t a fancy dress, but you for you it was perfect. You didn’t have much time to plan anything, because you decided last night that you want to commit yourself to Harry.

You were more worried about your hair, you didn’t really know what do with it, so Hermione suggested to wear a flower crown. She swung her wand and little white roses bloomed in your hair with green leaves.

“You are truly beautiful. Harry will be speechless,” Hermione complimented you.

“You look like a fairy,” Luna added and showed you her typical dreamy smile.

“Alright, I will look if Ron and Harry are ready. And you… take deep breaths and we meet in ten minutes in the garden under the big tree.”

Hermione left you alone and Luna followed quietly. You looked at yourself in the mirror again and you ran hands over the cotton material of the dress. You smiled at yourself calmly, but on the inside you felt excited and nervous. You were only seventeen years old, two months older than Harry. Some would say that you were both too young, that it was too rushed. You knew this, you knew that many reasons spoke to stop it all right now and just live and enjoy your life, but you didn’t know how much time you had left.

“I like the summer. It’s my favorite season, you know,” you said smiling and closed your eyes to enjoy the last ray of sunlight.

“I know, you tell me every year since we know each other,” Harry responded and caressed the back of your hand with his thumb.

“It’s so peaceful. I wish it could be always like this. It feels like that I don’t need to worry. I wish we could have a normal summer until the school begins. It would be our last year. Can you imagine it? Next year at this time we will have graduated and you will start to become an auror.”

“I love the way that you’re always to optimistic, but I have a bad feeling of the future. Voldemort won’t rest, you experienced last night and it will only get worse. We have to fight him, Y/N,” Harry averred. He was determined to succeed in defeating the Dark Lord.

“I know that we have to fight and I will be at your side, but I hope that we will have someday a normal life, Harry. I dream of you and me. Old, with wrinkly faces and grey hair, sitting on our veranda and watching our grand children play in the garden.”

Harry looked astonished at you. You inclined your head and quirked an eyebrow questioningly.

“You’re serious about it?” he asked still surprised.

“Of course, I’m serious. I might be seventeen, but I know what I want. I love you, Harry, more than anything and I want a future with you.”

“I love you too. It’s just… I thought that I was lucky that I have you now. Well, you aren’t bound to me and I don’t know what the future will hold. There weren’t many people in my life who loved me.”

You turned to face Harry directly and embraced him in your arms.

“I’m not going anywhere, Harry. You stuck with me now,” you chuckled, but your voice had still a serious tone. Harry hugged you back tightly and buried his face in the crook of your neck.

You were lost in your thoughts for a few moments and slowly an idea formed in your head how you could prove Harry that you were serious about your love.

“Marry me,” you whispered in his ear and Harry’s body tensed for a moment. He loosened your hug and looked at you very confused.

“You want to marry me?”

“Yes,” you answered and sounded very convincing.

“But… why? When? I don’t understand… that’s so sudden,” Harry stuttered and shrugged helplessly his shoulders.

“I know, I know. Maybe it’s stupid, but I want just to be with you. We don’t what tomorrow will bring, but I know that there is a war coming. We will fight and no one knows if we lose or win. How many from our families and friends will survive. I don’t know if we’ll survive. And if die, I will die as your wife. I don’t want to spend another day apart from you.”

You felt a tear running down your cheek and Harry brushed it away with his fingers.

“Don’t cry. Please, I can’t stand seeing your cry. I understand now and if this is your deepest wish, then I will make it come true.”

“You’re sure? I don’t want to force you, I know it completely rushed and dumb, but I love you and I don’t care what other people will think or say as long as we are happy. Do want you to marry me?”

Harry took your face in both of his hands and gave you a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Yes, honey. But shouldn’t I ask you this question?”

You just laughed and kissed him again.

The first day of August would be your wedding date. Sadly the same date as Bill and Fleur, because their wedding would be at the afternoon. But you didn’t tell anyone, beside your best friends Hermione, Ginny, Ron and your maternal cousin Luna. You knew that Fleur would have been offended and Molly Weasley would have been crossed about your decision to marry on the same day as Bill and Fleur. You really didn’t want to ruin their day, so you would marry in a little ceremony at this morning.

Everyone in the house was already awake, but the guests didn’t come yet and Molly and the other women were busy to prepare Fleur for her wedding and the men were helping the groom’s father building the tent behind the house.

You tiptoed down the wooden stairs and made sure that no one saw you leaving the house through the back door. Hermione, Ginny and Luna waited for you a few meters away and Hermione waved with her hand to signal you that must made haste before the men in the garden would notice you.

You exhaled slowly when you were out of their sight and Luna took giggling your hand, because Hermione was ushering you to walk further along the outskirts of the nearby forest.

You saw Harry already standing under the big tree where you always used to sit when you both spend your time in the Burrow. There you decided last night to make this big step in your relationship.

Harry was wearing a simple white button down, it didn’t fit him so well, and grey trousers, but he looked as handsome as always.

You hold tight to Luna’s hand when you approached Harry. He stared at you with his mouth light ajar and you chuckled slightly at this view.

“Hey,” you whispered when you stopped a few feet away from him.

Ron poked Harry into the rips with his elbow to wake him out of his trance.

“Hi, Y/N, you look good… no, you look stunning, gorgeous, divine,” he stumbled out the compliments and saw him blushing, because he felt silly that he began to stutter.

“You look awesome yourself,” you replied with a bright smile.

A man cleared his throat who stood with you under the big tree. The man would wed Fleur and Bill later and Hermione could convince him to wed the both of you in the morning. She didn’t want to reveal how she convinced him and you didn’t care, but you were truly grateful to have a friend like her.

“Who give the bride to the groom?” The man spoke with a low baritone and you looked helplessly at Hermione and Luna. You didn’t think about all the part of a wedding to be honest, but like always Hermione had a plan and whispered something in Luna’s ear, and your cousin nodded at her words.

“As Y/N’s cousin, I will give her to the groom,” Luna announced in her clear voice and guided you over to Harry to lay your hand in his. She smiled encouraging and you formed a thank you with your lips.

You gave your fully attention to Harry and he took both of your hands. You squeezed his shortly and Harry gave you a lovingly smile. His green eyes sparkled with joy and happiness and you thought your heart might explode with love for him.

“Today we come together to celebrate the union between Harry and Y/N. You may say your vows now,” the man summoned you and Harry took a moment to grab a piece of paper that Ron handed him.

“This morning, I woke up excited because today is the day I marry my best friend. Yesterday I didn’t know that this would happen, but I am grateful that my life became more spontaneous with you. I promise to continue our relationship joyfully with laughter, compassion, humor, and love throughout our life together.”

His words were meant honest and the little smile at his lips never faded. At the end you both had tears in your eyes and you heard Ron blowing his nose.

“Okay, I think it’s my turn. Harry, I knew shortly after we met that we would partner not just for a time, but for life. You take my breath away every time I see you, and I still get butterflies in your presence. I promise to love you in this life and beyond as we walk side-by-side as life partners. My heart will be always yours. I love you now and forever.”

You both laughed, because you couldn’t stop the happy tears and Harry leaned forward to press his lips to yours for a few seconds.

The man continued the ceremony and after you both clearly declared the words ‘I do’, you were presented as Mr. and Mrs. Harry Potter to your friends. Hermione, Luna, Ginny and Ron cheered and applauded as Harry and you walked a few steps away from them.

“We did it,” you said with a giggle and Harry turned towards you.

“Yeah, we did it. I still can’t believe it. You must know that Hermione helped me with the vows,” Harry confessed and you laughed at his words.

“She did a perfect job. But you’re right, it feels unreal, but it’s true. We are a married couple now.”

“Do we tell the others?”

“Not today,” you answered shaking your head.

“But maybe next week?” Harry suggested.

“My dad will definitely kill us.”

“I can handle your dad. Can you handle Mrs. Weasley?”

“Yeah, I think Mrs. Weasley is more terrifying.”

You both laughed again and Harry pulled you tightly to his chest.

“I can handle everything that will come as long as I have you by my side.”

#Harry Potter #harry potter x reader #hermione granger #luna lovegood #harry potter imagine #hp imagine

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what-the--curtains · 3 years

Text

In a Week

Part 1/4 - A storm blows into town

(Frankie “catfish” Morales x f!reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: a drive down to a friends wedding gets complicated when you fail to head a warning.

Authors notes: Hello! Another fic cause it keeps snowing here and I’m SICK OF IT but wouldn’t mind it if I was stuck with Frankie💕. Anyways hope you enjoy as always comments are welcome but be nice!

TW: mentions of dead sibling (war related), swearing, mentions of a toxic relationship (based off of personal experience)

Tagged list: @agingerindenial

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~There was nothing worse than a February wedding, well at least one that took place in the frigid northern temperatures you were currently residing in. So you were eternally grateful that your best friend Stella had chosen to have hers down in sunny south Carolina where she had just accepted her first permanent hospital position. She was marrying her first love, a fact you’d usually cringe at but, they were extremely cute together. Stella had met Genevieve through her brothers Will and Benny, well more specifically Will, who had drunkenly run his head through a window one night. This incident resulted in two things, first a nickname that would stick with Will for the rest of his life and a late night call to Stella asking her to come down to the hospital to pick him up. The boys had put Stella down as their emergency contact in an effort to keep their antics hidden from their parents who they knew would only worry. The nurse patching up her idiot brother was none other than Genevieve who was working through her university's clinical course, and the rest? Well, the rest was history

You’d met Genevieve, as well as Will and Benny, sporadically throughout the 8 years you had roomed with Stella, first during your undergraduate degree at Boston University and then again at Stanford while attending medical school. You’d choses Stella as a roommate without much thought, but after just a few weeks together you were inseparable up until the day that you were assigned to your residency. You were slightly jealous when you found out that she would be spending the next four years in the warm embrace of Carolina (and Gen) while you would be living alone throughout the freezing Chicago winters. The pagne of jealousy didn’t last long though, Chicago med was your first choice after all. So here you were, in the last year of residency and in the middle of a brutal -20 degree winter, preparing to drive the 13 hours down to watch Stella get married. You’d considered flying but you knew how fickle airplanes could be in the winter and the last thing you wanted was a delayed flight because a door had frozen shut. Your friends had tried to convince you that driving down alone was far too dangerous a venture and none were more concerned than Santiago Garcia.

You’d known Santiago your whole life. Him being your brother's best friend resulted in him spending a lot of, some may argue too much, time at your house throughout both your childhoods. Your brother, Parker, was 8 years your senior, an age gap that often resulted in an argument over which one of you was the accident. An argument which usually ended with an agreement that in all likelihood you both were. Every summer from before you were born to the time they left for the military the two boys were a constant presence in your life. Hell, even after he left you’d watched him grow as he passed through your household over Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks. One thing was for sure, if Parker was there Satiago Garcia wasn't far behind. He was also there the day you received the news that your brother had gone MIA and he was by your side at the funeral, as you watched the commanding officer hand your mother the flag your brother had died for. After the funeral, life continued to move on around you as did everyone else. You always found it funny how quickly you were supposed to recover from loss, apparently a week was long enough to get over it. At least according to the university and your employers who had started calling with empty condolences that quickly led to the real reason they were calling. Always wanting to know when you’d be coming back. After your brother's passing, Santiago took over his role of big brother to you. He read over your med school applications, scared off potential boyfriends and got all the embarrassing video footage of you at your graduations. He was a permanent fixture in your life, one you hoped you’d never lose. Even now as he continued to blow up your phone in an attempt to sway you from driving up alone, you were thankful for him. Over the past 5 days he sent you lengthy lectures in the form of voice messages and a slew of articles detailing the statistics of winter related accidents. His name pops up on your screen as does a picture you’d taken one night after he'd passed out drunk and you’d stuffed cheetos up his nostrils, an act he has yet to forgive you for. You contemplate ignoring the call, but knowing you were about to go radio silent for the next 8 hours you decide to pick it up.

"Hey Santi what’s up?" you ask, as you half heartedly spread cream cheese onto a poorly toasted bagel.

"Have I ever told you how much I value your friendship?” Even over the phone you could hear the layers of charm he was currently plastering on.

"What do you want?" you say, tossing the knife into the sink.

"Hey! Who says..." he starts, but you don't let him finish.

"Santi I've known you long enough to know your ‘please I need something’ tone by heart" you laugh.

"Okay well I still value you, but ya I absolutely need a favour" Santiago admits.

"Shoot." you say taking a bite of the bagel.

"I need you to pick up a friend of mine, his flight got cancelled. He's in Chicago at the moment, can you drive him down to the wedding?"

"Ughhh are you kidding me Santi? I’m just about to leave" you say through a half chewed mouthful.

"Please! He’s a great guy, Gen wants him at the wedding, he was in basic with us, so a frequent visitor to the hospital. He's usually pretty quiet so you won’t have to spend that much time making small talk, which I know you hate." He pleaded. For anyone else a last minute change like this would have gotten a laugh, and nothing more, but this was Garcia, and you knew he’d do anything for you, so you’d do this for him.

“Fine” you begrudgingly agree “text me his number, I'm heading out in 40 minutes so he'll have to wait at the airport for a bit" you say, finishing your breakfast.

"You’re a godsend! Seriously, what would I do without you?" He chuckles.

"Nothing good i'm sure, besides I figure I probably owe you like, 1000 favours after you

know....'' the phone goes quiet. Five years later and it still stung like it was yesterday, for you both. He was your family, but he was Santiago’s best friend, you knew the loss was equally as devastating for him. You also knew he'd been having a particularly hard time recently, after what he termed a mission gone wrong a few years back. Every time you'd ask about it he’d shut you down harshly refusing to share any details with you.

"You don’t owe me anything. We're family. Thank you for driving him. I owe you a drink at the wedding!" He responds, back to his chipper self. If it wasn’t for the silence he may just have convinced you that he really was doing fine. You toss the phone on the counter and rub your temples mentally rearranging your entire itinerary for the day. You'd already rifled through the gym bag that was constraining way more clothes than you’d need for the week. Everything you needed was there from bathing suits to your wedding outfit to the special lingerie you’d packed in case you ran into an old flame. If by in case you meant, for when you ran into him. You don’t know how but he’d gotten invited to the wedding reception. Stella hated the guy, so it must have been through Genevieve who likely would have felt bad excluding him, even if he was only a friend of a friend.

You’d met Jonathan in your undergrad and you had been together throughout various points in your life, though never in any official sense. He’d made that evidently clear to you at any opportunity he got. He kept you on a short leash, a retainer if you will. Only coming to you between relationships with women that he deemed worthy enough to be his girlfriends. You knew it was toxic, and your friends constant reminders of how unhealthy it was didn’t fall on deaf ears. The way he would use you and lose you always ended with you being an unstable and emotional wreck, only solidifying his claims of you being crazy. You hated it, the way he made you feel so small, but he held this strange power over you. A power not even you could explain. His redeeming qualities could only be found in the bedroom, he was the best you’d ever had, so you forgave his shitty personality. Always gravitating back towards him, restarting the cycle. You knew what it meant to do the same activity over and over expecting different results, but this was different. At least that's what you told yourself, as you’d traced your hands over the lingeries lace that morning, knowing it was bought for a man who would never appreciate it.

Brushing all thought of him aside for the time being you grab the duffle off the floor and sling it over your shoulder. Walking out into the cold February air you watch as your breath transforms into a small cloud in front. Your chest hurts and nose hairs freeze as you inhale, tossing your bag into the back seat before leaning into the car and starting it up. The engine sputters for a moment before breaking out into a loud rumble, maybe it was a good thing someone else would be in the car with you after all. You jog back inside to your townhouse and grab the cooler where you’d stored the snacks and sandwiches you’d prepared for the road, now realizing it likely wouldn’t be enough to feed two people. Tossing on your winter jacket you lock the door behind you and slide your sunglasses down over your eyes shielding them from the afternoon sun as you make your way into your car.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You pull up to the departure gate still cursing at the idiot who had almost smashed into you while they were going the wrong way down a one way street. You hated driving in the city and you couldn’t wait to get out on the open road, even if it was going to be with a total stranger. You find yourself second guessing your decision to drive down state with someone you’d never met. In all reality, even if Santi was vouching for him, he could be a serial killer, plenty of people had nice things to say about Ted Bundy before he got caught.

You shake off the nervous feeling taking over your body, deciding to put your faith in your friends judgment, at least for now. Worse comes to worse you had a pocket knife stowed within reach. As long as he didn’t complain about any playlists or podcasts and understood your need for complete silence from time to time, you’d get on just fine. Besides it was only a 13 hour drive, and you could put up with anything for 13 hours.

You open up your phone and pull up the conversation you and Santiago had been having, scrolling up until you see the contact he’d sent you which read “ Catfish”. You click on it hoping to get the guys real name as a result but no luck, you should have asked Garcia for more information about this “Catfish” guy. You click on the number opting to call, not wanting to waste time wondering if he’d gotten the text you’d sent. The phone rings a few times before you hear someone pick up.

"Catfish?" you say, less confident in yourself than you had been dialing.

"In the flesh, who's this?" the deep voice responds.

"Your ride, Santiago’s friend" you offer, hoping that this wasn't some elaborate prank.

"Oh shit ya, Pope told me you’d be later than you said. I'm still downstairs" he says.

"Of course he did the little shit" you mutter, causing Catfish to laugh "Im outside now, departures second floor"

“I'll be out in a second" he says, hanging up the phone before you can say anything else.

You plug your phone back into the aux setting it back to the playlist you’d made last night during another bout of insomnia. You're checking your email to see if anything came up from the hospital when a tap at the window causes you to jump. As you look over you see the man who must be “Catfish” gently tapping on the glass. You unlock the door, popping the trunk as you slide out the driver's seat.

“You can put your bags back here. Fuck!" you exclaim when you trunk won’t open, likely having frozen shut again.

"Here" he says dropping his bag on the salted pavement and heaving up on the trunk freeing it from its icy constraints with a relative ease causing him to smile down at you.

"I loosened it" you say defensively, as he tosses his bag in the back still grinning when he

slams the trunk shut.

"Fransico Morales, though most people just call me Frankie" he says as you sit back down in the driver seat rubbing your hands together to warm them and applying some chapstick.

"Y/N, nice to meet you Frankie, seat warmers are here, use as your leisure. There are snacks in the back, but no touching the phone.” you rattle off.

“Aye aye captain” he responds, saluting you.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Santiago was right, Frankie was quiet. He offered you little in conversation or any noise at all really. You’d only heard him laugh maybe twice, once while listening to a podcast episode and then again when Britney Spears made her appearance on your soundtrack. "What? She’s America's sweetheart" you say trying to sound offended, but smiling when you notice his lopsided grin. You’d attempted to open up a dialogue with him a few times, but his one worded responses told you all you needed to know, so you stopped forcing it. It wasn’t a hostile environment, it was more of a comfortable silence one that you usually only found in people you had known for years. The silence gave you an opportunity to study the man’s features, glancing away from the road every now and then to slowly piece together his profile. You had pegged him as attractive the second his face had appeared in your passenger window, but it wasn't until now that the details that made him so could be seen; relatively tall, tanned skin, soft curls, deep brown eyes. Glancing over again you notice a concerned look spread across his face.

"What?" you ask, nervous that you’d creeped him out with your excessive, and not so subtle staring.

"Storms coming our way" he says, nodding up at the darkening sky.

"We’re not supposed to get snow for another week, I checked” you reassure.

"Things change" he says

" Sky’s clear, so we don’t stop for another 3 hours" you say, definitively.

" Your funeral, well mine as well I guess" he chuckles, earning him an icy glare from you.

“It's nothing, trust me” you affirm, confident in your ability to read a weather app.

" No one likes a know-it-all" he mutters still grinning.

"Could you help me with something" you ask smiling sweetly

"Sure" he responds, eager to help.

"Pull up the map and show me when I asked for your opinion"

"Eyes on the road” he says, causing your grip to tighten around the wheel.

Well crow wasn’t your favourite food to eat, but here you were eating it. Turns out Frankie was right. A storm was heading your way and it hit hard and fast. You’d managed to make it to a hotel off the freeway just as it came into full effect. What had started as a very pleasant road trip had quickly soured when you refused to apologize for not heading his warning. This paired with the 6 hours you had already driven had left you both irritable so much so that Frankie was now refusing to be any use in respect to figuring out what your next move was going to be.

"Hi" you say to the equally tired looking receptionist. Apparently, every other person travelling through Illinois had also missed the memo about the storm and were now all stuck at the same hotel.

"Hi, so sorry for the wait" she says, forcing a smile in a way that you recognized from your retail days.

"No need to apologize! What are the odds you have any rooms available?" you ask rubbing your eyes in an attempt to keep them open.

"Let me check, we have one... suite left on the... fourth floor” she says after a few moments of typing away into the computer.

"Perfect we’ll take it." you say, tapping your credit card to the machine. You walk back over to Frankie who was sitting with the bags and hand him a room key. He exhales deeply, not looking up from his phone as he takes it from you.

"There was only one room left so we’ll have to share" you say.

"Fine," he says, standing up, grabbing his bag and heading over to the elevator not bothering to wait for you. You watch as the elevator doors open and close behind him. Sure maybe it was your fault that you were stuck in this situation, but that was pretty rude. You push your way into the room after struggling with the key for a moment. Frankie must have been eager to get to sleep, or at least eager to not converse with you as he’d wasted no time in unpacking his bag and getting ready for bed. Your eyes move from the clothes on the floor, to the suit hung up in the closet, to the closed bathroom door. You hear the toilet flush and watch the door open as you drop your bag down onto the living room floor, grabbing the toiletries out of your bag's side pocket. You were far too tired to wrestle down to your pyjamas so you opted to stay in the leggings and sports bra you’d been wearing all day. Yes it was gross, but you couldn't be bothered to change at this point. Your eyes follow Frankie as he exits the bathroom in a green cotton t-shirt and a pair of plaid boxer shorts. You continue to watch as he plugs his phone in and shifts beneath the covers. Guess you were on the floor then. The couch was far too small, and you really weren't trying to break your neck sleeping on its arm rest.

"Pass me a pillow" you huff, as you grab a glass from the nightstand, turning back around to fill it up with water from the sink.

Why?" he asks, watching you take a sip from the overfilled cup.

"So I can sleep on the floor." you state, as if it was obvious.

“No, I’ll do that, you can have the bed" he says shifting up and pushing the blankets off himself. He hadn’t realized you were so averse to sharing a bed with him, but you had just met so he guessed it was fair enough.

"I’m not the one with the bad back old man" you state, the words sounding a lot harsher than you’d intended, but you were younger and thus more likely to recover.

"Fair point, but you’re not sleeping on the floor. Santi wouldn’t allow it. We can put up a pillow barrier between us if that would make you feel more comfortable" he offers, any hostility you had felt from him earlier now turned to tenderness. In all honesty, you hadn’t realized that sharing the bed was an option.

"I need two to sleep with so no point in making a barrier" you say, begrudgingly placing the glass back down on the nightstand "Shift" you say, fanning your hand.

"No" he says looking you dead in the eye "I got here first" he’s grinning slightly, further indicating he’d gotten over his anger from earlier. You could have just walked around to the other side, but for some unknown reason you don’t. Instead, you swing your leg over him pushing yourself up onto the bed, straddling him for the briefest moment before rolling over to the other side.

"Couldn’t have just walked around?" he chuckles

"Couldn’t have just shifted over?" you parrot back, moving onto your back, closing your eyes and dozing off.

#frankie x reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you #catfish x you #catfish x reader #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #in a week #part 1

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madsdefencesquad · 3 years

Text

The semi-companion piece to Kevin's one and it's all about Mads, of course. Dedicated to Kevison Nation (every single fudging one of you) and to @flythesail and @penny259 (your comments have me weeping haha 😚). Also on ao3.

A little into Madison Pearson by x (with additions) Summer 2026

I first met Madison Pearson a year ago at George Clooney’s 65th birthday celebrations in Perthshire, Scotland in a fashion closer to that of long-travelled friends who haven’t seen each other in years than that of complete strangers who just so happened to enjoy the same foodie indulgence (bacon-wrapped dates, anyone?). Despite the grandeur of the guests present at the lavish affair – politicians, laureates, philanthropists and A-list celebrities (including her own husband actor Kevin Pearson) – Madison Pearson had the kind of invigorating energy that just drew absolutely anyone in.

Perhaps it was the enchanting mix of contained excitement and understated class she exuded that will warm you upon beholding up close, or perhaps it was the charm of a more loquacious woman of California mixed with the rare intelligence of a world-traveller. Either way, despite the taxing social waltz her husband took her throughout the night bumping elbows with the elites, Madison was one of those people who truly left a lasting impression.

Squeezed next to her in the back of a cab, Madison is head-to-toe in Temperley London x Axel Arigato (vintage-inspired nautical jumpsuit and platform suedes) en route to a baking class where her five-year-old twins Nick and Franny are waiting for her to join them along with their father.

“I was supposed to get changed,” she says, lamenting on her attire worn for a meeting with some West Chester development executives that’s perhaps too luxurious for an afternoon of mixing flour and butter and sugar. “But you have to make at least a bit of an impression, right?”

Madison has been the powerhouse head honcho of the Pearson family business, Big Three Homes, since its establishment three years prior. With a solid background in business management and a surefooted ability to navigate the mores of an ever-changing property development landscape, it was no question that Madison would rise up to the challenge of breaking into the market with a business model founded on family, philanthropy and sustainability.

Despite growing up largely independent without people close enough to call family, Madison has also found the means to speak about her experiences in an effort to encourage and give hope to the younger generation of girls and young women who may be going through an ongoing battle between themselves and their self-worth.

“I never felt enough,” she says of the origins of her battle with her eating disorder that began when she was still in middle school. “I look at Franny and she’s so small and carefree and I want to give her everything I never had, but I know that even that won’t be enough unless she herself realises how worthy she is of all the good and all the love that she deserves.”

We pull up outside the baking studio and she brightens at spotting her husband and twins’ silhouettes behind the frosted glass windows. Nick and Franny almost topple over their stools as they rush to overwhelm their mother while their father scrambles to keep his heart rate down—a close call with their foreheads hitting the edge of the marble benches as they got down will just about do it.

Even with her petite frame, Madison carries the twins like she’s just holding a bag of groceries. Unsurprisingly, both Nick and Franny are as enamoured of their mother as she is of them and are on the verge of complaining when put down just as Kevin, grinning ear to ear, envelops Madison in his huge arms—to be fair, he’s always been quite remarkably chiselled but the Tom Ford sweater and those tailored jeans (chosen by his wife “of course” as Kevin credits) is a different level altogether. He leans down to give her a kiss.

Back in Perthshire a year ago at the Clooney extravaganza, I caught up with the married couple the day after the festivities over a traditional Scottish breakfast as we overlooked the highlands of the Gleneagles.

Perhaps unlike the Clooneys, who were still entertaining their guests from all over world, the Pearsons were much more relaxed within their own family bubble. Having just celebrated Kevin’s twin sister’s wedding three days prior with close family and friends, the pair was grateful to spend some quality time with each other and their twins without the need to be anything but present.

From my perch, Kevin and Madison were the kind of couple that were very much “old souls”. They held an affection for each other that is rooted from sincere fondness and adoration for each other—they converse like deep friends and trade wits like secret lovers. And despite the media attention of the adorable moments shared online (often by the social-savvy actor), Madison is uncompromising when it comes to the privacy of their children.

While the twins dipped in and out of the table pilfering scones or taking over their mother’s green juice, neither one of their parents were the least bit bothered by the constant attention they need to provide such a rumbunctious pair.

“They’re so funny,” Kevin said, a careful eye on little Nick who was staring at the whipped cream on his tiny finger like he was contemplating on wiping it on his dad’s face.

I do recall having a good laugh when I accompanied the family on a tour of a nearby 17th century castle and little Franny, a copy-and-paste of her mother, pointed at a wood-cut table decoration of what looked to be intertwined lovers and confidently yelled, “That’s mommy and daddy!”

The fierce mama bear of the Pearson household of four (Madison sometimes calls her husband “kid number three, but don’t tell him that or he’ll get ideas of trying for another!”), remarks that forging her own path away from her husband’s spotlight had been remarkably easy, and she gives much of the credit to the rest of the Pearson clan who all treasure family more than anything.

Even with the notoriety of her brother-in-law, rising political star Randall Pearson, who currently serves in the Philadelphia municipality and is on track for a career in congress, Madison says that quality time to rest and recuperate is a must.

“[My sisters-in-law] and I have a girls weekend every other month when we can where we literally book ourselves a gorgeous Airbnb and just glamp down. I’m talking sleep-ins, endless mimosas, spa sessions… you name it! It’s the kind of getaway that [our husbands] get really jealous for.”

And upon being reminded, Kevin, now sporting Franny’s tiny chef’s hat, shakes his head at his wife conspicuously as if in reprimand that he most definitely should be included in the gals’ next glamping session despite him being, well, not a gal.

While Nick proudly counts five of about a thousand sprinkles that are scattered on his side of the bench, Madison congratulates him with a warmth and pride that is infectious enough to make you think that she’s proud of you too. And despite her husband’s very obvious possessiveness over her—you could count only one occasion where the actor is not at arm’s length from her—when Madison focuses her attention on you, it’s not difficult to believe that this powerhouse woman could truly do absolutely anything.

“She is that and more,” Kevin says about his wife. “Sometimes I can’t believe that this is my life. Our life! Like, she’s mywife, and these two are our kids. It’s just wild! I’m grateful, just grateful.”

Despite the doubts and fear that had been Madison’s constant companions for most of her life and especially going into adulthood, there is a fierce resilience in her that she could only credit her dear grandmother Frances—her own daughter having been named after her.

“She always believed in me,” she recalls, an eye on the twins squatting by the oven watching their creations rise. Despite the deep grief and loss that are quite intimately shared by the married couple, Madison says that it has only made them more resolute in loving their children and each other as best as they possible can every day.

“You just don’t know when it’s your time,” she says. “So, Kev and I make sure that there are no ‘next times’ when it comes to our family.”

When I had asked Madison about Big Three Homes back in Scotland, she squealed at the origin story of its founding, which started with Kevin’s late father Jack Pearson having asked his wife Rebecca to start the business together as partners.

Although Jack’s tragic and unexpected passing put an indefinite hold to this dream, its fulfilment through his son Kevin and through Madison is a testament to the kind of legacy that Jack Pearson had begun through his kids.

“I mean, it started off as more of a passion project for Kev,” Madison says. “But we knew it was always going to be something really special. Especially because his first project was the house that Jack had wanted to build for his mom. And when Kevin had this wonderful idea of bringing the family together to start the business and he asked me to be a part of it, how could I have said no!”

Kevin makes a point to say though that even if the idea of Big Three Homes originally came from his parents, its fulfilment is as much a part of his and Madison’s own story as it is his parents’. And choosing to have Madison work alongside him wasn’t just the best choice (given how much of a boss she is), but it was the only choice he ever wanted or considered.

“I know this is cliché, but I can’t stand not being with her,” Kevin says. “I made a point of this when our twins were born, and I meant it!”

Madison and the family split their time between California and Pennsylvania both for Kevin’s work and for the business, but nowadays, it’s more of an 80-20 split in favour of the east coast.

When asked about a career path carved away from her hometown in California, Madison says fondly, “It surprises a lot of people when I say this but I’m actually an east coast girl.”

This fun fact translates quite well in Madison’s day to day. She could turn any conversation into an erudite discussion, and she will utterly beguile you with her knowledge of books and literature—her constant companions when she can sneak away to her own personal Taj Mahal, a stunning Japanese garden in the backyard of their Pennsylvania home which Kevin built especially for her.

As the Pearsons continue to make a splash in the world of construction, politics, arts and entertainment—a rare mix indeed for a family in the spotlight—Madison is determined to continue writing a story with her husband and her children that she never had growing up.

With the twins happily destroying their creations by the mouthfuls, Madison promises that another visit is a must and perhaps this time, she can show us a collection of Kevin’s baby photos coupled with her own personal commentary to boot.

And who would say no to that.

#kevison #kadison #kevin and madison #still not over that kadison tag but loving it coz yes to more madison yeeeeee #I tried to not let Kevin get away with being gushy but he keeps taking over!!#lezbereal he's in too deep we get it boyy #I need to do a combined one because Uncle Nicky and some of the fam has to feature am I roighttttt #anywhoo hope y'all enjoy this <3 #this is us #tiu #kevison fanfics #kevison fanfic #tiu spoilers #I know most of the deets won't be canon after season 6 but whatever I do what I want #kevin pearson #madison this is us #madison pearson

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angelaiswriting · 3 years

Text

The Assistant (15 of ?) | Vladimir Ranskahov x fem!reader

[original picture found on: pinterest]

✏️ Pairings:

(almost official) Vladimir Ranskahov x fem!reader

Anatoly Ranskahov x OC (Paulina) mentioned

✏️ Requested by @kellydixon01 : Y/N–hacker, big mouth, even bigger attitude–is the new addition to Fisk’s team. Sent to help the Ranskahovs, she immediately gets on Vladimir’s nerves. But as time passes, they start to take a liking to each other, even if none of them is willing to admit their feelings. Yet.

✏️ Previously on The Assistant (aka I’m shit at updating): Y/N has moved in with Vladimir and the two have found themselves growing closer. There’s only one problem: Vlad’s old friend Ulyana thinks the two are a couple and has invited them over for dinner to celebrate.

✏️ A/N: y’all. Y’ALL. First off, I just want to apologize, it’s been forever and a month since I updated this; I’m not even sure there are still people reading/that remember this story apart from Alice lol. It took us me 144 pages !!! but it’s finally happening. Enjoy! I literally cried when I wrote the end of this chapter because it was about fucking time!

✏️ Warnings: fluff; and tears, but those were mine as I wrote this lol; Sergei has a doggie!; a smidge of swearing.

✏️ Word-count: 6,060

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: MATCHMAKER

Sitting on the closed toilet seat with the pipe wrench still in his hands, Vladimir could hear Y/N and Ulyana laugh in the living room. He couldn’t make out their words, for their voices were quiet despite their hilarity, and the left-ajar door of the bathroom didn’t help him any.

The most surreal situation I’ve ever experienced, that’s how Y/N had labeled it less than an hour ago, before he helped Lina bring in the tray with the cups of tea. And the more he mulled things over, the more he found himself agreeing. The most surreal situation I’ve ever experienced – and he had lived through plenty of what could be considered ‘weird shit’. Ulyana in general had been a whole exception in his book. Ulyana, with her afternoons spent playing bingo at the daily center for the elderly with all her old-lady friends; Ulyana, with her borscht and her endless words of encouragement and comfort when both he and Tolya had needed them the most.

But also Ulyana, so dead-set on the idea that he was too stiff and needed a gentle touch in his life that she just… mistook Y/N for his woman. As if he needed someone! But it was still a good thing in a way, though, he reasoned as he stood up and moved to stand in front of the sink to stare at his reflection. And probably his brother was right about the fact that he had to open up to her, tell her what he felt – and what he was scared of. And just… try, for once. Make an effort to take his private life into his own hands instead of just wasting it away on cigarettes and underground fights.

As he stood there, hands gripping the sink, wrench abandoned on the counter, he tried to focus on what existed beyond that scar on the right side of his face and all it meant. By now he was convinced that she didn’t see it – not because she didn’t want to, but because she was able to see right through it. She knew about his past, and not just about Utkin, but also about some of the stupid things he had done in his short-lived youth – he had told her about that over vodka, a bit more rarely over coffee. And while he had always had problems with that, he found himself having fewer and fewer now.

Yeah, maybe it wasn’t that bad to pretend he had someone that cared about him, and while that equaled lying to Lina, maybe it was for the greater good?

It came off as a question even in his own mind, but it was one he found himself being willing to put in the time and effort to find an answer to. It was almost stupid, to think that feelings seemed to terrify him to the bone, while he could take a gun pointed at his head any day without batting an eyelash. Because that’s what he did, that’s what the target on his back felt like.

Maybe all he needed was to grow a pair, listen to what Ulyana had always told him, and walk out there a somewhat taken man.

And not taken to the demons in his head, but to someone – a friend, maybe? – that he had learned to respect. In a way, that is; that road still seemed a long one, after all.

When he joined the two women again some twenty minutes or so later, after he had fixed the kitchen cabinet Lina had been too shy to ask him to repair, he found them leafing through an old photo album. Belka – Ulyana’s old, white cat – was snoozing in Y/N’s lap, the tip of her fluffy tail moving up and down every once in a while as she purred at her new friend.

It was a weirdly cozy view, one that seemed to put all the thoughts that were still swarming his mind at ease. He leaned against the frame of the door, arms crossed in front of his chest, and he just stared for a while, half-present in the moment and half-lost in his own mind. He didn’t miss the moment her head lifted up an inch and her eyes met his, though, and before he could realize anything, he found himself smirking back.

“Ulya is showing me the photographs of her wedding day,” she said when he moved away from the door and really entered the room. Her fingers absentmindedly scratched the cat behind one ear as she maintained eye contact until he sat down at the round table in front of the window to her left.

“Those are a must-see when you step foot into her house.” His was a playful huff as he lit himself a cigarette. They had all gone back to Russian, which meant that Ulyana had gotten to know Y/N faster than he had. “Next thing you know, you’re walking down Soviet memory lane.” And then, when his eyes met Lina’s: “You know I’m joking. Tolya and I have always loved your stories.”

The woman shook her head, but there was a smile on her face that somehow warmed his heart. It meant that it was all back to normal now; that, in her heart, she had forgiven him for disappearing for so long and never, not once, calling to check in on her. “This girl’s bewitched you,” she chuckled, patting Y/N’s knee with her free hand. “I don’t remember when the last time he wasn’t serious was, anymore,” she explained as she leaned back against the couch, giving her guest’s unasked question an answer.

Vladimir scoffed and when his phone beeped on the table with a text from Sergei a moment later, he stood up. “We gotta go now. Work’s calling.”

Ulyana had a look on her face that seemed to complain On a Saturday? but she knew he was a busy man with a demanding job, and so she dropped it. “You’re both invited over tomorrow,” she said instead. “I’ll prepare a nice dinner to celebrate together.” She closed the album of photographs and put it down on the coffee table by the side of the couch.

When she stood up, Belka seemed to catch the hint: she woke up, let out a huffy meow, and jumped down from Y/N’s lap to rub herself against one of Vlad’s legs.

“There’s nothing to celebrate, Lina,” Vladimir was saying as he let the old woman fix the collar of his shirt before engulfing him in a hug.

The way her eyebrows rose when she turned to look at Y/N was almost comical on that round face of hers. “He’s still as stubborn as always, isn’t he?” she whispered in her ear when she hugged her goodbye. When she turned back towards Vladimir, she had her hands on her hips and a firm look in her eyes that he knew he couldn’t escape. “You two will come over for dinner tomorrow night if it kills you! It’s so good to see you finally happy, my boy, and not just alone as always. And if that’s not enough, I haven’t seen you in months! Is this how you treat your old Lina?”

“I can’t believe she managed to convince you.”

He was driving to Sergei’s place when Y/N spoke again. They hadn’t exchanged a word after leaving Ulyana’s apartment and truth be told, he was almost afraid to hear her speak again.

“I can’t believe it either,” he groaned, one hand gripping the steering wheel tightly while his left arm just hung out the rolled-down window.

There were heavy clouds behind the buildings in front of them and it looked like it would start pouring soon. But the slightly chilly air was a blessing after that day’s stuffy heat, so he was ready to face the early-summer bad weather when it would come.

After that exchange, the silence went back to being almost embarrassed. She was looking at him from the corner of her eye – he hadn’t missed it, he was good at noticing things about people, even though probably not as good as he thought he was when it came to her. Whether she was trying to come up with something to say or not, though, he did not know.

His own thoughts were all over the place as well.

He had a little less than one day to come up with an excuse to ring Ulyana up with just so that he could avoid that dinner date she had organized. In his heart he knew she was doing this for him: she and Aleksandr had never had children, and that’s exactly how she had always seen him and his brother ever since they had first rented that apartment on her same floor. We’re all Russians, we have to stick up for each other, she had said once, one of the first times she had insisted they’d come over for dinner. She had taken care of them; and it was remarkable, the way they had let her into their lives, one kind act at a time, in a time when the Siberian wound was still tender and they didn’t know who to trust in this new, foreign land.

Then, a little more than a year and a half ago, when Anatoly had introduced Paulina to her, it had become just Vladimir and Ulyana most of the time. Tolya was busier now – he didn’t only have his job, but there was a woman now and he did things with her, took her places, came up with things just to surprise her for the sake of it… It had been a shock at first because that was someone more similar to the old Anatoly Ranskahov, the one who had lived in Moscow and had danced around a different woman every night – with the only difference that he was now a faithful lover.

“Are you upset?” Her voice tore him out of his mind once again and he turned towards her with a questioning hmm? that prompted her to clarify. “About her thinking that we’re together.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t think I am, nyet,” he confessed eventually.

She was staring ahead, not looking at him, but a smile still blossomed on her face at his words. “If I don’t tell you now, I know I’ll never have the guts to.”

But Vladimir was already slowing down to park the car and when Y/N turned her head to see what he was staring at with such a confused expression on his face, the faint smirk on his lips already fading away completely, she knew she wouldn’t be opening her heart any time soon in that car.

“What the fuck?” was what Vlad mumbled as he hastily turned off the engine, pulled on the handbrake, and threw his door open. “What is this?”

Sergei was standing there, a black and brown rottweiler laying at his feet, panting with its tongue almost touching the asphalt in the somewhat stuffy evening air.

“This,” his friend said, slowly, shoving the handle of the leash in the other’s hand before Vlad could come back to himself, “is Sharik. I need you to look after him while I’m gone.”

Vladimir stared down at the dog, and the dog sat up against Seriozha’s legs so that he could stare back at him better. He was a big piece of meat, and he could already picture him drooling all over the couch he had back at home. “Why?”

“What do you mean, why?” frowned Sergei, dropping the black gym bag from his shoulder to Vlad’s feet. “I told you yesterday, before you and Y/N left the garage. If I need to go out of town for business, I won’t be able to bring him with me. You agreed to look after him for me.”

While his owner spoke, Sharik sniffed at Vladimir’s shin with curiosity, and after a long moment of scrutiny, he lazily wagged his tail in approval.

“You need to take him out in the morning and at night, he loves walks in the park.”

“What?” He wasn’t sure the type of ‘take the dog out’ he was thinking of was the one Sergei had in mind.

“Don’t feed him weird shit. His dry food is in the bag. Don’t give him more than what I wrote down – he loves to beg. And make him play before bed, or he’ll keep you up all night.”

“What?”

“Your apartment complex also has a pool and he enjoys chilling in the water, so if–”

“I won’t be looking after your dog. What?”

Before either of them could speak, Y/N’s What’s going on here? made them turn in her direction. She had gotten out of the car, and while she was still holding onto the door with one hand, Vlad knew she’d soon come forward.

“Solnyshko, hi!”

Vladimir knew he was fucked when Sergei greeted her and hugged her back when she walked up to them. He’d manage to convince her and while she was just a guest in his house, Vlad knew he’d be the one bending his will.

Sharik gave her the same treatment he had reserved for him just moments before, but he sped it up this time, and the wagging in his tail wasn’t as lazy as it had been with him – it was a hard slapping back and forth against his leg that gave him just a slight taste of the dog’s strength.

“Who’s this good boy?” she cooed as the dog sniffed the palm of her hand before giving it a lick and allowing her to pet his head.

In no time, and before he had the chance to register what was going on, Y/N had gone back to the car and, appalled, he had to watch her lead the dog onto the back seats.

As if he had read his mind, Sergei reassured him: “Don’t worry, he doesn’t shed. But you still need to keep him brushed, it relaxes him.”

He stared at the car, kept an eye on Y/N as she put Sergei’s gym bag in the trunk, and then walked back around the car to sit on the passenger seat. She was still caressing the dog, her back turned towards the two men, when Vladimir spoke.

“You know I don’t deal with animals.”

Sergei scoffed. “We deal with much worse. Now, don’t be a brat, I didn’t have to listen to the two of you singing like shit last night just to then not be able to get payback.”

“We didn’t–”

“It’s all cool, Volodya.” Serzh patted his shoulder and grinned at him before turning back to stare at the car his dog had got into. “She’s nice, I don’t mind. It was about time you found someone that would headbutt you every time you headbutted them.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about, brother. Sharik is a good matchmaker, who else do you think got Tolik and Paulina together?” he grinned. “But if he is missing even so much as a hair when I come back, we’ll have a problem.”

He scoffed. “A threat? Over a dog?”

“He’s not just some dog, Volodya. He’s my boy.” He stared him down for a moment before turning around. He had already started to walk back towards the building he lived in, when he said one last I’ll call you when Aslan and I have left the state before Vlad turned his back on him.

Just as he had expected, Sharik launched himself onto the couch the second Y/N opened the door of his apartment. The only thing Vladimir could do was watch him run across the entrance corridor, fly mid-air, and then fall heavily onto the clean cushions of his couch half a second later. And to be such a big and heavy dog, he was fast.

“I’m going to kill Sergei,” he muttered but before he could take another step forward, Y/N stopped him with a hand on his forearm.

“C’mon, he’s just a dog, Vlad. Don’t be mean. I’ll get him down,” she chuckled and toed her shoes off before walking up to Sharik.

Sometime later, after that dog had finally stopped whining and complaining that he wanted to get on the couch despite said couch’s owner didn’t want to, there was silence again.

The next-door neighbor had knocked on the door not long after they had got home: he had heard the noises, and had felt the need to complain about that sudden surprise, and to poke his nose into business he knew nothing about – There’s a pet fee you’re supposed to pay if you want to keep an animal in here. And then, when Sharik had walked up to the door and nosed his way to stand between Y/N’s legs – Vlad has seen it in the mirror hanging on the wall right at the other end of the room – that very neighbor had found something else to complain about. Its size exceeds the limits allowed in this complex, or some shit like that. He hadn’t heard what she had told the dude; all he knew was that less than five minutes after he had shown up at the door, he had left with his tail between his legs, and so Vlad had managed to go back to staring at the screen of his laptop.

He wasn’t doing anything, really. For once, he didn’t feel like burying his head into his work – everything needed for Aslan and Sergei’s trip to Florida had already been organized, and the last touches for the upcoming shipment could wait until Monday. It was very un-Vladimir-like, to take a whole weekend off, but for once, he wouldn’t complain.

What he ended up thinking about – or, rather, whom –, however, was Ulyana. He had been praying for an excuse to cancel that dinner date for the next day, but he hadn’t expected to be actually presented with one. And although he still had the intention to ring her up and apologize, he still had to pick up the phone. He couldn’t possibly leave Sergei’s dog home alone, now, could he? Or did he want to come back to a destroyed house?

“Shari’s napping.” When he looked up, not even taken by surprise by her sudden appearance in the doorframe of the kitchen, he found her standing there, leaning a shoulder against the wood and staring at him. “What are you up to?”

“Work,” was his quick reply. “Checking that everything is in order and… stuff.”

“‘And stuff’?” She didn’t seem convinced, and she stared at him for a long minute, before dismissing it and sitting opposite him at the small kitchen table. “Anyway, why didn’t you tell me about this favor you had to do for Sergei?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I didn’t know I had to look after stupid dog.” And then, when she raised an eyebrow: “A very smart, but spoiled dog. Better?”

“He’s not spoiled. Serzh just really loves him a lot,” she pouted. And when he glared at her, she continued: “This doesn’t matter, though. You have to find a solution for tomorrow night. Call Sergei and ask him how Sharik deals with cats, and then call Ulyana and ask her how Belka deals with dogs. Or something.”

“Why me?”

“Because I asked nicely? Because you got us into this?”

As it turned out a couple of calls later, Sharik was very gentle, almost submissive with cats and animals in general – despite his size, despite his face, and his breed, and the size of his paws big enough to be as big as at least three cat legs put together. And Ulyana had no problem having a dog over either – she had looked after a neighbor’s dog more times than she could count, and Belka was used to napping in her bedroom when another animal was over.

So, not a problem – as Lina had said. Just come over and bring the dog, I’ll have something ready for him too.

His plan to avoid that dinner date had miserably failed, although there was something inside him at the thought of showing up at Lina’s and pretending like he and Y/N were a thing of some sort that just… pulled at some strings he didn’t even know he had inside. And as he watched Y/N fill Sharik’s bowl just as they got ready to eat dinner, he found himself being almost happy that those strings were being pulled, for once in his life.

“So we just take him over to her place?” she asked him when she sat down, a steaming plate with rice and veggies right in front of her.

His diet had taken a turn for the better ever since she had moved in with him – he still had more vodka than was healthy to have hiding pretty much in almost all the cabinets in his apartment, but at least his fridge was full of food his body could actually digest this time.

“That’s what she said,” he grumbled.

They ate in silence after that, and only when he had done the dishes, did she speak again.

“Do you wanna settle for a story?” She was sitting next to him on the couch, with Sharik’s heavy head resting on a knee. The dog was staring at her with adoring eyes as she gently scratched behind his ears.

“A story?”

“Yeah, about how we met. How we ended up together. Ulyana asked a couple vague-ish questions this afternoon, so I think she’ll ask more tomorrow. No?” She glanced at him when he didn’t reply. “Unless you wanna tell her the truth.”

“I don’t know what I want,” he eventually confessed. “I don’t want to lie to her, but if I hear her ask me about ‘my woman’ another time, I’m going to burst.”

He didn’t expect to chuckle with her, but he did. And when they grew silent again, and she went back to staring at the TV screen after a quick Let me think of something, then, he laid his head back against the seatback of the couch, head turned in her direction, and studied the profile of her face. The way the corner of her mouth rose up into a smirk before she giggled at Sharik’s sniffing nose against her bare shin. The way her chest rose and fell with every breath she took, slow and regular and almost gentle. And before he knew it, his eyes had dropped closed and he had fallen asleep.

When he woke up sometime later – the clock on his phone signaled just a few minutes after half past eleven –, Y/N and Sharik had already left the room, and he was uncomfortably half sitting, half lying on the couch covered by a pile blanket. The TV was off, and not a sound came from inside the apartment – nor from outside in the corridor.

He briefly wondered whether Y/N had managed to come up with a story in case Ulyana would ask questions, but he barely had the time to walk into his room and sit on his bed, that his ears picked up some snoring.

There, bundled up under his blankets, was sleeping Sharik, who had somehow managed to make himself at home. He even had the audacity of staring at him with an accusatory look in his eyes, the fleabag, when Vladimir turned on the lamp on his bedside table to get a closer look.

“Get off,” he groggily ordered, yanking the covers back with a quick movement of his arm. “Get off my bed, dog.”

But for all he tried, the dog wouldn’t budge. And even when Vladimir picked him up and put him back down onto the living room floor, he barely had the time to close the door of his bedroom – something he hadn’t done since before Utkin – that Sharik was already pushing against it with his nose to slip into the room.

“You are stubborn beast, aren’t you?”

Taking him back to the living room by force didn’t help at all, for the dog wouldn’t stop bugging him. He had managed to lower the door handle twice in the half-hour Vladimir spent trying to get rid of him without… yeah, without actually getting rid of the fucking four-legged light of Sergei’s life.

When it became apparent that he wouldn’t have a good night’s sleep in his goddamn bed that night, was when Sharik almost tripped him over from behind just to then launch himself onto his bed much like he had done that evening with the couch – and the at least other ten times Vlad had tried to kick him out of the room. He laid there, on his bed, curled up like a too-big cat, staring at him with eyebrows that wouldn’t stop going up and down until he huffed out a complaint and went back to sleep.

“I’ll kill you, Sergei,” he groaned, rubbing his face with both hands to try and shoo the annoyance away.

He stood in the hallway for a while, then, eyeing the couch from the other side of the living room while mentally cursing himself. Before fixing the spare room, which he had turned into Y/N’s bedroom as the weeks had gone by, he had had to take care of his brother and by giving him his bed, he had had to get the couch. It was too small for him, and uncomfortable – and the thought that she, too, had had to sleep there for endless days before he got his shit together still stung, in a way. And since it looked like he wouldn’t be able to get Sharik out of his bedroom – nor out of his bed, for that matter –, he was left with only two options to pick from: either the couch or…

He knocked on her door before he had the time to talk himself out of it.

“Is something wrong?” She was scrolling through her phone when she told him to come in. The lamps on both nightstands were on, and it looked like she was still far from falling asleep.

“Dog’s in my bed,” he said, staring at her from across the room. “Couch is…”

“I know,” she chuckled. “Still not the worst couch I’ve slept on, though, don’t worry,” she continued when he made a weird face. “Stay in your half of the bed, and you can sleep here if you want.”

He didn’t sleep that night, however. He laid on his right side, staring at the wall, and she laid on her left, staring at the opposite wall. She had wished him good night at some point, when she had put her phone away and had turned the lights off, and he had answered with a hum. But then, he had just laid there all night, listening in on her soft breathing – and then her soft snoring – and he remained motionless. When he did fall asleep, sometime in the early morning, just before the first light of day peaked in through the curtains, his last thought was that maybe, this wasn’t that bad.

“Through mutual friends, if so one could say,” Y/N replied over celebratory vodka. Ulyana had kept her best questions for the end of the dinner and Vladimir had almost deluded himself into thinking the old woman would never ask. They had come up with a story to tell just in case, but silence would have been better. “I apparently showed up at the garage at the least opportune time.”

“Oh! So was it love at first sight?” Lina was pouring them all a second shot with one hand as the other one rested on Sharik’s head.

Vlad laughed – what an absurd concept, he found himself musing. Love at first sight? With someone as careful as him? And although Y/N kicked his foot under the table to try and silence him, he couldn’t fully erase the smirk from his face. “Nyet,” he chuckled eventually as he wiped away a tear with a knuckle.

“Hell no! He was very rude and stubborn at the beginning,” confessed Y/N, and Vlad was barely able to scoff at her that Lina had turned in his direction with a gaze of steel.

“Very rude?” she inquired, eyes squinting as she frowned. “With this lovely lady?”

“Don’t gang up on me, she was very stubborn too!” he complained. “Still is.”

“One ought to be stubborn if one has to put up with you, my dear Volodya.” Ulyana patted his hand on the table. “Doesn’t give you the right to be rude. I didn’t raise you like that.”

He had been on the verge of pointing out that he had, in fact, been raised by his own mother and not by her, but he didn’t deem it appropriate tonight – nor necessary. Lina didn’t mean any harm, and he knew what she was trying to imply.

“It’s alright, Ulya, he has learned how to tone it down now.” The smile on Y/N’s face seemed sincere, and at that moment, he wouldn’t be able to tell what she was thinking about. “Ever since we moved in together, he’s learned how to behave himself. Most of the time, at least.”

It was Ulyana’s turn to playfully slap Vlad’s forearm and he found it almost weird, to find himself with his back to the wall in front of those two. And not even in a bad way, with all of them drinking vodka together and celebrating a romantic relationship that simply wasn’t there.

What had he become? Lying like that to an old, dear friend… Without thinking twice; without remorse. He sat there in her living room, eating her food, drinking her alcohol, and he kept on adding lies to the fire without being able to stop.

“Hey, she’s not a saint, either! Tell her.”

Y/N laughed, and it somehow took him by surprise, it knocked the wind out of him. He fully turned his head to stare at her, and it almost felt like seeing her for the first time and for the millionth time at the same time. The way she tilted her head back as she laughed; the way her earrings and piercings caught the light of the lighting fixture; even the way her fingers brushed against his, and the way he ended up holding her hand in his. Warm and soft, the skin so smooth that he almost pulled away.

He watched her talk, recount the story of how they met – or a watered-down version of it, with anything too compromising being filtered out. And as she conversed with Ulya, her fingers played with his and his gaze kept on dropping down on his hand, never missing a movement. She had somehow ended up tracing the three-bar cross between his thumb and forefinger – without looking at it, almost as though she had done just that so many times that she had ended up memorizing its placement, its lines. And as she went on talking, her fingers brushed across the Xs on his knuckles, and he had to fight that sudden impulse that pushed him to pull his hand away.

A couple of hours later, when they had finally bid Ulyana goodnight and thanked her for the pleasant dinner she had offered them, he found himself walking his best man’s dog in the park just across the street from her old friend’s apartment building. He watched Sharik sniff here and there, and for a moment he found himself wondering if that was what a normal life felt like – walking the dog at almost eleven in the night, with plastic bags in a pocket in case the dog pooped, arm in arm with a woman.

“You’re quiet,” she said at one point, when they stopped under a tree while Sharik sniffed just a few meters in front of them. “Is everything alright?”

It took him a while to answer. And it wasn’t because he hadn’t heard her, but because he was afraid of somehow saying the wrong thing as was custom with him. “Da,” he sighed eventually, “just thinking.” He shrugged, but he didn’t make a move to pull away when her hand trailed down his arm and her fingers entwined with his.

“I had a good time tonight. I hope you did too, and that I didn’t push myself too far with that story about… you know, us.”

“It was fine, she bought it.”

“Doesn’t make me feel less bad, though.”

He turned his head to look at her, and for a moment, the thought of how it would be like to do this every night with her crossed his mind. “Eh, I know.” It was quiet for a while after that, but when Sharik steered off the path, he found himself cursing out in Russian. “Come here, you stubborn dog!”

“Don’t be mean, Vlad! He’s just a dog.” She ran after Sharik then, and he watched her take him back by the collar as he fished a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his pants. He had just lit himself one when she took it from his fingers and put it out against the sole of her high-heeled shoe as she kept her balance with a hand firmly wrapped around his forearm.

“Why did you do that?” It was almost a gasp, half-surprised and half-pissed at a cigarette waisted in such a way.

“I had something to tell you yesterday, in the car.”

“You could’ve done that over shared cigarette!”

“I don’t want to taste cigarettes when I kiss someone, though.”

He almost opened his mouth to retort when her words registered in his brain, and all he could do was stare down into her eyes, not a sound leaving his lips.

“Like that night after the bar, just without drinks. I wanna do this sober.” She had taken a step forward, and they were now standing toe-to-toe. He could almost feel her, even with that short distance separating them – like when she had turned around and had ended up pressing her forehead against his back the night before, with the only difference that they were both awake now. “I want to kiss you again so badly it’s driving me nuts.”

That gasp didn’t leave his lips just because he managed to abruptly inhale quickly at the last second, but her words did make his heart beat faster somehow.

“I kept on telling myself that you’d do it, but you haven’t so far, and I can’t understand if that’s because you still dislike me or –”

He cut her off before she could continue. Her cheeks were burning when he cradled her face between his hands, and her lips were soft against his. Her hands came up to wrap around his wrists. When he pulled her closer, she let him; and when she deepened the kiss, when her tongue brushed against his teeth, he let her.

It was like one of those cliché moments, although it lasted for a couple of seconds at most: his breathing stopped, and the world seemed to stop with it as he kissed her. And then, when everything picked up again – his breathing, his heart, Hell’s Kitchen late-night traffic, Sharik’s tail snapping like a whip against his leg as he stood there – he found himself not wanting to pull away.

She did, though, and she looked up at him out of breath, his hands still cupping her cheeks and her hands still holding on to his wrists. “You’re so stubborn, I swear,” she chuckled. “But if you don’t kiss me again, I’ll go back to being stubborn, too.”

He cackled, and when Sharik pushed against his thigh with his nose, he looked down at him and shook his head. “Maybe Sergei was right, after all,” he mumbled before turning his attention back to Y/N and kissing her again, silencing her question before she had the time to voice it.

This is Sharik :) (pics found on Pinterest eons ago, I don’t remember the links, credits to the owner(s)!)

Comments and inbox are always open for feedback :) pls if you have any ideas you’d like to see in this story, feel free to hit me up, they’d for sure help me out lol since I’m slow AF :’)

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kajsa-writes-sometimes · 3 years

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Chp. II: Miss Amanda Pailey

The door closes behind her. A dejected sigh left her lips as she pulled the cloak closer around her shoulders. Apparently not a single soul in the entire city hadn't read about her recent fiasco. Mrs. Milligan had caught her up just as she was about to leave the house and told her that she shouldn't fear losing her job. They had always been very fond of her and what the critics wrote about her book wouldn't sway their opinion of her, but - here Mrs. Milligan made a point out of giving her hand a tight squeeze - Mr. Milligan didn't want his children to get any ideas so if she could avoid bringing her personal views into the tutoring of the siblings, they would appreciate it.

Angelina shook her head and brushed an imaginary dust pellet off her dress. She had promised not to bring up the content of her writings while under the Milligan's roof, and then Mrs. Milligan had sent her off with a big smile and a small purse containing her fee.

The Milligan siblings had been under her tutoring since the previous summer, and she had had the pleasure of teaching the little scoundrels the basics of the written language, algebra, and sewing (although the latter of the three was restricted to the sister).

The Milligans moved to the city less than a generation ago, and both the parents still bore a gruff air about them. Mr. Milligan's hands were still large and ruff from numerous hours of hard labor, and Mrs. Milligan lacked the refinement of someone who had been born into old money. For Angelina (and probably the rest of the world too) it was painfully clear that the Milligans were nothing but a good impersonation of a well-off family.

For Angelina it made little difference. In actuality, she had little opinion of her employer as long as they paid her fee on time, and didn't fire her out of fear for what being associated with her name might mean for the family's good name.

As she turned down a narrow street, the clocks struck six o'clock and she could have cursed herself had she had the breath to do so. When the first chime sounded, she spread up in the hopes that she might beat the nature of time. The fifth stroke resonated between the yellow brick houses as she turned into the stairway of her friend's pensionate.

"I'm terribly sorry I'm late," she gasped as soon as the door opened. "Mrs. Milligan insisted we talk just as I was about to leave!"

"Don't fret about it, Angie. If I didn't know you by now, I think we should reevaluate our friendship. We have, after all, known each other for eight years."

Miss Amanda Pailey pulled her into the tiny, but cozy rooms and helped her friend get out of the cape.

"I know, I know- you are right as always, my dear," Angelina said as she straightened her back.

As Amanda ordered her friend to take a seat on a light red shasilong, she pulled together a tray of sandwiches and hot pies she had bought just that afternoon. It had been almost half a month since the friends had seen eachother last and much had happened for them both.

As the two young ladies nibbled away on their dinner, they both took the opportunity to look over the other. Angelina thought her friend looked as if she was glowing: her hair looked healthier and there was only the shadow of sleeplessness in her face. Amanda on the other hand couldn't help but notice how her friend's dress seemed almost half a size too big for her frame, and how her cheekbones stood out even clearer than they should.

"Please tell me you are eating probably," Amanda said as she lifted another pie onto her friend's plate.

"Always so worried about me. I'm eating all I can."

"Don't forget I know you well, and eating all you can is definitely not the same as eating enough."

Angelina avoided her friend's gaze as she took another bite of the pie. A sweet taste filled her mouth, and a soft moan escaped her against her will.

"Is it honey glazed pork with mashed potatoes?" she asked her friend.

"Well, at that price I wouldn't trust it being pork, but yes. I got an extra in the bag, and you are taking it home."

"I couldn't possibly-" Angelina started, but she was cut off.

"And I won't take no for an answer. I'm getting married in three months and I wouldn't want my bridesmaid to look like a walking corpse now, would I?"

Happy for the easy escape, Angelina grabbed the mention of her friend's wedding to guide the attention away from herself.

"So how is it going with your Mr. Harrington?"

"We've found a church with a kind, young priest who is willing to wed us. It's just down Almond Street. You must have seen it when you go round that way. I admit it looks rather dull from the outside, but the vicar has set a date and promised that the organist will play what we ask of him as long as it's nothing unseemly."

"Have you thought about where you are going to live after the ceremony? I doubt Mr. Harrington would be welcome here," Angelina asked.

"We haven't yet, but Pete is looking for pensinates that we can afford that will let us live together." Amanda sent her friend a small smile laden with all the sadness that her friend newingered just beneath the surface.

"You'll find something, I promise," she said, but both women were well aware that she was in no position to uphold her promise.

"Now we are on the topic of the future, how is your novel coming along?"

Amanda rose from her place and took the tray out. Angelina turned her head and rested an arm on the back of the chaiselong so she could watch her friend prepare a pot of tea.

They were a few years apart, but in the eight years their friendship had lasted, it had never been a problem. In all honesty there really wasn't that much of a difference between being twenty one and twenty three years old.

The greatest difference was the fact that Amanda had been engaged to Mr. Pete Harrington for the last three and a half year, and that Angelina had only ever had the irregular fling and known the fleeting butterflies of a summer's love. Angelina knew that if Amanda had had any say in the matter, they would have been happily married a long time ago, but her aunt had insisted the young man who had claimed the heart of her niece prove that he would be able to provide for his wife before they entered wedlock.

Three years later Mr. Pete Harrington had a job that had in prestige what it lacked in excitement. After having worked at an office in town for half a year and a half, Mr. Harrington had been hired by the University. A year later he had gotten a permanent position as the head secretary of the University Enrollment Office, and although Hemwick University wasn't as well known as Oxford, it attracted students from all across Europe. With the job secured Amanda and Mr. Harrington had once more approached Amanda's aunt and she had finally given the young couple her blessing. Now it was a matter of months before the wedding, and Amanda would be known as Mrs. Harrington by the age of twenty three.

"Well, you've got nothing to say? That doesn't seem like you," Amanda said as she returned to her seat.

"I'm terribly sorry, but my mind seems to be all over the place these days," Angelina shrugged as she thought about the Duke's letter that still lay on the table next to her typewriter. "It appears that there is no one who hasn't heard about my recent flob, and half the world seems keen to remind me that I have chosen a path not suited for young women."

"I'm truly sorry to hear so, but we both know that is not what is bothering you," Amanda said and fixed a curl that had escaped her intricate hairdo.

Angelina rose to her feet and started walking in circles on the floor. Writhing her hands in front of her, she considered if she should tell her friend about her correspondence with the Duke. None of them lived under the assumption that they told each other everything, but the length of their relationship meant that they shared most things.

Maybe a light version of the truth would do? She stopped in the middle of the floor and met her friend's warm, brown eyes.

"I received a letter, you see, from a reader who wanted to tell me how much he enjoyed my work."

Amanda lifted the cup to her lips wondering where this story would lead. She couldn't see what her friend found so upsetting about a from an admirer of her work.

"And I'm somewhat afraid that I might have offended him with my reply to his letter."

"Would it be so bad if you have offended this man?"

"I fear so. He has a good reputation and if he decided to smear my book, it could end my career faster than you would need to make a cup of tea!"

Angelina made something that resembled but wasn't quite a pirouette on the spot.

"Oh, wouldn't the critics love it if I should put down my pen and return to the quiet life of an upstanding woman!"

"They probably would, but I doubt you have anything to fear. I am sure you fret for nothing, and that he will be so awestruck by the reply you send him that he'll have no time to be offended." Amanda rose and placed a hand on her friend's upper arm. "Now let's sit down and I'll tell you how the wedding planning is going. That is sure to take your mind off things."

And so the two young women once more took a seat, and for an evening some of the tension left Angelina's shoulders. As she walked home later that night, she almost succeeded at convincing herself that she would soon return to her daily life with no more interruptions in the form of handwritten letters on cream coloured paper.

The entire story can be found on Wattpad as I slowly update or by following the links in this master post

#the true story of a poor writer and her unwanted patron #kajsa writes #my writings #historical fiction #original fiction #original #oc #writeblr #writing #writblr #my writing #original writing

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jovialyouthmusic · 4 years

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Past Times

The Dalgleish family continue their tour around John Lykel’s estate, and Elizabeth has to make a big decision.

Word Count 3233

A/N Although this is a spin off of a spin off of a fanfic, it has become it’s own story. I’m pleased to see it has prompted some interest. This is fluffy and gentle and there is longing and romance, but definitely no smut - at least not yet.

8 Will you be Mistress?

The family spent a pleasant afternoon touring the formal gardens before being admitted to the walled garden where the head gardener grew produce for the manor. Fruit trees soaked up the summer sun on the south facing walls which also sported a large glasshouse. Exotic plants were carefully tended in there, and they were told that such fruits as pineapple and peaches would be served at the grand dinner to be held when all the guests had arrived. John’s friend Tom and his wife were due to arrive the next day and would be staying for two weeks, and other guests would be coming from nearby estates. There would be a grand dinner and a Ball in a week’s time and most of the guests would return home at the end of the day, but there were rooms still available for a few who had further to travel.

The estate was set on the banks of a river and the fishing was good. Copses and woods provided game to hunt, and cattle and sheep grazed the meadows. There was a farmhouse with a barn and dairy and other outbuildings and a number of cottages housing estate workers, and John also employed a gamekeeper. Servants who worked in the house either slept in the top story of the manor or in one of a few cottages that stood close by. Naturally there were also stables housing a fine stallion and a sweet docile mare for riding and for breeding, and two lesser steeds which could be hitched up to draw an assortment of gigs and carricles. The farmhouse had its own stable with plough horses, and beehives provided honey. Chickens ran about the farmyard, there were ducks on the pond near the farmhouse and the pig sties were well stocked.

All in all, the estate was not only self sufficient, but a surplus of meat and other produce was sold to traders in Edinburgh. John took rent from the farmer and other smallholders and a percentage of anything made from trading. Having visitors stay at the manor and holding an elaborate dinner and ball for nearby gentry would hardly make a dent in the estate’s finances. What was draining to John’s resources was the rent and upkeep of the townhouse in the city, but Elizabeth’s dowry would help to cover those costs. She would receive an annual income from the money her father left her, plus rent from the farmhouse on his estate – or rather, John would, as the practice at the time was that any property or income a woman had passed to her husband when she married. In Scotland however, women had far more of a say in marital finances and sometimes ran the whole estate if they were able.

Elizabeth was a little overcome at the size and scope of Laxton Estate. She and John walked together, her parents admiring the exotic fruits and flowers in the glasshouse and Amelia trailing behind them. John had promised her that later they would visit the stables to see the horses and a litter of kittens that one of the farm cats had just given birth to.

‘How have you not been snapped up by a finer lady than I, John Lykel?’ she asked him as Morag admired the vegetable beds outside the glasshouse.

‘None attracted my attention like you, my dear Lizzy’ he assured her ‘Money and title are superficial and I did not expect to be managing the estate for some time to come. It is your spirit and your intellect that snared me – do you not remember our first meeting in the library?’ Elizabeth looked a little embarrassed.

‘If I had not tried to surprise Duncan, I might never have caught your attention, or you mine’ she said, and he smiled in agreement. He looked toward their chaperone and steered her a little further out of earshot.

‘Tell me my dear, what do you think of your room?’ he asked quietly.

‘It is very fine’ she replied ‘Is there anything significant about it?’

‘I wondered if your parents would be concerned that I had given you a larger bed’ he murmured ‘The truth is that it was challenging to allocate rooms and beds to accommodate both your family and other guests. I assure you there is nothing improper intended in giving you a bed that would accommodate more than one person. When we are married you may of course choose any room you wish as ours’ Again she blushed at the thought of what might occur when they were finally promised to each other and recognised by the Church.

‘John’ she said, squeezing his arm ‘We shall be wed soon, surely nothing can be improper, short of being more intimate with each other’ He smiled at her boldness

‘We have not set a date yet’ he replied ‘I wanted you to see the entirety of my estate before you accepted my proposal for certain. Some might find the prospect of being Mistress of Laxton rather challenging’

‘Mama and Papa have made sure I have been educated sufficiently for such a prospect’ Elizabeth assured him ‘Some of my friends have only been schooled in genteel arts such as dancing, singing and sewing, but as Father lacked a male heir he made sure to instruct both Amelia and I in the matter of estate as well as house management. It may come to pass that one of us might have to look after the family estate whether we are wed or not’ John raised his eyebrows in surprise.

‘Indeed, I was not aware of that’ he replied ‘You are truly a very suitable young woman, and I am very fortunate to have attracted your attention.’ He grinned ‘How have you not been snapped up by a finer gentleman than I?’ he said, echoing her words. She laughed and drew him closer, making as if to press her nose to his, but behind them, Morag cleared her throat.

‘When we have set a date, perhaps we will have a little freedom’ Lizzy sighed in exasperation ‘It is so tiresome having Morag trail us, and I am sure she wearies of it too’ she murmured, and he made a wry face in answer.

‘The next thing to do before you make a proper decision about our betrothal is to see the rest of the estate, and you will observe what your responsibilities might be beyond running the house’ he explained ‘You and I and Morag will take a gig and drive out. If your parents and Amelia wish to do the same, they may take another, for I have nothing that will seat more than three persons. I presume your father can handle a gig’

‘Oh yes, he is very fond of driving Mama around our estate.’ She replied ‘And I am determined to be by your side for as long as fortune allows’

‘Perhaps I should reveal some of my lesser habits in case you find them repugnant’ he mused ‘Maybe I should pick my teeth or belch after dinner’ Elizabeth laughed

‘Nothing will deter me. I have read that in some countries it is impolite not to belch after eating at a host’s table’

‘I too have heard that. Perhaps we shall visit such a place together’ Her eyes lit up, but they were interrupted by Amelia sidling up to them.

‘Lizzy, if I see one more peach or rose I shall scream’ she said quietly, and turned to John beseechingly ‘They are beautiful, but you promised to show me the kittens at the stable’ John smiled

‘Very well, we shall go there next’ he said gently, and made his way over to the girls’ parents. However, they chose to remain in the walled garden a little longer, and gave Amelia leave to accompany John, Elizabeth and Morag to the stables. They spent some time admiring the horses, and Amelia played delightedly with the kittens.

‘Do you think Mama would let me take one home?’ she asked hopefully ‘It would keep me company when you – when you leave, Lizzy’ She looked so morose that her sister put a hand on her shoulder to soothe her.

‘I can’t say for sure, but you should realise that a pet is a big responsibility, Melly’ she said gently.

‘Maybe I can bring one into the house here’ she said brightly, her eyes shining as she looked up at John ‘I could keep it in my room, and when Mama sees how well I care for it…’

‘You shall do no such thing, Miss Amelia’ scolded Morag ‘The kittens are far too young to leave their mother, and are half wild. They are farm cats, and will catch mice and rats, not look pretty for spoiled young ladies’ Amelia pouted a little.

‘When we all get back to Edinburgh perhaps we will talk with Mama about you having a pet’ Elizabeth said. ‘Perhaps a little dog, or a parrot’

‘Oh not a parrot, Lizzy’ Amelia protested. ‘Eleanor’s father has one that belonged to his kitchen maid’s brother, and it says some extremely rude things, he dare not have it out for visitors. Also it makes a mess with its droppings’ John laughed at her tale, and Elizabeth looked up as her parents made their appearance. Amelia made as if to open her mouth and plead to have a kitten, but her sister frowned at her and she remained quiet. Already the stable hands were harnessing two gigs – small open carriages set up to take two or three passengers, one of them driving the horses. John’s two gigs could each be drawn by a single horse, and he planned to drive himself with Elizabeth and Morag while Sir James drove his wife and younger daughter on a trip around the rest of the estate.

The rest of the afternoon was spent touring the orchards and farmland, the farm and the cottages. Elizabeth could not think of a single thing the estate did not have, save for a folly or some ornamental building or summer house. All was practical and business like, in contrast to her father’s estate which was largely for show, with long avenues of beech trees, an ornamental lake and a tower on a hill overlooking the house. The farmland was quite separate from the Manor, whereas at Laxton all was integrated and appeared to work well. Oddly though, Laxton Manor was, as she had already observed, a finer example with more elaborate décor and fine furnishings.

After their tour they returned to the house to rest and prepare for dinner, hoping that Lady Margaret would feel well enough to attend her visitors. The two girls endured their mother’s attentions as to what they should wear. She summoned a maid to Lizzie’s room to try out dresses and accessories for them. It was not a formal occasion, but if John’s mother was to be there, they must appear suitably dressed. It was decided that their best most fashionable gowns were to be saved for the ball and perhaps one or two other occasions, so their second best could be worn to dinner that night. They could then be put away for when the other guests were present, and they could wear less formal attire from day to day. The girls had two or three other dresses that would do for the latter, and various scarves, hats, bonnets and other hair decorations and hairstyles would transform those plain garments. Jewellery would be reserved for the very best occasions.

At last they descended to dinner. Lizzie’s father was already in the drawing room with John enjoying a cigar, on which his wife frowned, not liking the smell that lingered about him after he smoked. The Captain came forward to welcome Lizzie, taking her hands and placing a kiss on her cheek that burned her skin and made her stomach do somersaults.

‘Mother will be down shortly’ he smiled ‘She asks that we wait, and she will attend us. Would you all care for a cordial in the meantime?’ Amelia’s face lit up, as she loved sugary drinks, which her mother rarely allowed due to the effect on the young woman. She tended to become more animated and subject to flights of fancy, but at a pleading look, her mother accepted for all three of them. Sir James was already enjoying a pre dinner glass of brandy in a fine balloon glass.

‘Oh, is this raspberry?’ Elizabeth asked as a servant brought round a tray of glasses of clear red liquid.

‘Indeed it is’ John replied ‘You will have seen the fruit bushes in the gardens – we had an excellent crop last year. Perhaps you might like to try our raspberry brandy later’

‘Perhaps we might’ their mother replied politely. It was but a short time before a servant came to open the door for Lady Margaret to enter the room. The girls curtseyed and Sir James gave a little bow.

‘Please, if we are to be family we should dispense with such formalities’ the Duchess said generously ‘Sir James, your daughters are have very particular manners; they are a credit to you. I know not what it is like to bring young girls up to fit into polite society.’ She inclined her head to John ‘My dear son is not the only child I have borne, but he is the only one to survive past his infancy’

‘Oh, my dear Lady Margaret’ Elizabeth’s mother said sorrowfully ‘I am so sorry to hear it. I was fortunate to have my girls, and never a lost child to our marriage.’ At this moment John’s manservant came to announce that dinner was ready to be served, and they all moved to the dining room to seat themselves as before at the long table. It was set more formally with silverware and lit by chandelier and candelabra, the soft light setting off rainbow glints on the silver and crystal on the table.

The first course was swiftly served – lobster bisque, which John assured all was made fresh from creatures bought this morning from the nearest fishing village, some hour or so’s cart journey away. Elizabeth was fond of shellfish and declared it was the best she had tasted in a while. The family had stayed with a distant cousin in North Berwick on the coast east of Edinburgh the previous year, and had enjoyed much fresh seafood then, even though it was readily available at home due to the city’s proximity to the port of Leith. Food was more expensive in the capital due to the cost of transporting it in the quantities needed by the number of people that called it home, and many merchants charged the upper classes more, knowing they could afford it.

For the second course, some few dishes of meat and fish were set out on the table along with vegetables and sauces, all made from produce from the estate. There was salmon from the river and pork from the farm, and pickled cucumber from the hothouse, as well as delcate onion and mushroom sauce and egg balls made from egg yolks. Wine was served from the cellar, and altogether it was a fine and delicate repast that Elizabeth made sure to savour and compliment. She cast her eye over her youngest sister to ensure that she wasn’t eating too fast, but she saw that the flavours and textures of the dishes had not gone unnoticed, and she was savouring her food delicately.

She sampled a little of every dish, and the pace of the meal and the conversation was such that when dessert was served, she found that her stomach had space to take some. Sweet cakes and fruit were set out, but the highlight of the meal was the presentation of a dish of lemon sorbet, brought in with a flourish by John’s manservant. Amelia’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the dessert.

‘Oh my goodness’ she breathed ‘I can only remember having anything this fine but once before, at the Beaumont’s Easter dinner party’ John smiled at her wide eyed expression. Elizabeth thought privately that it was as well to produce such a grand dish now, so that Amelia wouldn’t be so overwhelmed at the grand dinner to come, when others would be present.

‘You saw the ice house on the tour, Miss Amelia’ he said ‘We fill it with ice every winter, and it is well insulated enough for it to still have some left when the snows return the next season. As you may have seen, we grow lemons in the hothouse also’

‘It is extremely generous of you to serve it outside a formal dinner’ Lady Charlotte declared ‘We are, after all, almost ‘en famille’ rather than with other guests’ John inclined his head as the servants presented each of them with a glass bowl with a spoonful of the sorbet, equally distributed so the serving dish was empty. It was enjoyed not in silence, but with sounds of delight and appreciation. With a sigh, Amelia pushed her empty bowl aside and looked longingly at the little cakes close to her.

‘Please, help yourselves to more, should you wish it’ John said kindly, and timidly she took one to nibble, as the others also chose small morsels to finish their meal. John sat back in his seat, and addressed Elizabeth’s parents.

‘So, I wanted Liz – Miss Elizabeth – to see the best we have before she properly accepts my proposal of marriage’ he announced. ‘Though I must confess we have not had occasion to serve such a fine dinner since I have returned from sea.’

‘You must have many a fine dinner in the officer’s mess, Sirrah’ Lord James interjected. ‘I have been told that only the common sailors eat bully beef and hard tack’

‘Of course’ John replied ‘But I find it does well to eat with the men sometimes to remind oneself of the conditions under which they work. There is a balance to be had between maintaining order and making a bond of brothership with the lower ranks’ Sir James nodded sagely, then turned to his elder daughter.

‘Well Lizzie’ her father prompted ‘Has all this finery turned your head? Do you think you would like to be mistress of such a fine estate?’

‘I would be content with a cottage in the country, should I have the company of my John’ she replied ‘I hope Lady Margaret will be able to advise me on the management of this establishment, for I am sure I will find it a challenge’ Lady Margaret nodded her assent.

‘I am sure you will learn swiftly, and add your own flair to what will be your home should you accept John’s proposal, my dear’ she replied.

‘I would not think to have your answer with all watching, my dear Lizzie’ John replied ‘You have but to tell me in private’ She gazed into his eyes, and much as she wanted to declare her devotion then and there, she thought it best to honour his wishes. She hoped that once they were properly engaged, Morag might let them off the leash a little and they could have some time alone. She wished with all her heart that their engagement would not be a long one, and that they would soon be married.

@sirbeepsalot @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @dcbbw @rainbowsinthestorm @katedrakeohd @trappedinfandoms @kingliam2019 @nomadics-stuff @texaskitten30 @princess-geek @texaskitten30

#period drama #Past times #Elizabeth and John #Elizabeth Dalgeish #Captain John Lykel #regency Scotalnd

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allicekitty13 · 4 years

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Paper Rings

Read On AO3

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Japer and Alice were set to be married in July, but unfortunately, those plans had to be canceled. Alice gets very, very sad, so Jasper has a plan to lift her spirits; no one ever said you couldn't propose twice!

Written For Jalice Week Bonus Day- Quarantine

Jasper proposed in August. He brought her out to the field he had taken her the day he knew she was the one, that he truly loved the vain, lively, breathtaking woman who consumed his every thought. She had been dancing to no music with her best friend, Maria, and it had suddenly hit him. He knew in his soul; he wanted to spend the rest of his life with that little lady, that he couldn't live without her.

It had taken considerable effort to keep the all-knowing women in the dark. For months he kept the ring in varying locations, her brother's house, her best friend's apartment, his sister's truck. Always making sure it got moved anytime she started getting curious. She always had a way of figuring things out and ruining the surprise; he was determined to catch her off guard just this once.

It was Saturday when he drove them out to the clearing where so many of their life events had occurred, from wild nights to lazy days to heartbreak. He drove slowly down the dirt road listening to that girl, his girl, chatter on about her day. She had gone shopping with Maria, where she'd purchased the dress she wore that night. She'd told him about how she had something else picked out but was just too excited to show him her new purchase.

He felt his stomach begin to tie up as he pulled over at the field; there was always a chance she would say no. The thought was terrifying and made his heart ache in a way he had only felt once before. His worries eased when she pecked him on the cheek before jumping out of the truck to run out into the field.

Jasper let her be for a moment as he got out of his vehicle. He knew he would never regret this decision as we watched her dance around through the wildflowers in her light summer dress and the cowboy boots she'd confessed she only wore because he liked them on her. He clutched the ring in his pocket, committing the scene to memory; this was a night he never wanted to forget.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She bounced up to where he still leaned against the truck.

"I love you."

"Yeah, I know." She giggled, tugging on his arm, "Come dance with me!"

He obliged readily, never one to deny his little angel anything. The pair slow danced to the top country radio station that played from Jasper's truck as he gathered up his nerves, continually reminding himself that it was highly unlikely she would say no.

"Babe?" She questioned as he pulled her back in from a twirl, one of her favorite moves. "Is everything okay? You look like you're gonna throw up."

Now was a good a time as ever, he figured, so he responded with a deep breath. "Turn around and close your eyes."

"Hmm," She obliged, "I knew you had something planned! What is it?"

He had the ring on a chain, knowing she hated rings. She always said she never wore them because they got in the way and made it hard to draw. His hands trembled nervously as he clasped the chain around her neck, whispering in her ear, "Keep 'em closed."

"Did you buy me another necklace, Jas?" She was smiling.

He was so nervous, his stomach doing summersaults, he would be devastated if she turned him down. There was no way he could live without this woman. He took her right hand, moving it up to rest on the ring positioned on her chest; she looked like she would cry as the realization of what he was doing hit her. He grasped her left hand, moving down onto one knee. "Open your eyes."

"Yes. Yes, oh my god, Jasper!" She'd exclaimed as she took in the scene, happily sobbing. "The answer is yes!"

"I haven't asked yet." He was beaming up at her, lost in her blue eyes ridiculously happy.

"Then, hurry up and ask so I can say yes!"

"Marry me?"

"Yes!" She choked out through her joyous tears. "I will marry you!"

---

Alice had planned an elaborate wedding to the surprise of no one. Her plans were elegant; the most beautiful were the things she had created on her own. Alice saught out only the best of the best, accepting only the things that met her incredibly high standards. He often wondered, knowing how picky she was about every aspect of her life, how he'd been lucky enough to be a part of it.

As consuming as her excitement had been, her sadness came in equal measure when the shutdowns happened and the wedding postponed. She spent most of her time in bed, going over plan B scenarios or on the sofa watching Lifetime movies.

It broke his heart to see his normally vibrant fiance in such a state, so he had hatched a plan to lift her spirits.

It was the day they were supposed to have been married; he had spent the afternoon out in the backyard decorating the patio space. He'd placed fairy lights, candles, and her favorite flowers- white roses all over the area. A radio had been set up in the corner with a playlist of only her favorite songs. Jasper had also moved most of the patio furniture out of the way leaving only the small outdoor sofa sitting in front of the firepit. He gave the space a quick once over. Deciding that everything was perfect, he went inside to collect the only thing that could improve the scene- Alice.

Jasper found her lying on the couch, watching some movie romance movie on lifetime. "Hey, Al," he greeted, crouching down in front of her. "Can you come outside for a second?"

"I'm watching a movie; Mandy Moore gets to get married. It's not fair."

"You're gonna have a wedding too when it's safe, hun." He left a sweet kiss on her temple before grabbing the remote and pausing the T.V. "I've got something to show you outside in the meantime."

"You're not gonna let this go are you." She sighed relenting, allowing her fiance to lead her out to the patio. Her eyes widened upon taking in the romantic scene Jasper had created for her. "What is all this?" She asked in awe.

"Well," He picked her up to spin her in a circle before setting her back down. A weight lifted from his chest upon seeing her beautiful smile for the first time in weeks. "My favorite girl seemed down, and I couldn't just not do anything about it."

"It's beautiful." She leaned into his embrace. "Thank you."

"Anything for you, but there's more." He let go of the woman grasping one of her hands as he fell to one knee.

"Didn't you already do this?" She giggled, causing a huge smile to cross his face at finally hearing her musical laughter again.

"No one ever said I couldn't do it again. Besides, if you have to plan a second wedding, you deserve a second proposal. It's only fair."

"You're such a sap when nobody's looking."

"Nobody but you." He admitted, "Will you marry me?"

"Yes, Jasper. I will marry you." She was blissfully laughing genuinely now. Both of them the happiest they had been in weeks.

Jasper reached into his pocket, pulling out a cardboard ring to place onto her finger. A reference to the song she played when he lamented about how he wished he could have gotten her the elaborate ring she deserved, that she deserved someone who could provide her all the pretty shiny things she loved so much. Alice would always reply that all the glamour in the world meant nothing without him. That she had lived without him once, and there was nothing that could bring her to do it again.

"Paper rings?" She chuckled at the reference. "God, I love you, you romantic fool."

Jasper brought himself back to a standing position again, leading her over to the makeshift dancefloor, proceeding to pull her into a slow sway, spinning her out every so often. "I'm sorry you didn't get to have your big day. I hope this makes up for it."

"Mmhmm," She hummed into his chest, "More than words can say."

#jaliceweek20 #Jalice #alice cullen #jasper hale #SO sad this is over :(

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les-mis-still-makes-me-cry · 4 years

Text

Lily Evans Has a Boyfriend: Chapter One

A new Jily fic full of tropey goodness. Enjoy!

Lily really wished she understood what possessed her to say what she said on Monday 25th July, 1977. She wished she could find any way of justifying why she opened her mouth and said a sentence that would change the course of not only her summer, but her entire life. She wracked her brains in the following months, running the conversation over in her mind, trying to find a logical explanation for why her brain led her right to those words that she couldn’t take back. But time after time, it was no use. She just said it. And that’s how it all began.

***

It was the height of summer and the middle of the holidays, and the Evans ladies were taking full advantage in their back garden. Stretched out on towels underneath the glorious sunshine, they were the picture of tranquility. On either side lay 2 young women: one bony, tall, and bleach blonde, the other slender with fiery red hair. Between them lay their mother, short and plump with her friendly face hidden under her over-sized sun hat.

She took the hat off to fan herself for a moment, puffing air heavily as she attempted to keep cool.

“I swear you girls must be made of ice, I’m absolutely roasting in this heat,” their mother huffed.

“That’s me, Frosty the Snowman,” said the redhead.

“You’ve just got to have the dedication, Mum. Tanning is an art,” agreed the blonde.

“Well, it’s alright for you Petunia, you actually tan without burning like Lily and I,” sighed their mum, tapping Lily’s shoulder with her floppy hat. Lily flipped onto her stomach and grinned back at her.

“Beauty is pain mother dearest, we all have to suffer for our art,” she joked.

“Well, I think I’ve suffered all I can for just now. I’ll go inside and start getting lunch together,” said their mum, staggering up.

“No, wait, don’t leave us!” Petunia said, rather too quickly for Lily’s liking. She narrowed her eyes at her sister, but their mother butted in.

“I’m sorry Petunia, I just can’t handle lying out here all day doing nothing. Besides, it’s nearly 2 o’clock, I’m famished.”

“Ugh fine, I’ll come in too,” Petunia moaned. She sat up and started to roll up her towel. Lily couldn’t help herself from snapping at her.

“What, afraid you’ll become a freak too if you spend any time alone with me?”

Petunia glared and shot back immediately. “As if, thank god one of us is normal.”

“Boring, you mean.”

“I’d rather be boring than a freak.”

“Well, you’ve succeeded admirably then, Tuney.”

“I’ve told you not to call me that!”

“GIRLS!” shouted their mum, who both girls had forgotten was still standing there. “How on earth have you turned me making sandwiches into a fight?”

“She started it,” Petunia instantly answered.

“I don’t care who started it, you’re not children anymore. You’re getting married this December Petunia, act like it,” she scolded.

Lily smirked at this, causing her mum’s anger to shift target. “And you! You’re of age in the wizard world, don’t antagonise your sister over nothing. I love you both but you behave like absolute toddlers as soon as you’re together and I’m heartily sick of it. For goodness sake, can we not have one pleasant afternoon?”

She looked close to tears suddenly, anger dissipated, sunburnt shoulders slumped sadly. Lily and Petunia were both filled with regret. Lily stood to put her arms round her mother, while Petunia fiddled with the edge of her towel awkwardly.

“We’re sorry mum, we didn’t mean to ruin your afternoon,” said Lily.

Their mum held her arms to her side, refusing to hug her daughter back, although her face softened.

“Sandwiches would be amazing if you still want to make them, mum,” Petunia added, venturing an apologetic smile. Their mum sighed deeply and smiled back, throwing an arm quickly around Lily’s shoulders.

“Well I suppose I can’t let you starve, can I. You two sit there, I’ll be back in ten minutes.” She went in through the open back door, and moments later they heard her whistling through the kitchen window.

Lily and Petunia looked at each other for a moment, as though daring the other to start back up again. Ever since they had been little, their bickering had been a constant factor of their relationship. Lily would take a dig at Petunia; Petunia would call her a freak; Lily would insult her right back; and on it went. It was no wonder that their mother was sick of it.

It was only lessened by the fact that Lily was away at school 10 months of the year, and that Petunia had moved to London two years ago to take a typing course. It was there that she had met her fiancé, a large man called Vernon Dursley. It was safe to say he was not Lily’s favourite person. Lily remembered when she and Petunia were very young, before she learned about magic, when she and Petunia had dreamed of one day marrying tall, dark, handsome princes, and living in matching castles next door to one another. She doubted Vernon would even fit through the door of a castle.

Eventually Lily sat down again. Petunia was very clearly pretending Lily wasn’t there, eyes firmly closed behind glamourous sunglasses. This suited Lily just fine, and she buried her nose in the novel she’d brought outside with her until their mum returned with a plate stacked with sandwiches. Lily and their mum wolfed them down ravenously, whereas Petunia held back, only eating two before beginning to take them apart and only eating the filling.

“Eat up Petunia,” encouraged their mum, noticing her hesitance. “They’re not poisoned, I swear. Or are you on about avoiding carbs before the dinner again?”

Lily’s ears pricked up. “What dinner?”

Petunia huffed, looking irritably at their mum, who seemed even more confused than Lily.

“You haven’t invited Lily? Petunia!” she admonished, putting down her half-finished sandwich.

“Mum we spoke about this,” Petunia whined.

“And I remember telling you it would be very insulting not to invite your own sister!” said their mum.

“What dinner?” repeated Lily angrily. The other two stared at each other intensely for a second before Petunia finally caved with a frustrated sigh.

“On Saturday I’m having a dinner with all my bridesmaids and our partners, just a big quadruple date, that’s all,” she said defensively, crossing her arms.

“Mum told me you hadn’t picked your bridesmaids yet!” Lily said, aghast.

“Because I knew you would react like this! Look, everyone in the wedding party has a husband or a fiancé, it just ruins the symmetry of it to have you there!” Petunia replied, her voice suddenly very high pitched.

“So that’s it, in I’m not in the wedding because of your bloody symmetry?” Lily shouted.

“Language!” interjected their mother.

“So I can’t swear but she can kick her own sister out of her wedding party? That’s rich!” Lily was on her feet now.

“I haven’t kicked you out, you were never in it! If you had a boyfriend or something it would be different, but you don’t!” Petunia yelled, also on her feet.

“Well you wouldn’t even know if I did since you can’t say two words to me without one of them being ‘freak’!”

“And you can’t say two words without bringing up your witch nonsense! Everything just has to be about you, doesn’t it?”

“Says the most self-absorbed person on the planet!”

“You’ve never shown the slightest bit of interest in my life before now so why would I give a damn about yours,” Petunia spat. “You haven’t even asked me about the wedding once so why should you be in it.”

Lily’s mouth opened but she had lost her voice. She realised that Petunia was right, she hadn’t asked about the wedding at all. Silence hung heavy in the air, both girls breathing heavily. Their mother looked from one to the other, regretting opening her mouth.

Finally Lily stepped back, snatching up the towel from beneath her. She knew she was in the wrong but her stubborn Gryffindor pride refused to let her leave without having the last word.

“Fine, don’t invite me. Just for your information, I do actually have a boyfriend, another freak like me. And he’s twice the man Dursley will ever be,” she said venomously, before stomping back towards the house. She made it all the way up to her bedroom before the tears gathering in her eyes started to fall on her cheeks.

She threw herself down on her bed, scrubbing the tears away from her eyes angrily, unsure whether she was angrier at Petunia for being so heartless or herself for caring about it so much. It was true, she hadn’t asked about wedding planning, she’d never shown any interest in the dull subject of Vernon Dursley. Petunia had just become the exact type of person Lily didn’t like, snooty and materialistic and always talking behind people’s backs. She avoided all conversation with Petunia where she could, always expecting the snide comments of “do your type even have those” and “I guess you must have picked it up in that school”. Why would she want to spend time discussing flower arrangements with a person who looked down on everything Lily did?

And yet, for some reason, she still desperately wanted to be her bridesmaid. She remembered those childhood daydreams of matching princes and matching castles, that had always come with matching weddings and being bridesmaids for each other. That’s what sisters did, right?

With every argument, every snappy retort, every underhanded comment, somewhere inside Lily still hoped that one day her sister would suddenly turn back to the way they were when they were nine - before Lily started jumping off of swings, before Snape showed up, before Petunia’s jealousy made her despise every little thing Lily did. They had really loved being sisters once, had done everything together. Lily had hoped that enough of that love still remained that Petunia would want her sister to be there for her on the biggest day of her life. But apparently not.

Lily tried to ignore the hurt she felt at her sister’s rejection and went to fix her appearance in her bedroom mirror. Classic redhead complexion, she thought self-pityingly, staring at the red blotches on her pink skin. She scrubbed at her eyes once more, taking deep breaths to steady her breathing.

“…But surely this fixes the problem?” A voice floated in through Lily’s ajar window, causing her to creep over and peek out. Petunia and her mother were still below in the garden arguing.

“If the only issue is the symmetry, then this fixes things! You won’t have to worry about the pictures!” their mum said encouragingly.

Petunia seemed less than convinced. “The only thing worse than having an unbalanced wedding party would be having some bloke we’ve never even met show up and ruin things! If he even exists that is, I guarantee she just said that to piss me off.”

Lily ground her teeth, itching to defend herself. Petunia had always had too good a sense for when Lily was making things up. There was no greater delight to her than ratting Lily out to their mum when she tried to cover up something.

“Now don’t be silly Petunia, Lily wouldn’t make up something this important,” their mum admonished. Lily felt a pang of guilt at her mother’s faith in her. “And you can meet him at the dinner, then you’ll be able to see that he’s a lovely boy, I’m sure.”

“He’s not coming to the dinner, I’m not having some freak-”

“Petunia Caroline Evans, I’m sick and tired of hearing you talk about witches and wizards like that. Lily is not a freak, she’s a girl with an interesting talent who has found a group of people like her, including whoever this boyfriend is. Now this is not up for discussion, you will invite Lily AND her boyfriend to the dinner, and you WILL be civil to them.”

“FINE, alright, they can come to the dinner,” Petunia said bitterly. “But if he acts weirdly or Vernon doesn’t like him then I’m not having her as a bridesmaid, I’m not ruining my day.”

“Of course not love, it’s your big day,” said their mum soothingly. “You want to spend it with the people you love. Now how about we go and look over the menu again, you know you weren’t quite settled on the starter.” Lily’s mum’s voice got softer as she led Petunia into the house.

Lily almost smiled, satisfied that she had won out this time. However very quickly her stomach lurched, realising what she had just gotten herself into.

She hadn’t had a boyfriend since 3rd year, when she had a brief puppy love with a 4th year Hufflepuff called David Cooke. She’d had a crush on him for weeks; he’d asked her to Hogsmeade; they had sat in Madam Puddifoot’s for an hour, making awkward small talk, Lily blushing furiously every time they made eye contact; he’d walked her back to the Gryffindor common room, kissing her cheek gently to say goodbye; then she didn’t hear a word from him for two weeks, eventually discovering she’d been dumped when she saw him kissing a Ravenclaw girl in the entrance hall.

The whole experience had put Lily off boyfriends, but not as much as the incessant asking-out that she faced in 5th year from the infuriating James Potter. She’d never met anyone so arrogant, assuming he could get any girl in the school because he was the Gryffindor Quidditch captain and one of the school troublemakers. He couldn’t seem to understand why any girl would refuse to go out with him, so for the whole year he had made it his mission to break her will with elaborate proposals, embarrassing declarations of adoration, and constant showing off that only served to further her disgust.

The only good thing to come out of the fight between her, Snape and Potter during their OWLs last year was that Potter had ended all that nonsense. In fact, they’d barely spoken to one another over the past year. He’d shown a surprising level of restraint, not hexing younger students, barely fighting with Slytherins, and not even once did he ask her out to her great joy. However, she was still wary of this apparently reformed Potter, suspicious that at any time his head could re-inflate and bring back the same old toe rag that she hated.

Lily shook thoughts of Potter out of her head, getting back to the issue at hand. Who the hell was she going to bring to the dinner? For that endeavour you want someone reliable, someone who can keep a secret, someone you already have a friendship with-

“Merlin’s beard!” Lily leapt up, running over to her desk, and rummaging in a drawer for a quill. Lupin! He would be perfect! Model boyfriend material. Although she and Remus hadn’t been too close over the majority of their school career, largely due to an arrogant floppy-haired someone who she wanted to hex when he came within 3 feet of her, over the last year they had done Prefect rounds together and discovered they had a lot in common. They started spending even more time together when they partnered up for potions, since Peter didn’t qualify for NEWT level and Lily’s old partner was out of the question. She could probably say Remus was now one of her closest friends at Hogwarts, and definitely the only person she could trust with this task. She sat down and started writing.

Dear Remus,

Hope your holidays are going well. Mine were going swimmingly up until about half an hour ago when I made an absolute arse of myself.

To cut a long story short, I told my sister I had a boyfriend. I’m sure it hasn’t escaped your notice that this was a lie, and a very obvious stupid one at that, but I need a boyfriend to attend a dinner she’s having for all her bridesmaids. Writing it out, I feel even more ridiculous, but please don’t judge me. If you had siblings, you would get it.

I’m writing to you, O wise, kind, and benevolent Remus, to beg for you to help me in this deceit. Please come to the dinner with me on Saturday and pretend to be my boyfriend, just for the night. I just need to convince her to let me be in the wedding, then we can fake breakup our fake relationship (although I would be fake distraught to see you go as I’m sure you would be a fantastic fake boyfriend).

I’ll cover your Prefect rounds whenever you want, I’ll look the other way if you and your friends want to pull a (small and harmless) prank - whatever grovelling you require, I will do. I am on my metaphorical knees here Remus.

Write back as soon as you can. I languish in despair at my own stupidity until then.

Your humble grovelling snivelling slave,

Lily

P.S. Was that enough grovelling? I can do more (grovel grovel grovel)

Lily went over to the other side of the room where her owl Scarlett was snoozing in her cage, hooting blearily at Lily as she opened the door and took her out.

“Wakey wakey, sleepyhead,” Lily whispered, giving her the letter. “Please get this to Remus as fast as you can and I’ll give you a nice treat when you’re back.”

Scarlett nipped her finger in acknowledgement. Lily approached the window and opened it wide, hoping none of the neighbours were looking up as Scarlett flew off in the bright afternoon sun. She really should have waited till dark, but Statute of Secrecy be damned, she had a fake boyfriend to acquire.

***

Chapter 2 here and Chap 3 here!

Further updates posted on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/24289330/chapters/58546243 and FFN at https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13591650/1/Lily-Evans-Definitely-Has-a-Boyfriend if you want to read more!

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kingofdirtandnothing · 3 years

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@polyfacetious big ass Christmas Drabble Extravagaza: Day Six

Alexander was the best kind of regular. He was the curious kind. He would come to the shop, squint up at the chalkboard with those lovely blue eyes, and then finally choose the next thing on the list. If he was trying to be subtle about slowly working his way down the menu, then he needed some work. It was sweet, it was just not subtle.

But today, he’d come in and sat himself up at one of the tables near the window, an impressive scowl painted across that pretty face. (Alexander had some remarkably expressive eyebrows. You could read his mood with them alone.)

Which meant Magnus was spending his morning rush worrying about what exactly had set his favorite customer on such a sour path this morning. He spares a glance over while he steams milk for a matcha latte, and finds Alec staring daggers out of the shop’s front window. But there was no one out there. And Magnus was reasonably certain that Alexander wasn’t angry with Diego’s taco stand.

What could make such a sweet natured man so sour? It wasn’t girlfriend trouble, Magnus knew that much, thanks to one memorable morning where a young lady gave Alexander her number and when she walked away, he looked at it like she’d handed him a raw mackerel. Boyfriend troubles, maybe?

Magnus hoped not, for his own selfish reasons. He could practically feel Bilbo’s eyes on him from across the shop. Yes yes, he knew he had to get on his side of the promise. No, he wasn’t going to do it right now, in broad daylight in an open tea shop, Bilbo Baggins. Stop judging.

With the last customer of this burst gone away with their tea and their scones and their lovely pastries, Magnus slips out from behind the counter before his good sense could get the better of him. “Lovely day, isn’t it?” That felt like a good enough segue into conversation, given the fact that Alexander was currently glaring at a cloud.

But much like the clouds would break this afternoon and the sun would shine through, that sour expression on Alexander’s face breaks apart and reveals the sunshine of his lovely smile beneath. A sheepish, nervous smile, but a smile nonetheless. “Uh..yeah. It is.”

That’s all the opening that Magnus needed. He slips into the seat across from Alec at the small bistro table, hands clasped in front of him. His nails were a gorgeous sea green, in keeping with the summer season. There was even a sheen of glitter built into the polish itself. Magnus was positively in love with the color. “How have you been?” Magnus has to resist the urge to jump straight to ‘what’s wrong?’ People didn’t like being called out like that.

“Oh, good. I’m good.” Alexander was a squirmer, when he was nervous. Magnus knew because he never saw Alec move around in his seat like a worm on a hook until Magnus was sitting across from him. It was flatteringly adorable. “You?”

“I’m wonderful, thank you.” And if he didn’t get them out of this cesspool of polite conversation, they might never get to the meat of the problem. Magnus only had so long until his next batch of regulars came in. A quick glance at the clocked showed him it was a little before 8:30. He had about twenty minutes for this conversation, tops.

What a world to live in, when reckless and carefree Magnus Bane cared enough about a man’s opinion to schedule in time to talk him through his feelings between customers. Bilbo was probably cackling into his dough right as they spoke. The bastard.

“So why don’t you tell me why you’ve been sitting here, looking like the most handsome thundercloud I’ve ever laid eyes on?” So maybe that was laying it on a bit thick. But Alexander was a sight for sore eyes on any day, effortlessly gorgeous. It was enough to take someone like Magnus, who spent half an hour in front of the mirror every morning, feel jealous.

Then again, getting to lay eyes on that effortlessly handsome face every day was enough to push the jealousy back and replace it with a four letter word.

Lust. The word was lust. Not the other “L” word, which Magnus was going to avoid the damned plague.

Alexander stutters for a moment, blue eyes huge and wide before he gives up, laughing at himself as he turns his eyes back to the window. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m not trying to bring the mood down or anything.” Alec’s accent was all New York, and before him, Magnus would have never thought that was something he would find attractive.

An English accent was lovely. An Irish accent was enough to make a man weak in the knees. Magnus himself had a personal weakness when it came to French accents. But in the grand scheme of American accents, New York wouldn’t be anywhere near the top of the list. Or at least, it wouldn’t have been before Alexander.

There was something about the way he spoke, the same kind of effortless charm that went with his finger combed hair and his (truly hideous, it was a marvel) worn out sweaters. Magnus has always loved a sharp dressed man. But there was something so incredibly genuine about Alec Lightwood that it had made its way under his skin, and he couldn’t get free.

“You don’t bring the mood down.” Far from it. Seeing Alexander was often the highlight of Magnus’ day. “So go ahead and tell me what’s on your mind.” Magnus cups his chin in his palm, watching Alec through the fan of his lashes. He was never going to tire of the way Alec’s eyes darted down to his lips when Magnus spoke. It was the kind of thing that could make a man’s ego get too big.

Not Magnus, of course. He was the very picture of...there was no reason to even finish that ridiculous sentence. Magnus was fantastic, and he quite appreciated it when other people thought he was fantastic as well.

“It’s just that my sister is getting married.” There was that scowl again, dipping across dark brows before it disappears. “And I’m happy for her, really. But she’s having this whole big party about it, and there’s dancing.” Alexander says dancing the way someone else might say bamboo spikes under fingernails. Like it was torture.

“And you have to dance?” Alexander nods, like a man on his way to the gallows. “So what’s the issue here? Do you not have someone you want to dance with?” Is it cruel to hope that Alec doesn’t have a date he wants to dance with? “Or is it that you don’t know how to dance?”

Alec’s little smile tugs up further on one side of his mouth than the other. Gods, he was a sight. “Both, honestly.”

Both. Which means that Magnus had not one, but two chances to whirl his way into Alexander’s life outside of this little table and the shop around it. This was a chance to see Alexander out in the world, to be a part of his life and not just set dressing.

“I could teach you.” That absolutely came out too quickly. But this was a blue moon of an opportunity. It would only come around once. So Magnus had to take advantage while he still could. “I used to teach dance. I lived in Spain for a year or two.” Magnus had lived all over in his time. It would honestly be faster just to tell him the places that he hadn’t lived, rather than go through his spiel of all the places he’s called home over the years.

“Salsa. Flamenco. Even a little ballroom dancing and waltz, which I’d imagine is what your sister is going to want for her party.”

Alec was watching him with wonder on his pretty face. Magnus has to resist the urge to preen. That wouldn’t go well with the whole humble teacher act he was going for here. “How much do you charge by the hour?”

Now that would be a lovely innuendo and segue if this was Magnus looking to climb Alexander like the lovely willow tree he was. But Magnus had to admit to himself, and only to himself, that his feelings were involved in this mess. He didn’t (just) want to give Alec the night of his life. He wanted to stick around for breakfast in the morning too.

“No charge.” Magnus waves away the protest he can see building on Alec’s lips. He wasn’t the type of man who enjoyed handouts. There was a pride to him, beneath all that rakish charm. “I haven’t taught in ages. I wouldn’t be up to par for being paid anyway. But I can dust the rust off and you can learn enough to cut a rug and make yourself the envy of your sister’s wedding.”

Alec makes a sour face, and Magnus can’t help but laugh. “Fine. I can dust the rust off and you can be a perfectly passable dancer and not draw any undue attention to yourself at your sister’s wedding. How’s that sound?”

Alexander’s shoulders soften and droop down, and the smile he gives Magnus is equal parts relief and something more playful. If Magnus wasn’t already aware how much trouble he was in, then he would have figured it out right at this instant. Because he was in Trouble with a Capital T. “That sounds great, Magnus. Thanks.”

There were people milling outside of the door that the tea shop shared with Bag End Bakery. Two women with big cat’s eyes sunglasses were checking their phones, and their watches, respectively. They were waiting for someone. Which meant in the next few minutes, they’d be coming inside to order, and it would be back to work.

Magnus looks back over at the clock. 8:50. How did time manage to fly by so fast when he was talking to Alec? It was like magic.

But all good things must come to an end. “How about you can come by here after close. We can move the tables out of the way, and we have a nice wood floor to practice on.” Magnus plucks the napkin out from under Alec’s cup, pulling the pen from behind his ear so he could start to scribble down his phone number.

“For now, wear something comfortable tonight. Something you can move in. Basketball shorts and a t-shirt or a tanktop are what I usually practice in. And wear the most comfortable pair of tennis shoes that you have. We’ll lay the ground work before we get you practicing in the shoes you’ll be wearing at the wedding.”

Magnus writes his name beneath the number with a flourish, and in a moment of pique, he draws a heart on a balloon string next to his name. He even draws the little square in the corner of the heart balloon, like it’s catching the glint of the summer sun on it’s plastic surface. If his intentions weren’t clear before, this would make them neon bright. Hopefully.

“Here.” He slides the paper napkin back over to Alec, looking over his shoulder as the women spill into the shop, chattering among themselves like a gaggle of sparrows sitting on a wire. They would be ordering from Bilbo and then they would make their way over to his side of the shop. Time was up.

“Tonight. 8pm. I’ll be here.”

Feeling especially bold, Magnus reaches over once he stands and pats Alec’s hand. His skin was warm, and soft. Lovely. Every bit of that man was lovely, and Magnus was in so very deep over his head.

“You be here too.” That’s a playful little waggle of his finger in front of Alec’s nose before Magnus darts back behind the counter, calling out to the women that had broken away from their group at the pastry case to head his way.

#ch: magnus #polyfacetious | alec #v: expats row #queued #carlota's christmas drabbles

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sherrybaby14 · 5 years

Text

I Watched You Change

This is for YoungMoneyMilla’s 9k celebration. Congrats darling!

Prompt: Change (in the house of flies) by the Deftones (This song reminds me of Queen of the Damned, but I am too scared to write for Anne Rice so I went with the next thing)

Summary: Dracula AU. Victorian England. After being neglected by your fiancé a certain vampire sets his eyes on you

Warnings: Angst, Dub-con, Mind Control, Cheating, Blood, Death

Pairings: Vampire!Bucky x reader, Clint x reader

A/N: This story has 2 endings. You get to choose your own adventure. They are marked!!

The air in your lungs burned, your body not wanting to release the oxygen. This was important, you had to talk to him, you could do this. Right before you were about to pass out from holding in your breath you straightened your back and lifted your chin, releasing the air as you strode toward your fiancé.

“Clint, I have to speak to you.” When you opened the door to the parlor you were not surprised to see the faces of four shocked men.

Women were never to interrupt, but you’d had enough.

“Y/N.” He rose from the couch. “Now is not the time. I will find you later.”

The other men went back to looking at the papers on the table. Dr. Banner not hiding his annoyance with you.

“There is no time!” Damned the proper etiquette. “You’re never around, and when you are it’s with these men. We are supposed to build a life together and I have no clue what yours is anymore.”

A glance to the papers on the table showed a drawing of a fanged creature, some maps, and medieval-looking weapons. A hand was around your arm and you looked into the face of your fiancé, his lips turned into a scowl as he dragged you out of the room.

“I am working toward ensuring that life is one of purity and safety.” He spoke through gritted teeth as he led you back into the hall. “One where I can protect you.”

“Protect me?” You pulled your arm away. “From what?”

“There is evil here.” Clint looked over his shoulder, almost ensuring his partners couldn’t hear. “I fear that the minds of women can’t grasp this level of danger. I need you to trust me. We are closing in on the beast. Once he is killed we will be wed.”

“Beast? Killed?” Your head started to swim with his cryptic words, let alone the insult against your gender. “What are you talking about? You sound mad.”

“I’ve said too much.” His expression melted into pity as he cupped your cheek. “We have to return to the city for a few nights. It’s safer for you here.”

“Now you’re leaving?” You supposed it didn’t make much difference since he was never around either way.

“When I return, things will go back to how they were.” He placed a kiss on your forehead. “Promise me, you won’t go outside after dark and wear your crucifix?”

“Mr. Barton.” Dr. Banner appeared in the doorway. “If we wish to act on this lead, we must prepare.”

You glanced around your fiancé and swore you saw Tony Stark brandishing a crossbow. Your mouth hung open as you looked up at Clint, desperate for an explanation.

“Patience Y/N.” He gave another quick kiss before leaving with Dr. Banner, shutting the door to the parlor behind him.

At the start of summer, you thought it was kind Mr. Stark offered you a room at his country estate. Memories of your arrival and how vibrant Clint had seemed further away than the ten weeks they were.

Once Dr. Banner arrived it was like all the men had gone insane with some private obsession. Clint no longer snuck into your bedroom in the evening, showed up for dinners or teas, and he halted all talk of your wedding plans, which you’d hoped would be set for some time in the early fall.

Again you found yourself alone. In a big empty estate. You debated on finding one of the servants, but they did not hide their annoyance at your presence and refused to treat you like their equal. That drove you nuts, especially since you were nowhere near the class of Tony Stark.

The tears of frustration were starting to pool, but if Clint saw you cry that would only feed into the stereotype he had recently painted you into. The sensitive woman who must be shielded from everything.

The suffocating feeling returned. You grabbed your hat and purse from next to the door before yanking it open and walking out into the summer sunshine.

A walk would do you good. Calm your rage. The town was only a kilometer away. Maybe seeing the faces of some people not obsessed with ‘beasts’ would help.

Clint’s words kept circling you as you tried to make sense out of them. The minds of women can’t grasp this level of danger. More like the mouths of men can’t explain what the hell was going on. You brought your hand to your lips at the thought.

Such immoral words would never leave your mouth, but you couldn’t help picture the look on Clint’s face had you spoken them out loud. There would be a rage in his eyes, he’d never hit you, but probably think about it as his jaw clenched. For some reason, the image of the reaction excited you.

“Excuse me Miss?” A voice shook you from your fantasy.

You looked up at a striking man. He had long brown hair slicked back, he wore thick sunglasses and a proper suit with a hat that looked tailored enough to rival one of Mr. Stark’s outfits. But the most peculiar thing was his sun umbrella in his gloved hand. You hadn’t seen many men carry those.

“I have just arrived and I was looking for the solicitor’s office? Could you point me in the right direction?” The man’s glasses made it difficult to tell where his eyes were looking, but his voice sent a chill down your spine.

You realized you were starring and looked down the street, more than familiar with the layout of the few shops and businesses in the small country town.

“Yes. It’s the third building on the opposite side of the street.” You started walking. “I am headed that way actually.”

“Is there a bookstore?” The man followed you.

“Excuse me?” You didn’t know what he was implying.

“You look like someone well read. In town unaccompanied, I assumed it was for a new book.” He gave you a smile.

“There is a bookstore, but unfortunately, I have read everything I care to that they have.” You thought about his unaccompanied line.

You were an engaged woman, maybe it was inappropriate to come to town by yourself. What would Clint think? You walking down the street with another man. Internally you rolled your eyes, he was too busy hunting some beast to be worried about you.

“That is a shame.” Your companion stopped at the solicitor’s office.

In the window was a sign that read ‘Closed until Monday’.

“Would it be forward of me to ask you to accompany me to lunch? I did notice a café down the street and I hate to eat alone?”

His invitation made your mouth hang open, how brazen? What did he take you for? Some harpy?

“I do not believe my fiancé would appreciate that.” You started to turn. “Good day sir.”

“Apologies.” He called out before you got a step away. “I meant no harm, to you nor your fiancé. I am new to this country and clearly lacking in its social normalcies. I understand women are all too aware of potential dangers around them.”

His word choice made your heart stop beating for a moment as you froze and turned back to him.

“What did you say? About dangers?” You could not remember the last time you were so interested in an answer.

“As a species, women are much more practical when it comes to the evils in this world.” He stepped toward you. “And thus I clothe my naked villainy.”

A smile spread to your lips as you let out a little laugh. When was the last time that happened? A smile or a chuckle?

“Richard III.” You nodded. “I’m impressed.”

“And I am Count James Buchanan.” He offered you an arm. “It was never my intention to offend.”

“I may have overreacted.” You took his escort. “Maybe a light lunch would be appropriate. Especially if the conversation is about Shakespeare.”

“What is your favorite work?” The Count asked.

You smiled, happy for once your brain wasn’t preoccupied with thoughts of your maddening fiancé.

The lunch flew by as quickly as the conversation. You lost track of time as the world faded away with the sun. It was only when the sound of thunder shook the café you were jarred from the Count’s attention.

“Blast!” You rose from the table and looked out the window as the rain pelted down. “I am afraid our afternoon must come to an end. I promised my fiancé to return by dark.”

“Wise man, obtaining such a promise.” He looked out the window with you. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss. Y/L/N. I believe your fiancé must be a very wise man for receiving your affections.”

The meaning of his words was not lost on you and again brought on shivers. When you glanced over at him he finally removed his sunglasses and eyes too blue to be natural starred back. It almost made you gasp, the handsomeness of this man.

“Thank you for the company and compliments.” You didn’t look away from his hypnotic gaze. “I was hoping I could ask you for a favor Count Barnes?”

“James.” He gave you a knowing glance. “And whatever your heart desires.”

“Could I borrow your umbrella?” You gave a half smile. “I walked here, and would hate to catch a cold in the rain.”

“No.” His response surprised you. “I have a carriage. I will drive you home.”

Before you could respond he was outside, waving his hand to the end of the street. The horse and buggy arrived right when you walked out.

The driver did not jump down as James held open the door for you. It would be rude to decline, and with the weather, you were sure Clint would want you to accept the ride.

“I’m at the Stark estate.” You told James as you sat against the plush leather.

“Anthony Stark, I didn’t realize he was engaged. Won’t he be thrilled when he finds out I’ve spent the afternoon with his fiancé.” James took a seat next to you.

“He is not engaged. Clint Barton, he’s an old acquaintance of Mr. Stark.” You felt silly for not explaining yourself earlier. “But you know Mr. Stark too?”

“Of course. He is the reason I picked this countryside town. He and his friends practically chased me out Romania to get me here, your fiancé included.” He gave you a wink. “Mr. Barton. I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting him in person, but I have heard he is quite strong and reputable.”

“He is.” You wanted to say ‘was’, but bit your tongue.

“It’s a strange coincidence. After dropping you off my plans were to head to the Stark estate.” James removed his hat. “That solicitor has the keys to my new estate. It appears I am homeless until Monday. I was hoping Tony wouldn’t mind boarding me for the next two nights.”

Even you didn’t call Mr. Stark Tony. It made your eyebrows rise at the informalness.

“Unfortunately Mr. Stark went to London for the weekend.” You gave a frown.

“Is your fiancé acting as master of the estate in his stead?” James’ confidence didn’t falter at the news.

“Actually, I am the only guest at the moment.” You bit your lip. Was it your place to offer Tony’s residence to the Count?

“I see.” James nodded. “I am sure that there is an inn I can find a room at. I would hate to put you in that position.”

“Nonsense.” After how kind he had been to you, and the fact he called Mr. Stark Tony, there was no reason to make him stay at that bug infested inn. “You are more than welcome to stay at Mr. Stark’s estate. I will have one of the servants makes up a room for you as soon as we arrive.”

“Thank you. I am sure Tony would approve of your hospitality.” James’ eyes flashed with his own approval. “Does that mean we will be dining together this evening?”

Your heart fluttered at the thought, not over the food or the man himself, just the idea of company. It had been so long.

Dinner was just as pleasant as lunch, if not more so and you drank in every word your new friend spoke. Some of the servants raised an eye while serving the food, but nobody objected to your offering the Count a room.

“Would you like a nightcap?” You rose from the table and started toward the parlor.

“I really would.” James stifled a yawn. “But I fear I am in need of sleep after today’s activities.”

“Of course.” You felt foolish, forgetting your guest’s travels.

“In fact, I will likely sleep through the day tomorrow I am so exhausted. Please forgive my rudeness if that occurs.” James stood up and left his seat, walking with you.

“Very understandable.” You tried to hide your disappointment, knowing it was selfish but you wanted company again.

“But I was hoping, tomorrow evening, the two of us could have a formal dinner?” He offered you his arm as you walked through the hall to the staircase, which you gladly took. “I’ve brought my dress coats and I would love to experience an English formal.”

“For two?” You smiled. “I’m not sure you will get the entire experience.”

“Humor me.” James climbed the stairs, leading you up.

“I suppose I’ll check with the servants in the morning.” You had a feeling they would jump at the chance, at least the chef. She’d been bored stiff whining about making quick meals all summer.

“Well good night Miss Y/L/N.” James stopped outside his bedroom, you hadn’t realized you’d walked this far, much passed your own.

“Y/N, please.” Your eyes didn’t leave him as his lips touched the top of your hand.

A lump came in the back of your throat and you swallowed it down.

“Goodnight Y/N.” James dropped your hand.

Every nerve in your body flared for some unknown reason. Tingles spread across your shoulders as you spun to walk to your room, muttering a goodbye.

Thoughts went to tomorrow’s dinner. You could distract yourself with getting ready and maybe the workers would let you help set the table or something, but they would probably fight you off wanting to tame their own boredom.

At the back of your brain, there was a clawing this was wrong. You shouldn’t be excited about dining with anyone but your fiancé. But you told yourself you would be dining with him if he were here. And besides, as the only current guest of the estate, it was your job to entertain Mr. Stark’s friends.

He meant to murder her the second they were in the carriage. Leave her dead body on the side of the road for the men to find as a warning, but she proved to be much more than the delicate flower her husband talked of.

And the way she smelled, Bucky could only imagine how good she must taste. He ran his tongue over his lips as he undressed in Tony Stark’s mansion. He imagined how enraged the would-be vampire hunter would be if he knew.

Dr. Banner was responsible for this, bringing him here into poor Y/N’s life. They should have left him be, but his arch nemesis thought if he got a gang together maybe he would stand a chance this time. The poor mortals had no clue how powerful Bucky really was and he had no intention of giving them a demonstration.

Still, they had to be taught a lesson. Killing vampire hunters tended to create more vampire hunters. Usually hunting loved ones was enough of a deterrent, but it seemed nobody else had any family but Clint Barton. His fiancé death would send the perfect message to the others, but Bucky didn’t want her dead any longer. He wanted something more.

He was certain she was asleep by now. It had been hours since they parted, but she was still on his mind. There was a risk in using the hallway, he was certain the staff was already suspicious of him. So he went to the window and with minimal effort crawled across the stone siding toward her room.

The warm summer air meant the panes were open and he went inside with the breeze. There she was in her bed, a light sweat on her forehead as she tossed among the sheets. Her nightgown was simple and white, clearly lacking in the wealth of this house. He enjoyed how thin it was, as it stuck to her skin, the outline of her curves apparent.

He couldn’t help himself as he dipped into the bed next to her. Her lids started to flutter and he couldn’t have that.

“Shhhh,” he ordered. “Sleep.”

There was a relaxation to her body as Bucky position her between his legs with her on her side.

“What are you dreaming of Love?” He brushed her hair back and inhaled her intoxicating aroma.

“You.” There was no hesitation in her response.

“I like that very much.” Bucky ran his hand down her bare arm until he got to her gown and started to bunch it up. “What about me?”

“Kissing you. Touching you.” Her lips puckered at the last word.

“Touching me?” The white thing gathered around her waist, leaving her beautiful cunt open for his hand. “I have a better idea.”

She let out a moan as his fingers worked between her folds. Bucky smiled at how wet she was for him, eager and inviting. He teased her entrance with his finger, and she lifted her hips.

“The first time I enter you there it won’t be with a finger.” Bucky dragged along her slit, eliciting a disappointed whimper. “That doesn’t mean I will leave you wanting.”

He pressed down on her tender bud and she gasped as her hands scratched at his chest. She started rocking against him, grinding down on his hard cock with her movements while he circled and rubbed her clit.

“Cum for me.” He cared more about her release than his own, a strange occurrence for him. “Tell me what you need.”

“You.” There was a coo to her voice, but she rocked faster against him.

Bucky increased the pressure and his motions, harder and faster. Soon the gasping came again and the features on her face tightened. She was close and he planned on tasting her ecstasy. He opened his mouth and bared his fangs.

The second her climax came over her Bucky removed his hand and flipped her on to her back. His thigh pressed against her apex while his teeth sank into her neck.

He tasted her orgasm, a rush of pent up repression and denial mixed without any shame or remorse. It was enough that he felt his cock spasm in his pants as her blood rushed down his throat.

Her death would be a waste. Bucky knew right then and there he had better plans in store for her.

“Miss.” There was a handshaking you. “Miss wake up.”

You struggled to open your eyes. The room seemed extra bright and you shielded your eyes.

“What time is it?” You begrudgingly lifted yourself up on to an elbow. “Who are you?”

“Count Barnes told us about the dinner tonight.” She wore one of Tony’s uniforms. “I am here to help you dress. It’s 5 pm. Dinner is at 7, so we should get started.”

“Five pm?” That made you jolt up in bed. “I’ve slept the day away.”

“You do look a little ill.” The woman tapped your neck. “And it looks like a spider may have taken a bite.”

You stood up and went to the mirror. There was an air of tiredness to your features and two strange puncture marks on your neck. It must have been a huge spider.

“Please don’t cancel the dinner.” The girl appeared behind you. “The staff has been dreadfully bored and Count Barnes is paying all of us a very generous additional sum for tonight.”

“I am tired, but I feel more relaxed than I have in months.” It was like all the tension in your body ran out. “I wouldn’t dream of canceling on the Count.”

You would have to thank him when you saw him, especially since you said you would inform the servants.

“He had a special dress sent over for you.” The maid went to a bag hanging. “I don’t even think Mr. Stark knows how to have something made so quickly.”

She lifted the bag to show the most exquisite piece of clothing you’d ever seen. It was the right color for you and the details were extraordinary.

“I think we should do your hair up.” The main went on for her plans for you and you nodded along, eager to participate in the night’s festivities.

When you saw James he looked more handsome than you remembered, his suit the finest you’d ever seen.

Dinner was another perfect conversation where it felt like he hung on every word you said.

“If I ask for a nightcap will you accompany this time?” You rose from the table.

“Only if you ask nicely.” James stood as well.

“Please, won’t you join me for a drink?” You waited for him to offer his arm.

“I must say, that dress looks stunning on you.” He looked you up and down. “Mr. Barton is a lucky man.”

Hearing your fiance’s name made you cringe. It was the first time you’d given him any thought all evening.

“Yes. You will come to the wedding I hope?” You looked at James and saw a twinge of disappointment, making you feel even guiltier.

“I hope to play a large part in your wedding.” The disappointment vanished.

“Oh. Of course. I forget you’re acquaintances with all the men.” You walked into the parlor and left James to go pour the drinks.

There was a scratching sound and then music filled the room. You smiled as you looked over your shoulder at James with phonograph.

“It’s a wonderful invention.” You turned and handed him a drink.

“Dance with me.” He took both glasses from your hands and set them down.

“I don’t think…”

“Please.” He held his hand out.

You knew it was wrong, but you found yourself accepting his proposal and slipping your hand into his, while his other went around your waist and brought you closer.

“You’re very special Y/N.” James led you as you swayed. “More than any human recognizes.”

“I’m just a girl.” You felt a heat growing in your heart between his compliments and the way he was touching you.

“No.” His had left yours and went to your chin, nudging it so that your eyes were on his. “You are much more than that. You are a delicacy. One I would very much like to taste. Again.”

Hazy visions of laying on top of James, his hand on your most private areas. The release the ecstasy, the bite on your neck.

“What are you?” You were curious, not scared, not angry, nothing else.

“I am the only one who can satisfy you. Give you what you crave. Knowledge, equality, travel, the world.” He leaned in closer. “All you have to do is join me.”

“You’re the beast they’re hunting.” Things fell into place.

The crossbow, the picture on the table of the fanged creature, the sun umbrella, the sunglasses, sleeping all day, the puncture marks on your neck.

“You’re a vampire.” You understood why Clint was acting so mad, had he told you the truth you never would have believed him. “Am I under your spell?”

“Not at the moment.” The music stopped but you continued to sway.

“Then why am I not scared?” You kept your eyes on his, having no reason to trust him but doing so anyway.

“Because you’re different.” His gaze did not falter. “Leave with me, tonight. Let me take you into the darkness.”

He was asking, but you knew he didn’t need to. A mountain of feelings came toppling down. He was a monster, you were engaged. He was interesting, you were lonely. He excited you, you were amazed by him. Would a no mean death and did you even want to say no? While your thoughts continued to scramble your heat knew the answer.

You opened your mouth to speak when the door to the parlor flung open.

“Y/N GET BACK!” Clint held out a giant crucifix.

James let out a screech and moved you behind his back. Clint wasted no opportunity jumping forward, a wooden stake in his hand. It came centimeters to James’ heart when he let go of you to defend himself. You fell to the floor with a bump and scooted back against the wall.

The two men struggled with each other. The wooden stake going closer to James before another blow pushed it away.

“STOP! You’re hurting him!” You screamed out from the floor.

Both men looked at you.

“Y/N run! Get out of here.” Clint went back to trying to kill James.

“Y/N you have a choice. Make it.” James didn’t sound nearly as winded as Clint.

That’s when you realized this was all a show for your benefit. James could have snapped Clit in two if he wanted. That’s where this was headed. Clint’s death. James wanted you to do it, but could you?

Two lives danced in front of your eyes literally. One a happy dutiful wife in the sunlight, the other a literal monster. You knew the correct choice.

Ignoring the faux struggle you walked over to the crossbow, the one Tony must have chosen to leave behind for some reason. It was loaded, all you to do was pull the trigger. Without hesitation, you went over to the duo. Neither of which were paying attention to you.

“I wish there was another way.” You sighed as you lined up and took your shot.

In an instant the struggle was over as the body hit the floor with a thud, your life forever changed.

A/N: We are going into a little bit of a choose your own adventure. If you want to be a bad girl skip all the way to ***

[Begin ending 1]

“Y/N.” Clint looked at you with shock. “Thank God.”

He ran to you and tucked you against his chest, the entire time your eyes were glued to James, the arrow sticking out of his heart. His body started to shake and decay at a rapid rate, the beautiful face disappearing.

“Where are the others?” You didn’t notice the vampire hunting gang.

“London. I just had a feeling that you needed me.” Clint kissed the top of your head. “That it was wrong to leave you alone. And I was right.”

“Is it over now? That he is dead.” You pulled away and looked up at Clint.

“It’s over. Our lives are safe.” He started to lead you out of the parlor. “The others won’t believe it.”

“Will you tell me the story?” You looked at Clint. “Why was he here?”

“For another time love.” Clint squeezed you tight. “You have had quite a night. I’m sure you need some rest.”

“To sleep, perchance to dream.” You were still in a haze.

“What?” Clint asked.

“Shakespeare.”

“I’m not familiar.” He tightened his shoulders as he led you to the stairs, away from what could have been.

***

[Begin Ending 2]

A failed grunt came out of Clint as he tried to reach for the arrow in his back. It was short lived as he collapsed dead. You lowered the crossbow as James stepped over his body.

His eyes bore into yours with pride and amazement. When he reached you he cupped your cheek and lifted your chin, pressing his mouth to yours. You dropped the weapon and put your arms around his neck, returning the kiss.

“What a choice.” He broke the kiss as he hoisted you in the air, your skirts going to your waist as you wrapped your legs around him.

“There was never a choice to make. You would always win.” You went back to kissing him.

This was the kissing you’d always dreamed of, deep and unbridled passion. You would spend eternity with someone capable of making you feel this way.

You squealed when there was a sharp pang on your tongue, followed by the taste of copper, then something else, something warm and tangy. James had bitten both of your tongues open and your blood swooshed together in your mouth.

It made you moan as he set you down on the couch. He moved faster than your eyes could keep up with, undressing and then you. It was dizzying to be naked so quickly, but in a second he bared his fangs and sunk them deep into your neck.

A moan left your lips as you felt your blood dripping down your back. Warm and so filled with life. Your head started to lull to the side as your soul slid into James’ mouth. With it all your hang up and pretentions.

Then he pulled your head away and looked at you as a nail ran across his chest, spilling his own. You didn’t need instructions as your mouth went to him, lapping it up and taking as much of him in as you could. He tasted like love. Something you could never get enough and never quite understood how it felt.

He spun around and pulled you across his lap, straddling him. You’d never been in such a lewd position before and loved it as he lined up his cock with your cunt and lowered you down.

James tilted his head to the side and again ran a fingernail, opening up his vein. You wasted no time dropping your head to taste him again while your body bounced up and down his shaft.

Soon his teeth returned to your neck, crunching down again. It made you cry out and lose your concentration on your own feeding. But then the tingling in your pussy began to grow in a way you never experienced before.

James was guiding you, up and down, back and forth. You started gasping, desperate for the release. Certain that you were going to burst into nothingness. When the pleasure came it made James suck down harder and you moaned uncontrollably. Your orgasm was soon met with his own and he stilled your movements but continued to drink from your throat.

Finally he lifted his head, showing his blood-soaked chin and lips. You imagined you looked much the same when he pressed his mouth to yours, his cock softening inside of you.

The deep kiss turned into a little peck and you fell forward, resting your head against James’ chest, the blood drying.

“We have to get out of here.” He kissed your head and slid you off of his lap. “The others won’t be far behind.”

“Where will we go?” You weren’t sure you were capable of standing as sleep started to tug you down.

“Wherever we like.” He gave you a devilish grin and kissed your forehead. “Sleep now.”

You had no clue where you would be when you awoke but were ready to follow him into the night.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #marvel #marvel au #bucky au #bucky barnes x you

785 notes · View notes

the-technicolor-whiscash · 3 years

Note

💍 Rose and 10 (or TenToo)

thank you so much for this one anon eighth grade me would be frothing at the mouth for an ask about these two

where they get married

I know, before anything else, that Jackie has to be there when they get married, because if she weren’t there and she found out they were getting married, she would slaughter them, so it has to be somewhere Jackie would be willing to go. I can imagine they don’t have a large wedding, so they don’t have a huge venue. Also somewhere they haven’t had a near death experience at. So maybe a nice botanical garden, or an uninhabited planet with gorgeous plant life. Somewhere with a view. Definitely an outdoor wedding.

when they get married ( ie what time of day, what month and season etc. )

They strike me as the types to have a spring or summer wedding, since you have the most outdoor options, but a winter wedding with lightly falling snow would be a delightful callback to the Christmas Invasion. Definitely an afternoon or evening wedding though. Rose is not a morning person.

what traditions they include ( do they get married under a chuppah and crush a glass, garter toss, ‘something borrowed, something blue,’ etc. )

I think they definitely do the borrowed/blue thing, with the “something borrowed” being something from Jackie or Pete. The Doctor claims the tardis falls under old, borrowed, and blue, but Rose keeps telling him it doesn’t work like that. Also I wanna see them throw rice if only cause I think that’s a fun sort of tradition. I feel like Rose would want the Doctor to try and bring some Gallifreyan traditions into the wedding, though frankly I don’t know what those would be. Also the ringbearer is K-9.

what their wedding cake looks like

Something traditional, but with lots of color. Maybe they have it marbled to look like space. And it’s gotta be chocolate.

….who smashes cake into whose face

Rose agrees not to smash cake into Ten’s face but Jackie immediately comes from left field and smashes it directly into his face. I would pay money to see that.

who proposed to who first

They both wanted to propose, but Ten was perpetually nervous about it, and Rose always liked going against society’s standards for women so she proposed first. Their wedding bands are Jackie and Pete’s, since Jackie has Pete’s from their world and Pete has Jackie’s from his.

who walks down the aisle and who waits at the altar ( or neither )

Pete walks Rose down the aisle. She would’ve asked Jackie, but even though Pete was from the other world, he had become as much of a father to her as her own Pete would have been if he had lived. Happy to have her father back, Rose knew he’d be the one to walk her down the aisle.

what their wedding dresses / suits / other look like

Ten wanted to wear his normal suit, but Rose expressly forbade it, since something different would make the day feel a little more special. Instead, he wears a black tuxedo with blue accents, with just a little bit of glitter to make it pop. He wears a rose on his lapel, but managed to get Rose to at least agree to let him wear one of his more professional pairs of converse, since “they’re comfortable!”

Rose wears a white dress, but not without some flair. The skirt is just a little poofy and made of layers of tulle, and each layer has finely embroidered light pink flowers on it. Her veil continues the flowery theme, with white and light pink petals making up the headband thing, and absolutely with some glitter. Is there body glitter involved? Maybe! And, since the Doctor was wearing comfortable shoes, Rose also wore a pair of sneakers, since “Nobody will see them anyway.” I watch a lot of say yes to the dress I’m sorry

what their wedding colour scheme is and what sort of decor they have

I like the idea of blue and pink, but not in an oppressively heterosexual kind of way. However, if they didn’t care about the scheme matching their outfits (i’m a coordination kind of man sue me), I would love to see a scheme based off of the amber, earthy tones of the tardis interior. Their decor isn’t over the top, but it’s not minimalist by any means. Lots of appropriately colored streamers, flower arches, the whole nine yards.

what flowers are in the bouquet ( if applicable. bonus: what do the flowers mean? )

I don’t know shit about flower language so we’re gonna ignore that. I like the idea of Rose having a lot of pale pink flowers in her bouquet to match her dress, flowers with character. Maybe they get flowers from another planet.

what their vows are ( eg poetry, traditional, improvised etc. )

They write their own vows, and everyone assumes that the Doctor’s gonna be long-winded and Rose is gonna be short and sweet. But instead, Rose has long, detailed, emotional vows, leaving much of the crowd in tears, recounting everything they’ve been through and how he changed her life. The Doctor is by no means succinct, but his is definitely shorter. He talks about how Rose came into his life at such a dark time, and how she helped him forge a new path, giving him hope for the future.

if anyone’s late to the wedding

I know this doesn’t agree with the timeline of anything (if we’re assuming they get married before the end of season 2) but I think it would be extremely funny if Jack decides to roll up late to the reception and ask them both for a dance.

who’s in the bridal parties / groomsmen / other

Ok so Jackie is definitely one of the bridesmaids, and so is Sarah Jane, and I can imagine Rose would want some of her old friends to be bridesmaids too. Hell, Jackie can be the maid of honor, why not. The Doctor has Mickey be one of his groomsmen as well as Pete, and frankly I can’t remember any other male characters close enough to them to be at their wedding.

what their bridal party / groomsmen / other are wearing

Definitely something coordinated. The bridesmaids are wearing pink, and dresses that by modern standards are a lil gaudy but by late 2000′s standards were all the rage. The groomsmen... I dunno. Suits.

who gives speeches at the reception ( bonus: what do they say? recount a sweet memory or two between them? tell an embarrassing story? )

Oh, there’s lots of speeches. Jackie gives an emotional one, Pete gives a short but sweet one, Sarah Jane gives one. Jack, if he decides to roll up, absolutely tries to flirt with the both of them, but in the end it all comes together in a heartwarming story of how he just knew the two of them were meant for each other.

who catches the bouquet( s )

One of Rose’s old friends. Rose feels bad for having left them all for so long, and is positively overjoyed that at least one of them can catch the bouquet. Maybe it means there’ll be a wedding in the future they can attend.

what their wedding photos are like ( are they sweet, with the couple holding hands or kissing or ~gazing into each others eyes~? are they silly, with a snapshot of the ‘cake-smash’ moment? or are they artistic, with one of them facing the sunset or holding their bouquets? )

They have the serious ones, of course, the ones that you’ll frame and hang on your living room wall, but they have a lot of fun ones. Running into the sea, pretending to fall off cliffs, shooting aliens with laser guns. They take a number of pictures in the tardis, but the one they love the most is right outside it, with the tardis door open, framing them like an archway. They’re facing each other, staring into each others eyes, hands locked, and you can tell immediately that they’re so very much in love.

what sort of food they have at the reception

Stuff that’s a little fancy, but mostly tasty. The staples, like your fish option, your meat option, what have you. But there are french fries, which Rose wanted, jokingly saying it was because the Doctor had never paid for chips in his life.

who cries first during the ceremony

Jackie, out of happiness. But as things get going, just about everyone sheds a tear or two. Rose cries walking down the aisle, and the Doctor cries during his vows.

how wild their reception gets ( who dances the best, who gets drunk first, etc. )

Since it’s not a big party, things don’t get overly rowdy, but there are absolutely some drunken shenanigans. It takes some effort to get him tipsy, but eventually, the Doctor does the YMCA on a table.

what their rings are like

Definitely Jackie and Pete’s rings. But, if they didn’t do that, I can imagine they’d have simple, practical bands, perfect for the fast-paced life they live.

what sort of favours they have ( heart shaped sparklers, mini champagne bottles, personalised candy etc. )

I love the personalized candy idea so they definitely have those. I think they’d want to give out practical favors, like maybe engraved portable chargers (i know, i know, i’m messing up the timeline), but not without fun stuff like miniature nerf guns.

where they go for their honeymoon

Everywhere! Across space and time, they visit both their greatest hits and fun new places. They visit Miami Beach, watch fireworks on Mars, learn how to shoot bows and arrows on a planet out by Alpha Centauri.

something memorable that happens during the party / ceremony ( do they run out of ice and someone goes to get it in full formal wear on foot, does anyone fall asleep in the middle of the party, etc. )

Ok if Jack shows up, he would absolutely be the memorable moment. I’m picturing him teleporting in mid-party or even mid-ceremony, bringing confetti with him. If you’re gonna crash a wedding, might as well make it memorable.

who officiates the ceremony

I think it would be really sweet if Sarah Jane officiated it, and she also seems like the one most likely to be legally able to do so. They could just hire a minister, but given the nature of their lifestyles, they probably wouldn’t want some rando being like “what kinda nonsense wedding is this”

what song their first dance is to

I’m gonna be honest. I have no idea. But I do know that their second dance HAS to be Tainted Love, since that was from their first real adventure together, and I love shit coming full circle.

Thanks for the ask! sorry it got so long, it’s a long ask meme lol and I have a lot of thots. I love tenrose and would officiate their marriage myself. actually i’m ordained so i could legally do it.

#the whiscash administration #doctor who #asks #long post #I’m sorry it’s so long my brain thinks a lot

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katedrakeohd · 4 years

Text

This is for you @sirbeepsalot 🌹🥀🌺🌻🌼🌷⚘

I've had a bunch of asks in my inbox forever and need to finally get around to them. I was inspired by @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria and her one shot about Drake meeting Camille at her flower shop. I went in a totally different direction, but hopefully this little story is just as fluffy. 💗

....

Paint me a Picture 🎨🌷🌼

Drake hummed happily to himself as he stepped out of his office. He had just finished a conference call with his fellow council members finalizing the plans for Kate's upcoming baby shower. They had put off the party for the past two months amid fears of the Coronavirus spreading into Cordonia. Kate's due date of March 12th was fast approaching and they had reached the decision to reduce the guest list to under ten people. This suited Drake just fine because he wasn't much of a party person, plus Kate found too much attention and fussing around more tiring than exciting at this point.

Checking his watch, Drake realizes that his call had taken him well into the lunch hour and he was quite hungry. The plush carpet of the stairs muted his footsteps as he descended toward the main hall. He could feel the empty space blanket him in its silence, and he wondered where Kate, Hana and the corgis were.

When he had last seen Kate that morning she had been reorganizing the supplies in the nursery for the fourth time. He had chuckled at her restless nesting and kissed her on the cheek before leaving to make his phone call.

"Go get some fresh air and sunshine, it'll do you good."

Kate sighed, rubbing her aching back. "I guess so. I wonder what Hana's up to this morning."

Drake shrugged, "Send her a text to come get you and take your mind off baby stuff."

"Thanks, I will."

As he turned the corner toward the kitchen, Drake could smell toasting bread, and the delicious aroma of chicken soup. His mouth waters and he swallows, breathing deeply as his stomach rumbles. The sound of laughter, clink of plates and drawers opening and closing made him smile. Over the past 8 1/2 months the kitchen staff had become familiar with Kate's unusual cravings at all hours of the day. Early on she had wanted salty snacks, and then halfway through her second trimester her cravings had her wanting sweets, during the last month she had started combining the two in odd ways. It made Drake shake his head in wonder, but he obliged her desires. And if Kate was happy, Drake was happy.

Walking into the kitchen unnoticed, he sees the staff loading up a tray with a platter of sandwiches, and a pitcher of iced tea.

"Good afternoon Ladies," he says, and the laughing chatter amongst the women stops.

"Lovely day indeed, Your Grace." Marie the head cook replies with a smile.

Drake eyes the sandwiches on the platter hungrily. He could imagine sinking his teeth into the golden toasted bread, and hearing the crunch. "Are these for Kate and Hana by any chance?"

"Why yes they are. They're taking lunch in the sunroom. I can add another drinking glass and another plate if you'd like to join them."

Drake nods, "That would be wonderful. How about if I take lunch to them then?"

Claire, the young kitchen helper, protests as she sees Drake reach for the tray. "Oh my goodness, Your Grace, let us do that. You go on ahead and we'll bring lunch to you. "

Drake grabs half of a sandwich, "Well, if you insist. I'll just take this to go then, thanks."

Turning around to leave the kitchen Drake raises the sandwich to his mouth and checks the contents before taking a bite. Lettuce, tomato and a slice of swiss cheese. Not bad, but could use some bacon.

In the sunroom the atmosphere is that of a bright summer's day despite the dull late winter landscape outside. Lush greenery, tropical flowers and golden sunshine fill the space and give it a pleasant warmth. Off to one side, chair cushions are clustered together on the tiled floor. At the moment they're serving as lounges for sunbathing, sleeping, corgis; but earlier the cushions had served as a comfy surface for a gentle yoga session for Kate and Hana. Now the two friends were standing at easels and painting, chatting back and forth about what to hang in the nursery.

"So you and Drake still don't know if you're having a boy or a girl right?"

Kate nods, "As much as I want to know now, it's still a mystery. Our doctor knows though."

Hana purses her lips in thought as she dabs some blue on her canvas, "So do you mind if I paint a gender neutral landscape instead of flowers?"

"Not at all. I'm still sticking with flowers though. The ones in here are just too beautiful not to paint. If it doesn't suit the theme of the nursery I'll just hang it somewhere else."

Hana rinses out her brush, setting it aside and selects a different one to line in some happy little trees in a dark brown. "I suppose Drake is hoping that you have a little boy."

"He won't admit it, but of course he does. He's itching to go camping and fishing, to kick a football around, toss a baseball with a son."

With a shrug Kate draws in some green stems on her yellow daffodils, "Of course these are all activities he could do with a daughter as well. I remember tossing around a baseball with my Dad in the backyard."

Opening the door and stepping into the sunroom Drake is met by the wall of heat and fragrant scent of flowers. He immediately feels overdressed as a trickle of sweat runs down his neck. "How do you ladies stand it in here?"

Kate turns away from her painting to look at Drake, "Oh Hi Honey, welcome to summer in March."

Under the shade of her Sun hat, Kate is wearing one of Drake's old denim shirts as a painter's smock, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. There's a green smudge of paint on her cheek. Drake notices that it appears that she's wearing little else other than flip flops.

"Uh, Kate? Are you naked under my shirt?"

Kate giggles, covering her mouth, putting another smudge of green on her face. "No silly. I'm wearing a bikini top and shorts." She glances down at herself, "I can see it looking that way though."

Hana is wearing a short summer dress, and her own Sun hat. "You look a little warm there Drake. I wouldn't mind if you decided to take off your shirt."

Kate snickers as she goes back to her painting, "Yeah Honey, don't be shy."

Drake clears his throat, loosening his top two buttons and rolling up his sleeves. "I think I'll just open a couple of windows instead."

Kate watches Drake crank open a window, appreciating the flex of the muscles in his forearms. The fresh air blows the fabric of his shirt against his chest, making it stick to the sweat on his skin. She realizes that he isn't wearing a tee underneath. Probably why he was reluctant to remove his shirt in Hana's company. Drake notices her watching him and gives her a wink as he walks across to open another window. "So what are you ladies painting today?"

Kate feels the cool breeze brush the hair off the back of her neck and she shivers with delight. "Thanks honey, I didn't realize just how warm it was getting in here."

Drake does a quick bow with flourish of his hand, "Always pleased to be of service, Your Grace."

Hana giggles, "We're painting flowers and landscapes, to answer your previous question."

Drake settles down on the floor with the corgis, resting his elbow on a cushion and rubbing a belly as one dog happily rolls over. "I have the pleasure of informing you ladies that iced tea and sandwiches are also on the way, for our lunch."

Hana wipes her brow, "Anything with Ice in it would be welcome right now. I first experienced cold tea when we were in Texas for Savannah's wedding. I wasn't sure if I'd like it."

Kate sighs, "Mmm, I love lemony iced tea in the summertime. I miss it from being back home."

Drake's stomach growls again, causing one of the corgis to give him a look and then retreat to a spot in the shade, "Sorry Fluffers, didn't mean to disturb you. Don't worry I'm not hungry enough to eat you, close but no."

"I could go for a big bowl of spaghetti and meatballs right now," Kate says wistfully as she paints a tomato red poppy onto her canvas bouquet.

Drake groans, folding his arms behind his head as he leans back on the cushions and closes his eyes, "Oh stop, you're just making me more hungry."

Kate bites her lip, "Ooh, or pizza. A nice big slice of ole New York thin crust with extra cheese."

"STOP IT!" Drake barks out a laugh, chuckling as he wipes the sweat off his brow. "I ate half a sandwich on my way here, and it's really tasting like another half right about now."

Kate wipes her hands on a rag, "Ooh, what type of sandwich?"

Drake shrugs, "I dunno, there was cheese and some lettuce in there, maybe tomato?"

Kate kicks off her flip flops and walks across the warm floor tiles to stand over Drake, casting a shadow across him, hands on her hips. "And you didn't think to bring the rest of the sandwiches with you?"

Drake cracks an eye open to look up at his wife, his face scrunching up in amusement at her paint smudged face and raised eyebrows. "Hey, I tried to take the tray with me. But I don't think the girls in the kitchen trusted me to get the sandwiches this far without eating a few."

Kate nudges his leg playfully with her foot. "So true. We've all seen how much you like to eat."

Drake growls playfully, reaching out to grab for her ankle but she steps back out of his reach, "Can't help it if I'm a hungry man, c'mere you. I bet you taste like chicken."

"Nah ah, if I get down on those cushions with you I might never get back up. I'm going to wash up my hands and then take a seat over there at the table. Besides I think cannibalism is frowned upon in Cordonia."

Drake smirks at her and rolls over on his stomach, watching her walk away. "Mmm, golden fried chicken. You know how much I'm a breast and leg man."

Hana bursts out laughing, "Geez guys get a room."

Continue on to the next part

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