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tobesolonely · 3 years

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apartment 41

hi y’all! this is my very VERY late submission for @meetmeinfleetwood ‘s “To Lovers” challenge (thank u miss sadie for even still accepting this LOL) but here is some good ol fashioned strangers to lovers with the line, “will you stay the night?” . :D enjoy everyone!

warnings: mentions of alcohol, intoxication, smut :)

word count: ~5.2k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

There were many things you loved about living on your own. You loved that your apartment was always clean. You loved that at the end of a long day, you could come back and brood in peace. You loved walking around in nothing but your underwear without the fear of anyone seeing you. You did things when you wanted, how you wanted. As a self-proclaimed introvert, there was nothing you loved more than living by yourself.

However, during slightly inconvenient moments like these, you wished you had someone else in the apartment with you.

You swore you’d been trying to get your favorite jar of pasta sauce open for at least the past ten minutes. It had been a long day at work, and at the moment all you wanted to do was heat the entire jar of sauce, boil a bunch of pasta, and call it a night. You were growing beyond frustrated–– you even contemplated just breaking the jar open. Ultimately, you decided against it lest you be met with a mouthful of glass.

Feeling defeated, you pick up your phone in frustration and hurriedly punch in your father’s number. The phone rings twice before he answers. “Hello? What’s up, hun?”

“Dad, what should I do if I can’t get this jar open? Like, it’s seriously glued shut,” you set it down on the counter probably a little too hard considering it was a glass jar. “I’m so hungry.”

“Did you try running it under hot water?”

You did.

“Hm. Try getting a good grip on it with a dish towel or something?”

Of course, you did.

“Well, I’m not driving over there just to open a jar for you,” your dad pauses. “You have neighbors, don’t you? Why don’t you knock on one of their doors?”

“Isn’t that weird?”

“No weirder than asking to borrow a cup of sugar.”

You thank your dad for the suggestion and hang up with him shortly after. He was right. You just needed someone to quickly open the jar for you and then you’d be back in your apartment, secluded from society until the next morning when you went into work. Besides, you’d been in your apartment for roughly three months now and you didn’t have a relationship with any of your neighbors. You figured now was as good a time as any to at least meet the person who lived directly across from you.

You slide on your slippers and clear the few steps it takes to reach your neighbor’s door. A faded ‘41’ was on their door, and a cheeky mat that read, ‘Did you call first?’ was at your feet.

You tried racking your brain for any memory of what your neighbor may look like, but you were drawing a blank. You were more to yourself than you initially thought you were and made a silent vow to become more social from this point on. You situate the jar of pasta sauce under your arm before placing two firm knocks against the door. Moments later, the door is flung open and you’re met with the smell of something delicious cooking, and a handsome, tall man donning a dirty apron.

“Hi, is everything alright?” he has a concerned look on his face as he looks over the top of your head and into your apartment.

“I— This is a little embarrassing,” you mumble, feeling your body grow warm. “I live by myself and I’ve been trying to get this jar of pasta sauce open for at least twenty minutes and I can’t. Do you think you can?”

His mouth slowly turns upwards into a smile before finally nodding, reaching out his hand to grab the jar of pasta sauce from you. “It’s pasta night at your place too, hmm?” His tongue is poked out of the corner of his mouth as he focuses on the task at hand.

“Yeah,” you reply. “I’m just gonna heat up the entire jar of sauce, boil some spaghetti noodles, and call it a night.”

The pop! of the jar causes you to jump slightly. “That doesn’t sound like very good pasta.”

You retrieve the pasta sauce from him, quietly thanking him. “It gets the job done.”

Your neighbor hums in agreement. “‘M sure it does. If you ever wanna taste some really good pasta though, y’know where I’ll be.”

“I do,” you nod. “Well, thank you again. I’ll let you go back to making your pasta sauce that is just way better than mine.”

He lets out a loud laugh. “I appreciate it. It wasn’t any problem at all, I’m here most evenings if you ever need help opening anything else, uh…” He trails off.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N. Beautiful name. I’m Harry, by the way.”

You look down at the dirty hallway carpet, a wide smile on your face. “Thank you, Harry. It was nice to finally meet you, by the way.”

“You too. Have a good night.”

You give him one more smile before turning on your heels and walking back inside your apartment, gently shutting the door. You quickly look out the peephole and catch him just as he’s closing his door, a dimpled-grin on his face.

It was Friday night when you finally got the chance to speak with him again. You were sitting on your kitchen stool nursing a glass of wine and waiting for your frozen pizza to heat in the oven when you heard someone coming down the hallway. As you had been doing all week since your interaction with Harry, you set your glass of wine down and shuffle over to your peephole, eyes scanning the small amount of hallway that was visible.

Harry comes into view seconds later, four overflowing bags of groceries precariously balanced along the length of his arms.

“Fuck.” You hear him mutter to himself. He attempts to reach in his pocket for his keys but once he realizes he can’t do so without setting at least one bag of groceries down, he lets out a loud huff in what you assume to be annoyance. You scuttle to your shoe rack and slip your shoes on before quickly flinging your door open.

“Hi! Need help?”

Harry jumps and you both watch as the contents of the bag he was getting ready to set down spill at his feet. “Now I do,” he’s already picking his groceries off the floor. “You scared the shit out of me. Also, were you watching me?”

Your face grows warm. “I heard someone coming down the hallway so I wanted to see who it was.”

“Oh, really?” Harry questions, pausing to look up at you. “You came out of your place so quickly, felt like I was bein’ watched or something.”

You know he’s teasing you but you can’t help but feel a little embarrassed that he caught onto what you were doing so quickly. Instead of dignifying his statement with an answer, you bend down and begin helping him pick up his spilled groceries. His hand grazes yours lightly as you both reach for a can of black beans, now slightly dented. It lingers for a moment before he retracts it to retrieve a different item. A quick, side-eyed glance reveals that his cheeks are tinged red.

“What are you making for dinner?” You ask him, standing up and dusting off the knees of your leggings.

“Uh, veggie chili. S’one of my favorites–– hey, is something burning?”

Your eyes widen and you abruptly turn away from Harry without so much as a goodbye, hurrying toward your kitchen that was starting to grow foggy from smoke produced by your oven. You were so preoccupied with helping Harry gather up his spilled groceries that you had totally forgotten you had a frozen pizza in the oven and if the smell was any indication of its current state, it was most likely inedible at this point.

Reaching for the oven mitt you kept next to the knives on the counter, you open the oven and fan the smoke out of your face, holding back a gag from the burnt smell. Your fire alarm immediately goes off once you open the oven and Harry appears a second later, a concerned look on his face. He looks around for your smoke detector and once he sees it he stands on his tiptoes to turn it off. You set your now blackened pizza on top of the oven and turn on the microwave fan. Harry’s already opening windows around your apartment, fanning the air with a throw pillow from your couch.

“Thanks,” you mumble, a wave of embarrassment washing over your body. You feared that Harry probably thought you were the most incompetent person on this planet–– first, you couldn’t get a jar open, and now here you are nearly setting your apartment on fire. “Guess I should’ve set a timer, huh?”

“Yeah, ‘spose you should’ve,” he replies. “It’s okay, though. ‘M about to get started on dinner, you can join me? If you’d like, that is. Maybe you’ll have a new recipe so you can stop eatin’ all this frozen shit.”

“Leave my frozen foods out of this,” you playfully scold him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Thank you for the invite though, that would be great, actually. I’m gonna get this cleaned up and then I’ll be right over?”

“Sounds good,” he neatly situates your pillow back on the couch. “I’ll see you in a bit, Y/N. Door will be unlocked.”

Once Harry’s gone, you move into action, quickly tossing the pizza into the trashcan before running to your bathroom. You try to remember if you brushed your teeth earlier that day but you can’t, so you brush them again just to be safe. You hastily examine yourself in the mirror before deciding you weren’t going to do anything more, not wanting to come off as trying too hard. You were almost one hundred percent certain Harry was just being neighborly–– nothing indicated that he found you attractive, so you didn’t want to make it too obvious that you found him to be the most stunning man you’ve ever seen in your life.

Locking your door, you clear the distance from your welcome mat to his in five steps flat, and take a deep breath before letting yourself in.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that Harry had more skill in the kitchen than an everyday home-chef did. He all but floated around the room, chopping with ease and finesse. The two of you had settled into a comfortable silence as he worked and you watched. Billy Joel played softly over his Bluetooth speaker, and he’d occasionally stop what he was doing to take a sip of his wine and look over his shoulder at you, almost as if he was checking if you were still there because you were being so quiet.

Your head was starting to grow fuzzy as you finished your third glass of wine that night, so you make the (responsible) decision to cut yourself off for the night. “Can I have a glass of water?”

“Course y’can,” he replies quietly, not stopping what he was doing. “Give me just a second and I’ll get ya––”

“Oh, I can get it myself. Just tell me where the cups are.”

Harry stops chopping and turns completely to face you, an amused look on his face. “You’re plastered, aren’t ya?”

“No? Why do you think that?”

Harry laughs. “You can’t hear yourself stumblin’ over your words, but I can. Jus’ stay right there and I’ll get your water. You want ice?”

“How do you know how to cook so well?”

“Culinary school,” he responds coolly. “Ice?”

You’re not sure if you are as drunk as Harry says you are, but you were currently finding the fact that Harry went to culinary school the coolest thing ever. “A chef? No way! What kind of chef?”

“I’m a Sous Chef. Gonna give ya a bit of ice.”

“I can’t believe I live across from a chef! No wonder you were giving me shit for eating canned pasta sauce,” you take the glass of water from Harry’s outstretched hand, thanking him. “Even your water tastes better than mine!”

“I think you’re just pissed, Y/N,” Harry responds, eyes crinkled from smiling. “Do y’like cooked carrots?” Your nose wrinkles in response to Harry’s question and he mutters something about how he’ll leave them out before turning back towards the stove to check on his food.

“How old are you, Harry?”

“Just turned twenty-seven. Yourself?”

“I’m twenty-four!” You exclaim, a little too excited. “Where are you from?”

He turns to look at you, eyebrow raised. “England. What gave it away?”

“Your accent.”

He hums, a small smirk on his lips. “Where are you from?”

“I’m from here. Just moved back home from my college town but didn’t wanna move back in with my parents, so here I am.”

“No roommates, you said?”

“Nope,” you pop the ‘p’, taking a big gulp of water. “You don’t either, do you? I just realized I haven’t heard or seen anyone else since I’ve been here.”

“I do not. I had a roommate when I first moved in but he ended up gettin’ engaged and moving in with his fiancée, so it’s just me for now. I think I like livin’ on my own better, though.” You watch as Harry reaches into his cabinet and retrieves two bowls and starts spooning your dinner into them. He sets the bowl in front of you and hands you a spoon, nodding at you to try it.

You bring a spoonful up to your mouth, blowing a few times before shoving it into your mouth. Your eyes widen at the amazing flavor that fills your mouth, and your eyes diverge to his. “This is incredible!”

Harry looks down at his bowl of food, a shy grin on his face. “Thanks, Y/N. Glad you like it.” He grabs his glass of wine from behind him and moves around to the other side of the island to sit next to you.

“Are you a vegetarian?” You ask, mouth full.

“Somewhat. I’m a pescatarian,” he shovels a spoonful of the chili into his mouth. “More wine?”

“I better not,” you reply, mind still fuzzy from all you’ve drunk throughout the night. “This is seriously so good, Harry. You’re cute, you can cook, you’re nice… you’re like, a triple threat!”

“Callin’ me cute?”

“C’mon, you know you are,” you answer boldly. “I’m just stating the obvious.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” he takes a sip of wine. “You’re a pretty big looker yourself.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“You flirted with me first.”

“So what if I did?”

Harry lets out a quiet scoff, going back to eating his food. After a moment he says, “I wouldn’t mind.” You smile to yourself and continue eating, bringing the bowl up to your lips and tipping your head back so you could get every last drop of Harry’s veggie chili. He gets up to get another helping of food as you get up to place your bowl in the sink, lifting your sleeves to wash it.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says as he brushes past you, going back to where he was previously seated. “I’ll clean up later. Do y’want some dessert?”

“I think I will take some more wine,” you grab the bottle from the center of the island along with your glass, pouring a generous amount. “This is good. Nothing like the cheap bottles I get from Target.”

“I’m glad you like it. Thought I’d pull this one out tonight, always pairs well with dishes like this…” He trails off. “Anyway, yeah. Glad y’like it.”

You and Harry finish off the bottle of wine no more than thirty minutes later, having by now situated yourselves on his couch. He turned something onto the television (you think it was Iron Chef), but neither one of you were paying any attention to it. Harry was asking about what you studied in college, how you like your current career and your favorite things to do in your free time. You were asking him about England, his family back home, and why he chose to go to culinary school.

He has a way about him that captivates you— just completely pulls you in— and you never want to stop listening to him speak. Harry leans close to you when you talk, almost as if you’re telling him a secret that he doesn’t want to miss out on.

“I think ‘m jus’ as drunk as you are now,” Harry whispers, letting out an adorable giggle. “Goin’ into work tomorrow is gonna be a proper pain.”

“No one told you to try and outdrink me!” You yell, tucking your knees under your bottom. “Now we’re both drunk, what good does that do?”

“Think it’s more fun this way, don’t you?” Harry lets out a little burp, his face flushing. “Wanna help me clean the kitchen?”

“What happened to cleaning it later?” You stand up from the couch, wobbling slightly before catching your balance.

“Well, I didn’t think we’d get drunk off our arses and sit here talkin’ til one in the mornin’, did you?” He stands up as well, his hand moving to rest on the small of your back as he scooches past you.

“There’s no way it’s that late,” you retort, checking the time on your phone. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to overextend my stay. I’ll help you clean this place up and then get going.”

Harry swats a hand in front of his face, shaking his head. “Overextend your stay? Of course y’didn’t, more than happy to have you here. Do you wanna wash or dry?”

“I’ll wash since I don’t know where anything goes.” You move to the sink and roll up your sleeves, moving the small number of dishes in the sink all to one side so you can fill the other side with water. Silence falls over you again as you clean the dishes from dinner and soon enough you’re done, drying your hands on your t-shirt.

“Thank you, Y/N. We make a good team, huh? Got that done quickly, didn’t we?” He folds the dishtowel in half neatly and hangs it over the handle of his oven.

“Yeah,” you yawn, slipping on your shoes that had been discarded earlier in the night by the door. “I’ll get out your hair and let you get to bed, then. Thank you for having me over and for cooking that delicious dinner, I enjoyed it. I owe you.”

“If it’s frozen food, don’t worry about it,” he jokes, moving to open the door for you. “If you want to cook me something, though…”

“How about I take you out for dinner? I stay out of the kitchen, and you’ll get something edible and halfway decent. A win-win?”

Harry laughs. “‘M lookin’ forward to it. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“I couldn’t decide between Italian or sushi but since you’re a pescetarian, I figured sushi was our best bet.”

Harry looks away from the menu and at you, clearing his throat before speaking. “That was really thoughtful. Surprised you remembered considering how loaded you were.”

“For the last time, I was not that drunk,” you defend yourself, gently kicking his calf from underneath the table. “By the end of the night, you had way more than me!”

“Maybe so,” he replies nonchalantly, looking back at the menu. “Let’s not forget who can handle their alcohol better, though.”

You let out an indignant hmph, and get to scouring the menu yourself. You didn’t eat sushi very often so you figured you’d probably just get whatever Harry got.

“Let’s do sake bombs.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Sake bombs? Are you tryin’ to get me drunk again?”

“They’re fun! Just one?”

Harry shakes his head at you and grins before waving over the waitress, asking her politely for two sake bombs. She comes back a few minutes later with the alcohol and chopsticks balanced precariously on a tray, setting them in front of you and Harry respectively.

The waitress stands back and says, “Ichi… ni… san… sake bomb!” The two of you pound the table until your shot glasses fall into the cup and then you throw your heads back, chugging down the cocktail. When you finally finish chugging your drink and look back up at Harry, he’s staring at his watch as if he’s been waiting for you to finish for ages.

“Oh, you’re finally done? I was startin’ to grow old,” he teases, taking a sip of his water. “Do you know what you wanna order?”

“You’re annoying,” you reply, narrowing your eyes at him. “But I’m gonna get whatever you get.”

“Really? You don’t have any preferences?”

You shake your head. “I don’t eat sushi very often so I honestly don’t know what I should get. I’ll try anything, though.”

“You really did pick this place just for me, didn’t you?” He has a teasing tone to his voice, but his gaze has softened.

“I told you I owed you, didn’t I?”

At this, Harry just gives you a small smirk and signals the waitress over once again to order for the both of you. While you wait for your food to come, you fall into easy conversation with Harry again. It seems like you can talk about anything under the sun with him–– no topic was off-limits, and nothing was awkward. He had to have been one of the most interesting people you’ve ever met in your life. He was well-traveled, knew several languages, and loved to sing and write music in his spare time. Although you felt your own life was rather boring in comparison to his, he made you feel just as accomplished and interesting as he was.

“That was good,” he tells you after you’ve both finished eating, wiping his mouth with his napkin and slouching in his chair slightly. “Think ‘m gonna need to unbutton my pants here in a second.”

“Me too,” you answer with a laugh, making eye contact with the waitress. You mouth, ‘check, please’ and she nods, reappearing at your table with the check. As you’re digging in your purse to pull out your wallet, Harry reaches over and grabs the check before you can even look at it. He reaches in his pants pocket for his wallet and slides his card in before you’ve even looked back up.

“What are you doing?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Did you forget that I’m the one that owes you?” He shrugs.

“You can make it up to me another way. Don’t worry about it,” his voice is low and gravelly. The waitress comes back to collect the check from Harry and after he receives his receipt, he reaches into his wallet to place a cash tip for her on the table. “Ready to get home?”

Home. You know he only worded it that way because you live directly across from him, but you would like going “home home” with Harry, at least for tonight. There was no denying the sexual tension between the two of you was electric–– anyone who was paying attention to the two of you could probably sense it. You wordlessly nod and follow Harry out of the restaurant, intertwining your fingers with his when he holds his hand back for you to grab.

He stands on the curb and expertly hauls a cab, opening the door and gesturing your in ahead of him. Harry’s hand moves to rest on your leg as he makes small-talk with the taxi driver, asking him if he was having a busy night and how much longer he thought he’d be out for. Harry pays the cab fare and wishes the driver a good rest of his night before all but dragging you out of the taxi.

“What’s got you in such a rush?” You ask Harry, a teasing

“Oh? Did I misread the situation? I thought–– this is embarrassing, never mind…” his tight grip loosens on your hand but you pull him back into you, laughing at how adorable he was.

“Harry! I’m joking, I know what’s going on,” you rub your thumb across the top of his. “I was just messing with you.” You see him visibly let out a sigh of relief.

“Don’t mess with me like that, Y/N!” You’re still standing outside of your apartment complex in the dark, as close to one another as you can be without completely melting into each other. He releases his hand from your tight grip and places it gently on your face instead. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

“Please,” you reply breathlessly, standing on your toes. Harry cranes his neck to meet your lips and presses them to yours softly, pulling back only when the both of you are near gasping for air.

“Was that nice?” He asks, thumb caressing your face. Your noses are pressed together and you just nod, still too breathless to speak. “Maybe we can take this inside, then?”

Once inside Harry’s apartment, he nearly rips off the new shirt you bought specifically for your date with him, discarding it by his door.

“Careful with that,” you mutter, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I just got that today. Tag is still onnit.”

You feel Harry laugh into the side of your neck, walking your backward towards his couch. “I’ll cover the cost if it’s ruined then, how’s tha’?”

Harry sucks harshly on your neck, causing you to let out a low moan. “I guess that’s fine.”

“That’s fine?” Harry mocks you, guiding you onto the coach. You hum in agreement as you sink further down into the couch, letting out a sigh of bliss as he peppered kisses along your breast.

Your movements are needy— desperate. Neither one of you were trying to hide how badly you wanted to fuck the other. Harry smashing his lips onto yours once more, his breath warm and tongue salty from all the sushi he had earlier consumed. He attempts to pull his own shirt from his body while not breaking the kiss, and you let out a satisfied hum when he succeeds. Now you’re both shirtless and the only thing stopping you from fucking each other proper is being still fully clothed on your bottom halves.

“Can we get these off?” You ask, tugging at your own bottoms. Harry helps you pull down your tight jeans, struggling slightly to get them off your sweaty legs. Once your jeans are off your underwear follows immediately after, carelessly strewn around the room like the rest of your clothing.

“Y/N…” Harry hungrily takes the sight of your body in, eyes darkening with lust. “You might be the death of me, did ya know that?”

“I do now.”

He sucks on his index and middle fingers and lowers them down to your core, slipping them inside you with ease. You hadn’t realized how wet you were until Harry was knuckles deep, curling his fingers tantalizingly slow inside of you. “Do ya?”

You bite down hard on your lip, nodding at Harry’s rhetorical question. “Obviously.”

He flips the two of you over, so that you’re now straddling him and he’s laying below you. “Take what you want, then–– oh wait, condom?” You nod and move as Harry digs around in his pants, pulling out his wallet.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys that keeps a condom in their wallet.”

He rips it open with his teeth in one swift motion and unbuckles his pants, giving himself a couple of quick strokes before sliding it on. “What if I am? Was quick and effective, wasn’t it?” He rests his hands on your hips and pulls you back on top of him, connecting his lips with yours again. “Now you can take what you want.”

Your hands move up to grip Harry’s shoulders as you slowly sink onto him, wincing at the stretch and burn an unfamiliar partner sometimes brings. You make eye contact with Harry as you take a moment to adjust to his size, noting how his grip on your hips gets even tighter.

“S’big,” you mutter, rolling your hips slightly. Below you, Harry squeezes his eyes shut. “So big.”

“Tell me how badly you want it.”

“You already know. Don’t feel like being teased.”

Harry juts his hips up to meet you slamming down onto him, groaning out loudly from the pleasure the added motion brings. At one point he situates himself so he’s sitting straight up, using his left hand as a support for him to rest back on while his right hand is tweaking at your nipples. He’s letting out a slew of curse words, letting you know it felt just as good for him as it did for you.

“Ridin’ m’cock so good,” he says under his breath, bringing the hand that was playing with your nipples to rest in between your legs. Whenever you slam back onto him you feel him not only deep in the pit of your stomach but also on your clit, bringing you maximum pleasure. “Don’t be so quiet, let me know when ‘m makin’ you feel good, love.”

“I’m already close,” you admit, feeling a bit embarrassed at how it took Harry doing next to nothing to work an orgasm out of you. Well, not literally–– but it felt like it. “Feel s’good inside me, you’re so big.”

Harry lets out a low moan from your words, throwing his head back in pleasure. It hits the arm of his couch with a quiet thump but his pace doesn’t falter in the slightest. “You’re gonna make me cum if ya keep strokin’ my ego like that.”

“You asked for it,” you reply, changing your move from riding to grinding as you were starting to grow fatigued. “I’m close.” You remove your hands from his shoulders and let them roam the expanse of your body, wanting nothing more than to receive maximum pleasure.

“Can feel ya squeezin’ ‘round me,” Harry says, taking his lip in between his teeth. “Know you’re about to come, pet.”

"Harry..." you warn, your movements growing more desperate and sloppy. You weren't normally a selfish lover but your head was so clouded from pleasure, all you could think about at the moment was your release. Harry leans his head back on the couch again and now uses his two free hands to bring you to orgasm–– one is rubbing circles on your clit and the other one is gripping at your breasts as you use your last bit of strength to swivel your hips on him.

You're coming undone not ten seconds later, loudly moaning out the man's name who laid under you. You don't slow your movements, knowing he was right behind you.

"Y/N, fuck, 'm gonna come-" he lets out a low, guttural moan, coming immediately after announcing it.

The sounds of you trying to steady your breathing are the only sounds that fills the room as you both come down from your respective highs. Harry runs his hands along your bare body, eyes hooded from the orgasm that just wracked his body. As you’re beginning to uncurl yourself from Harry, he grabs your hand, pulling you back down.

“Will you stay the night?”

You didn’t know what sleeping with Harry meant for your relationship going forward, but you were glad you knocked on Apartment 41.

#harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #apartment 41 #thanks for reading!

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barnestruck · 5 years

Text

The Divinity of Notre Dame (I)

(gif credits to owner)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Medieval!AU)

Summary: Bucky has left the front of the 100 Years’ War to serve as the Captain of the Guard at Norte Dame under Judge Alexander Pierce. He arrives at the time of the annual Festival of Fools where he encounters Y/N, a free-spirited g*ps*. He’s instantly allured by her, but so is Pierce.

Word Count: 2.9k (yeah, a lil longer than my last two)

Warnings: Use of the term “g*ps*”, Womanizer!Bucky, Pierce is a perv, Bucky’s also got moments where he thinks about war :(, Stevie boy is publicly humiliated :(, basically, everything before Bucky and Y/N formally meet.

*UPDATE* it has recently been brought to my attention that the word “g*ps*” is used as a slur, and that the people of the descent prefer to be referred to as Roma/Romani. i’m really sorry for not doing my research and just going off of the content of the movie/musical to help me with my writing.

A/N: This is more based on the Hunchback musical than the movie. Took a lot of this from both the movie and musical tho. Should I put up a part 2? (Might put it up anyway)

France, 1482 The gallops of his horse were the only things keeping Bucky focused on the trek to his destination. His thoughts were consumed by his memories of war. The sound of painful yells echoed in his ears, the stench of bloodied corpses lingered in his subconscious and the sight of the unmarked graves of his comrades were burned into his brain. Those senses didn’t seem to diminish in the slightest as he made his journey from the front to Norte Dame, regardless of how hard he tried to be rid of them. After four years at the front, it made sense as to why those kinds of things weren’t easily forgotten about. As soon as word was sent that he was needed in the city to serve as the Captain of the Guard he promised himself to do anything to keep the new job. There was no way he would risk sending himself back into the barracks. He never wanted to go back. He didn’t think he’d make it out alive if he did.

The voice of his lieutenant briefly drew him away from his thoughts. “Hey Buck, we should stop by a tavern or something for a bite. You know so we can be in good shape for when we meet Judge Pierce.”

Bucky only allowed himself to wallow in his memories when he was alone. With others, he kept up the facade of a womanizing soldier. “You sure you want a bite of food from the tavern? Or would you prefer a taste of the madam that runs it?”

Sam reacted in a flustered fashion to Bucky’s remark. He wasn’t exactly as experienced as Bucky when it came to those things. Bucky sensed his discomfort. “Don’t worry my friend, as long as you follow my lead, you’ll be able to get any woman to fall to her knees for you.”

- Notre Dame greeted Bucky with brightly colored banners, savory aromas of freshly cooked food and the jingling of tambourines being played alongside drums and woodwinds. He wasn’t aware of this, but he would soon realize his arrival happened to fall on the date of the annual Festival of Fools. A day of celebration for the gypsies of Notre Dame, a day where they didn’t have to be afraid of embracing their culture. At least, that’s what they thought. Little did the gypsies know, the infamous Judge Pierce had planned on eliminating the people he saw as threats. He did not take a liking to their expressiveness; all he saw when he looked at them were unholy creatures built for sin and unholiness.

Pierce’s prejudice towards the gypsies began when his lively brother Jehan had left the church to be with a g*ps* called Sarah. Pierce had seen Jehan’s happiness when he was with her, when they danced together. And he envied it. As the adorned archdeacon, he was prohibited from indulging himself in the pleasures of the flesh. He lusted after what Jehan had with Sarah. He desired to feel wanted, something he had never experienced being an orphaned child that was forced to grow up too quickly and care for his younger brother. His hatred was fueled further when Jehan had contacted Pierce for the first time in several years only to tell him that he was dying of disease. In Jehan’s last moments, he pleaded Pierce to take his son he had had with Sarah, the woman he loved that passed only weeks before him. Pierce was the only family his child had left. Had it been any other person, Pierce would’ve turned a blind eye to a g*ps*’s suffering. But it was his brother, the only person he ever really loved. So he had no choice but to take in the child. He never planned on telling the child about its g*ps* origins, he wanted to get it to think like him. Pierce believed the child would one day be of use to him.

He kept the boy, Steve, locked away in the bell tower where he might one day fulfill his perceived purpose. - Bucky had decided to indulge Sam in what he wanted, lots and lots of food. Walking into the nearest tavern Bucky set his eyes on the woman behind the bar. Turning on his charm, he introduced himself to the madam, “Captain James Barnes at your service.”

She turned to him with her brow raised. “You’re a customer at my joint, I think I should be the one serving you.”

He gave her a wink at that. “Oh, darlin’, I could think of multiple ways I’d love for you to serve me.” A group of girls giggled at his quippy remark.

“You know, I asked you if we could stop here for some food, not for you to force me to watch you defile every woman in this bar,” intervened Sam. Bucky chuckled and ordered two stews and a couple of beers.

One of the girls who had laughed at his earlier comment introduced herself as Dot and took the seat next to him. She asked, “What brings you here soldier?”

He gave her a playful pout. “What gave me away?”

Dot playfully scoffed. “You mean other than your uniform?”

Bucky lifted his hands in feigned surrender. “You got me. I’m new to Paris, just came back from the front.”

“What’s your story?”

A few of Dot’s friends came to join her and Bucky as he spoke. “Four years at the front really give a man a zest. I’m looking for a little rest and recreation if you know what I mean.”

Dot giggled at him again. “You seem like one of those handsome fellows to whom all the girls take a liking.”

“Why thank you,” he said with the most charming smirk he would muster. Suddenly, the sound of quickly shuffling feet pulled his attention away from the girls at his side.

“Come back here!” He heard a man say. The man was dressed in clean, formal attire. A noble. He was calling out to a smaller man, rough around the edges with a look of fear in his eyes. Bucky knew that look. He took the smaller man by the collar. “What seems to be going on here?” asked Bucky. The nobleman pointed an accusing finger at the peasant boy, “That g*ps* picked my pocket!”

Bucky tightened his grip on the boy’s tunic, “Is that true?” The young man shook his head frantically. “No! God, no!” Bucky ordered Sam to search him. Sam shrugged and said, “Nothing.”

“They work in pairs,” a booming voice said from behind Bucky. He turned to face the archdeacon himself. Bucky saluted him in a flustered manner. He wasn’t prepared to meet his liege just yet. “My lord.”

Pierce gave Bucky an admiring look. “Ah, Captain, welcome to the Cathedral Guard.”

“I'm grateful for the opportunity to serve you, my Lord.”

“I’m glad to hear that. You may start with arresting this g*ps* scum.”

A confused look washed over Bucky’s face. “On what charge if you don’t mind me asking Sire?”

The Judge’s untroubled glance turned annoyed. “Suspicion. If it were up to me, he wouldn’t be allowed on the streets at all. He would be hunted for sport like the g*ps* dog he is.”

An uncomfortable feeling settled in Bucky’s stomach at that. This didn’t feel right to him, arresting someone without a legitimate charge. Then again, Bucky couldn’t lose this job; he couldn’t on his first day. “Alright then. Sam, take him away.” Sam did as he was told and dragged the boy out of the tavern.

Pierce faced Bucky, a contented look on his face. “Thank you for that, Captain. Your early arrival is most auspicious. The pestilence of these gypsies grows more dangerous every day. You and I have a task we share. We are responsible for stopping those g*ps* rats and their proliferation.”

With each word the archdeacon spoke, Bucky felt himself grow more and more uneasy. He prayed for anything to get him out of that situation. Thankfully, his prayers were answered swiftly as the penetrating voices of the congregation outside made its way into the tavern.

“Come one, come all! Hurry, hurry–here's your chance See the mystery and romance!”

Bucky removed himself from his position next to Judge Pierce to see what all the commotion was about. The people young and old, rich and poor, littered the town square. They all happened to concentrate in front of a stage surrounded by a blue curtain with a glowing moon on it. Bucky wasn’t about to push his way through the crowd. The idea of loud yells surrounding him reminded him too much of the trenches he used to reside in. He stayed back and watched from behind the crowd. The congregation continued to chant.

“Come one, come all! See the finest girl in France Make an entrance to entrance!”

A man adorned with cloths of different colors and patterns, he assumed was king of the gypsies, stood in front of the curtain and started bunching it in his hands.

“Dance La Esmeralda... Dance!”

With his declaration, the curtain fell to reveal the most beautiful woman Bucky had ever laid his eyes on. She wore fiery red fabrics that accentuated all the right curves of her. She held a tambourine in one of her hands and she knocked it against her hip to the beat of the music she danced to. Bucky felt as if he was under a spell compelling him to get closer to her. With every swing of her hips, he stepped nearer to the stage at which she stood. The woman dared to peek over her shoulder to look at the crowd. Her Y/E/C eyes met Bucky’s sparkling ones as she began to sing.

“Hey, soldier boy I see how you stare”

Bucky looked around and saw everyone, regardless of gender, looking at the g*ps* girl with awe. There was something about her, whether it was the way she looked, sounded, or moved that hypnotized everyone in that whole damn city. Throughout her performance, she continued to steal glances at Bucky. Bucky didn’t sense Pierce’s presence until he made it known.

“Look at that disgusting display,” the archdeacon spat.

With adoration glazing over his eyes, Bucky replied, “Yes sir.”

The girl kept dancing, this time with loose red silk cloths in her hands. The fluidity of their movements with her made her appear as an angel from Bucky’s dreams. But not an ordinary angel decked in white; no. One dripping in passion and power, he loved that about her. He loved how all she had to do was look at people a certain way and they were wrapped around her finger. It was her effect on him.

She jumped off the stage and began dancing with the gypsies in the crowd. The girl made her way through, all the way to Bucky and the archdeacon. She flicked her wrists, commanding the silk in her hands to wrap themselves around Bucky, tying him to her. She shot him a teasing look and he was putty in her hands. She did the same thing to Judge Pierce, teasing him with her eyes. She maintained the look of a seductress for the theatrics of her performance. The g*ps* pushed Pierce further when she left one of the silks tied around his neck. Bucky saw the conflicted look in Pierce’s eyes. He wanted to be disgusted but he couldn’t help his knees from buckling. The sight disturbed Bucky.

La Esmeralda made her way back to the stage and ended her performance with an extravagant bow. The crowd roared for her, evoking a beaming smile to radiate from her face. The man who pulled the curtain away from the stage earlier returned to shout:

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, the piece de resistance! Make a face that's horrible and frightening, For the face that's ugliest will be the King of Fools!”

Dozens of men began lining up to grace the stage. Each one taking on faces as gruesome as a gargoyle's wing. The enchanting g*ps* girl spotted a small man who was shying away from the crowd. Bucky watched as she approached the man with a smile. God, how he wished he was the one she was smiling at. The girl pulled the small man on the stage where he revealed his face. The man looked sickly, to put it lightly. His body looked as if it were made of sticks, his skin appeared as if it were tightly bound cloths clinging to its stick foundation. The bags under his eyes were so deeply sunken into his face it seemed he had never slept a year in his life. He looked too disproportioned with the extreme sagging of his face to his feeble body he didn’t look human. The crowd gasped when they got a look at him.

“My God, he's hideous!” “Is that a mask?” ‘It's his face!” “He's the devil!” “Impossible!”

The king of the gypsies settled the crowd by proclaiming, “We asked for the ugliest face in Paris, and we've found him, eh? Steven—the Bellringer of Notre Dame!” The audience proceeded to erupt into yells of celebration, crowning the boy as the King of Fools. However, the festivities didn’t last for long.

“You think he’s ugly now? Watch this!” a commoner yelled as he threw a tomato to the boy—Steven’s—face. Steven placed his hand on his face wipe the residue of the fruit off, a shocked look on his face. Had the people not just adorned him as their king? Why were they doing this?

The townspeople continued to torture the boy, tying him down to the stage, restricting him from escaping. They threw more miscellaneous items at him, shouting horrible things.

“Why don’t you put some more meat on your bones, bell boy?” “Bon appétit, your majesty!”

Bucky couldn’t stand it. This wasn’t what he left the front for. He was called to Paris to serve as the pillar of justice, not stand idly by as a citizen was deprived that. He turned to the archdeacon.

“Permission to stop this cruelty, your Grace.”

Judge Pierce didn’t even blink as his cold response came out. “Not just yet, Captain. A lesson needs to be learned.”

Bucky was frozen. He couldn’t bear watching helplessly as someone faced injustice. But he didn’t have a choice. Bucky was too afraid of being sent back to war. He hated that about himself. He despised his cowardness when he was supposed to be the beacon of strength and courage.

“STOP!” A pained cry cut through Bucky’s thoughts like a hot knife. It was the g*ps* girl, no longer in her seductress attire but instead wearing simple commoner clothing. Bucky had still thought she was beautiful.

She made her way to the stage where Steven was tied down. Bucky noticed the pained look in her eyes when the feeble man flinched at her touch. “Don’t be afraid,” she said. “I’m not here to hurt you.” The woman untied the sash around her hips and used it to clean Steven’s face. “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she said softly.

Her actions made Bucky subconsciously fall harder for her more than he already had. When he wasn’t strong enough to stand up in the face of injustice, she was.

The archdeacon was fuming beside Bucky. “You, g*ps* girl,” he yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “Get down from there at once.”

“Yes your honor,” she called back. “Just as soon as I free this poor boy.”

Judge Pierce looked as if there were flames behind his eyes. “I forbid it.”

The g*ps* ignored his threatening comment and pulled a knife from under her skirt, cutting the bellringer’s restraints and setting him free.

“How dare you defy me?” Judge Pierce shouted.

The girl stood on the platform with her shoulders pulled back, calling out proudly:

“You mistreat this poor boy the same way you mistreat my people! You speak of justice, and yet you are cruel to those most in need of your help!”

The archdeacon had had enough. “SILENCE!”

But the woman was not having any of it. “JUSTICE!” She yelled, twice as louder.

The crowd was taken aback by her forwardness. Never before had they seen anybody stand up to Judge Pierce, let alone a woman. While the townspeople felt shock, all Bucky felt was pride.

“Captain Barnes,” Pierce began. “Arrest her.”

Bucky shamefully followed orders like a beaten down dog. On his command, the guards providing ‘security’ for the festival began closing in on the platform where the g*ps* stood. She pretended to put on a brave front but Bucky could see through it. He saw the panic behind her eyes. The king of gypsies appeared grabbed her wrist and whispered something in her ear, causing the fear in her eyes to intensify. The g*ps* king pulled something out of one of his pockets, smashing it on the stage, summoning a cloud of smoke to conceal the gypsies’ escape.

Bucky heard Pierce’s sharp intake of breath beside him. “Witchcraft…” The crowd erupted in panicked yells and tried to get their hands on the bellringer. Pierce’s voice diminished the chances of their attempts.

“That’s enough! We must show kindness to this...creature. As our Savior did when he healed the lepers. Time to go home! The show is over,” his shouts echoed among the townspeople. A gloomy atmosphere settled among the city that afternoon, the sun shielding itself behind the clouds.

As the archdeacon left towards the Notre Dame Cathedral with the bellringer in tow, all Bucky could think about was the g*ps* girl and when he’d be able to see her again. - Please leave your thoughts in the comments! I’d appreciate any type of feedback!

Part II

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pinkchannies · 6 years

Text

cheesier than cheesecake

i got inspired to write this on my 5 hours flight to hong kong bcz i ate cake on my way to the airport and miraculously wrote this on my flight in one go

also heading to hong kong eh wink wink nudge nudge @ agust d //slapped

well here's a jin oneshot because kim seokjin is my number one man and bias in bts and we need some shoulder man love in our lives amirite

laksndowxjoe i couldn't post this earlier bECAUSE WIFI AND MY COM WASN'T COOPERATING :(( sob well ok here i am posting it now LMAO bless wifi pls live

genre: fluff , is this considered comedy, crack has slipped into this fic again

requested: no

pairing: seokjin x reader

author notes: reader is a baking/walking disaster bcz mood, jin screaming and being a mama hen, idk how i wrote this in just one flight, chiru probably needs creative writing classes at this point, how do you come up with good titles

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the clock read, 2.09am. i groaned. it was one of those days again. or rather, one of those nights. of grueling hunger and cravings. and there was one way to solve it(or make it worse) without actually eating. though it may not be the best way. do u kno da wae-chiru get out i snatched my phone from my bedside table and loaded instagram, heading straight to the buzzfeedtasty instagram account. yes, tasty. the number one guilty pleasure where their food looks so good even with the simplest ingrediants, and when you recreate it it somehow looks like shit. or maybe i'm just a shitty cook. or maybe plating food to make it look aesthetically pleasing is just that difficult. or maybe both. to "satisfy" this sudden craving for sweets, i started watching videos of their deserts. god help me they look so good. the way the cream cheese blends with sugar and turns into a smooth white paste under the electric mixer, with heavy cream added to that mix and that generous teaspoon of vanilla essence that you can literally smell (jin: mMMMm sMELL) through your phone, those cheesecakes and oreos and cream and just all that fattening goodness- y'all this whole instagram account is straight up porn. i already feel fat just by watching these videos. but i'm still hungry af. the struggle is hella real who else can relate "ughhhhhh i wanna bake these godlike creations but i'm scared that i'll accidentally blow up my kitchen..." i groaned into my pillow. yeah, i’m a bit of a walking disaster, luckily i haven't reached namjoon's level. i think. one time my cookies almost turned out spicy because i was cooking spicy noodles at the same time. please don't ask. someone please just buy me a huge cheesecake to binge eat whilst i cry over my bad life decisions, one of which would be eating a whole 1542 calorie cheesecake at the asscrack of dawn. an imaginary or rather, imajinary-chiru stob light bulb went off from my head. there was one man made for this situation. one shoulder man, to be exact. i clicked on the contact "worldwide shoulders" and started typing.

(y/n) 2.30am

shoulder man take me by the hand lead me to the land that u understand

worldwide shoulders 2.35am

ya, its like 2.30am, shouldn't you be asleep? don't make me confiscate your phone

(y/n) 2.35am

sorry mom

worldwide shoulders 2.36am

yA tHIs chILd what's up, u usually don't text this late

(y/n) 2.37am

r u free tmr i wanna bake cheesecake pretty please

worldwide shoulders 2.38am

what a *cheesy* date if i do say so myself

(y/n) 2.38am

jIN its too early for puns :(

worldwide shoulders 2.39am

excuse you my puns are jinius

(y/n) 2.39am

SO cAN U BAKE WITH ME TMR :((( well actually it’ll be later today pls i owe u one

worldwide shoulders 2.40am

fine make sure u have the stuff ready, i'll come over at 10 go sleep its late

(y/n) 2.41am

yAY THANKS JINNIE

worldwide shoulders 2.41am

EXCUSE ME I AM OLDER THAN U (y/n) 2.42am :p see u tmr!! gnite shoulder man *finger heartu* worldwide shoulders 2.43am the disrespect i swear ----- "jin this is too tiring..." i groaned, my arms aching. "just a little bit more... just beat it harder." "look, must i really use my hands for this?" i whined. jin deadpanned. "(y/n) it's becoming white already, just continue. you wanted me to teach you right?" "why the hell can't i just use the electric mixer for the egg whites? its much faster than hand beating it..." i grumbled. "this is as good as doing 240 push-ups like jungkook," i whined. "my child there will be no shortcuts in this house when it comes to baking or cooking," i snorted at that. says the one who uses seasoning in his food. i mean, who doesn't? "i guess we can say that the cake will be eggcellent." he let out a windshield-wiper laugh at his own joke while i groaned at the terrible pun. "jin pls." ----- "DON'T CHOP THE BUTTER LIKE THAT OHMY GOD (Y/N) YOU'RE GOING TO CHOP YOUR HAND OFF LIKE THAT NO YOU'RE WORSE THAN NAMJOON SLICING ONIONS." jin shrieked at my horrible attempt to slice the frozen solid butter. i had forgotten to take the butter out to thaw, so now i had to face the consequences. of slicing, no, chopping, through rock solid butter that is stubborn about becoming smaller pieces. go me

he sighed and went behind me, his larger frame engulfing mine as he positioned my hand to hold the knife properly. "rest your index on top of the blade and your thumb and middle on its sides. this way, you'll have a better grip on the knife. and it reduces the chances of the knife slipping and chopping your finger off." he guides my fingers to hold the knife, while rambling on the precautions to take-which entered one ear and left the other. how am i supposed to concentrate when i've never been in this close proximity with the man until this moment? gosh he was warm and it feels real cozy, his chin gently resting on my shoulder to oversee the process, his larger hand on my smaller one guiding me to chop the butter. how domestic, i chuckled at the thought. i wonder how his hand would look like with his fingers entwined with mine- -which is what i did with the hand unoccupied by the knife. without me even registering it, i grabbed his free hand. our hands were clasped together and our fingers were tangled with each other. “omg (y/n) what are you doing” i screamed in my brain. do y’all ever just get intrusive thoughts like this and regret everything leading up to this moment. jin gave me a quizzical look that screamed "what are you doing." ok but same jin, same. well this turned awkward. in my panic, i let go of his hand. and the knife. good job, (y/n). "OH MY GOD LOOK OUT" jin yelled for what must be the 182297318th time today at my screw up and pulled me away from the knife which fell to the floor with a clang. i was pressed flushed against his chest as he pulled my body closer to his, almost as if we were snuggling. except that now is not really the time to snuggle with the situation at hand. thankfully the knife didn’t hurt any of us, but i knew, i was in deep shit with jin. i mentally braced myself for the lecture i was going to get. oh boy this is going to be ugly. "look (y/n), i dont care if you cant cook for shit." his face was starting to turn red from the incoming rant, and i had to stifle a giggle at that. there was always something amusing about jin scolding-maybe it comes from the fact that even if the mood is serious, he still wants to make everyone laugh and doesn’t want an atmosphere too damp. so his scolding just somehow turns comical. i bit down on my bottom lip harshly to stop the giggles, lest the lecture becomes longer. "but you are handling something sharp, please be careful." "i understand." i sighed. "look if i'm not here, you could have been seriously injured, you can't just play while handling knives. luckily i was around and could pull you away before it landed on your feet and cause you to internally bleed in your toe. do you even know how nasty it looks to have that black blood clot under your nail?" i nodded sheepishly. "loOK, WHAT IF YOU WERE ALONE? YOU COULD HAVE BLED TO DEATH AND THEN I WOULD NEED TO HAUL YOUR ASS TO THE HOSPITAL WHICH WOULD NOT END WELL MAJOR BLOOD LOSS IS NOT A FUN THING OK YOU NEED BLOOD TRANSFUSION SO PLEASE BE CAREFUL WITH THE KNIFE DONT BE A SECOND NAMJOON." "yes mom." "excuse you i am not your mother." "alright you're excused mr worldwide handsome... mom." "YA THIS BRAT." ----- thankfully, that was the only major incident-or as the drama queen puts it, life threatening incident-that happened while baking the cheesecake. after 2 hours of screaming together and jin telling me how to carry out baking procedures properly, we finally put the cake together. "jin, she's beautiful." i shed a fake tear at our finished product. fake tear-fake love tear-chiru why are you so lame "yeah, but im more beautiful amirite." ".....you're inedible so obviously the cheesecake is prettier than you." he looked at me with a mock look of offense and i giggled at that. "well at least my face doesn't need to be caked with makeup to look good." "jin, why are you so lame." just like me "hey at least i'm still walking." "oh my god." "i mean that's not my name, but god's also a good name for someone as handsome as me." "........i give up." there was a tense moment of pregnant silence that settled between us. suddenly, we both burst out laughing at our ridiculous banter filled with bad puns, courtesy of jin. "let's eat the cheesecake, shall we?"

#bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bts #bts oneshots #fluff #kim seokjin #jin x reader #seokjin x reader #jinnie #fanfic #oneshot #bulletproof boyscouts #i was watching too many food vids and this happened HAHAHAH #seokjin fluff #reader insert #seokjinnie #p cliche but i try #how does one tag

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