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prodbymaui · 10 months

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Oops, Baby (I Love You)

I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover

PAIRING: jeong jaehyun x reader

GENRE: modern royalty ; arranged marriage

WORD COUNT: 12.5k+ words

WARNINGS: heavy alcohol consumption, mentions of sleeping pills, food play, oral sex, dirty talks. (the whole fic is romcom slash very fluffy, the only nasty thing here is the smut scene)

SYNOPSIS: you had been living your life as a rebellious and controversial crown princess, now you must face the consequence of purifying your tainted image; marrying the gentle and infamous crown prince of South Korea.

PLAYLIST: Do you hear my heart?

A/N: after weeks of depression episodes what do you call them), I finally got the strength to finish this bad bitch lmao. I know you guys have been waiting so I hope you'll leave your thoughts after? anyways, happy reading!

Everything is spinning and everyone is either two or three. You don't know how much alcohol you've drank but certainly it was enough for you to stumble your way out of the bar, looking for somewhere to puke your guts out.

The intense nausea is already too much for your fucked up body system to accommodate, but the gods and deities thought it's not enough and it'll be perfect if you trip continuously on your Celine Truffle Pointed Heels, possibly damaging it more than you've done to your other shoes. The mask to hide your face is not helping as well.

Someone bumps your side and due to your drunken state, you lose your balance and break one of the heels, sending you to dive to your side. Your eyes shut close as you brace yourself for a painful slam but it never comes. Instead you meet a firm chest hidden underneath a black dress shirt and 2 layers of silver necklaces.

Looking up, through your hazy vision, you see pursed lips and palms up, as if avoiding touching you anywhere. As you step to regain your balance, you trip once again and like a deja vu, the man only lets you use his shoulders and chest to support yourself but never lets his hands touch you.

''You might want to get off of me, Ms…?''

Hearing that voice, a strange sense of familiarity and longing surge to your heart, engulfing it and squeezing it. As if to say, remember it.

''...heart.'' Why is my heart aching?

The man pulls away and observes you, sighing. He clears his throat. ''Sorry, Heart.''

His figure walking away is the last thing you see before your vision blacks out with no guarantee of you being able to recall the events that took place tonight.

Utmost disappointment. Series of distasteful comments. Disapproving reactions. Surely, these aren't the usual feelings of the people towards the soon-to-be-queen of their country but it has been the weekly routine for the people of yours to criticize their sole princess.

''Strip her off the royal titles–! Are these people out of their mind?!'' Your squeal that comes close to a banshee rings across the whole entirety of the bedroom.

''Excuse them, they take after their princess.'' Hiding her giggles behind a fist, Winter scrambles off the bed as you aim to strangle her fragile neck.

Barely dodging your deathly grips by an inch, Winter's yelps bounces off the walls continuously, followed by your irritated shrieks and threatening hands ready to crush your best friend. The chase eventually dies down with the two of you panting, catching your breaths. You pull her short brown locks one last time before jumping on the bed, face down. Winter does the same and lands next to you, arms draping over each other.

A knock disrupts the peaceful atmosphere that engulfs the room, pulling you out of your slumber trance. You knew the pattern of the knock too well. It is practiced by all royal staff to ensure politeness and great manners whenever they are surrounded by royalties and VIPs. Included in training as per the Queen's request.

The door opens and it reveals a female servant. This one's not yours, judging by the blue brooch. ''Good evening, Your Highness. Ms. Kang wishes to see you in her office right now and orders me to fetch you.''

''And why is that?''

''She said nothing, Ma'am.''

That earns a boisterous laugh from your best friend, alongside a series of claps. ''Goodluck on hearing an hour of scolding, girl.''

Winter sends you a 'fighting' gesture. You give her your middle finger.

The trip to the advisor's office takes a few minutes as the private chambers of the royal members are at the east wing while gatherings, some royal duties, and part where it is open for the public are dealt with at the west side of the palace. You're still not mentally prepared when the wooden entrance makes its way for you. As your eyes meet the pair of the royal advisor, you know you should've prepared yourself much better.

''Good evening, Your Highness. Please do take a seat.''

Albeit it's probably showing on the courtesy of your eyebrows, you still cover your scoff with a cough under your breath. ''Drop the politeness, Eunhye. I don't need it.''

Eunhye removes the newspaper that serves as a hindrance for you to see her expression, and there you spot the disapproving look on her face. You shrug inwardly. What's new? You suppose people in their late 30s are quite uptight. Or it's just your former babysitter.

Kang Eunhye used to play with you a lot during your childhood whenever you and your friends didn't have a playdate. You should've known she was going to take up her late mother's position when Eunhye often disappeared after the death of the former royal advisor. That was when she started changing and became more strict with you.

''You don't need it, you say? Good. Because I don't perceive it as necessary when I tell you Her Majesty had gone haywire by yet another scandal of her sole heir that she asked me to not let you out of the palace if it's not for your studies or royal duties.''

''–what?! That's absurd!''

''Oh I think it's a light punishment for a scandal involving participating in a brawl, breaking the nose of a commoner and almost ending up in jail. Mind you, this happened in front of a controversial bar! And to top it all off, it hasn't been a week since you were caught sleeping in the streets because your drunk ass couldn't help yourself up!''

You scratch your head. ''...well, if the bodyguards came–''

''They would've if you didn't switch clothes with a random woman and make them follow her thinking it was you! Do you know they got suspended and will not receive a portion of their salary because of what YOU did? It's only because of the King that they were spared from getting fired.''

''Not my fault that the guards you hired were fools and easily deceived. They should've recognized my figure even with different clothes.''

''They are bodyguards. Not your devoted fans–,'' Eunhye sighs. ''Your Highness.''

A moment of silence travels along the soundwaves of the room decorated with blue.

''Okay…? What do you want me to do, then? Public appearances? Press conference?''

Eunhye, knowing her ways, will probably advise you to address the issue, apologize for the things that you don't even regret to pacify the netizen. And because they most likely (definitely) won't buy your fake ass apology statement and continue to terrorize you on social media, your schedule will be packed with attending public events to show your 'genuineness'.

You've done this routine more times than the royal court approves so you know what to expect. In fact, you already have a few suggestions ready on which events will possibly dust bits of dirt on your name. You know this like the back of your hand.

The Queen enters. ''No.''

Apparently, you don't..?

The moment your mother opens her mouth, you feel as if a myriad of buckets of icy water washes over you.

''You will marry a gentleman with a clean image. By then, you will be seen with great influence and garner people's love.''

Once. Twice. You slap yourself three more times but you don't wake up from this nightmare. Winter only looks at you pitifully while chewing her steak.

''Darling, would you please stop hurting yourself?'' A lovable tone is evident from the King's voice, accompanied by a concerned stare.

You sigh but the stabs of your fork through your own steak doesn't stop. ''Marry a gentleman.. I can't fucking believe this.''

''Language.'' The Queen says firmly. ''I apologize for getting ahead of you. I suppose you don't fancy a gentleman?''

''You apologize for assuming my preference but not for taking away my freedom..?''

''Do you wish to marry a lady, then?''

Silence fills the table. You sigh. ''Honestly? Anything would be fine.''

Your mother mums. ''Very well, then. You will be meeting your fianceé in 3 days–''

''–as long as I get to choose who I am marrying.''

''That won't be possible. The person needs to have the most influence and power among your age. The gender will be the only thing we can let you choose.''

''You don't have problems with having a queer princess?''

The Queen frowns. ''Of course, why would we? It is neither a crime nor a sin.''

Your father then nods. ''The royal court fully supports it since two decades ago.''

''But not the 'choosing your own lover'?'' You can only shake your head. You turn to the maid nearby. ''Please bring this to my room, I'll eat there instead.''

Everyone watches you in silence. No one at the table dares to scold you for your behavior.

''She has the rights to be upset this time.'' The King comments.

''Yes, she does.'' The Queen agrees.

Winter warily looks around, pursing her lips as she raises her hand. ''Uhm.. Your Majesty?''

''Yes, Lady Minjeong?''

Winter winces at the mention of her government name. ''As your daughter's best friend, will it be possible for me to know who she'll be marrying?''

Smiling, the King snaps his finger. ''Ah.. let's see if the future lover would pass the best friend's vibe check.''

His husband sends him a curt glance. ''Don't ever try to use generational phrases, it doesn't suit you. Back to Lady Minjeong, yes, it is possible. Would you like to know now?''

''A-already? I thought you're still looking through the profiles?''

''We have tons of staff, Lady Minjeong.''

''Right, I forgot about that.'' Winter sheepishly smiles.

''I'll excuse myself then. I have an appointment with a VIP in an hour, I have to go.'' Just as the husband and wife head towards the exit of the dining hall, the Queen turns. ''It is Prince Jaehyun of South Korea. A good man and the best one for the princess.''

''None on twitter. Nadda on instagram. Nothing on their official website. Heck, there's not even a single picture on google! Does this Prince Jaehyun even exist?'' Winter exclaims as she continues to scroll on her phone.

Frowning, you throw a pillow in her direction. ''Let the others hear your whining and they'll think you have a crush on my soon-to-be-fianceé. Why are you so interested in him?''

''Well, duh! You're literally marrying him, that's enough reason for me to get curious! The question here is why are YOU not interested?''

''I'm more interested in that man at the bar.''

''You should give some! This is the person you'll be spending your life with we're talking about!''

Scoffing, you tug the ends of her hair. ''Will you stop saying I'll marry him? The engagement will be called off sooner than mom and dad can even realize it's coming.''

Winter gasps dramatically and shots up to sit. ''What if it's some old man with a stinky smell and white hair? Oh my god what if Her Majesty agreed to marry you off to some ugly ass 50 year old man for the sake of the country's betterment?!''

Threatening to punch her if she doesn't stop with the overthinking, Winter zips her mouth as she decides to scroll on her phone once again.

You sigh. ''Pretty sure, Mom wouldn't do that, right? I mean she said something about being the best out of the people among our age so..''

''Huh, look at this.''

Winter crawls to you from the part of the she is lying, hands careful not to swipe her screen and risk refreshing the page. You squint your eyes to see.

PANN:

Crown Prince Jaehyun Once Again Stuns The People Of South Korea With His Amazing Visuals.

[ +217, -5 ] It's a shame that we're not allowed to post a photo of him on the internet. How am I supposed to stare at his face for a long time then? How am I supposed to appreciate and share his beauty?

[ +190, -3 ] Daebak! The royal family just visited our village and the rumors weren't lying when they said Prince Jaehyun is handsome ahwksjskww. He's like a walking statue!

[ +165, -20 ] I would die for a man like Prince Jaehyun. Very gentleman and polite. One time, I was with my niece when I met him and the youngest prince in a mall. My niece really wanted the toy car but Prince Jaehyun and Prince Jaemin got the last one before use but they still gave it to my niece.

[ +132, -56 ] Heol ㅋㅋㅋ Of course he would say that, he has an image to keep up! Royalties would try to polish their personalities in public often because they can't afford to lose the trust of the people. It's so fucking dumb how you think the prince acts that way because that just how he is and not because he has an image to take care of.

[ +122, -13 ] The comment above lolol. You're just jealous that the prince has everything you don't; looks, manners, and brains ㅋㅋㅋ

[ +84, -7 ] I don't think Prince Jaehyun does it because people are watching him. I've seen him lecture Prince Jaemin about how he shouldn't expect to get what he wants every time and mind you no one was inside our store that time as our store isn't quite popular so he couldn't be doing it for his image. I feel like Prince Jaehyun is genuine!

[ +65, -5 ] Didn't a lot of people see him wearing clothes with no brands? And that he has a good relationship with the youngest prince? Idk about you but I'd say that speaks a lot about him.

[ +52, -3 ] I've met Prince Jaehyun a lot of times, the only thing I could say is; 'Ultimately Prince-Like'! Handsome and tall, like he's written by Taylor Swift ㅋㅋㅋ. Prince Jaehyun is a dream *three heart emojis*

As you read over the first comment again, the curve on your forehead only deepens. They are not allowed to post a photo of their prince? Then, that would explain the lack of appearance of the royalty everywhere on social media. This pricks your interest.

''That's a bit.. odd. They forbid any pictures of that prince from getting uploaded.''

''I know right! It's strange. Why would they hide the prince's face if he's truly handsome like the people said?''

You suck the top of your teeth. ''Maybe he's actually ugly and those that say otherwise were paid people. Or probably royal staffs ordered to spread some good words about their prince.''

''Why are you so hell-bent in making him ugly? Can't accept that your parents actually chose someone handsome, rich, and has good personality?''

Shaking your head, you wave your hand dismissively. Oh how you wish you could swipe off that annoying smirk on Winter's face. Is there a rule saying a princess can escape any law including those that involves unaliving a certain daughter of a duke? Hopefully, there is!

If, miraculously, your parents bring that man from the bar to you and arrange him to a marriage with you, maybe then you'll agree to tie up the knot at such a young age. In fact, you might even drop down to your knees and serve him–

The alcohol, or lack thereof, is definitely not good for you.

With the news of your engagement being released plus the anger from the people that is far from dwindling anytime soon, Winter didn't think twice to join you when the idea of getting drunk comes up. There's nothing better than drowning yourself in alcohol after constantly having to deal with the disappointed people of your country.

However, the night is just near getting young when your personal bodyguards dragged you and your best friend out of the bar. It is said that the royal advisor ordered them to do so but your mother was the root. It angered you to the core. They took your freedom of marrying someone you truly love and now, they're depriving you of coping with it as well? How controlling.

Winter was sent home right after both of you got howled back to the royal car. A couple of warnings from the Duke to his daughter and you know something is off.

Winter's father isn't one to indulge himself in his daughter's vices. Sure, he keeps tabs on her every now and then but the Duke of Boryeong never attempts to control Minjeong as if some kind of robot, lest he suffers from the wrath of Duchess of Boryeong.

You could only wish your own parents did the same. Maybe they will. If you beg for a couple of days in front of the palace while dawning your white hanbok like those korean historical films that Winter likes to watch.

Shutting the car door close, you pass a whisper of 'thank you' to the driver before striding inside the palace. There aren't many people aside from those guarding the entrance which is why you don't find the need to be extra careful on your way. Being free from the shackles of aches caused by your heels is the only thing on your mind.

Just as you turn a corner, straight down the hall that leads to the dining area– you collide with someone. It'll send you a few steps backwards if it's not for the grip on your blazer. Your vision clearing takes a couple of seconds, courtesy of being tipsy from your previous activity.

''Is everything alright?'' A rather soothing yet deep voice asks you, hands already back on his sides.

Your attention diverts to the man that steadies you. Sharp cheekbones in contrast to the soft jawline, almond eyes, and a slightly chapped lips. You wonder if they're naturally pink or the color comes from cosmetic products.

''Your Highness–'' Eunhye appears out of thin air and your bodies separate right as the royal advisor sets her eyes on you.

Your Highness? Who could this be?

''Ah, I see, you've met each other already. Shall we take this to the dining..? Her Majesty awaits alongside the King and Queen of South Korea.''

No words are exchange between you. Silence fills the air. Clicking of heels appearing every now and then until they reach where your parents and the leaders of South Korea chatters. Everyone stands before their seats at the sight of two crown heirs.

You might be rebellious but no way you're gonna forget the basic manners each person should possess. Doing a brief curtsy, you earn a loving smile from the Queen of South Korea. It radiates warmth and comfort.

The man beside you does a bow as well that makes his body fold to a 90 degrees. It was too formal for your liking. Too ancient royalty. Too prince-like. So this is what the mysterious prince of South Korea looks like. Somehow, it irks you to the bones.

Gritting your teeth, you sit at the right side of your father after exchanging pleasantries. Each person that occupies the seats of the table starts to dig in as they begin to discuss the matter which you assume is about your issue.

You thought you could go through this dinner in peace until the conversation, courtesy of your mother, diverts to you.

''I've seen the news but it doesn't bother me at all. The princess is merely having fun, just like those around her age do. I, myself, have gone through that phase. '' Queen Miyoung laughs softly. ''The Crown Princess is only at the wrong place, at the wrong time. We used to get in trouble for sneaking out often before as well, isn't that right?''

With the amount of times you've gotten snapped by the paps and you were caught doing shits that is considered inappropriate behavior for a royalty like you— surely, it's not a coincidence anymore. Ever since your first scandal came up, the media that follows your every step doubles. They are always hungry for a headline. And you cannot deny the fact that you're giving them a reason to use you as one.

Your mother reciprocates her friend's chuckles, shaking her head as they recall their memories during when they were your age. Surprisingly, there's a relief inside you. Well, at least the Queen of South Korea doesn't think you're a defect in the royal family.

''I think the wild-like personality of our dear perfectly contrasts the gentle and tame personality of Prince Jaehyun, which is a charming point that the people will eventually love once they got to know about this marriage.'' Your mother adds.

Balling up your fist, you had to bite the insides of your cheeks to prevent your eyes from rolling.

''Oh absolutely!'' Queen Miyoung places a hand on her son's shoulder, a smile once again appearing on her captivating features. ''My son here is known in our country as someone who is compassionate, emphatic, and humble. Talented on top of that as well!''

Adoration paints your mother's face. ''So I've heard. I feel assured that someone like Prince Jaehyun will be taking care of my daughter.''

''Please, Your Majesty, you can just call me Jaehyun.''

The velvety voice swoons the hearts of the Queen. ''Alright, alright. My heart is beaming at the thought of having you as my son-in-law soon, Jaehyun.''

What the hell? What did this Jaehyun do for him to gain the favor of those around him? Even your father is nodding and smiling in approval as he shares a conversation with this insufferable prince!

''Humor me, Jaehyun.'' Your father speaks. ''What do you do as a hobby?''

Probably plan how he can convince everyone with that fake ass personality lol.

Jaehyun pats the napkin on his lips before replying. ''Not much, Sir. I indulge myself in music instruments and sometimes, I also sing for fun.''

Did he do his research? That's your father's favorite pastime!

''Ah, singing! If you didn't know, that's one of the things I like the most especially if I'm consumed with boredom.''

Your mother nods. ''Catch him singing while signing papers at his office. Or while feeding our dogs.''

Chuckles blooms on the table.

''Maybe if we have enough time, you could sing for us?'' Your mother suggests as the others agree.

Jaehyun shakes his head with a fist hiding his smile. ''I'm not great at singing but I'll make sure to prepare once that time comes.''

Acting humble now, eh? He doesn't have to prepare because you'll make sure that time won't come. The skin on your forehead creases even before you could stop it. This is stressing you out more than you anticipated.

Deciding to release your stress on something else, you proceed to harshly cut your Sole Meuniére with the knife prepared by the kitchen staff all the while pursing your lips. Poor innocent Mr. Fish, suffering from the wrath of a princess.

Operation: Stopping the wedding! Step 1, do things that will turn him off. Forking the sea creature's meat, you make sure to chew extra loudly, looking straight at Jaehyun's eyes as you open your mouth every now and then while munching. Surely, anyone would grimace at the sight of chewed fish meat inside one's mouth and at the sound it makes.

Anyone, Prince Jaehyun not included. You slow down the movement of your jaw when the man only sports a brief squint of his eyes before turning away, as if he didn't see the disgusting view you just showed him. Is he not disgusted? Hah! Maybe this is how he actually chews when there's no people around so he's not bothered by it. That's right!

You nod subtly at the voices in your head, gulping the food down when it starts to feel a little weird on your tongue. Reaching for the glass of water, you sip the liquid to tend your throat.

''So about the wedding next week–''

The people gasp, your father standing up from his seat. Series of coughing sounds emit from you as you pat your chest continuously.

''I'm sorry– the water went down the wrong pipe.'' You face towards the other way while massaging your throat, your back getting tapped by your father.

What were they thinking, mentioning that fucking wedding while eating? What if you die from choking? Far-fetched, but you don't cross out the possibilities anyway.

Clearing your throat, you give them a smile after fixing yourself. ''Did I hear it right? The wedding is next week? Isn't that quite fast? We're not chasing a due date here. Plus, we haven't even announced an engagement yet. I'm sure the people will be shocked if I'm suddenly married or engaged in just a matter of days. I suggest prolonging the engagement for– let's say.. a month? I think that would be realistic enough.''

King Jaekyung sends you a grin. ''Dear, your engagement is trending on social media platforms as we speak.''

''W-what?''

You quickly fish out your phone. You don't even have to search either your name or Jaehyun's because an article about your engagement pops up the moment the app loads.

JUST IN: The Crown Princess Revealed To Be Engaged To The Crown Prince of South Korea

After getting involved in numerous issues, the Crown Princess had dropped off the limelight for a few days only to surprise us with an amazing news. According to the exclusive interview held two days ago, Her Highness shyly reveals that the reason for her disappearance on the radar is because a certain man snatches her focus with a shiny ring!

The princess happily shares that she and Prince Jaehyun, Crown Prince of South Korea, have been in a healthy relationship for 4 years now and still going strong. During the early months of dating, the two royalties express their worries about causing an unnecessary ruckus and heartbreaks if they ever go through a break up. According to Her Highness, a stable relationship wasn't exactly guaranteed as they live in different countries and have heavy responsibilities as the future leaders which is why they avoided letting the people know about their romance until they are sure that they can handle the consequences all at once.

''The country had been experiencing some serious issues back then so when Jaehyun and I started to get in touch, we decided not to make it public immediately. Not only were we just starting but we also didn't want to stir another headline if we ever broke up. We were teenagers 4 years ago, we were kids. We know that we are bound to make mistakes but as the future leaders of our countries, adding our childish break up to the countries' problems isn't something that we desire. Thankfully though, our relationship stayed strong and sturdy. There were a few fights here and there, of course, but Jaehyun and I remained understanding with each other. Those years were the reason why I didn't hesitate to say yes when he proposed to me. It was just the two of us, no cameras, no media, no other people. Saying this might be off to some but I was glad that only the both of us got to witness it. As someone who lives in front of the camera and prying eyes, we enjoyed the privacy and intimacy we had during the proposal. We initially didn't plan to have our wedding soon but we figured that there's no point in prolonging what's been a long time coming. Our love kept us intact throughout the years and until now, I could say that I'm still very much and deeply falling in love with him.'' said the Crown Princess.

Furthermore, Prince Jaehyun also shared that one of the reasons that he hid his face was to protect his relationship with his future lover, now Crown Princess. Show more…

''I don't– I don't remember getting interviewed for this...''

The Queen massages your shoulder. ''That's the power of influence, love.''

A shrieking scream jostles Winter in her bed despite being on the other line. Rubbing her ears, Winter felt as if her eardrums got busted just now. She munches on her cookies while she waits for you to be finished with all your screaming and throwing angry punches at the poor teddy bear beside your pillows.

The screeching stops. You look at Winter through the screen of your phone. ''Humor me.''

Eyes boring to you, she didn't stop licking the crumbs that were left on her fingers. ''What is it?''

''Making up stories about my supposed relationship with that man was one thing, but seriously? Telling the whole country I'm still fucking falling in love? Deeply even!''

You hear your bestfriend giggle. ''You think them making everyone think you're smitten with a man is worse than creating fake ass stories about your love life?''

''Well, Isn't it?''

''You're unbelievable.''

''Tell me something I don't know.'' Getting off your bed, you head out of the room. ''Anyways, text you later.'' Blowing her a kiss, the call ended just as you jog down the stairs.

It's been three days since you last saw that prince and those days might be the happiest of your entire life, sans the nags from your mom to get closer with that twat. For a few suns, you've surprisingly experienced peace.

However, it didn't last a long time. It seems like when God precipitated a rain of misfortunes, you were in the middle– swimming in it. Instead of peacefully staying at the palace just like you had always done, you received the news saying you'll move to a place– an apartment. And you received it through waking up one day and seeing them packing your things without even asking your permission. You were asking yourself whether it's real, or it's just a figment of your imagination as sleep still buzzed in your veins.

Now, what's so unfortunate about having your own place? Jeong Jaehyun, is what's unfortunate. You won't forget that infuriating smirk that he sports as he watches you glare at the boxes in the living room, boring holes in them. Complaints start to spill out of your mouth in a whisper despite being in the same space with him in just a matter of an hour.

Dividing the closet and choosing bedrooms is a nightmare. Everyone knows you've got things enough for 3 people, including your heels collection. Storing your possessions requires a big space, but Jeong Jaehyun thought it was a great idea to upped you and place his stupid rubber shoes (or sneakers) collections first without leaving any space for your heels.

Jaehyun stands by the door, leaning on the frame with his arms crossed as he witnesses you turn into some kind of witch, casting different spells, desperate to cast his annoying ass away. It's so comical that it had Jaehyun's shoulder shake as he stifles his laugh. A witch with a collection of heels? Truly, one of a kind.

''Let's split them, Jeong. You take the right side, I'll take the left.''

''No can do.''

''The fuck? Are you expecting me to leave my babies on the floor?''

Jaehyun quirks a brow. ''What's so bad about that? I'm sure your 'babies' will not mind where they are placed, nonetheless.''

''Well, I do!''

The prince turns his heels, but before walking away, he looks at you over his shoulder. ''Learn to take a no, witch.''

''W–what? A fucking what? Hey! Jeong, you jerk– get back here and repeat what you said! Oh you piece of– you did not just say what I heard you said.''

Needless to say, the night ended with you cackling like the devil you are in your room while Jaehyun stays at the kitchen, pressing a cold compress to his skin, hissing. This should go away by tomorrow, or he wouldn't be able to explain how he got a faint mark of slippers on his forehead. Prepare a protective gear if he wants to taunt a witch, Jaehyun notes.

Operation: Stopping the wedding! Step 2, piss the fuck out of him like he does to you.

Being the menace that he is, Jeong made it his daily errand to annoy the hell out of you. His day wouldn't go by without doing things that ticks you off so much you just wish something important would come up in Korea so Jaehyun would be obligated to leave your country and magically stay there for good.

Example no.1, the cookies you baked for yourself.

''Jeong, where's the cookies?''

''What cookies?''

''The ones in the tray. On the countertop.''

''I don't know no cookies.''

The crumbs on the corner of his lips says otherwise. You waited for half an hour to eat that!

''You– Jeong!!''

Example no.2 followed not long after. You were running late for a hang out with Winter as you couldn't find your today's pick of pair of heels. No, you wouldn't leave this apartment until you find that very pair. Your outfit won't look put together if you wear a different one.

A quarter before 9 PM, you still haven't found the shoes. Did you perhaps leave it at the palace? That couldn't be! You swear you saw it yesterday. Going back and forth to the walk-in closet, living room, and your bedroom– you're this close to tearing your hair apart and turning the whole apartment upside down.

Your phone pings and displays Winter's message. ''Fuuuck, where did I put that?''

Washing your hands over your face, you tilt your head upwards as you let out an exasperated sigh, stomping your feet in annoyance. When you open your eyes, you see the shoes you had been looking for the past 30 minutes. At the ceiling. Where the broken ceiling fan used to be.

How the hell did that even get— You recall seeing Jaehyun standing on a ladder this morning, saying something about fixing the fan.

''JEONG JAEHYUN, YOU FUCKER!!''

Boisterous laughter echoes from the bastard's room.

You still haven't recovered from the heels incident when example no.3 shows itself.

Hammered from drinking all night long after getting your hands on your shoes, you are swaying and tripping as you reach the apartment, slurring your nonsensical words. You don't know how, but you got home safely anyway. A hangover was expected yet it is harsher than you thought it would be.

''Ah fuck..'' You hold your pounding head.

Heading towards the kitchen, you fend your drying throat some water. Washing yourself is not on the list as you change out of your black bodycon dress and fit yourself into an oversized hoodie and sweatpants. You jog out of the building after fighting the urge to throw up the elevator and arrive at the convenience store in no time, your breath that reeks of alcohol be damned.

Picking up a few items for your hangover didn't take long, the cashier is already punching them a few minutes upon your arrival.

''You..''

You bore your eyes to the cashier. ''Yes?''

''...Nothing, Ma'am.'' He then proceeds to tell you the total of what you bought.

There's no further exchange between the two of you after that, so when you get your plastic bag, you walk back to your apartment. As you prepare yourself some cup noodles, you tilt your head, tsking.

Is it just you or the cashier has been giving you some looks? You might be suffering from a headache but pretty sure, you're sober enough to notice the subtle glances the cashier has been giving you. Did you do something stupid again last night? But Eunhye would be calling you first in the morning if you did. Maybe he recognizes your face? The country's princess' face is plastered everywhere.

''Whatever. Why am I even thinking about it?'' Ever since the engagement, you noticed that you became more cautious in your actions. The streets say the lioness got tamed by a prince. You say you just learned your lesson not to underestimate your mother's punishments.

Staring at your food, your bladder got triggered at the sight of the soup. Peeing what's probably the alcohol in your system, you stand before the sink to wash your hands. And when you look up, you feel an overwhelming surge of emotion.

You are shocked. You are angry. You want to hide yourself from embarrassment. You want to punch the wall. And on top of that, you desire to unalive a royalty, preferably a crown prince that comes from South Korea.

A smile that appears to stretch the ends of your lips. A massive black dot on your nose and cheeks. Two big horns at the top of your eyebrows.

''JEONG JAEHYUN YOU ARE FUCKING DEAD!!''

There were a lot of pranks that Jaehyun had played, with big ones not failing to show up each week. Hiding your charger. Stealing your snacks. Mismatching your socks. And many more that ruin your day so often that the second thing you'd do after waking up is checking for the prank that the prince had done for the day. You are frustrated. And it's not like you to let these kinds of things pass without getting back. This time, you're making sure he'll order to stop the wedding and regret messing with you.

Shuffling in her bed, Winter huffs. ''What do you want?''

''Help me curate a list of the most infuriating pranks.''

Your best friend frowns. ''What for? Are you turning to a kid now? Or perhaps, you're..'' Then she gasps. ''You're carrying a kid?!''

''..The fuck?'' How did she even come up with that conclusion?

''Isn't that what happens when two people who hate each other's guts live under the same roof? Like enemies to lovers!''

You scoff. ''I told you to stop watching kdramas.''

''I'm Korean, duh!'' Winter rolls her eyes. ''Don't forget I'm still upset you took a long time before telling me you literally moved in with your fianceé.''

''Well now you know, and I'm asking for help so I could escape this hellhole.''

''Wait– so you're telling me to suggest pranks in order for you to move out? How does pranking even equals to that?''

Giving her a bored stare, you click your tongue. ''I'll piss the hell of out him, he won't be able to sleep properly at night.''

Winter squeaks. ''You're pranking the prince–?!''

''Yeah, no shit. Who else would it be?''

''Never thought I'd to live the day I'll see you getting on prank wars with your fianceé.''

''Yadda yadda. Just help me with it, please.'' Winter fake gags as she watches you bat your eyes at her.

''Promise me when you get in trouble, my name won't get drag.''

''You're my ride or die, though..''

''...''

''...Fine.''

''Yay!!''

Jaehyun passes the clock a glance. He's up early so he doesn't have to worry about getting late to his appointment for the day. His footsteps ring from his bedroom, eventually transfering to the kitchen. Just as Jaehyun reaches out for a mug, a container catches his attention.

''Made too much, you can eat it if you want.'' The sticker on it says.

His eyes must be playing with him. What has gone to the witch? Should he be scared? Although overthinking aside, you mentioned that you only made more than enough for one person, hence giving it to him. Welp, free breakfast for him then.

Sitting down, Jaehyun takes off his coat lest he stains it minutes before he attends an appointment. The lid clicks open and his nostrils hit with an appetizing scent of eggs and bacons. There's some rice and tomatoes on the side as well.

Biting the bacon along with rice, Jaehyun chews slowly, checking out the taste. He then hums, figuring out there's nothing to be afraid of. They taste like what they should've been. Strangely, Jaehyun thinks it tastes more delicious.

Today, you are not at the unit as it is the start of your 'redeeming reputation' era. Jaehyun ponders what you're doing right now. Are you sleepy? He heard you talking to your friend at 2am. Have you eaten breakfast properly? You eat a little in the morning. Are you having fun? Or you're just pretending to be? You don't fancy gatherings unless it's with people you are close to.

Jaehyun doesn't know when he started thinking of you, he just catches himself wondering what you're up to often. Is he catching feelings? Is he getting infatuated? Jaehyun doesn't think much of it. If he's developing feelings, then so be it. Would it be bad for him to harbor romantic feelings for his–

Saliva lands everywhere on the counter as Jaehyun launches forward, spitting what he ate at the empty spot of his plate. ''What the fuck..?''

Using a fork, he pokes the egg, turning it sideways, up and down. The food breaks down with all the movement, revealing the receipt that left an overly salty taste on Jaehyun's buds.

Fishing out his phone, he snaps a picture of the devil food in front of him before sending it to you, uncaring if it looks disgusting and all chewed up.

JH: What the hell is this?

Not even a minute, you reply. As if you've been waiting for him to message you.

You: Uh.. egg? Duh.

Jaehyun clicks his tongue.

JH: I know it's a goddamn egg. Why the fuck does it have clumps of rock salts in it? We put iodized, not the huge ones.

You: Heh. *Tongue out and eyes shut closed tightly emoji*

Jaehyun gulps down his water alongside his irritation, eyebrows meeting each other. He tries to settle for the bacon and rice but the demonic egg fucked up his taste buds and now, he can't enjoy his breakfast. Jaehyun should've known his fate was written the moment he decided to prank you.

Little did the royalty know, it was just the start of his road to slow death. Starting from the salty as fuck eggs, Jaehyun soon finds out you took the remote of the TV and so he couldn't watch the movie he had been waiting for since the announcement of its release date, unfortunately Jaehyun is not one to remember his passwords– he couldn't log in on his mobile phone.

What comes next is the kitchen sprinklers. You must've noticed Jaehyun cooks his own food from thereon (the egg incident) and figures out it'll be a good idea to use it against him. Jaehyun didn't see the lack of labels on the sprinklers, and with his hands already memorizing the placement of herbs and spices, Jaehyun grabs what he knows is the right one. Long story short, the prince opts for food delivery as his kimchi jjigae was for the ants. It was like the demon egg all over again, except this time, it was fucking sweet.

3 days later, when Jaehyun's favorite sneakers went missing, he knew he hadn't misplaced them. Is he unlucky that you're out of the city to do your princess duties? Maybe. Is he gonna let this piss him off? No, that means satisfying your goals. This is nothing, Jaehyun can search for it, surely it's somewhere in the house.

Wrong. Well, it is in the area of the house but it's not in the house. Guess where Jaehyun found his fucking sneakers? On the fucking rooftop. How did you even put that there, he doesn't have a clue. In the end, Jaehyun had to climb a ladder and fell once at the third step (he's quite clumsy, yes) before retrieving his shoes.

As Jaehyun sits through a meeting in a stained white (or should he say pink) dress shirt, he is surely determined to get that win back

Acting civil with your fianceé is something you didn't expect after a constant back and forth of ruining each other's day, but you suppose it's only appropriate in a dinner with the family of both sides. Royals like meals as family bonding it seems, not that you know. Or do your parents consider discussing country matters on dinners as one?

Sipping your champagne, you hum quietly at the taste, too busy in your own world to listen to whatever conversation they are having at the other side of the table. That is until your father softly calls your name. You turn to him and pay attention.

''How's your appearances doing so far?''

''Good, I guess..? If it's not, Eunhye won't let me rest for a day or two.''

It's not like the King and Queen only orders you to help in charities and orphanages solely for building a good reputation for you, they also genuinely care about the unfortunate.

''That's great to hear then.'' Queen Miyoung smiles. And even though you're once struck by her beauty, it doesn't sit well with you.

''Hmm?''

What your mother says next emits a confused look from you. ''Prince Jaehyun will be accompanying you in every schedule, especially those that involves the media.''

You frown. ''But I thought it was for my image? Why would I need him to come with me?''

''Because once people see you getting along with your husband, moreover someone known for his kind and compassionate personality, it'll be easier to convince them that you've changed. Prince Jaehyun will be a great help to you.''

Seeing the grin that the man in front of you is not-so trying to hide, you clench your fist around the cutleries. How irritating.

''It was all thanks to the Prince for he voluntarily comes forward to join you on your appearances including those that does not involve medias.''

So the suffering you'll experience for the following weeks was his idea?

Squinting your eyes at the prince, you reach your foot forward, your face remains unchanging. You observe Jaehyun who's happily eating his food for a few seconds before smirking and stomping down on his foot hard enough to make it hard for him to hide his pathetic whimper.

Concern and worries are thrown at him but he dismisses them with his usual flower smile. Jaehyun then looks at you, his eyes diverting your subtly hidden fist, gesturing to punch him as a representative for your irritation at him. Jaehyun tongues his cheek and chuckles. He dares to fucking chuckle?!

Why is he smiling as if he won the olympics? Why is he so smug about this? And more importantly, why is your heart racing as you stare at the dimples shyly peeking out?

You yelp as you accidentally bite your tongue. Before you could even reach for yours, Jaehyun shoves his glass of water to your hands. Everyone is looking at the exchange, you have no choice but to accept his offer. You wanted them to believe this marriage fell apart naturally, and not because you sabotaged it. Though, you plan on doing the latter.

King Jaekyung's snicker rings on your ears. ''Ah, it seems like the two have been getting along. Perhaps the shared apartment was indeed a great idea.''

Your mother follows right after, clapping lightly. ''Right, right. Look at them, treating each other like real lovers. I'm not gonna be surprised if they themselves request for the wedding to be done soon.''

''How lovely. Are you alright though, darling? What has caused you to bite your tongue?'' Queen Miyoung worries.

''It's noth–''

''She was too busy staring at my face, Mom.'' Now, what the flying fuck is this motherfuck trying to play?

Queen Miyoung squeaks. ''Is that so?''

''Yes– my fianceé here even once said I'm too handsome, I could be up as an exhibit in Louvre.''

You give Jaehyun a smile so sarcastic he will know to run for his life the moment you two get out of here. The other people in the room thought it was a smile fondness instead. While Jaehyun sends you a finger heart, you itch to send him the middle finger.

Your mother shares a giggle with Mrs. Jung. ''Ah.. young love.''

Jaehyun earns another stomp.

Days after the dinner with the Kings and Queens sees you and Jaehyun in a kindergarten wearing pink white polka dots aprons. The little humans cheer as their teacher announces that they'll be designing their own cakes today with the help of the visitors. Visitors being you and Jaehyun.

Raising a piece of fruit, you snatch the kids' attention. ''Who wants some strawberries?''

''I want to! I want–!'' Little Seol-a makes grabby hands to you, making you chuckle.

''Okay, okay. Say ah..'' Popping the strawberry in Seol-a's mouth, you receive a cute giggle and 'thank you' from the little girl.

As the teacher announces the start of the making, everyone quickly gets to work, eager to create their most beautiful versions of cakes. Since you also have a cake to decorate, you only look at the kids every now and then, checking up on them. So far, everyone's doing good.

A high-pitched voice calls you. ''Can you please help me with the icing..?''

Smiling, you leave your seat and transfer beside Mina. ''What should we do?''

''I want it pink like Seol-a's, it's so pretty!''

Mina's words pull Seol-a out of her focus, turning to the two of you. Seol-a purses her lips. ''But I'm making it for my mommy. Does your mommy likes pink too?''

Mina looks down and her eyebrows crease in thinking. ''No. My mama likes blue, I think..''

Watching the exchange, you could tell that Seol-a doesn't want to tell Mina off but at the same time, she doesn't want her friend to do exactly the same as she's decorating hers specifically at the thought of her mom.

You decide to step up. ''Then, Mina, would you like yours to be blue?''

Mina ponders for a second before nodding, smiling a bit. ''Okay..''

Seol-a perks up. ''Mina! I'll be pink and yours will be blue, and then let's decorate it the same so our mommies would get matching cakes!''

Mina lights up at what she heard. She will have a matching cake with Seol-a, yet also have her own version. The two girls squeals at the cute teddy bears and gushes over the pastel colors their cakes will be. You smile in adoration.

Minutes pass, little humans ask for your assistance until almost everyone at your table is finished. You feel a tap on your back.

''Hi, Rowoon!''

The chubby boy smiles cutely at you, hugging you. ''Teacher, can you come help me please? Teacher Jaehyun is a bit busy with the others.''

Glancing at Jaehyun, a bunch of kids flock around him, calling his name and asking for his help. It has no sign of dwindling down so you nod, heading towards the boy's place after telling your own group that you'll be at the other table. As you help Rowoon with his cakes, you fail to ignore the conversations he's having with the kids due to the proximity.

''I love chocolates, I eat them everyday! Teacher, do you like chocolates?''

''Yes, of course. Chocolates is one of my favorites.''

''I like chocolate too but my mom won't let me eat more than three. Does your mom let you eat a lot of chocolate, Teacher?''

Jaehyun laughs, shaking his head at the core memory of Queen Miyoung scolding him for eating too much sweets. ''No, she doesn't. Your teeth will turn bad if you eat a lot of it and mommies are just taking care of you.''

''Turn bad? Like fall out–?!''

''Most likely.'' The little boy covers his mouth dramatically, earning another laugh from Jaehyun.

''Teacher! Your cake is so pretty!''

''Why, thank you, Yuna.'' Jaehyun boops her nose with a clean finger.

''You should get an award for having a pretty cake.''

One kid appears. ''My mommy gives me kisses as an award!''

''Me too!''

''Does your mommy gives you kisses too, Teacher?''

What's with these kids and questions about mommies?

''No, she doesn't.''

''Oh no.. is she mad at you?''

Jaehyun giggles. ''She's not. She used to give me kisses but not anymore because I'm a big boy now.''

''Ah, you don't want kisses anymore?''

Thinking he will earn kisses from the little kids if he says no, Jaehyun tells them he loves kisses. Humming, one of them then points a finger.

''Teacher will give you kisses as a reward if your cake is the prettiest!''

Jaehyun follows the path where the kid is pointing at. ''Really?'' His eyes landed on you, still and unmoving. Jaehyun bites his lower lip to stop the laugh rumbling on his chest.

Jaehyun grins. ''Then I should work on making this the prettiest cake ever made.''

You almost choke on your own spit.

Articles after articles, headlines after headlines. Old people gush about how pure your interactions are. Adults nudge each other at how you sweetly stare. Teenagers envies how Jaehyun performs all love language at you. It seems like everything now revolves around the Crown Princess and her lover.

The crowd certainly loves the contrasts between you and Jaehyun whereas you're more carefree and casual while Jaehyun sticks to his formal attitude. One thing that became popular amongst your supporters, or 'shippers', is the picture of you– like the diva that you are– wearing a pink miniskirt, corset top, socks with ribbons on top, mary jane pumps, and a cream loose cardigan sits beside Jaehyun who is dawned in his usual dress shirt, slacks, and blazer. You cannot forget that fanfic you found wherein Jaehyun is a CEO and you're a supermodel. Shippers are imaginative and delusional at the same time.

It's been 2 months since you've started attending events with the prince and it wasn't as hellish as you thought. Maybe because Jaehyun can't cause a problem in public, or maybe he just doesn't find the need to. Nonetheless, that didn't cease the fire that is the prank war. It goes on and on that even Winter finds it hilarious at this point. Who knew the lovely couple searched for a list of pranks to do in their free time so they could piss each other off?

Lately though, you've noticed (actually it was Winter) that your pranks have been getting less harmful to your daily lives and had just become something to enlighten the mood. Like the clown that pops up when you open the fridge and the snake balloon hidden in the tin can. Very uncharacteristically, you even find yourselves posting each other's reactions on your stories. And if Jaehyun created an instagram account just to upload videos and pictures of you, you're not so sure. A thing you're certain though is that the dislike for Jaehyun had faded away and was replaced by something else. Something you're yet to find out.

''A penny for your thoughts?'' A finger snaps you out of your thoughts. Jaehyun grins.

You shake your head and continue looking for the best quality of vegetables as Jaehyun follows you around, pushing your cart. Another thing that you've grown to get used to is doing groceries with Jaehyun. Very domestic, isn't it?

''Can we buy this one?'' Jaehyun points at the packs of big marshmallows.

Frowning, you shake your head. ''What're you gonna need it for? It'll just expired at the cabinet.''

''No, it won't.''

''How so?''

''I'll eat it before you can even say chubby bunny.''

''No, Jeong.''

''But we have a mini chocolate fountain machine at home!''

''Yes, a fountain machine you, may I say–'' You face him. ''–unnecessarily bought. Literally no reason to buy one.''

''Well now I can finally use it and it won't be useless anymore..?''

Tsking, you walk away to look at the meat. In the end, Jaehyun huffs, staring longingly at his marshmallows before tailing you, steps heavy.

After shopping for at most 2 weeks worth of food, you type on your phone while Jaehyun carries all those bags. So much for being a macho man. Winter sends an atrocious idea and forces a laugh out of you.

''What's funny?'' Jaehyun asks like a curious cat, peeking at your phone.

''Winter says we should announce that all of this is fake at the upcoming press conference and film Eunhye's reaction. God, that would be hilarious honestly.''

''Oh..'' And curiosity finally kills the cat. Jaehyun mums. Are you faking it all this time? Are you not enjoying your time with him? Are you faking having fun whenever you're with him, even now?

You are about to ask Jaehyun for the car keys but as someone who spends their entire life under the spotlight, you know a camera when you see one. Pocketing your phone, you stride towards the man at the car beside Jaehyun's. Said man tries to run away but you are quicker with your feet and grab him by his collar, you hear Jaehyun's call of your name.

''What's wro–''

''Give me the phone.''

''Why– what's happeni–''

''Give me the fucking phone!'' Shoving the man to a car, he winces at the pain in his back. When he surrenders his phone, you delete his video and throw it on the ground before stomping on it, crashing it.

Jaehyun calls your name again. ''Why did you do that? Stop, you're choking him.''' Though obviously wanting to calm you down, Jaehyun doesn't touch you anywhere, opting to wash his palm over his face.

You ignore him and focus on the man shivering in your hold. ''Tell me, what the fuck do want?''

''Nothing–''

You dig your forearm deeper to his neck. ''I'm only gonna ask this twice, you fucking twig. What do you want?''

The man struggles to breathe but attempts to answer anyway. ''I–I was.. paid to–'' He wheezes. ''To prove t-that.. Prince Jaehyun isn't what– what he pretends to be.'' The man coughs.

Raising a brow at what you hear, you wrap your hand around his throat and lean closer to his ear. ''Listen here, fucking microphallus. I know this fucker here looks like he's a worldwide known actor but in reality, he can't act for his fucking life. This man doesn't have a fucking future in acting. He can't fake anything, he's too goody shoes. This prince can't do a thing except entertaining the fucking crowd.''

He is genuine and is not pretending in front of the cameras. Is what Jaehyun can hear between your lines.

''So if you're thinking of exposing him and shit– too bad for you, Jeong lives his life by the books.''

Sighing, Jaehyun tugs at your shirt. ''Let's.. let's let him go. He said he was just paid to do it, didn't he?''

Glancing at the prince, you could see the stress on his irritatingly handsome face and annoyingly, you find yourself to hate the foreign emotion on it. Clicking your tongue, you let go of the man but grips his collar again before he can get away. ''Spread misinformations about my fianceé again, you'll be caressing metal bars the next day.''

Jaehyun holds your hand to take it away from the man and fixes his mask. ''Sir, you can send your resumé at the palace and you should be offered a job with monthly payment. Please don't ever damage someone for the sake of quick money. Money wears off in time, but the damage doesn't.''

With that, Jaehyun tugs you away from the scene. During the ride, silence fills the car and as you arrive at the apartment, that's when you realize Jaehyun's hand is still intertwined with you from the moment he holds it until you reach the flat. Why does Jaehyun look like it's the most normal thing? Why is your heart doing the fucking rabbity pumps?

Jaehyun heaves a sigh. ''Damn.. that's actually crazy– I can't even believe it happened. It went by so fast, my brain couldn't process the fact that someone believes I fake my personality and manners in front of the camera. Like–''

You plop to the couch.

''–what did I even do? Did I upset them? Did they say hi to me one time and I didn't say it back? Did they–''

''I punched the guy because I wanted to protect my friend.''

Jaehyun stops arranging the items you bought. ''What–?''

Hugging your knees, you keep your eyes on Jaehyun's. ''It was my friend's birthday and she wanted to celebrate it in this bar, it was called gangbang. Controversial, I know. We were having fun just like we planned to. But a group of guys at the other table starts joining in. We weren't paying attention to them– or at least, I wasn't. But one of my friends starts complaining about how one of the guys 'accidentally' brushes his hand on her ass too many times. Accidental, my ass. No one wants to come forward so I did, being the hero that I am. I talked to the guy calmly and asked what's wrong. Said guy told me my friend was lying but fuck– my friend was this close to crying about it. And then I got pissed at how his friends defends him when the CCTV clearly shows the incident so I fucking punched him and broke his nose.''

''Next thing I know, news outlets reports me getting involved in a brawl and ruining a fucking commoner's nose without including the reason why I did it.'' You scoff. ''Said friend I protected refused a statement and left the country without defending me.''

Jaehyun sits at the carpeted floor, facing you, looking with worry in his eyes. Something in your eyes flashes but disappears before Jaehyun could even determine what it is.

''And the pictures of me sleeping on the streets?''

Jaehyun hums, caressing your hands.

''They told everyone I was so fucking drunk I couldn't even bring myself home and showed videos of me chugging vodkas, whiskeys, beers straight from their bottle. But why didn't they show the part where all those fucking people around me gangs up on me and calls me a fucking pussy, a no fun, and a fucking killjoy. They didn't stop until I agreed on drinking all those fucking liqours.'' You sniffs, you didn't even know when you started tearing up.

''And that video where my bodyguard had to carry me because I wouldn't wake up? The palace was on emergency alert at that time– why? Because alcohol and sleeping pills were mixed inside me. When I tried to explain what happened, no one fucking believed someone slipped me a fucking bunch of sleeping pills– my heartbeat was fucking slowing down and I was over-sedated, Jaehyun. There's no point of telling them the truth when they already decided I was fucking lying. For fuck's sake, I was near to dying that fucking night– god!'' You bury your head in your knees, shoulders shaking as you sob, fist continuously knocking your head hard.

Jaehyun hugs your quivering figure, whispering words that he knows best that'll comfort and calm you. ''I understand you. I believe you. It's okay, love. You're gonna be okay. I'm here, alright? I'm here, love. Everything's gonna be okay.''

Your cries haven't even died down when you look at him. Jaehyun thinks vulnerability was the flickering emotions behind your eyes these past minutes that he failed to catch on.

''Aside from the people who did those shits, Winter is the only one who knows about the truth. Because she's important to me.'' You hiccup, tears streaming down your face. ''Do you get why I'm telling you this, Jeong?''

There's a clue, but Jaehyun doesn't want to get ahead of you. ''..why?''

You chuckle while crying, more tears roll down your cheeks. ''God, you're so fucking stupid, aren't you? Winter is important to me so she knows the truth. I told you the truth because–'' You bow your head down and hold Jaehyun's hands. ''–you're more than just important to me.''

Jaehyun's breath hitches, and the world stops. ''Oh baby..'' He kisses the back of your hands and the top of your head before hugging you tightly.

He attempts to say the words that have been at the tip of his tongue since you decorated cakes with the kids but you cut him off.

''I will hurt you, Jeong, accidentally. I don't communicate. I don't open up. I find it hard to trust people easily despite sharing a close bond with them. I curse more than I say affectionate and loving words. I push away more than I pull. I'm violent. I am broken, I'm a mess.''

Jaehyun smiles, so handsomely it makes your heart ache. ''You don't communicate and open up? That's fine, I can read between your lines. You find it hard to trust people? That's alright, trusts are earned, not bought. You curse more than being lovey dovey? Well, I'm lovey dovey more than cursing. You push more than you pull? Isn't it great that I'm the exact opposite. You're violent? I could do the talking, you could do the punching. You're broken? I will patch you up again and again. You're a mess? So what, you're a beautiful kind of mess. And if you hurt me and wound my heart.. well then– Sorry, Heart.''

Right there and then, the faceless man that you saw at the bar and had a crush on morphs with Jaehyun's. You chuckle. ''Fate is playing with us, isn't it?''

Jaehyun cradles your face. ''And I'm glad it did. Because I met you.''

''You're such a sap.''

''Oh shush, you love it.''

''Maybe, maybe not.''

''Pfft, wait– does this mean we stop the pranks now?''

''Do what the hell you want, but you'll continuing to be pissed off first thing in the morning.''

Operation: Stop the wedding! Step 3, fall in love with your soon-to-be-groom.

A shudder electrifies the fibers of your body as Jaehyun spreads the cold juices of peaches along the lines of your collarbone, his tongue dips in next, easing to freezing temperature with his warmth. He sucks where the sticky liquid lays previously, his cravings of sweetness beaming in glee as the flavor slowly seeps in him.

Your breath heavy, hands moving to caress your boyfriend's blond strands as his kisses travel to your breasts. The flesh of the fruit circles your nipples before Jaehyun dives in, sucking the hard nubs all the while fondling and playing with the other. Quiet moans of pleasure finally escape your lips after minutes of holding back, your head lolls back and your eyes close shut, sighing from the pleasure slowly building up. Slurping sounds bounces off the four walls of your shared bedroom, it's so obscene that anyone who could hear it could certainly feel how hungry Jaehyun is for the mixture of the peach's sweetness and the bits of saltiness coming from your sweat. It's disgusting to think but Jaehyun's cock gets only harder with each taste.

The surface of his hand palms your clothed core, thumbing where he's sure your clit settles and gives the area a slight pressure, he makes circles around the button that elicits a series of whimpers from you.

Fuck. How he wishes to see this image of you everytime. Your glossy eyes, puckered swollen slips, and whole face scrunched up as your body shivers in his hold, back arching as pleas of having him inside you draws out.

Break me, wreck me, ruin me. Those are everything your body screams.

Oh, he will ruin you, alright.

Jaehyun rips the remaining pieces of clothing off of you, gripping your legs apart, wide and open just for him. The way your pussy glistens under the dim lights of the room, the prince's lust fuels up until he could no longer bear the desire of devouring you.

His mouth, his tongue, his body, his mind -- screams for your taste, it craves the feeling of you thrashing against his embrace as you fall apart. And Jaehyun.. he's just a man. One who could only do much to control himself from drowning his face in the sea of tempting your slick.

''Ooh, Jaehyun, please..'''

From the alley your legs created, you are able to see Jaehyun's face and how his brow quirks in question to your plea. He's so fucking cruel, unlike the gentleman and polite prince everyone in your country had loved since the beginning. If they only know.

The pad of his tongue follows the traces of your juice, squeezing the last bits of the peach and lets it trickle down on your pussy. Dipping the tip of his tongue, he wiggles it until he's deep inside your warm tight walls, clenching on his muscle as he fucks you with it.

''Jaehyun–! Fuck!''

Your hips jerks upwards, practically offering your core to Jaehyun's face. That, Jaehyun accepts. Gripping each thigh, he pins you to the bed as he sucks, licks, and devours more than you offer.

Jaehyun's fingers join his tongue, squelches emitting from your soaked pussy as Jaehyun's digits continuously penetrate it. By the time Jaehyun is about to add the fourth finger, he sees your eyes rolling and notices the constant clenches of your walls– a telltale sign of your climax. And Jaehyun isn't Jaehyun if not a bastard in bed.

He pulls away before walking away to fetch something, all the while unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. Jaehyun reaches the foot of your bed, he tugs his pants and boxers down, revealing a girthy and lengthy dick with an angry tip.

Jaehyun pumps his cock, staring at your sore pussy and fucked out face. Your breathlessness is music to his ears.

''Jaehyun, please..''

''Please?''

You open your legs wider, hands dipping between your legs to spread the cheeks of your pussy. ''It's all yours. Please, fuck me.''

''Fucking hell..'' Jaehyun nudges your legs open as you both moan in unison as his cock pushes past your entrance, veins rubbing against the tight velvet walls. Jaehyun plans to wait for you to adjust, but you shake your head. He smirks, and starts fucking.

''My girl is getting brave, huh? Let's how much you can fucking take.''

God, this is why you love Jaehyun in bed. This is the only time you hear him curse, be rough, and manhandle you in positions you didn't even know you're capable of doing.

You ask for it hard, and Jaehyun gives it every time. Wrapping his hand under your knee, he folds your body until it touches your chest as Jaehyun slides deeper, reaching deep inside you that a bump appears every now and then on your stomach.

''Fuck– do you see that, baby? Look at your stomach, shit, it's bulging. Am I too big for your tight pussy, baby?''

Jaehyun pins you against the headboard with his weight as drools escape the corners of your lips, dribbling down your neck. You grip the top of the headboard for support.

''Ah ah ah! S-so good.. so good!''

Jaehyun chuckles lowly. ''Does it, baby? Tell me what makes you feel good.''

''Y–your big–big cock! Fuck, i-it's so, haahh, so big!''

''That's right. My big fat cock is making my girl feel so good; she can't even construct a proper sentence. Do you know how that makes me fucking feel, baby? I feel like a fucking king, you know. Crown Princess, fucking feisty and always hissing at everyone, crumbling down at the feeling of my cock at her guts.''

Jaehyun plows into you deliciously, white spots showing themselves at different parts of your vision as pleasure takes over your body. ''You're so fucking tight, baby. You're choking me.''

Yelping, you hold onto Jaehyun as he withdraws from your pussy, carrying you as he transfers you to the glass window near the bed, pushing you against it before he starts pounding vigorously once again, teeth sinking to break your skin, lapping the droplets of blood. Lewd moans knock out of your throat. Seeing your reflection from the window, you're reminded of those pornos you've watched as a curious teen.

''Jaehyun– uh, uh, Jaehyun! You're gonna make me come!''

''Then come. Come for me, darling.''

You white out, shuddering in Jaehyun's hold as you clamp down on his cock, white ring appearing around his length. Jaehyun buries his head in the crook of your neck as he chases his own high, groaning as he finally reaches it, pulling out to finish himself on your back.

As a minute passes, you both regain the air your lungs have been desperately needing. Jaehyun makes you face him and kisses your lips full of gentleness, so in contrast to the rough pounding earlier.

And of course, Jaehyun isn't Jaehyun if not a sap after sex.

''I love you so much, baby.''

You snort. ''I do too, idiot. Now clean me up.''

Operation: Stop the wedding! Step 4, abort mission.

Come morning, the sunlight seeps through the curtains and shines on your bed beautifully. Jaehyun wakes up, his day already made at the sight of you sleeping peacefully in his arms. You look adorable, like you couldn't harm a fly. You wouldn't if said fly doesn't harm any of your loved ones.

God, Jaehyun is so fucking in love with you. You smile, his day is made. You breathe, suddenly the weather is perfect. You exist, Jaehyun finds every reason to live. You are the water that keeps Jaehyun tethered.

''What the fuck do you want, Jeong?''

The prince chuckles. 8am in the morning and you're already so grumpy. It confuses a few staff members how Jaehyun fell in love with you. If he won't get in trouble, he'll tell them you're a witch and make him drink some irreversible love potion or what.

''Nothing. You're pretty.''

''... Shut up. Just because you look fucking good in the morning.''

''Thank you, baby. I love you.''

''Ugh, you're too in love with me.''

Jaehyun giggles. ''I am. Will you marry me?''

You stop yawning and look at him as though he grew a second head (or third..?). ''The fuck did you say?''

''Will you marry me, baby?''

You scoff. ''Ask that again if you have a ring to out around me.'' The words are mumbled but Jaehyun manages to hear it.

''What?''

''I said your breath stinks, Jeong.''

Shaking his head in disbelief, Jaehyun laughs deeply, caused by his morning voice. You find that hot but you won't te him because he'll use it against you everytime.

Jaehyun reaches for something behind him, inside the drawer, and faces you again. There you see a small red box on his palm, Jaehyun opens it and reveals the ring you've once mentioned to be your dream ring. Wordlessly, he slips the ring on your finger after taking off the fake one.

''But we're already engaged though.''

''Eh.. that was fake, baby. This one's real.''

You raise a brow. ''I haven't even said yes.''

''You'll say no to me?''

''Pfft, you're getting too cocky. I don't like that.''

''Hmm, sure, love.'' Jaehyun smiles warmly and takes you in his arms again. You bury your head in his chest.

''Jeong,''

Jaehyun hums.

''I hate you for making me feel this way.''

Jaehyun settles his hands on the sides of your face and caresses your cheeks with his thumbs. ''I love you too, witch.''

''Psst,''

''What now, baby?''

''I love you, Jaehyun.''

Operation: Stop the wedding! Step 5 and the last step, be in love and marry each other for real.

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soliarus · 4 months

Text

*sigh* Business Party

-fluff, suggestive, business partyyyy shenanigans, first kiss!?!? OH MY GAWD finally finished the series!! Thanks @miinatozakiii for the original request!!

: taking your niece’s teacher out to a business party is crazy

words 1.4k

teacher!sana x fem!reader

part 1 part 2

“You look very pretty, Sana,” you mumble with a blush as you stiffly hold up a bouquet of flowers when the apartment door opens. She was wearing a white dress with a faux feathered coat draped across her shoulders. Sana bashfully smiles as she steps out.

“And you also look very pretty, Y/N” Your blush increased tenfold as Sana looked at you from under her lashes.

“T-thank you!” You were wearing a really pretty black dress, and Sana couldn’t keep her eyes off your body. It just hugged your curves in all the right places, in a way that makes her itch—the good kind of itch.

“Thank you so much for being my plus one, Sana!” you say as you open the passenger door for her, “I really appreciate it; I didn’t know who else to bring. Last time I brought Eun, and let’s just say she was a bit too excited.”

“Of course, Y/N! Thank you so much for inviting me; I’ve never been to a party like this, and I’m excited!” Sana beams as she places her hand over yours, which rests on the door handle. You swallow as Sana’s fingers rub against yours.

“Y-yeah…” *gulp*

—

“Oh, Sana, before we go inside…” You start. Still in your car, the venue is only a couple steps away. It’s clear you were nervous.

“Yes, Y/N?” Sana looks at you expectantly, but with the most caring eyes.

“This is for you.” You pull out a bracelet, carefully crafted with fine silver and diamonds. “I had it specially made for you; it’s a thank you. For joining me tonight.”

—

The party was much fancier than Sana intended; the hall was adorned with gold and maroon decorations. And it just smelled rich. Like someone spilt a bottle of Chanel Cuir de Russie.

Sana was nervous, like really super nervous. She fiddled with her fingers, bringing them up to play with the bracelet you had given her a few moments ago. She cautiously eyed the magnificent room. You sensed her nervousness and slowly held her hand in yours.

“I was nervous at my first party too, but I promise you, I won’t let anything bad happen to you tonight.” You softly tell her, squeezing her hand reassuringly. This time Sana feels her breath hitch. You just look so good. You smile at her, lost in her eyes for a second, before coming to your senses.

“Hey, you’ve got to try the wine here; the rich snobs love it, seriously it tastes like trash.” You whisper the last bit into Sana’s ear, who just giggles as you walk her towards the huge bar in the corner.

“Oh, oh wow…” Sana covers her mouth with her hand, squeezing her eyes shut after taking a sip of some wine. You try to hold back your laugh.

“See, I told you, just because the bottles are more expensive doesn’t mean the taste gets better.” you giggle as Sana slumps over the counter.

“What’s with rich people and bitterness…” Sana mumbles but then her eyes widen as she looks at you, “I-I didn’t mean you- I just-”

You really couldn’t hold back your laugh this time as Sana stumbles over her words. She’s mesmerized by the way you tilt your head back and place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, your eyes forming crescents. God, she feels lucky enough to be in your presence.

“Ah, Ms. Magical Diamond has decided to finally attend a party,” a deep voice spoke from behind you. You turned to face a tall 6’6” man, his broad shoulders and buff muscles constricting within the suit he wore, his mustache proper yet holding so much power.

Sana felt astonished, frightened even, this man was scary, he’s got to be some bodyguard, mafia boss, assassin, or something. You– no scratch that everyone looked so small compared to him. Yet your smile didn’t show any fear at all, you beamed as you hugged him.

“Mr. Puff!” You exclaim. Okay, weird name. Sana thought. But her nervousness dissipated as she saw the man smile, it seemed so fatherly, co comforting.

“Sana! This is Mr. Puff! He’s the owner of Puff’s Bakery!” You introduce her. Oh, this big guy owns that one cute bakery in New York—the one with white walls, completely adorned with baby pink decor?

She’s astonished as she stares at the man. You giggle at her awed face, “He might seem all rough on the outside, but trust me he’s just a big old cream puff”. You reassure her, Sana just nods as you and Mr. Puff begin a light conversation.

While you’re distracted, she takes the chance to look around, not at the place, she’s already done that, but at the people. Her eyes catch celebrities and business entrepreneurs of all kinds. Some of them she didn’t know anything about, except for one thing, they could probably buy her life in a heartbeat.

Holy sh*t, is that Kim Kardashian!?

“Sana? Sana!” You were waving a hand over her face, trying to get her attention.

“Huh?” You giggle as she turns to you, looking like a confused puppy. You place a hand on her cheek.

“You’re so cute, you know that?” You murmur, staring into her eyes. Sana’s face flushes.

“W-what?”

“Uhh I mean that– like– you…let’s just leave”

—-

“It’s still early in the night...would you like to come over to my place?” You ask Sana after leaving the venue.

“If you don’t mind! I would love to see your place!” Sana beams, her eyes twinkling, ready to see your home.

You two stop in front of a huge building, handing in your keys before leading the way. Just as the two of you step into the elevator, a whole bunch of people step in. Why are there so many people out right now? You wouldn’t know. One thing you did know was that your front was literally pressed against Sana’s right now as the two of you were shoved into the corner of the elevator.

You were breathing against Sana’s neck, her hands wrapping around your waist to keep you from falling. Don’t look down. Don’t look down. You chanted in your mind. You shivered as one of her hands trailed up from your waist across your back, against your neck, before grasping your chin. You didn’t have any time to react because she tugged your face up only to place a soft peck on your lips. You were shocked, to say the least.

When you tried to make eye contact with her, you saw she was looking somewhere else, or at someone else. A man, you saw him scoff and stuff his phone in his pocket before turning to look at the door instead. Sana also let out a scoff under her breath before looking at you. Her serious eyes, now wide and full, you saw as her face slowly turned red. You also felt your face burn as everyone in the elevator stepped out, leaving the two of you alone in there.

You take a step back, once the doors close, your chest heaving. You notice how Sana’s hands linger a bit before she speaks up, “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have done that without your permission, that guy was eyeing you weird and I think he was going to take a picture of you– I know that’s not an excuse but–”

You stopped her in her tracks, “I liked it…” you whispered.

“What…” She breathes out.

“I liked it”

—

As soon as the door closed, you pushed Sana against it, your lips fully on hers. Two breaths combined into one as you tugged each other closer. Your make out session didn’t last long though. You felt yourself freeze in your spot when you heard someone clear their throat behind you—a sound you’re way too familiar with.

“E-eun! What are you doing here!” You turned around, hair slapping Sana in the face. There was your niece in all her glory, wearing her Barbie pjs, a cup of milk in her hand, the other tapping against it as she leaned against the wall.

“Mom dropped me off five hours ago, had the place to myself…” She shrugs as if it’s the most normal thing ever, “I should be the one asking that question to her” She points to the woman behind you, “Ms. Minatoki…”

“I–uhmm…” Sana has nothing to say, not even the normal correction of her name, her mouth opening and closing like a fish, I mean what can you say after your student finds their aunt’s lipstick marks all over your face.

You hurriedly hand Sana a tissue and help her pull her dress straps onto her shoulder.

“Why didn’t your mom tell me she was dropping you off,” You groan.

“She texted you, and emailed you, and called you, even left a voicemail, I think?” Eun murmurs.

“You should be in bed.”

“So you could have my teacher in yours?”

#sana x reader #sana imagines #twice x reader #twice imagines #twice imagine #twice sana

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ontheshroom · 2 years

Note

yess omg ok! what about being friends with jack since you were kids and he's had a crush on you for years but you haven't given him the time of day😭 and he invites you to one of his gigs (pre fame jack has my heart!!) and dedicates a song to you in front of everyone (i would marry him on the spot🫣) then after the performance he's ask you to be his gf

This One’s For You.

Pre-fame!Jack Harlow x fem!reader

Fluff

Synopsis: Jack dedicates a song to you.

“Look at the prettiest girl in the world waiting on her driver.” Jack smiles, wrapping his lanyard around his hand.

“Nah, why are you so late? You were supposed to be out ten minutes ago.” You cross your arms.

“Hey, I don’t become this hot overnight.” He winks.

“Then you might need a few more years cause it still hasn’t set in.” He smacks his lips and unlocks the car.

“Why did we have to get to the mall so early again?” He asks you.

“I have a date Friday night but nothing to wear, and you know my car needs new breaks.” You explain to him.

It seems like his whole demeanor changes after you mention your date. He straightens his back and nods.

“Okay.” He says, putting the car in drive and exiting the driveway.

“Any new music to play for me?” You ask him, turning your head to look at him.

He looks dazed and out of it like he almost looks sad.

“Nah, not right now, y/n.” He tells you shaking his head.

You pout subconsciously, feeling sad that he’s upset.

“Are you okay?” You ask him.

“I’m fine. Drop it.” He says, turning up his radio.

“Okay.” You sigh.

The two of you drive to the mall in silence. You look over at him now and then but his expression never changes.

Once the two of you arrive he puts the car in park and the two of you exit it and walk into the mall. You figure he might just need some space so you walk into a random store and start looking at things. You feel him following you around quietly.

“Are you upset because of what I said? I didn’t actually mean you have to wait years to look hot. You look perfec-“

“I’m not upset at that.” He laughs.

“Glad to know you think I’m hot though, baby.”

“Alright, don’t gas yourself.” You roll your eyes.

“I have a show tonight, can you come?” He asks, shyly.

“Duh, Jackman. I’ve got to every single thing you’ve performed at since I was like 5 and Ms. Maggie made you perform for our church.” You laugh.

“God, I almost forgot about that too.” He groans.

You laugh at him and shake your head. A pretty silver dress catches Jack’s eye and he immediately walks towards it checking it for a size. He smiles brightly as he sees the only one left in your size.

“Can you wear this to my show?” He asks, showing you the dress.

“Jack..that’s a bit dressy no?” You ask him, touching it.

“And expensive.” You crinkle your eyebrows at the $120 price tag.

“I’ll buy it. I just want to see you in it while I perform.” He negotiates.

“I guess.” You sigh.

“I’m gonna wear this dress to my date Friday.” You tell him holding up a regular tee-shirt dress.

Jack clenches his jaw at your words but then nods to the register. The two of you get in line and pay for the items before leaving the mall.

“What time is your show?” You ask him settling in the passenger seat.

“7:30.” He tells you, putting his arm behind your seat and reversing.

“Okay, pick me up?” You ask him.

“Anything for you, princess.” He smiles.

7:00

Three honks from outside let you know Jack is outside waiting for you. You quickly grab your bag, your charger, and your phone and make your way outside to his car.

“God damn! You might be the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen!” He yells.

“Stop.” You laugh at him.

“You don’t look too bad yourself Mr. Harlow.” You compliment him.

“Obviously.” He brushes himself off.

“I take it back, dickhead.” You laugh.

The two of you giggle and laugh all the way to his show

getting there around 7:15.

The two of you meet up with the rest of Private Garden and settle in front of the stage.

“And now, we’re happy to announce our performer, Jack Harlow!” The emcee tells the crowd.

“Woo!” You yell along with the rest of PG.

“Hey everyone, I’ll be performing a few songs from my album 18.” Jack says.

He performs Ice Cream, Obsessed, Selfish, and Got Me Thinking.

“I have one more song to perform for y’all, but this one is dedicated to y/n.” He says looking at you.

“You’ve been beside me since we were babies. Everything I do is gonna be for us, I promise. This is called Routine and it’s on my newest album Gazebo.”

Going through the mood swings. When you care more she don't make time. When she got time we just Facetime, but she beautiful, like real talk though. She come right after that 8-9 so I'm stuck on her. I'm so gone off her. Might lay in bed with some other girl. And talk about her after I bust on her. Like, what you think I should do?

You smile as Jack wraps up the song and says his goodbyes to the crowd before meeting with y’all.

“Jack.” You hit his shoulder.

“You didn’t tell me you were gonna do that.” You smile.

“I don’t want you to go on a date with that loser on Friday. I want you to let me take you out on Friday. I’ve had feelings for you for so long. I know you don’t want to alter our friendship, but I can’t see you as just a friend anymore.” He confesses.

A tear falls down your cheek before you pull him in for a kiss.

“So you’ll be my girl?” He asks with a goofy smile.

You giggle before nodding.

“I guess I’ll settle.” You smile.

“Disgusting.” Urban shakes his head.

“You’re just mad you’re single.” Jack laughs.

“Just don’t get her pregnant.” 2fo adds.

“And don’t break her heart.” Ace threatens him.

“I won’t, I won’t.” Jack holds his hands up defensively.

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow smut #jack harlow angst #jack harlow fic #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow concepts #dad!jack

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missymurphy1985 · 3 years

Text

The Writer (Tommy Shelby X Fem.Reader) - Part One

Warning - SMUT (eventually)

Request? Yes

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @peakyciills @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone @peaky-cillian @misselsbells06 @heidimoreton

You looked in the mirror, straightening out your dress and taking a deep breath. Your boss David, who also happened to be your older brother, had arranged a meeting with you in the offices of the Birmingham Herald at 6pm sharp.

On the way there, you couldn't help but marvel at how you'd ended up here. Your husband had died two years after returning from war having suffered severe injuries, and after you'd taken on his job at the Herald while he was away fighting, falling ill on his return and subsequently dying, your brother, the editor, had kept you on so you weren't destitute. It was against all the principles of the time, a woman working, but your brother never once allowed the other men at the newspaper to talk down to you. You were the best storyteller and strongest journalist they had on the books and he would always have your back. The other men had grown to look at you as a sister almost - you were blessed to be in the position you were in.

Arriving at the Herald, you made your way to David's office.

"Y/n, I'm sorry to call you in this evening..." He smiled, embracing you and offering you a whiskey which you gladly accepted.

"I never have evening plans David, you know that. What was so important it couldn't wait til morning?"

"We've had an incredible offer and I want you to be the one to report it. The story is made for you."

"What is it?"

"Thomas Shelby has agreed to an article on his life to date!"

"Thomas Shelby? As in the Peaky Blinders?! Not a fucking chance David..." You recoiled in horror. You knew the man's history very well, you'd gone to school with his younger brother John and the stories of the Peaky Blinders were infamous. You hated the man - the thought of interviewing him mad your stomach turn.

"This story could launch your career into the big time Y/n! Think about it! The most secretive, elusive man in the country wants to tell his story to you!"

"To the Herald."

"No, y/n, to YOU. He asked for you. By name."

"How the hell does he know my name?" You'd written your articles under a male pen name so as not to distract readers from the content. Not all men were as modern as your brother and coworkers.

"No idea, but he specifically asked for you."

You mind turned - no one knew you worked at the Herald. You'd kept yourself to yourself, even moving out of Small Heath after your husband passed away. You'd lost touch with John just before he went off to war. There was no connection to the Shelby family at all.

"The reason I dragged you in at 6pm is because he wants to make a start today. This evening actually, there's a car picking you up in 30 minutes."

"David!! I can't do this interview for goodness sake, I'm not even close to prepared!"

"You have 30 minutes! Pull your finger out!" He laughed.

You'd crammed as much as possible in that 30 minutes as you could - your mind was whirring at 70miles per hour when the silver Bentley pulled up outside. Glaring at David, who simply smirked in response, you got in the car as the driver greeted you.

"Arrow House ma'am, won't take long to get there," the driver smiled as you asked him where he was taking you. Arrow House? His home? Why would the most secretive man in Birmingham want to meet you in his sanctuary?

************************************************************

Pulling up outside the huge mansion, you couldn't help but be impressed. The gardens were immaculate.

A middle aged lady greeted you at the front door and offered to take your coat. You smiled and handed it over, as she led you through to the dining room. You took the seat she offered.

"Would you like some tea Ms. Y/L/N?" You nodded, and she signalled one of the younger maids to action.

"Mr Shelby will be with you in a moment, please make yourself comfortable," the lady smiled warmly and headed out the door with your coat. You looked around the room. A large painting on one wall of the man himself with a large horse. There was a smaller picture on a cabinet just underneath that caught your eye. A beautiful blond woman, with piercing eyes and a loving smile, holding a small boy in her arms. You didn't know Thomas was married, let alone had a son. The house didn't seem to have much of a feminine feel to it though, it was borderline drab in its decor.

"My wife, Grace. And my son Charles." A voice behind you startled you, and you turned to see Thomas himself walking towards you, a glass of whiskey in one hand, a cigarette in the other.

"She's beautiful, Mr Shelby. And your son is adorable," you smiled, but he didn't return it.

"She certainly was." Your eyes grew wide as the realisation of what he'd said sunk in.

"Oh I'm sorry -"

"No need. It was a long time ago. Shall we get this over with Ms Y/L/N?" You nodded and he led you out of the dining room into a smaller one - clearly an office. The large oak desk sprawled out in front of the bay window. You took your seat opposite his at the desk and pulled out your pen and pad as he poured himself another whiskey. You shook your head when he offered you one, drinking the tea the young maid have brought in to you instead.

Your questions for him were simple at first. You asked about his childhood in Small Heath. His schooling. His childhood friends. Pretty much all one word answers, driving you insane, until you asked about his brothers.

"You knew John, didn't you?" He asked.

"Yes. Same year at school."

"Sadly, he's no longer with us. Shot by the Italians last year." You heart dropped - you heard through the grapevine that John had children and a wife and the news hit you like a freight train. You took a breath and a moment to compose yourself.

"I'm so sorry Mr Shelby..."

"I'm sorry too, I didn't realise you were so close?"

"We were close before the war. Lost touch after that."

"I don't remember seeing you with him?"

"My father wouldn't let me see him, so we had to be careful.."

"You and John were..."

"No no.. god no! Just friends Mr Shelby." He went quiet again, and sipped his whiskey.

Back to the questions. Mundane as they were, you needed them to get the full story. He wasn't forthcoming with the details. You had to really press him, but he spent most of his time drinking his whiskey and looking out of the window at the dark clouds rolling in outside.

"Listen, Mr Shelby, you clearly don't want this any more than I do so please, if you don't mind, I'd like to end the interview here." Your voice was stern, patience had officially gone out of the window he was so fixated with.

"Jack said you were feisty." You froze at mention of your late husband's name.

"How did you know Jack?"

"We served together in France. Good man."

"Is that how you knew my name?" He didn't answer, just nodded, again watching the weather changing quickly outside.

"Storm looks bad."

"If I leave now I should be fine." The first rumble of thunder made you jump, Tommy noticed your fear instantly.

"Scared of storms?"

"They used to scare Jack.." a second rumble had you grasping onto the chair.

"Stay until it passes." Was that a request or an order.. you weren't sure but he took your hand gently and led you into the hallway away from the window, into the main dining room again.

"Frances, have the curtains closed please." He spoke to the older woman who greeted you at the door and she dutifully obliged, closing the curtains in the large windows.

Tommy sat you at the table and gave you his glass of whiskey, your shaky hands accepting it this time. Every thunderstorm brought flashbacks of Jack's terror filled eyes.. his anguished cries of pain.. and ultimately the sound of the gun he placed at his temple before he took his own life. You took a sip of the warm liquid as Tommy sat beside you, a fresh glass of his own in his hand.

"Jack saved my life."

"He did?"

"Yes. We were underground digging.. we could hear the Germans on the other side of the dirt digging towards us... They broke through first and grabbed me. Jack beat them to death with his hammer to get them off me." Tommy's memory made you smile, and you laughed gently.

"He was always brave.. and strong. Put everyone else first. He never told me.."

"He never wanted praise, it was just part of his job. In return.. I said if anything happened to him I would make sure you were looked after."

"What?"

"The men at your office? They're under my watch. They respect you because you're a damn good writer, but they also know if they gave you any shit..." He raised his eyebrow and you couldn't help but smile. Even after his death, he was making sure you were okay. That was the Jack you wanted to remember.

"In that case Mr Shelby, I thank you."

"Call me Tommy eh? Here's to the bravest man in France." He clinked his glass with yours and you felt him almost begin to relax.

"I noticed a piano in the hall - do you play?"

"I did as a boy. My mother was a keen player, I used to watch her all the time. Gave it up after she died."

"I played for Jack all the time. It soothed him when he couldn't sleep." He smiled, a warm genuine smile that you couldn't help but return.

You'd spent the evening drinking whiskey and talking with Tommy, the whiskey hitting you much quicker than it did him, and you could feel your eyelids growing heavier.

"I have a spare room upstairs y/n, maybe stay tonight, I'll have my driver take you home in the morning." He stood before you had chance to argue and you followed him up the stairs.

He led you into a beautiful bedroom, the decor in here much more appealing than downstairs and the large oak double bed even more so.

"I don't want to impose Thomas..."

"That storm isn't letting up any time soon, and you're exhausted. You're welcome to stay. There's fresh clothes in the wardrobe. My wife was the same build as you, they should fit. I'll have my driver take you home at 7am. Goodnight Y/n..." His blue eyes lingered on yours a moment and you felt a rush of something you hadn't felt in a long time... Scaring you. Quickly looking away, you bid him goodnight.

#tommy shelby x smut #tommy x fem!reader #tommy x y/n #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x smut

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the-witty-pen-name · 3 years

Text

Deadbeat Pt. 2

Lee Bodecker x F!Reader

18+ ONLY

Read Part One

Warnings: age gap (reader is 21), smut, cursing, abandonment, infatuation, cheating/divorce, angst, mild housewife kink, this chapter talks about Reverend Teagardin/his actions towards the young girls in the story (nothing is described in detail- just accusations discussing how he gives off bad vibes and is creepy- if you’ve seen the film you already know)

Word Count: 5k

Summary: You work at the bar at the edge of town, the Sheriff is going through a divorce and needs to rent a room.

A/N: I’m terrible at writing summaries and I’m so sorry about that! I don’t think I would consider this a dark!fic, but it does cover a lot of themes, and topics that are darker than I usually write about- but I think that comes with the territory of writing about Lee Bodecker. I’ll make sure to update the warnings for each chapter and do not read if you are underage. I also ignored canon for this one.

I hope you all enjoy!

Tags and Requests are OPEN

It was always so hot in that little one room chapel. There was no fan and everyone would be crushed in together like sardines. The air was always sticky and it turned everyone sluggish. Your mama never brought you and Tommy to church, but you saw how that singled you out in this community. The judgmental looks people would give you for not going always made you feel like they viewed your family as trailer trash. So when they left, you started going regular like everyone else. You wanted to make a good impression and give yourself an opportunity to be more involved in the community. You used to attend with Arvin’s family, but now you sit on the opposite side of the aisle.

You and Arvin were still on friendly terms. On your nights off, sometimes you’d be invited to join them for supper. Ever since you and Arvin broke up, you’ve politely denied his grandmother’s thoughtful invitations. Now that you were living alone with the Sheriff, you wouldn’t anticipate any more neighborly invitations but instead prayers to save your soul, like you weren’t already damned for ‘peddling the Devil’s drink’ as you’ve heard alcohol referred to so many times by Ms. Russell.

You didn’t care much for the new reverend, and you found yourself often zoning out during his sermons. You were more preoccupied with the uncomfortableness of the pews and how your thighs felt like you’d be ripping giant band-aids off the back of them when you stand up after the service ended- even if it was a cooler day. Reverend Teagardin made a terrible first impression in your opinion, and he never did nothing to make you think you were misjudging him. You trusted the Sheriff’s advice to steer clear of him. Though based on the liking he’d taken to talking to the high school aged girls after service ended, you were thinking you were too old for him anyways. You shook your head, chastising yourself for joking about something like that even just to yourself. You made sure to tell Lee whenever he did something to tip you off that he might be trouble. You didn’t trust him one bit.

After the service, you were almost ambushed by a couple of women who were notoriously known for being the town’s busy bodies. The shorter of the two was Ethel Perry, who absolutely wreaked of cigarette smoke and always carried a little beaded purse. The other was Ida Sinclair, whose hair was a silver blue, and always wore a turtleneck and a thick sweater overtop even in the middle of hot summer days. They were sweet ladies, and normally you’d love to gab and let them fill you in on all the town gossip. They were great to talk to. But now that you were on the other side of their gossip, their nice demeanor felt much more predatory now that they were seeking you out for information instead of sharing it.

“Sweetheart,” Ida said sweetly, cornering you outside by the steps. “You poor thing how are you holding up?” You were buttoning up your jacket, when the pair snuck up on you, catching you off guard.

“Oh Mrs. Sinclair, I’m doing just fine. No need to worry about me,” you say, giving them a small smile.

“Is it true you’re renting a room to Sheriff Bodecker?” Ms. Perry interjects, not even bothering with the small talk. You almost respected her more direct approach, the small talk Ms. Sinclair was attempting to make made you feel a tinge resentful of their attitude towards you.

“Yes, ma’am,” you reply, not giving her anymore details. If she wanted the gossip, she’d need to own up to being direct in her behavior.

“We heard Janie kicked him out of the house,” Mrs. Sinclair said, her face plastered with worry like she felt sorry for the man. You smiled through your teeth and nodded.

“Makes sense,” Ms. Perry added, “Him needing a room and with your mama leaving you here alone and all.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you say smiling through your teeth, you hadn’t realized you were grinding down on them that hard.

“Ms. Beaumont was going on and on yesterday about how it wasn’t fitting,” Ms. Perry continued. “You being a young single girl- working at that terrible bar, renting out a room to a man. She was insinuating something awful- but don’t worry dear. We know she’s just being meddlesome and trying to stir the pot where she shouldn’t.”

“Thank you, Ms. Perry,” you responded, sarcastically but they didn’t pick up on it. “It was lovely seeing you both,” you say, stepping away, “but I should be heading home now.”

“Too bad the Sheriff doesn’t come to Church,” Mrs. Sinclair, said, “He could be driving you, so you don’t have to be walking.”

The Sheriff worked on Sunday mornings and both of them knew that. You knew it was just an attempt to insinuate something else you didn’t have the patience to try to decode. You just nodded as a goodbye and started walking home. It never took long to walk, and you wouldn’t bother the Sheriff for a ride unless you really needed one- like if it was bad weather or if you were leaving work too late at night. You didn’t mind walking at all- gave you a chance to just clear your head and enjoy the fresh air, especially after getting out of that stuffy chapel.

You knew the Sheriff actually wasn’t working today. He told you this morning he was going to the courthouse to sign his divorce papers and then to pick up his stuff at the house. You’d see him later on that night when he finished that whole mess. It was the quickest divorce you’d ever seen. Neither one of them seemed to care to get lawyers. Based on what Lee told you so far, he really just was fine with her taking anything she asked for- including the house. His indifference to the whole thing really was like no divorce you’d ever heard about. You sympathized, because it was just him not wanting to prolong the painful ordeal of it all. He just wanted to get it all over and done with, and you understood that.

When you got home, you changed out of your Sunday dress and into some work clothes. A pair of overalls, a short sleeved tshirt and a pair of your old saddle shoes. You protected your hair with a bandana and decided to get to work. You got some free cardboard boxes from the grocer yesterday, and you resolved to help Lee out and clear out all of your mom’s old stuff. You told him when he left to leave the door unlocked for you and it would be cleared out as best you could get it so he’d had somewhere to put his stuff when he got back.

You started with the closet and getting rid of all her clothes. You’d call the donation center tomorrow and they’d send someone to come pick it all up. You weren’t sentimental about anything that belonged to her. Much like the Sheriff and his divorce, you just wanted to get this stuff out of the house and get the chore over with. You kept the photographs, and some of the things you knew might be worth something, like any of the jewelry she’d left in her jewelry box. You took anything that was hers and either tossed it or put it in the large donation pile.

You knew the weather tonight would be fine, so you opted to carry all the boxes outside and stack them on the porch. You figured it would be better and easier to deal with if you piled the full boxes outside before they came tomorrow. You didn’t touch Tommy’s room. You figured there was no need, and he was the only one out of the two you had a small amount of hope would someday come back, even if it was just to visit.

You closed the first box, and carried it down the hall and down the stairs slowly because it blocked your vision. At the bottom of the stairs, you propped the box on your hip so you could open the door. You then walked sideways out of the front door to drop it on the porch. As you were walking out you saw the familiar cruiser, driving down the road. You smiled, actually liking the feeling of having someone living with you. It was a little exciting. It was clouded by terrible circumstances on both your parts, but you hadn’t realized how lonely you had been living alone- even if it had only been a couple of days of Lee being here.

When Lee saw you walk out on the porch, he almost hit the garage door. You looked absolutely gorgeous, sweaty from working around the house and moving boxes. His heart felt strained in his chest when you smiled at him. That right there made his whole shitty day worth it. He hated facing Janie, scribbling his signature fast as ever on every document thrown at him. He hated that she was there with Miller, him standing behind her with his hand on her shoulder comforting her, like she wasn’t the adulterer in the room. It was infuriating.

He felt like a stranger in his own goddamn house, rummaging through everything grabbing what was his. Janie watched him like a hawk, following him around and saying nothing, like he wasn’t to be trusted to not take something. What like he’d steal something that was his? He hardly spoke two words to her. Miller sitting in his recliner, watching the news on the television. She made no attempt to even shield him from the look of another man living there. She wasted no time, announcing she’d be marrying the bastard as Lee was leaving. He mumbled a ‘congratulations’ and loaded the few boxes he had into the trunk of the cruiser.

Now seeing you there standing on the porch, all the bullshit he had to put up with today seemed worth it. It was grounding. He sighed, tossing his hat on the seat, and zipping up his leather jacket- ignoring the way it was fitting a little snugger. As he fumbled with the zipper, his mind started to wander- thoughts always clouded with you. He was usually able to keep his feeling pushed away when he was out, but the second he would see you again, all progress was lost. And here you are, like you were waiting for him to come back to you.

“I still have a few more boxes,” you say as he closes the door to the cruiser.

“I can move them,” he tries to protest, but you’ve already disappeared back into the house. He gets his own boxes out of the trunk and brings them into the house, leaving them on the living room floor for now. He hangs up his coat on the coatrack, on the hook next to yours, and then heads up the narrow staircase to see if he can help you. He gets to his room and he stops in the doorway, dead in his tracks. You’re on the floor, on your knees in front of a box, using a roll of packing tape to secure it shut. His heart stops and he’s frozen. He stutters to make himself known, but you don’t seem to notice the way he reacted to you. He’s relieved that you don’t seem to miss a beat, pushing the box in his direction, your way of telling him he can bring it outside. You stretch over and pull another box in front of you and begin placing folded clothes that were on the floor inside just to fill it to the brim completely before closing it.

That silent assembly line of the two of you makes the work go by quick. You have six large boxes ready to get picked up tomorrow sitting on the front porch, and Lee is able to bring his stuff upstairs. You decide to let him have some time to just settle, and you get started on what to do for dinner when you see it getting pretty late in the afternoon.

There was never any spoken agreement that you’d both eat together. It just kind of happens on its on the past two nights he’s been here. You’d be making dinner for yourself anyways, and making something for two isn’t that much more work. You know he doesn’t expect you to cook for him at all, but since you were taking up the kitchen anyways you don’t mind. You weren’t the best cook, but you’re pretty sure your cooking beats a cold sandwich from the diner.

Upstairs, Lee was letting his emotions get the best of him. His ever-present feelings for you- he actually wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe it was just an attraction, or maybe he was so used to coldness from Janie that he’s falling apart at a woman being nice to him and treating like a person. He needed to pull himself together. He closed his eyes for a second, picturing how you looked packing the boxes up. On your knees, the overalls hugging your figure, the little bit of sweat on your brow- it was the best sight he ever got the pleasure of seeing. He looks at the mirror that sat in the corner of the room. He sighs looking over his appearance.

There’s no way a beautiful, young girl like you would look at him the same way, as much as he wished it. His slightly protruding stomach, a sign of all the drinking and his bad diet. He had a little bit of a double chin from angles as well. He sticks is neck out to try to remember what his face looked like when his jaw was more defined. He realizes how ridiculous he was being. He didn’t think you were the kind of person to care that much about the things that very much bothered him. He runs a hand through his hair, and continues to hang up his shirts in the closet. You were turning him soft, and you had no idea.

He hears you coming up the stairs, and he feels his heartbeat quicken like you were going to catch him thinking about you. He was being so stupid, he chastises himself. He couldn’t have you affecting him like this. He turned his head and catches your eye as you are heading into the bathroom in the hallway.

“Just washing up before supper,” you say casually, and heading into the bathroom. He had to pull himself together. He sighed, thinking about your sweetness and hospitality ever since he showed up at your door two nights ago. You welcomed him into your home without a second thought. You trusted him, and that made him feel even more guilty. He couldn’t be thinking that anything between the two of you could happen. He needed to be a good man. But Christ, how even could a good man keep himself in check when he’s in such close quarters with you?

“Made mac and cheese with some grilled chicken if you’re hungry,” you say, not looking back at him but just immediately heading back down the hallway and down the stairs. He watched you walk away, biting his lip at how your ass looked in that denim. He gently hits his head against the mirror, like that’s somehow going to snap him out of it. He makes a fist and then stretches out his hands like that will do anything.

“Ms. Perry and Mrs. Sinclair cornered me outside Church today,” you said with a chuckle, as he came into the kitchen.

“Yeah?” he asks, taking the plate you hand to him. He opens up the drawer and grabs silverware for him and yourself while you put your plate together.

“Yeah,” you grinned, biting your lip. “I’m the talk of the town apparently.”

“I’m sorry about that, hun,” he says sympathetically, “That’s all my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” you say, walking over to your kitchen table and taking a seat. “I find them kind of funny,” you shrug, “They were talking about me long before this and this is just the newest thing.”

“What did they say?” he asks, as he takes his seat across from you. It was a small table, only was able to seat two comfortably, anymore would be too crowded.

“They think I should be using you as a ride to Church,” you reply, “Also that our situation ain’t fitting according to Ms. Beaumont. But they insisted they don’t think that at all.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” he grins.

“I thought she was gonna ask me how much I’m charging you for rent next,” you scoff before taking a bit of food.

“Do they bother you?” he asks. He felt bad at how this living situation would affect you. He understood how much keeping up appearances mattered in this town. If someone were to start a nasty rumor, your name would be tarnish all over town. You might as well start wearing a big red A on your jacket.

“Not really,” you shrug. “It bothered me in the moment, cause they cornered me, but I have no reason to be worried. It’s not like anything they say is gonna amount to anything without evidence. They can insinuate all they want.”

The word evidence hung heavy on his mind. His brain running through scenarios if you both actually had something worth hiding. Kissing you in the backseat of the cruiser pulled into some back road by the water somewhere or sneaking touches under the table at the diner. It wouldn’t be wrong, not really, he thought to himself. You’re an adult and if you felt the same way fuck what the town would think.

You actually thought the Sheriff was quite handsome. You hadn’t really been able to look past how intimidating he looked sometimes or his gruff exterior. The man sitting across from you was not like the guy that makes the town cower away from him at times. He was relaxed, his face especially. It was a rare form for him. The man seemed to constantly be stressed, full of pent-up tension, no doubt due to the stress of his job. You noticed that his eyes looked softer, and how blue they were. Suddenly, you realized it was just you and him- alone. Living in your house. You felt your face heat up, and he picked up on your change in demeanor.

“You alright?” he asks, looking over at you.

“Yeah,” you say, a little nervously. “Just need some water.”

You get up and head over to the cabinet next to the sink, and you reach up to get yourself a glass. Suddenly, you feel his presence behind you, making you jump. He’s just reaching to get himself a glass too, his body pressing very lightly against you. He gives you a concerned look as you look flustered and you let out a small gasp.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya,” he says, and you could almost swear you saw him smirking. He takes his glass over to the fridge and pours himself some of the iced-tea from the pitcher you keep inside the fridge.

“I think you’re right about Reverend Teagardin,” you say, trying desperately to reorient yourself.

“He’s no good,” Lee agreed. “He’s crooked. Just be careful around him, sweetheart.” Those damn pet names were making your stomach churn with butterflies.

“I think I’m too old to be on his radar,” you admit quietly, in a rushed tone. Your accusation hushed, even if it was just you and Lee.

“You see him do anything?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No, not really,” you say, “but he talks for an awful long time to the high school aged girls after services. I don’t know it just gives me a gut feeling about him. Those poor girls, like Lenora- they don’t know when their being sweet talked and manipulated. Just makes me nervous. Married man talking to those girls so shamelessly- charming them.”

“I’ll try to swing by and check the place out,” he nods, looking a little lost in thought.

“That’ll make me feel so much better,” you smile. He grins and licks his lips, before taking a swig of his drink.

You both take a seat at the table again, finishing up dinner fairly quickly. You asked him about his day and he told you all about Miller and the papers, and you listened intently. You felt bad he had to go through that. Yeah, Lee was not a picture-perfect husband by any means, you were sure. But the actions he faced today still sounded harsh. Somewhere in your mind, you thought he deserved better. Maybe he didn’t, but the man was clearly in pain and it tugs at your heartstrings.

“Since you made dinner, I can clean up,” he offered.

“That’s really sweet. Thanks, Lee,” you smile shyly. This all felt so… domestic. You were acting like a married couple. It’s not like the two of you could help it. You were living under the same roof and existing in the same space. This is how people who live together interact. That’s it. Right?

“I think I’ll call and leave a message at the donation center so they send someone to get those boxes tomorrow,” you decide. You head over to the living room where you kept your phone, pulling out your address book out of a drawer in the table the phone rested on. Lee nodded, taking your dishes and his own over to the sink.

You sit on the couch, criss cross and hold the base of the phone on one knee, resting the receiver up to your ear with your elbow. You dial the number, the phone clicking every time the dial falls back into place.

Lee can’t make out what you are saying, but he chuckles recognizing the tone of voice you use- like a customer service voice he’ll hear you pull out at the bar often. He does the dishes, and just lets himself escape into his fantasies again. His mind was racing about what those women at Church thought was happening between the two of you. He knows its wrong, but god he wishes it was real.

He imagines that after you both have gone to bed you show up at his door in the middle of the night- looking like how you did the night you agreed to let him stay. You confess how much you want him and he just pulls you into a rushed kiss- you just overtaken by the sudden relief of all the pent-up tension. He imagines how it would feel to hear little moans against his lips coming from you when he slips his tongue into your mouth. He can almost feel what it would be like to have you tightly against his body. His hands being allowed to just freely explore you and how you must look under him, begging and needy-

“Okay, that’s all set,” you announce walking back into the kitchen. “Hopefully they’ll send someone over first thing.”

“G-good, yeah,” he stutters out, pulling himself out of his daydream. “Do you have work tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I go in at 4,” you reply, not noticing how flustered he is. He’s relieved to see you looking in the fridge and it gives him a chance to adjust before you saw how hard he was.

“Need a ride?” He asks. “I can pick you up on my way home.”

“Perfect,” you smile when you turn to face him. “Thank you. I’m gonna see if there is anything good on the television we can watch.”

“Sounds good, doll,” he says, relieved when she finally heads back into the other room, taking her seat on the couch again, clicking through the channels.

He needed a minute before heading in there. Every time you were in the room he felt like his skin was on fire. He knew if he wanted to stay, he needed to get a grip. He sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. He joined you in the living room and sat on the other end of the couch. There was an old picture playing on the black and white set.

Neither of you could pay attention to the damn screen no matter how hard you tried. The tension in the room- between the both of you was borderline unbearable. Both of you were stealing glances at the other, not realizing the other person was doing the same. When you would look over to him, his eyes would be toward the tv set, seeming to be watching the picture- but he also looked incredibly tense. You wondered if he was hanging out with you because he felt like he needed to. You feel awkward now thinking he’s just sitting though this to not be rude.

Lee was on the whole other side of the world in comparison to what you thought he was thinking about. He was trying desperately to gain some level of composure. He felt like he was acting like a teenager again, fucking jumping out of his skin sitting next to a pretty girl. He hadn’t felt like this in a very long time. An hour went by, neither of you saying anything- him just lost in his own thoughts. But then he felt your head hit his shoulder ever so lightly.

You had fallen asleep. He wondered how long you had been sleeping before he even realized. Here he was stressed out as ever and you are relaxed enough to fall asleep. He doesn’t even dare move. His whole body goes stiff, not wanting anything to wake you up. He wouldn’t move from this spot for all the money in the world. You were blissfully unaware at how you cuddled up next to him, your face resting in the crook of his neck. You were going to be the death of him.

He very carefully wanted to just make himself a little more comfortable. He slowly moved the arm you had pinned and adjusted so it was wrapped around your shoulder. His fingertips just grazing your skin where the sleeve of your t-shirt ended lightly. Your skin was so soft, and he bites his lip, thinking about how soft you must feel everywhere. The man was so goddamn touched starved. He couldn’t even remember the last time he was this close with Janie. It had to have been years since he experienced something this intimate. After a very long internal battle, he allowed himself to rest his head on top of yours and close his eyes for a few. He didn’t intend on falling asleep, just bask selfishly in the moment for a few minutes.

You opened your eyes and yawned softly. You looked at the clock and saw that it was well past midnight. You closed your eyes again, too tired to realize the position you were in at first. Then, a minute later you realized, and your eyes shot open again. Cuddled up to Lee’s side, his arm loosely around you. His head rested on the back of the couch, looking so peaceful.

Fuck. You were so embarrassed. You hoped he had fallen asleep first and would have no knowledge of this interaction in the morning. You carefully untangled yourself from him, moving as slow as possible to not wake him up.

You clicked off the TV and then turned off the lights, getting ready to retire up to your room for the night. You felt so hot, flushed with pure embarrassment. Your mouth was dry and the only thing you think about was cold water. You tip-toe into the kitchen and fill yourself a glass, drinking the whole thing at once. You turn off the kitchen light and leave your glass in the sick before heading upstairs.

You change out of your overalls and shirt and put on your blue nightgown. You head across the hall to the bathroom, navigating in the dark. You brush your hair, wash your face and brush your teeth before climbing into your bed and swaddling yourself with your many blankets. Your eyes are heavy, and the feeling of being in Lee’s arms is still present on your skin.

His large hands sliding up your thighs is what jolts you awake. His calloused hands moving their way up your body, pushing up your dress as they went. He dips down and presses a tantalizing kiss to your lips, one hand cupping your cheek softly and the other rubbing over your wet panties. You kiss him back, opening your mouth and letting his tongue in. You can feel his hand slip under the waistband of your panties and his thumb gently rubs your clit. Without even questioning anything, you moan and he trails his lips down to your neck, and you shiver at the feeling of his stubble. You arms wrap loosely around his neck, and your fingers play with the ends of his short hair. He groans against your skin and the sound just sends a shiver throughout your whole body. You can feel him smile, and he pushes two fingers inside. You gasp and he muffles your sounds with another deep kiss. You feel overwhelmed by how good it feels combined with the terms of endearment that fall from his lips as he praises you.

The ringing of your alarm clock scares the shit out of you, and your eyes fly open at the sound. You’re breathing heavily, and you feel your hair sticking to your forehead. You let out a heavy sigh, and click off the alarm, and then cover your face with your pillow. You felt how wet you were without having to check. You had a sex dream about Lee. A fucking wet dream about Lee Bodecker.

Part Three

Taglist:

@asylumaniac

@rosalynshields

@jiminlife2k18

@scar-is-bi

#lee bodecker imagine #lee bodecker fic #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker #the devil all the time #lee bodecker smut #smut #angst #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan one shot #lee bodecker x y/n #sebastian stan smut #fanfic

598 notes · View notes

its-deputy-caleb · 3 years

Note

If you're feeling up to writing a bit of Mikey, could I please request him being an asshat to everyone and being told off by his S/O after he asks Jack if he wants to earn a dollar?

(You know the part where he says to ask Arthur about the stick up his butt?)

He's such a dickhead and I find myself telling the screen off when he does it! 😂

His S/O giving him a slap and a bollocking after he kicks Cain, then they fuss over Cain and force Micah to make friends with him.

I dunno, it's up to you 😂 You could write any scenario you want, I'll still love it 😘😘

i am always up to writing for a bit of mikey (that nickname is so cute) but ngl i had no idea how to write this or put this together. I watched the clips again so i could get it accurate but i changed it bc i didn't know if u wanted a happy ending or not but i hope i delivered <33 also u asked for either and i gave u both :)

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Clemens Point was a strange place with even stranger people. After leaving valentine in a hurry it seems the entire gang was on edge and ready to blow like a stick of dynamite. It seems having to act like upstanding heartfelt citizens to the Grays and the Braithwaites has meant everyone is that aggravated and pent up.

On more than one occasion you’d seen Sadie lose it when Pearson got to pushy with chores and it seems Abigail and John couldn’t stand to have a normal conversation for five minutes before one of them broke. It wasn’t much better with Dutch and Hosea who were constantly disagreeing on the right moves for the gang, although they were much more civil about it.

You did your best to keep out of everyone’s way, to avoid the confrontation but knowing your luck you’d end up getting involved one way or another.

You were returning to camp one sweltering hot afternoon with Sadie after you finished collecting the gang’s weekly stock from the general store. You were only half listening to the hustle around the camp as you were too busy listening to Sadie tell you all about Pearson’s dear aunt Cathy. You stepped off the wagon and headed to the back to start unloading some of the supplies when the sound of Micah’s voice could be heard talking to Jack.

“How’d ya like to earn a dollar?”

His voice with thick with malice as he hunched over the wooden table. In Micah’s hands was a silver nickel that he fiddled with between his fingers, much like you’d seen of him do with his knife. Your eyes found Jack who was almost reluctant to get anywhere near the man who you knew scared him. However, being the innocent child that he was his eyes lit up at the sight of something shiny.

“A dollar? Sure.”

You carried the heavy bag of potatoes over to Pearson’s wagon as you went back for another round of supplies but you kept the boy in the corner of your eye.

“Well…go on up to old Arthur Morgan, ask him about the pole he’s got stuck up his ass and I’ll give ya a dollar.”

Micah’s face lit up in a smirk, his accent thick and his typical evil giggle falling from his mouth. He sat back on the chair, satisfied at the mischief he’s caused.

Before you could get anywhere Jack had run off to where Arthur was sitting in his tent, reading over a letter. You placed another round of ammunition into Strauss’ wagon, dropping it hastily and running as you saw Arthur walk right up to Micah with a murderous look in his eye.

“I’ll give you a dollar if you shut your—“

Arthur didn’t get to finish his insult before you stepped in front of him with a soft hand on his shoulder. You gave him a soft smile and a nod, quietly saying to your dear friend that you’d handle this.

With that you turned with your own look of anger directed to Micah. Everyone knew you loved him but they also knew you didn’t hesitate to call him out and get him to behave when you had to.

“Micah leave the damn boy alone!”

He scoffed like he wasn’t offended you didn’t defend him and instead chose to call him out. Micah’s hands came up in his signal of fake defeat as he slowly backed away from his place at the table, acting as if he was nothing more than the innocent bystander and not the one who nearly ended up on the ground with a broken nose for starting it.

You watched as Micah lingered around the edge of the camp, his eyes trained to yours as he lit a cigarette but you ignored him. Instead you walked over to Jack, smiling softly and taking his hand to lead him to the river’s edge.

“Common, why don’t we go see if we can find any beautiful rock on the sand, hmm? I’m sure your mother would love such a beautiful gift.”

Of course, it wasn’t more than a few days later when you ran into trouble again with Micah. You’d spent your time ignoring him mostly, instead choosing to go hunting with Charles and Arthur, practice your throwing knives with Javier and help teach Jack to read. You knew how badly it pissed Micah off to do things without him but he needed to understand that there was a way to treat people, especially with people you considered family.

You rolled up your sleeves, using your forearm to wipe the sweat from your forehead as you picked up the knife and started cutting carrots and potatoes for tonights stew.

“Are you a good boy? Yes you are! The best boy”

Your head came up to notice bill sitting against the log by the campfire, scratching under Cain’s chin and giving the energetic dog pats along the back. You couldn’t help but smile at the new addition to the gang and how happy it made you to see Bill less stressed. It seemed that having Cain made everyone feel more caring and loving.

All except Micah.

“You’re the fool that feed’s him Marion. He ain’t nothing more than a filthy mongrel and an extra mouth to feed.”

Micah had stood from his place on the opposite side of the campfire to antagonise Bill. A frustrated noise leaves you as you slam the knife down on the wooden bench, ready to storm over there and chew Micah’s ear off. You take a step forward only for Miss Grimshaw, who was working next to you, to grab your arm and stop you before you get any further.

“There is a time and a place dear, don’t make it worse.”

Of course you knew Susan was just trying to keep another argument from happening but you push past her when you see Micah inching towards Cain who had left his spot at Bill’s feet to hide by a wagon. In a split second decision you pick the knife you’re cooking with and use it like a throwing knife to get his attention. The knife swings through the air, not getting near anyone, it wasn’t like you actually wanted to stab Micah no matter how badly he could get on your nerves and watched as it got wedged into the tree behind him.

Micah’s head shot up, his foot moving away from Cain and stared dumbfounded and shocked, unused to seeing you so skilfully throw a knife but your practices paid off. You walked right into his personal space, taping your finger against his chest.

“Don’t. You. Dare”

Micah’s first response was to try and sweet-talk his way out of it like he always does but you were in no mood to deal with his slyness.

“Dare to do what sweetheart? Common now… weren’t gonna do nothin—“

Your hand came to give Micah a crisp slap across the cheek, apart of you was shocked that you’d even do such a thing but the other half of you was furious.

“Don’t underestimate for a minute that I won’t dump you right now and throw you out of camp Micah. I’m not some stranger you can sweet-talk when you get in trouble. I swear, if I see you go anywhere near Cain the knife isn’t going to hit the tree next time.”

Micah’s eyebrows shoot up in shock as you lecture him in front of almost the entire gang. Even Dutch put his book down when he heard your slap. He was lost for words, truely, having now other thought as he watched you walk away back to preparing tonights stew. He didn’t move from his place until he heard you whistle for Cain to sit by your feet, where he went and meandered off into the forest to give you space. All he knew was that he must have fucked up bad if you threatened to leave him.

A few hours later you’d managed to calm down, watching the sunset after Ms Grimshaw gave you the rest of the night off to relax at how pent up you were. Now sitting here you couldn’t help but feel like you may have over reacted but Micah had pushed your buttons one too many times and if Micah was going to listen to anyone it would be you. You let out a soft but hearty sigh as the tension and stress from your shoulders left with your breath. Your body relaxed against the tree and you watched the sun gently dip below the horizon.

It was well and truely dark before you heard the rustling of grass and the thud of someone sitting next to you. You thought it may have been Arthur coming to check on you but that thought died when arms wrapped around your waist and you felt Micah rest his chin on your shoulder, his stringy hair tickling your face at the gentle breeze.

“…M’ sorry…”

A very quiet and forced apology was pulled from Micah as he cuddled into you, mumbling it into your shoulder at the pain of actually having to apologise.

“Sorry won’t cut it Micah. You have to stop treating people that I care about— people that are family better.”

Micah sighs, the defeated, tired one that shows he’s willing to listen because no matter how badly he stirs up trouble, the thought of losing you is enough to have him turn his mind around.

“I know…gonna make it up to ya I promise.”

A soft and very cautious kiss is placed on your shoulder with Micah knowing he’s still not forgiven by you yet.

“You’re damn well gonna make it up to me. Firstly you’re apologising to Jack first thing tomorrow and secondly you need to pull your weight for this gang— and no I’m not talking about robbing another coach. To start you can sit on guard duty with me and you can wash my clothes.”

“I’ll just buy you new clothes”

You give Micah a death glare as you tilt your head to look at him. Instantly his teasing smirk leaves and his arms come to wrap tighter around your body, resting his hands on your stomach and intertwining your fingers.

“Alright, alright… guard duty ain’t so bad.”

You sit together for a while in a comfortable silence. All the energy from today had left you and you no longer had it in you to keep arguing. You’d hold Micah to his promise to do better but for now you leant back into his embrace and rested your head against his.

“Can I at least sleep in the tent tonight?”

You smiled softly as you hummed in contemplation just to tease him. Micah hadn’t come to sleep in your shared tent since the day he messed with Jack and both of you had missed each other despite the frustration and anger you had.

“Hmm, we’ll see.”

Micah thinks you’ve said no, panicking internally but is stopped when you turn your head and place a soft kiss to his cheek over the mark from where you’d slapped him not so long ago. It wasn’t the kiss that he wanted but he still needed to make it up to you before you gave him what he wanted.

You reached a soft hand up behind you, cradling his head and rubbing your thumb over his sore cheek.

“Is your cheek okay?”

Micah let out a gravelly noise, deep from his chest as he leaned into your hand.

“Ain’t gotta worry sweetheart, I’ve survived much worse”

You don’t get to reply when a tentative and cautious Cain makes his way over to the two of you. You pat your leg and he curls up beside you with his head resting on your leg and his tail thumbing, relaxed and happy.

Micah on the other hand was not relaxed or happy as he tensed up and moved away from the dog and you. If it wasn’t for your hand holding the back of his head he probably would’ve jumped away.

“Micah Cain isn’t going to hurt you, he just wants attention like you. See? No need to be afraid.”

To prove your point you reach a hand out and gently brush over his short, grey fur, watching as he perks up.

“I ain’t afraid!”

You would’ve believed him if you didn’t catch the waver in his voice but you knew. You knew after seeing him be spooked by the animal more than once around camp.

The hand that was still intertwined with his gently guided his hand pat Cain, letting him slowly get comfortable to him.

It took some time but finally Micah had gotten used to Cain enough to realise he was clearly not a threat. At some point Cain had moved over to Micah’s side, resting beside him as the night became later.

A yawn left you and you slowly sank into Micah’s embrace, your eyelids falling shut as you dozed, clearly exhausted.

Holding Micah to his promise was a job for tomorrow, but for now you let yourself fall asleep in his arms, the tent be damned.

#in the video micah is totally scared of cain #the man is terrified lmao #im also addicted to the nickname mikey now #adroable #and ignore the errors i have not edited this #micah bell x reader #micah bell imagine #micah bell #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2

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colossalcriminal · 3 years

Text

Uptown Girl - s.r

Pairing: 40s!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Summary: 25 year old Steve Rogers finds himself infatuated with the well off 18 year old girl who gets Howard Stark coffee.

Warnings: Smoking, alcohol consumption and character death. Not proofread and bad writing.

He'd seen her around plenty, hell, he knew her. Almost always gliding through the streets in the most beautiful designer dresses, sometimes with another girl, arms clad in shopping bags from some of the greatest fashion houses. She also had a knack for wearing trousers that accentuated her legs, always receiving a flustered reaction from the men around her.

It was no doubt she was stunning, perhaps the prettiest girl he'd ever seen in his short 24 years of living. Bucky had always teased him relentlessly, encouraging his best friend to 'snatch her up before someone else does.'

It was a regular occurrence for him to be saved in an alleyway by the sergeant, especially when Steve Rogers didn't know when to back down, or how to. It was only when he showed Steve the newspaper he noticed her figure further down the alley, puffs of smoke leaving her lips.

Steve Rogers found it hard to understand how someone as beautiful as her could commit to an ugly act such as smoking. He was ashamed to admit that the nasty habit hadn't once dwindled his infatuation towards her. "Hey, Y/N!" Bucky called out, gaining her attention. "Shouldn't you be at work?"

Y/N sauntered over to the men with her signature dazzling smile, lips painted in the most ravishing shade of red that'd printed onto the cigarette that rested between her fingers. "Howard's got me off early." She gasped, instantly putting the cigarette out. "Sorry, Steve. I almost forgot I shouldn't light one around you."

Steve's smile reeked with nerves. "It's okay." He stuttered.

"So, he's Howard now?" Bucky nudged her.

She rolled her eyes, resting a hand on her hip. "Put a cap on it, Barnes. Anyways, where are you boys off to?"

"Your boss' expo." He displayed the paper to her, pointing to the large ad.

With a small nod, her attention was back on the skinny boy. "Picking me up, Steve?"

Waking up from his day dream, finally in the headspace to speak to the magnificent woman before him, his nod was quick. "Huh? Oh, yes. Definitely."

"I'll see you later tonight at 6pm sharp, then. Bye." She grinned at the blonde, waving as she proceeded to walk away.

"Bye, Y/N." His reply was too quiet to hear as she was too far away, but the butterflies in his stomach didn't care for that. Sighing at Bucky's light chuckles, he shook his head, mentally scolding himself for the awkward interaction.

"At least you got a date."

"Yeah," He whispered to himself, almost impressed. "at least I got a date."

6:01pm his watch read as he stood before the house - mansion - nervous creeping up the back of his spine, the large house looming over him as if he were in a nightmare.

And it was the exact time she popped her head out of her bedroom window signaling to Steve. "Just wait a minute! Dad's home, so I have to escape!" She whisper-yelled.

He'd gotten a glance of her frock. His heart pounding at the view of her hair curled into perfect ringlets, makeup even more accentuating than it was earlier that day. He watched her disappear, before quietly slipping through the front door and making her way to him. "Sorry, he doesn't like me being out in the evening."

"Well, I can understand with a beautiful dame like you, sorry woman, not dame. Young woman."

Y/N giggled at his ramble. "You have no idea how to talk to a woman, do you?" Steve smiled bashfully at her lightheartedness. "It's alright, not like I'm anyone important."

He cocked his head inquisitively. "And what do you mean by that?"

Sighing, she looped her arm through his, an action that sent his vision loopy as he inwardly cheered. "I mean, I'm just a girl with big dreams who spends daddy's money and gets coffee for Howard Stark. Nothing big."

Steve maintained his unfazed exterior, resisting the urge to stare down at their linked arms. "Tell me about these big dreams."

"I want to be a scientist, well, more of a techy one like Howard is. The idea of flying cars within a few years is so, invigorating!" She beamed. "Don't you think?"

He smiled at her, nodding. "Well, I hope you'll be around to fly our first car, considering you're so insistent on enlisting."

"Bucky thinks I can't do it, that's why they keep rejecting me."

Y/N hummed, lips curling into a small pout. "I think you could do it," He perked up at this. "you could. But just because you can, doesn't mean you should, Steve."

Before he could respond, they'd already been greeted and called over from afar by Bucky.

Y/N didn't let herself feel too downhearted when Stark's flying car show failed, but she did find herself frowning when she followed Steve to the recruitment booth.

She pulled him towards her, Bucky not far off. "Come on, soldier." She joked. "Take me dancing."

"You go ahead, I'll catch up."

Guilt had presented itself to Steve on a silver platter when he saw her shoulders drop. "You're really going to do this again?" Bucky deadpanned, unimpressed.

"I'll leave you guys to talk it out. Meet me there?" The blonde nodded, missing her small wave as she departed.

An hour and 49 minutes later she found herself walking home alone, rubbing her arms in an attempt to abandon any feeling of cold, or even worse, loneliness.

It was 2 days later when Steve finally caught her leaving her office, cigarette in hand. He couldn't help it when he gazed at the pearl earrings she wore, framing her face so perfectly, accompanied by the stray hairs that'd escaped her updo.

"Y/N!"

His voice had only expanded her annoyance as she watched the smoke exit her mouth, ignoring his calls. "Go away, Rogers."

He panted, finally catching up to her. "I'm sorry, I really am."

"What for? The fact that you ditched me on our date or that you went radio silent for 2 days?"

He pursed his lips, closing his eyes in regret. "Please, let me take you out again before I start training?"

Y/N let out a dry chuckle. "Congrats." She put out her cigarette, still mindful of the blond's asthma. "That's not the point, Steve. I wanted to go out with you because I like you! Because you're different! But it turns out I was wrong. So, good luck in training, I'm sure you'll do great. If you're alive by the end of the war, come find me."

"Please, Y/N. I really, really like you."

She'd already began walking away. "You should've thought about that before you asked to get yourself killed."

Without much thought, Steve reached forward, wrapping his fingers around her wrist as soft as possible, the surprise on her face echoed onto his own. "And what if I don't die?"

Scoffing, she shook her head. "You sound so certain."

"Because I am."

"I will not wait for you to come home and receive a letter explaining your death instead."

"Deal."

With a peculiar brow, Y/N sighed. "Where are we going then, Mr. Rogers?"

His lips spread into a beautiful grin. "Anywhere you want, Ms. L/N."

They'd spent 3 full days together before Steve began training.

The first day was spent at and around the theatre, watching as many movies as possible and eating as much popcorn as one can.

The second day, he made it up to her by taking her dancing. Y/N took the time to teach him how to waltz, giggling every time he stepped on her shoes.

The third day was spent at his home, alone. Away from the crowded atmosphere of her house, she taught him how to cook the simplest of dishes, making sure he knew how to feed himself incase no one else did.

It was hard for her not to get teary eyed as Y/N layed her hands on his cheeks, cupping his face daintily. Steve leaned into the soft touch, corners of his mouth tugging downwards. "So, I guess this is goodbye."

"Yeah, it is." He whispered, eyes staring into hers with utmost intensity, a false reality in his head tricking him into believing he wouldn't have to leave her if their eyes never broke contact.

"You better make it back to me, Rogers."

"Of course I will, Y/N."

The grief had already sunk in her, the feeling in her belly so overwhelming, heart fluttering violently as she pulled him to her, lips touching so softly. Steve didn't freeze like he thought he would- he didn't have time to freeze. He did his best, pulling her closer and kissing him back with the most confidence he could muster.

Y/N's smile was almost minuscule when they pulled away, hands moving down to grip onto his uniform, her head in a lovesick daze. "How could I not make it back to you?"

"Well, I am your best girl."

He quirked an eyebrow. "My only girl."

"We'll see about that when you come home a war hero. All the ladies would drop down to your feet."

"All the women in the world and I'd still choose you."

Returning home, she closed the front door quietly, making her way to the living room to find her father engrossed in the small tv box. "Hi." She spoke quietly, hoping not to disturb him as she kissed his cheek, hoping to walk away.

"Sit." Y/N's father offered her the seat next to him, never taking his eyes off the program as she sunk into the sofa, her frock filling out around her. "Lowell's been talking a lot."

She stiffened slightly, subconsciously crossing her legs and straightening her shoulders. "Oh, you know not to listen to Lowell. All he does is gossip. Him and his wife, vultures they are."

"He tells me you've been spending a lot of time with Sarah's boy, Steve."

"Yes, I have. He just recently went off to train."

He finally looked at her. "You scared?"

"A little."

"Then it's a mistake."

Y/N's face was blank as she fiddled with her fingernails and stared off into the distance. "I know."

Her father shook his head. "Then you'll know to break it off."

"No, I won't." He looked perplexed at her reply. "Because it may be a mistake now, he may die any day, but at least I'd gotten the chance to be with him."

He only huffed, muttering something along the lines of "Childish."

She decided to change the subject, not wanting the conversation to sour even more. "Where's Eliza?"

"She's out."

"What are we watching?"

"The Mark of Zorro."

"Can we watch something else? Sullivan's Travels is on."

"No."

"I'll be in my room then."

"Fine."

She stood, getting one last glimpse of her father. "You know daddy, I do love him. And who knows? Maybe he'll survive. Maybe we'll get married and live a happily ever after. If that does happen, I hope you'll be happy for me."

She knew they were selecting the 'lucky' one to be titled 'super soldier.' She'd been working alongside Howard, the older man curious of her expertise for an 18 year old but nonetheless grateful for her help.

Y/N certainly didn't expect Steve to walk through the doors of the laboratory, accompanied by Peggy Carter. "Jesus Christ, Steve." She gasped, embracing him.

He wrapped his arms around her, concern growing when the smallest patch of tears had formed on his t-shirt. He watched as she pulled away. "Hi." Steve greeted.

"Oh, hi." She chuckled through tears. "I'm sorry, go talk to Erskine and we'll chat later." His hands lingered on her, before he slowly nodded, doing as told.

Minutes later, her fear only grew as he layed down in what she called the pod. "Comfortable?" She queried.

"It's a little big." He commented. Y/N graced him with her smile, a real, but concerned smile. "Maybe we could get dinner later?"

"Alright, loverboy. One thing at a time." She teased. "Howard, what are our levels?"

"Levels at 100%."

"I have to say something," He almost begged. "I think I'm in love with you."

Chuckling, she held his face in her hands. "I think I'm in love with you, too, Steve." Blowing him a kiss, she waved her love goodbye before leaving to stand beside Howard. "We may dim half the lights in Brooklyn, but we are ready as we'll ever be."

She just barely missed Steve's terrified, longing glance that had remained on her back as she worked diligently, how the cold metal around him sent shivers down his spine, aching for the warmth of her touch.

Erskine began his speech into the microphone. "but we are ready as we'll ever be. today we take not another step towards annihilation, but the first step on the path to peace. We begin with a series of microinjections into the subject's major muscle groups. The serum infusion will cause immediate cellular change. And then, to stimulate growth, the subject will be saturated with Vita-Rays. Serum infusion beginning in five, four, three, two, one."

Hesitating the slightest bit, Y/N pulled the lever, eyes tearing at Steve's small grunts as each small vial emptied itself. Howard pulled his own lever, elevating the pod into a standing form, closing the blonde in. "Steven? Can you hear me?"

"It's probably too late to go to the bathroom now, right?"

She couldn't help but smile at his witty answer. "We will proceed."

"10%."

"20%."

"30."

"That's 40%."

"Vital signs are normal."

"That's 50%."

"60."

"70."

The beam emitting from the pod became too bright for the eye, the sound of Steve's groans had morphed into pained screams, shattering Y/N's heart with every yell. "Shut it down! Kill the reactor, Howard!"

"No!" He protested. "Don't! I can do this!"

Howard looked at her with a sense of sympathy. "Eighty."

"Ninety."

"That's 100%."

Sparks had erupted throughout the machinery, surges of light blinding them until it had died down, everything and everyone dead silent. Within seconds, the pod had opened, revealing a brand new Steve Rogers.

Y/N cried in relief, instantly running to tend to him, helping him out of the device. "You did it, sweetheart."

"I did it."

"Yes, you did. How do you feel?"

He panted, surveying his surroundings before looking down at her. "Taller."

She barely took a minute to lock her gaze onto the newly formed muscles on his body.

With a giggle, she handed him a shirt. "You look taller." He grinned, using his newfound strength to pick her up, a loud squeal leaving her painted lips.

A loud explosion went off, the glass pane that guarded the viewing room had shattered onto the people congratulating Erskine below. Erskine had fallen to the ground after multiple gunshots, Steve making his way to the scientist while Y/N had continued shooting at the perpetrator as he escaped, soon running after him.

Running out onto the street, she caught her breath, deathly stare on the car that had her target. She shot once, no luck. Once again, the vehicle had swerved, colliding with a parked car nearby.

Kruger had gotten into a different car, accelerating at full speed towards the young woman, challenging her as she raised her gun once again.

No impact or gunshot ever occurred as Steve had pulled her out of the way, leaving her on the sidewalk. "I had him!"

"Sorry!" He ran, leaving her to pursue Kruger himself.

After Y/N had helped Steve save the men of the 107th, the pair had received a few weeks of reprieve in the beautiful city of London.

Steve admired her as she applied the black pigment onto her eyes with utmost accuracy, the trousers and blouse she wore complimenting her in such marvelous ways he couldn't comprehend. He got up from where he stood, taking long strides towards her, placing a hand on her waist and smiling when his reflection came into view on her vanity mirror. "Hi."

"Hello." She giggled, leaning into him. "Enjoying the view?"

He nodded, swiftly turning her to face him. His grin had dropped into a sly smile as he let go of her, ignoring her inquisitive looks as he dropped down, one knee hitting the carpeted floor. Pulling out a small box, she gasped instantly. "The ring isn't expensive, or lavish." He started, displaying the solitaire diamond ring.

"Oh my god, Steve."

"I love you, Y/N. I want to grow old with you, and share my life with you. I want to have a future with you, and I want it to start now. Right here in this obnoxiously rainy place," They both laughed. "will you marry me?"

Y/N let out a breathy laugh, nodding with clouded eyes filled with tears. "Oh, of course I'll marry you, Steve." She pulled him up, smushing his face against her own into a kiss, the pair of them smiling into it. "I wouldn't want anything else."

Steve wasn't lying when he said he wanted to start now, within 5 days he stood at the end of a chapel with Bucky by his side as best man and Y/N in a pearly white frock and a makeshift veil bought at the nearest corner shop.

It didn't matter that the dress was picked out last minute, or that the veil was advertised to be a gag gift. Nothing could rival the grins on the couples' faces when they said "I do." rings slipping onto their fingers and lips joining in a moment of utter bliss.

It was later that night when Y/N crawled out of bed, slipping on Steve's blazer to shield her bare body from the cold air seeping into the bedroom through the open window. Sitting at the desk, pen in hand, she sucked in a deep breath.

Dear daddy,

We're in London now. Steve managed to save the men of the 107th, I'm sure you've seen the posters all around. He's America's beacon of hope.

I hope Eliza and ma are good. I hope you're good.

I'm writing to let you know that Steve and I got married today. It was fast, we just got engaged last week, but nothing has ever felt more right. Writing this letter, the ring sparkling in the moonlight, it's perfect. I don't regret anything.

Steve has assembled his team, they called themselves the Howling Commandos and I couldn't be more proud. He promises that once they get all of HYDRA's bases, the war will be over and everything will hopefully go back to normal.

I got my happy end, daddy. I know it's not the end, it's just the beginning of a perfect life. A perfect life with my perfect husband, and hopefully my perfect family. I hope you're happy for me.

With all my love,

Y/N Rogers.

"What are you writing, Mrs. Rogers?" Steve queried, sat upright in bed.

Y/N smirked before climbing back into bed, ridding herself of the severely oversized blazer. "Nothing, Mr. Rogers."

The pair broke out into a fit of laughter as he pulled her close, hand trailing up and down her back, dangerously close to the soft skin of her backside.

2 years later, a year after the well grieved death of Bucky Barnes, Y/N had turned 20 and the couple had decided it was time to add to their family now that some light was finally at the end of the tunnel after a long 6 years of war.

Tangled in a mess of sheets, limbs intertwined, Y/N rested her head on her lover's heartbeat. "Do you think we made a baby?" She asked timidly.

"Maybe." She let out a faint giggle, eliciting a look of confusion from the super soldier. "What is it?"

"Do you think the baby will be super duper strong? A mini Steve who can lift an entire car up as a little boy?"

Steve chuckled, snuggling her closer. "Or a little girl, just as strong as you. Either way, they'd be beautiful."

She hummed, a hand on his cheek. "With my eyes and your beautiful blond hair, I'd think so."

It was that same day Y/N would find herself supervising one of Steve's missions from base. "Come in, this is Captain Rogers. Do you read me?"

She instantly rushed over to the microphone. "Steve? Is that you? Are you okay?"

"Y/N! Schmidt's dead!"

"What about the plane?"

"That's a little bit tougher to explain."

She huffed. "Give me your coordinates, I'll find you a safe landing site."

"There's not going to be a safe landing. But I can try and force it down."

"I'll get Howard on, he'll know what to do."

"There's not enough time. This thing's moving too fast and it's heading for New York. I got to put her in the water."

Y/N's stomach dropped, her heart threatening to leap out of her chest as she anxiously twisted her wedding and engagement rings. "Please don't do this. We have time, we can work this out." She begged, eyes brimming with tears.

"Right now I'm in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer a lot of people are going to die, sweetheart. This is my choice, Y/N." She didn't say anything, her head dropping onto the palm of her hands. "Y/N, honey?"

"I'm here."

"We might have to reschedule that doctor's appointment."

Taking in a shaky breath, she wiped the tears of her cheeks with haste, as if Steve could see her. "Alright. I'll book it for Monday."

"You got it."

"10am, on the dot. We can't be late, it's our baby. If there is one in there."

"I want you to know, I love you, Y/N. No matter what. You'll always be my best girl. My only girl."

"I love you too, Steve."

"I was thinking about names. I want to name it after your dad if it's a boy."

She choked a sob, nodding. "Yeah, yeah. I don't mind."

"And if it's a girl-"

"Steve?" Nothing. Not a single breath. She collapsed onto the desk in a mess of tears and loud cries, not caring for Colonel Phillips who stood behind her, a look of pity set on her back.

2011 was a long way away from 1945, Steve thought.

It'd taken him too long to come to terms with the fact that his wife was most likely dead, but when Nick Fury had presented him a box of her belongings, he couldn't help but shed a tear as he sat on the floor of his apartment going through it.

He'd found the necklace he gifted her on their first wedding anniversary, an accessory he now wore himself under his clothing, slipping her wedding and engagement ring onto the chain before putting it on. He grasped it close to his heart, a melancholy sigh leaving his lips.

His eyes narrowed when he came across an unfamiliar book, flipping it open.

Dear Steve,

The war is finally over as of 2 days ago, Japan formally surrendered. I wish you were able to celebrate the victory you worked so hard for.

You missed our doctor's appointment today. You'll be sleeping on the couch tonight after I reminded you to be there at 10am, no later.

I'm pregnant, Steve. What we've been waiting so long for has finally happened and you're not here to see it. I've decided to work with Howard once the baby is here, he'll give me flexible hours and good pay. Enough to keep us going and Peggy's good company.

I'm alone now, now Bucky to help me out, no you. I think I'll keep the house. It would be nice for the baby to grow up in the house we bought together.

I don't know why I've started writing in this stupid thing.

With all my love,

Y/N.

The super soldier let out a strained sob at the confirmation. She was pregnant, and he wasn't there.

He'd missed the entirety of his child's life, and the rest of hers.

The next few pages were short blurbs of her outings with Peggy and Howard, grocery lists and so on.

Dear Steve,

The baby is getting big, I've got a little bump now. Only 24 weeks to go.

Everyone is really excited, maybe more than I am. It's all over the papers "Wife of Captain America pregnant with America's Next Hope."

In truth, I don't want our child to be America's Next Hope.

I just want them to be happy and healthy, and to stay with me forever.

Howard's started building the crib, I told him not to make it too technical. He's putting all kinds of soothers and all everywhere, but it's still nice of him to do so. Peggy took me to London for Christmas and New Year's, we had a nice time and she bought me this beautiful dress. You would've loved it.

I miss you, Steve.

Merry Christmas and a happy new year, my love.

Forever yours,

Y/N.

Dear Steve,

It's getting warmer, and April has never felt hotter. Howard and Peggy keep saying it's just me and my big belly. Well, what else would I expect at 7 months pregnant?

Sometimes I feel you around. I'll feel you sitting at the kitchen counter, reading the paper. Or your hand on my belly in the morning. You're all over the house and somehow it's breaking and mending my heart at the same time.

These daily entries are getting a bit boring now, aren't they?

I hope you read these in a different lifetime, maybe.

Your only girl,

Y/N.

Dear Steve,

Josephine Sarah Stephanie Rogers was born on the 6th of June, 1946.

I named her after your dad, Joe.

I know we never talked about girl names, but I looked at her and I couldn't resist. I just know our little girl is going to change the world, just like your father tried to.

She's a carbon copy of you. Your gorgeous blue eyes, bright blonde hair. She's absolutely perfect, Steve.

And I just know that if you'd met her, she'd have you wrapped around her finger.

But she's all ours, baby. Our little angel, and I couldn't thank you enough for giving me such a stunning gift. Thank you for making me a mother, Steve, it's the best thing I could've ever received from you.

We love you to the moon and back,

Y/N and Josephine.

Steve held his hand to his mouth. He was a father, a father to what would now be a 65 year old woman. A woman who'd already lived most her life, achieved a majority of her milestones, all without him.

Dear Steve,

Happy birthday, my love.

Josephine and I made a cake for you. Today you would have turned 28 years old.

Colonel Phillips visited me today. It was brief, really. He played with Josephine and wished us well.

As I write this ridiculous entry, the wedding rings on my finger feel so heavy, unlike ever before. My heart constantly aches for you, but I will wait. I will wait until it is my time, and I hope you'll be waiting for me at the gates of heaven.

Your ever most loving wife,

Y/N.

Dear Steve,

It's been one year since you've been gone.

I miss you, more than anything in the world.

I'll see you soon, but not too soon.

Dear Steve,

Josephine turned 1 today.

Howard and Peggy threw a party, and you know how Howard's parties are. This one was child friendly, though. He brought a circus and entertained Josephine and all of her little friends from daycare.

Daddy dropped by. He loves Josephine, and he spent most of the day telling her all about you.

She said her first word today. Guess what it was!

Dada. She said your name, Steve. And she'll never forget it.

Wait for me,

Y/N.

Steve only brushed his tears away, flipping through every entry over the next few years.

Dear Steve,

Jo turned 16 today.

It's so odd to think that just 16 years ago I was only 20, trying my best to bring her into the world. We made such a beautiful young woman, Steve, and she's exactly like you. She has a hard shell but she's a big softie on the inside.

I've never been so grateful for a human being. She takes care of me, always telling me the best things to use and the best things to buy instead of it being the other way around. She's my protector, my guardian angel. In that way, she took your place.

Peggy helped me throw a big birthday party for her, she deserves it. She's worked so hard in and out of school. All of her friends came, they danced and ate. We got a massive cake to go with it.

Everyday she hugs your picture and thanks you, and today was no different.

I hope you're looking down on us with a smile, sweetheart.

Y/N.

Dear Steve,

Jo turned 18 a few days ago. I couldn't write because I took her to Paris for her birthday.

I'd been planning the trip for a long time, saving up as much as I could. She loved it! She also told me she got into Juilliard, which is a performing arts school in New York. It's far, farther away than she's ever been from me, but it's only an hour drive. She promises to come home every weekend.

I don't have to worry about paying for it anymore after Howard, Phillips, Peggy and I founded SHIELD. It's protection for the world, saving lives, just like you did.

I have to go, Jo's asking me to help her pack.

I love you,

Y/N.

He read through the brief entries of Y/N's time at SHIELD, before stopping at a picture. Juilliard, class of 1969.

She was right. Jo had inherited all of Steve's looks, from the blonde hair and blue eyes to the kind smile she graced the camera with.

Steve finally got to the end of the journal. Recovering after reading through her daughter's longtime boyfriend turned husband, the births of their grandchildren, the death of Howard Stark and more.

Dear Steve,

I like to think I lived a good 76 years of life. I lived to see the year 2001.

I got an education, got myself a job despite spending my father's money because I was young and stupid. I met you, the skinny boy who told me to follow my dreams of being a scientist. I fell in love with you, and the new you that emerged after the serum.

My love for you is eternal, which has been proven in the 55 years I've spent without you.

I lived to see my only child succeed, I lived to walk her down the aisle. I lived to see my beautiful grandchildren.

I've lived more than enough, and I think it's finally time to come home to you, honey.

I'll see you soon.

Y/N.

Steve brought his left hand to his lips, pressing a small kiss to the wedding band that rested on his finger.

"Don't do anything stupid until I get back." Steve smirked, carrying the briefcase containing the six infinity stones.

Bucky gave him a sad smile. "How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you." They shared a hug. "I'm gonna miss you, buddy. Tell her I said hi."

"Yeah, Buck. It's gonna be alright."

"How long is this going to take?" Sam questioned as the super soldier stepped onto the heavy machinery.

"For him, as long is he needs. For us, 5 seconds. Ready Cap?"

"I'll be back."

Y/N paced around, lip caught between her teeth. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" She stopped abruptly, turning to face the new voice.

Sighing a breath of relief, she leaped into his arms. "Steve! You're back."

"Yeah, honey. I'm back."

#Steve rogers x reader #Steve rogers imagine #Steve rogers #avengers #Steve rogers x y/n #Steve rogers x you #captain america #Captain America x reader #Captain America x y/n #Captain America x you #Steve rogers fanfic #Steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfic #Captain America fanfiction #marvel

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siriuslyobsessedwith · 4 years

Text

Pregnant!Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy

Hermione finds out that she is pregnant exactly 19 months after she started dating Draco. To the day: December 23rd.

On that fateful day 19 months before, all the longing looks and flirtatious banter had come to a head, and the night after one of their heated rendezvous, Draco strode obnoxiously into her office, slammed the door and asked a question.

“Granger, are you playing me for a fool?”

He had tossed himself elegantly onto a small leather duvet in the corner of her office, and his brow was quirked imperiously as his silver eyes bore into her.

She was busy, of course. She was on a fast track to become minister, and as head of the DMLE’s legal division, she was responsible for preparing legal defense and prosecution for aurors. And she was in the middle of a highly contentious case at the moment involving an at-large Death Eater and stolen dragon’s eggs.

Knowing full well it would annoy him, she responded without even looking up for the document she was editing: “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Malfoy. Care to elaborate?” She struggled to hide the grin that wanted to grace her lips.

Of course he played along. “Well, Granger, I’m speaking with regards to the meeting we had last night. I personally believed I performed admirably, as did you, and I feel we...work quite well together, no? Exceptionally well. And...”

His hand scratched the back of his neck. Hermione knew the tic well enough, and suddenly her interest was piqued. What did he have to be nervous about? They were quite...comfortable around each other, to say the least.

“I’m just going to say it: I-I’d like to take you on a real date, Granger. You know, you dress up and I tell you you’re gorgeous and woo you over Italian wine. I’m sure Weasley used other less sophisticated methods but—“

“I’m free tonight,” she interrupted, eyes sparkling with happiness. She kept her lips pursed to hide her childish excitement. Finally!, “Pick me up at eight?”

His lips open slightly in astonishment (shock?), he simply nodded and skirted out of her office. That was a wonderful night, leading into the wonderful weeks and months to come.

But now, 19 months later, Hermione is sitting in her office absolutely terrified. She’s cast the pregnancy charm over and over and over, and each time it’s come back positive. She needs to schedule an appointment with a Healer, find out how many weeks pregnant she is, she needs to start thinking about maternity leave, she needs to worry about the extra expense of a child.

And, of course, she needs to figure out how to tell Draco. But she doesn’t want to think about that. She cant think about that right now. The what-ifs racing through her mind are just too much for her to handle at the moment.

Now, because she’s Hermione Granger, she’s able to get into a Healer the same day. She swears the man to confidentiality, because the only thing worse than telling Draco is him finding out from someone else. She finds out she is 6 weeks pregnant (which explains the last 4 weeks of feeling like she had a terrible flu—how had she been so blind?), and then the Healer tells her, gently, cautiously, “It’s twins, Ms. Granger.”

Her heart stops; her mind swirls. Twins. Twins?! What is she supposed to do with twins? The thought of one baby is immobilizing, but two? And what if Draco doesn’t want them? What is he’s angry and he abandons her? Some part of her knows that this man who she’s spent that past-almost-year with would never do these things, but she’s terrified.

She knows she has another two weeks before she starts showing too obviously, so she walks silently out of the Healer’s office and starts formulating a plan. She can’t make it obvious to Draco that something’s off. But she needs to tell someone, and though she loves her friends, she knows not a single one of them can keep their mouths shut.

Her hand drifts to her lower stomach, and for a second she loses herself in the reality that she has two whole HUMAN BEINGS growing inside of her. She feels hope and fear and confusion rising in her throat, stinging her eyes, and she has to rush back to her office before she bursts into tears on the ground.

Unfortunately, unbeknownst to the crying witch, Draco Malfoy is slumped elegantly on that same leather couch in the corner.

Draco nearly has a heart attack. Not because she burst in so abruptly, but because she’s never cried like this before. At least not in front of him. He starts imagining what could have happened, what someone could have done to her, what he is going to have to do to said person—

She raises her head from her arms, revealing swollen eyes and tear-splotched cheeks, sees him, and promptly starts sobbing again.

“Merlin, Draco,” she pushes out between bursts of laughing-tears, “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you say something? You’ve really caught me at the worst possible moment, and—“

“What happened, Granger?,” he asks, voice low and gentle, “Tell me what happened.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” she lies, eyes darting anywhere but his face. She rubs the tears off her face with the back of her hand and releases a breathy laugh. “Just a rough day, a bad argument, nothing major. I’m just being dramatic. Its--its nothing.”

His eyes darken. She swallows. It’s obvious he knows she’s lying. But what is she going to do? She thought she had two weeks to plan, to decide, to run away and start a new life in Nova Scotia (ok, she only considered it for a moment).

“Alright, sit back down,” she says, voice small and a little raw from all the crying, “I-um-I have something I have to tell you. And, I-uh-I just want-uh-you to stay calm while I explain, and then you can say whatever you like, alright? Ok, here we go. Um, so, you know how I’ve been feeling bad the past couple of weeks?” She pauses, swallowing again, asking herself if she is really going to do this right now, in this way.

He nods, silently. He stares at her with such intensity she thinks she might fracture into a million pieces.

“Well, turns out I’m not sick,” she mumbles, losing confidence, “I’m-um, well, I’m pregnant. There it is. I’m pregnant.”

She expects his heart to stop. She expects to watch him freeze, his eyes widen, his leg stop bouncing. He does none of these things. He just curses and starts grinning.

“Well, Granger, you certainly know how to upstage a man. I came in here to ask you to marry me, you know? Exactly 19 months to the day since our first date. I had a whole romantic speech planned, I’ve got the ring right here, in fact, and our whole band of sorry friends are just down the hall waiting for my signal to come congratulate us on our upcoming nuptials. But I should have know, the Hermione Granger would certainly find a way to overshadow my grand proposal.”

His voice grows in volume and love and excitement and joy as he continues and grins at her knowing he scared her and knowing he just dropped a bomb, and she starts blubbering again, laughing at the two of them, at his botched proposal and her equally-botched pregnancy reveal.

“Yes,” she squeaks, getting up from her chair and locking eyes with him. “I mean, my answer is yes, of course. But, what do you think about, I mean...,” she looks down and her hands and eyes rest on her stomach.

And just like 19 months ago, he asks, “Do you take me for a fool, Granger? The Malfoys are an ancient pureblood family obsessed with lineage. I saw them--yes, I know its twins--appear on my family tree two whole months ago. And I’m not a bloody idiot, I noticed you throwing up in the mornings and not eating very much. You’re quite dense about some things, you know. I’ve been in agony waiting for you to realize.”

And she’s giggling uncontrollably now, almost hysterical, and she rushes over, throwing her arms around him and sobbing into his shoulder. His hands slip down to the small of her waist, tugging her to him, and he whispers in her ear, “We’re having twins, Hermione. Twins.”

And she whispers back, “Twins and marriage, Draco. We never do anything slowly, do we?” Happy tears glisten in her eyes as the heartbroken and frightened tears of earlier dry on her cheeks.

And they pull apart and look at each other and know that, against all odds, they’ve found and built something so special. He pulls out the ring and she gasps and says yes over and over and over and he touches her stomach and she smiles and they walk out of the office together to find Harry, Ginny, Ron, Blaise, and Pansy looking at them incredulously.

“Well?,” Pansy demands, pursing her lips, “I expected this to take fifteen minutes max, but the two of you have been in there for at least double that? Botch the proposal, Draco?”

Draco smirks playfully at her. “No, Pans, it actually went perfectly,” he lies smoothly as he squeezes Hermione’s small hand. “And it’s extra good that I proposed today, because otherwise our twins would have been the first bastard Malfoy descendants, and that would have been a tad embarrassing.”

Draco thrives on the shock of his friends, and he feels pride building up inside of him, coursing through his veins as he imagines a future with his powerful, amazing wife and their undoubtedly-perfect children. He never imagined that after all the darkness and sacrifice and pain of his childhood that he could make such dreams a reality.

And Hermione? She just fakes a gasp at Draco’s brash statement, pretending that she didn’t script his exact words just so she would get to see the shocked looks on her friend’s faces.

Because honestly, taking things slow, being cautious, hesitating? That has never been their style.

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royallyprincesslilly · 3 years

Text

Title: Crown For Two {1}

Henry Cavill AU x OFC Xari Thornton AU

Warning: Plot, Mild Cursing, Cheesy Christmas Themes,

Words: 6.1k

Summary: Xari Thornton is a travel photographer with a blog and social media that garners some heavy-duty traffic. People tune in to see where she is and what she’s doing there, all in hopes of either living vicariously through her or to plan their next vacation.

Her slogan; “Traveling the path to the most off-beaten places, so you don’t have to.”

Her next stop on her four destination travel itinerary of “Places You May Never Have Heard Of” is Sandvell, a small European country. When her plane makes an impromptu stop due to bad weather, she has no idea where she is. It feels like she’s stepped inside of a snow globe and back in time in a modern way. It leaves her fascinated.

This bad weather forces her to stay at an Inn, The Beaux, for the night. Rather than letting the hours tick by in her room, she explores and meets the friendly locals. While taking photographs, one local in particular captures her lens with eyes as blue as the ocean and a jaw that was chiseled from stone. They strike up conversation during their time drinking at one of the local bars, Ickles. Once they separate, she gets herself into a harrowing situation.

As soon as she awakens, she realizes she’s not in some fever dream, but a palace and the owner of the palace is none other than the local she met before with the piercing blue eyes, His Royal Highness Henry Wellington Leopold Danglishton, First of his name, Crown Prince of Brexendor.

Note: All right, all right people, the ride begins. I really, really hope you enjoy this. As a note, it’s going to be fast-paced a bit, and I am gonna overload you with pictures because why the hell not, it’s a Christmas Fic. 😁 Feel free to come by and tell me what you guys think.

As always, thank you all for reading, I appreciate each and every one of you.

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!! ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

***Picture Heavy***

Chapter One

“You were supposed to be on your way home.”

You rolled your eyes as you scoffed. You’d mentioned nights ago that you thought you should just go home, but then you went to your next destination. It was a moment of weakness or it could have been loneliness. Your schedule took a lot out of you. No one saw it because it was all behind the scenes. All anyone ever saw were the incredible places you went to, the fun things you experienced, and the culture you soaked up. What they grasped was whatever you posted in your pictures.

“You know I can’t. I started this series, and it’s gotten the eye of a lot of sponsors, and one of them is even talking about some really big ideas at the end of it if it goes really well. that could be incredible for my brand,” you explained.

Anika sighed loudly. You knew she was annoyed with you right now, especially it being December.

“I know you’re disappointed. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Whatever.”

“Attention, ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. It looks like we’re headed right into a storm. We’ll be experiencing a little turbulence as we veer off course a little bit as we try to evade this thing. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts.”

You sighed while buckling your seatbelt, preparing for what was coming.

“What’s happening?”

“Going through some turbulence. It should be fine,” you assured your sister.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to hang up.”

You nodded to the flight attendant and promptly ended the call promising your sister that you’d call her back when you landed in Sandvell. As soon as you hung up, the turbulence began. It started out with slight bumps, that you could sip your drink through. Then graduated to bigger bumps that had you gripping the elbow rests. When the entire plane started to shake, your heart leaped into your throat. One minute passed, then two, and after five minutes or so, the speaker came back on.

“Ladies and gentleman, your captain again. We’re going to be landing shortly. This storm is not one to be messed with. I apologize for the inconvenience, folks, but on this airline, we choose safety above all else.”

You weren’t going to argue with him. You definitely didn’t want to risk your life over getting to your next destination. What was a one or two day delay? Once the pilot got to a lower altitude, the majority of the turbulence subsided. It was another ten minutes before the plane landed, but when it did, all you could see from the window was white overcast with darkness.

When you had your belongings gathered and began walking off the plane along with the other fifty or so passengers, you tried to find cell service, but you had zero bars.

“Excuse me, where are we?”

“Uh—I’m actually not sure, ma’am. Patricia, where are we?”

The two flight attendants looked puzzled. The second asked a third, and that third asked another. None of them seemed to know. That was not a good sign, you thought. Once you’d walked down the long corridor that served as the connection between the airport and the plane, you found yourself in one of the classiest airports you’d ever been in, and you’d been inside quite a few as a travel blogger. As far as the eye could see, it was class, with the exception of the floor.

You looked around you and marveled at the detail in the design that was around you. Where most airports were mainly logically designed without lavishness. This one looked like lavishness was the first priority. The floors looked to be made from the finest paonazzetto marble. You remembered the name because of the substantial time you’d spent in Italy trying to capture architecture through your camera lens. Reaching for your camera around your neck, you began snapping a few frames of the floor. Getting lost in picture taking, you found yourself at one of the many glass windows snapping pictures of the airplanes on the tarmac.

Hearing the commotion of raised voices behind you, you looked back and saw the passengers of the plane you’d just disembarked from gathered in a huddle. You walked back toward them in time to catch a question from a concerned passenger.

“How long are we delayed? When will we get back in the air? I have to get to Sandvell.”

A man wearing a mixture of royal blue and white colors cleared his throat then spoke. “I apologize, ladies and gentlemen, for the delay. There is a storm heading right for us on the path to Sandvell. Continuing through it would be lunacy. Our only viable option is to wait it out.”

No one seemed to like that answer. All the questions flew out at once. All their voices overlapped, and you could tell that the gentleman was overwhelmed by not only the volume of questions but also their voices.

“According to our team here, we’re expecting possibly a twenty-four to thirty-six-hour delay.”

Everyone groaned in unison, everyone but you. You’d traveled enough to always expect the unexpected. Things like this didn’t bother you so much now, three years into your career. The only thing that bothered you now was that you’d have to rearrange your hotel plans as well as finding somewhere to sleep tonight.

“You said here,” you began with all eyes trained to you. “Where exactly is here?”

The gentleman cleared his throat again. “Brexendor.”

The crowd murmured as they looked at each other. Clearly, no one had ever heard of Brexendor. Some even pulled out their travel map to scour it for the country.

“So what are we supposed to do now? Where do we stay?”

“We are in the process of arranging accommodations at one of the inns within the capital. If you all would work with us so we have your names to get your luggage to you in a timely fashion so you can be shuttled over to the Inn, that would be appreciated.”

Everyone filed into a line in front of one of the four airport staff, hoping to hurry matters along while you searched your phone for any information on where you were. When you typed in Brexendor into the search engine, the first thing that popped up was a map of the country. Apparently, it was next door to Sandvell. They were considered sister countries.

“Population three million, run as a monarchy, considered one of the wealthiest countries in the world. Average life expectancy one hundred and ten years. Well, damn.”

Someone clearing their throat brought your attention up in front of you. You were next in line.

“Sorry.”

The woman with brown eyes and blonde hair smiled warmly. “It’s all right, Ms--.”

“Uh, Thornton, Xari Thornton.” You handed her your passport and boarding pass and waited as she scrolled through her tablet.

“Ah yes, Ms. Thornton. Here is your paperwork. On it, you will find where you can retrieve your luggage and the shuttle number that will be taking you to the Inn. Once at the Inn, just provide your name, and you will find everything has been taken care of. On behalf of Brexendor Aviation, we humbly apologize for this snafu.”

Her customer service training was on point, you thought. Her smile was warm, as if she really meant the words she’d just said. Finding it refreshing, you took the paperwork and proceeded to where she was motioning. Everyone you passed as you walked the fancy halls had a warm smile plastered to their face and even warmer words of welcome. You felt as if you’d stepped through into some alternate universe. You made a voice note about everything you encountered. You wanted to make sure you captured your authentic feelings and reactions in real-time. It made writing about your experience on the blog page easier. You’d even found that readers and supporters liked the play by play with your added thoughts. They commented it added personality.

Once you’d made it to the baggage claim area, your jaw dropped at the change in décor. There were Christmas trees that sparsely decorated the space, and they were all lit with the same blue, silver, and white theme. It contrasted with the latte color of the leather seats and the cream offset tables. The design gave the space an elegant but also comfortable vibe. When you slipped into one of the chairs, you released an audible moan. It was like sitting on a cloud.

After gathering your luggage, you followed instructions through a hall lined with Christmas trees, stopping every so often to take a few pictures before you made it to the front of the airport. As you stepped outside, your eyebrows shot up seeing the fresh snow cascading from the sky. The bite in the air had you bundling your jacket tighter, but it did not stop you from snapping a few pictures. One turned to ten and ten to fifteen until another person clearing their throat brought you back to reality and to the waiting bus ahead of you.

You took a break from pictures and called the hotel in Sandvell, hoping to alter the dates of your stay. What you expected to be a hassle and a long drawn out process ending in them saying they were booked and nothing could be done, turned out to be quick, easy, and painless. The Luxembourg Hotel assured you that your room would still be available and there would be no charge for the altered dates. You made another note on your phone, a point you had to stress when you wrote your piece.

You continued snapping pictures from the window of the bus with an easy mind. Everything you passed seemed like it didn’t belong. It all looked so old fashioned but so modern all at the same time. The buildings looked to have been standing since the beginning of time in the materials they’d been built in, but the displays were from the twenty-first century. It was the most exciting contradiction. The only word you could think to describe it was—quaint.

When the bus drove over a bridge, you got a semi-bird’s eye view of the town across the water, and your jaw nearly dropped.

“Brexendor? What the hell?”

The entire drive had you widening your eyes like a child seeing an insane amount of presents on Christmas morning. Buildings were decked out in Christmas lights, and every door had a wreath with blue and silver Christmas ornaments. Almost every few feet, the sidewalks were decorated with poinsettia trees that were half the average human’s height, and the way the freshly fallen snow-dusted their tops only made it even more perfect.

By the time the bus stopped, you’d taken so many pictures, and part of you was dreading having to go through them to choose the ones that would make the cut. You knew it was going to be a next to impossible decision. As you stepped off the bus, you felt like you’d walked right into a snow globe.

“Holy shit!”

You spun, taking in a full three-sixty view of your surroundings. all the glistening lights and the falling snow only made it feel even more magical. You didn’t know where the hell Brexendor was or why the hell they rolled like this, but you were excited to see more. When you stopped spinning, you realized several other people were snapping pictures and looking just as marveled as you were. After gathering your luggage, you followed instructions and walked across the street to the building that a friendly looking man with slightly greying hair was standing before beckoning you inside.

For the second time that night, you felt as if you’d stepped into a Christmas movie set. The interior was set so cozy. It felt like a Christmas cottage, and you loved it. Instinct had you reaching for your camera and taking a few shots of the Christmas tree in the corner by the fireplace and the plaid decorations on the leather couch. Even the pictures on the walls got a snap.

“Miss?”

Looking back to the owner, you smiled and approached the desk.

“Hi, I’m so sorry. This place is so gorgeous.”

“Thank you. I wish I could take the credit, but it is all my wife.”

Just then, a beautiful brunette came out wearing a bright red sweater and one of those spoof reindeer antler headbands that bounced with every move.

“Hi, there darling. Welcome to The Beaux. I’m Anita, and this is my husband, Borik. I heard all about your ordeal. I’m so sorry.”

You shrugged but kept your smile plastered on your face.

“It’s all right. Can’t control the weather, right?”

Anita smiled and nodded. “Definitely not in Brexendor.”

“I have never heard of this place before, and I am lost how. Everything is gorgeous and so quaint. How have you stayed under the radar?”

Anita and Borik looked at each other with an all-knowing look that you wanted in on.

“Guess it’s just happened,” Anita cheerfully said.

You knew they knew something. Staying this under the radar, including from America, didn’t just happen. This took work. You wondered who in charge in their right mind would make a stupid decision like that.

“Okay, what’s your name, darling?”

“Uh, Xari Thornton.”

“Ah-ha, I told you, Borik. Once we were contacted with a list of names that would be checking in, and I saw your name, I told him I just know she’s gorgeous and look. You are a vision.”

You couldn’t help but smile widely while trying to keep your head under proper proportions.

“Thank you.”

“You must have quite the many suitors where you’re from,” Anita continued.

You snorted and shook your head. The reality was you were as single as the number one with no prospects.

“No suitors here.”

Both Borik and Anita looked shocked, as if you’d said the most appalling thing.

“That can’t be true. Borik. She’s single and at twenty-eight. Even our Kennedy was at least engaged by the time she turned twenty-seven. Here that is unheard of. A woman is usually married by twenty-four, especially if she’s a looker.”

You pinched your lips, trying to keep your laughter in. this was not the first time you’d been called an old maid. Hell, your mother said it often, especially since you flat out turned down Maurice’s proposal three months ago. She was livid.

Anita must have sensed the awkwardness of the moment because she cleared her throat and brought all her attention back to the reservation.

“Well, your room is prepared. I took the liberty of giving you one of our prettiest rooms. Would you like Borik to carry your bags up?”

“Uh—no, I’m sure I can manage,” you began.

Borik stood, shook his head, and came around to you.

“I won’t hear a thing about it. I’ll happily carry your luggage up. Follow me.”

“That’s my Borik, ever the gentleman,” Anita filled in with an enamored smile before Borik walked off, leaving her to check in a few of the other passengers from the plane.

You listened to Borik tell the story of the Inn and how it got its name. You kept one ear on his story while you took in every detail around you. The wood looked so rustic, and you guessed that was what gave the place such a warm and welcoming feeling. The higher you climbed, the more you saw, and the more you saw, the more you liked. You followed Borik down a hall, noticing that all the doors you passed had mini wreaths decked out in the same blue and silver ornaments like at the airport and throughout the streets.

“Ah-ha, here we are,” Borik said before he put the key into the lock and pushed the door open. Once he did, the scent of cinnamon and pine hit you in the face. It was like the hand of Christmas came out and smacked you.

“My wife loves the smell,” Borik explained as you stepped inside. You smiled and thanked him for his help.

“If you get hungry, you have a few options. There are plenty of places nearby you can eat some authentic Brexendorian food, but also my wife cooks every night, and dinner usually is at eight o’clock, but tonight Anette has agreed to keep some heated for anyone who would like some. It’s stew, rabbit.”

“Oh, thumper. Wonderful.”

Borik laughed loudly with that one. “I know that one, Bambi, the children’s cartoon. Good one Ms. Thornton.”

You smiled. “You can call me Xari, Borik.”

“Well, have a good night,” he said before he walked out.

Finally alone, the first thing you did was text your sister to let her know not to worry and give her an update on what was happening. After you let Anika know what was happening, it didn’t take long for your phone to ring. The next ten or so minutes were spent talking to Anika and telling her how amazing the things you’d seen so far were. You could not shut up about the decorations, the way the snow looked to have been groomed to lay on things perfectly. It was that damn picturesque. Since you couldn’t stop talking about it, Anika was the one to suggest you go out and enjoy it before you got back on the plane. It was a suggestion you fully intended on listening to.

Fifteen minutes later, you were back downstairs bundled with your camera and your purse, ready to explore. When you told Anita your intention, she gave you a map of the city and highlighted places to look at but cautioned you to hurry because stores would be closing soon, and nights during Brexendor winters could be brutal. You promised you’d be quick and careful, then stepped out, ready to explore like Dora.

Your first stop was a block down, a children’s toy store. It was decked out with all the latest toys along with some traditional things that Santa would have brought specially made from his workshop. While you were snapping pictures outside the window, a kid ran up to the window and pressed his nose to it. His eyes were wide, and his mouth matched their size. You asked the adult with him if you could take a picture. When they approved, you got one or two from a few different angles before they walked off.

As you walked through the city, enjoying the scenery, you took pictures of everything that caught your eye, ornaments, trees, people, stores, even pets. Christmas wasn’t your favorite holiday, but it was your second favorite, and being here really as inching it higher on the list.

When you felt a strong wind hit you, it stopped you in your tracks. It was strong enough to have you stagger backward a little, allowing a chill to sweep through you. You looked around and saw a few feet away was some sort of bar, and behind it was swirling snow that looked like a tornado. You hurried toward the building, being careful not to slip on any ice that may be hiding underneath the snow. Once to the door, you walked inside, and the sound of Christmas carols filled your ears.

“Jesus.”

If the scent of the Inn felt like Christmas slapped you in the face, the look and sound of this place was the one two-hitter that settled that you were in a whole nother world here. You looked around and found a coat rack along the left wall. After placing your jacket and scarf on the hook, you walked to the bar and slid onto a stool. As you waited for the bartender to come over, you looked around. Here it didn’t smell like cinnamon, but the pine was present, along with the smell of alcohol and licorice.

There were several small dark wooden tables around the bar with chairs and even booths that decorated the walls. The floors matched the tables, and those matched the walls. This place looked like somewhere you’d find in the middle of nowhere. The window to the back of the establishment showed the dark woods with tall snow-covered trees and that howling snow tornado.

When you turned back to the back, the huge elk head above the wall lined with alcohol bottles had you gasping.

“Jeez,” you said as you snapped two of three pictures of the creepy looking thing.

“That is Hogan’s prized possession.”

You looked beside you where the voice came from to see a very attractive man there. When you’d sat down, you didn’t notice anyone beside you, so to see his piercing blue eyes boring holes into you. Your eyes traveled lower to his awkwardly shaped nose. It looked like it had been broken once or twice and never quite went back to normal. You didn’t mind it, though. Who liked a perfect face, especially when looking at him, seemed like that was about the only thing that was not absolutely perfect. His jaw was carved to precision like he was specially crafted and not born. When your eyes fell to his lips, you purposely forced yourself to look away.

“Is—is that right?”

“Yes. I bet you cannot guess why,” the stranger said in a crisp European accent that was very close to British. You weren’t one hundred percent sure if it was or not, he just sounded proper as hell, and it was actually a bit of a turn on.

You shrugged while looking at the bottles that lined the back of the bar. “Enlighten me.”

Just then, a large man with blond hair in a man bun walked over. He had to have been over six feet tall, and if this were America, he’d definitely be a shopper at the store Big & Tall. The man looked to the one seated beside you, ready to speak but suddenly closed his mouth.

“Hogan, Ms--,” the stranger began waiting for you to fill in your name.

He thought he was so smooth; you thought as you smiled to yourself.

“Xari.”

His eyebrow shot up, and he smiled sweetly. “Wow, what a beautiful name.”

You smiled, and as you felt it widening, you bit onto your bottom lip to stop it. “Thanks.”

“Ms. Xari would like to know why Shandoe is your most prized possession.”

“Shandoe?”

Hogan looked behind him at the Elk’s head then smiled. “It’s been in my family for generations. It was the first thing my great-great-great-great-great grandfather ever killed for himself to feed his family. They ate everything but the head and decided to keep it as a reminder of where we came from.”

You were expecting some weird manly story but what you got was a wholesome and heartwarming tale. You smiled, raised your camera, and snapped Hogan, and as he stared at the Elk’s head with such a loving look on his face that was such a contradiction for his large frame.

“Are you a reporter?”

“No, no. Not at all. I’m a travel influencer and blogger. I go around and soak up what the world has to offer while taking pictures and writing about it on my blog for others to read about.”

The man beside you nodded, then raised his glass to his head.

“What can I get you?”

“Uh—what is he drinking?”

“The Mistletoe Bomb.”

You snorted, unable to contain yourself any longer. “What in the world is that?”

“You laugh now, but it is a blend he makes special for me. It is not for the faint of heart,” the man beside you informed.

“Oh no, well looks like I’ll be having one of those.”

Hogan looked to him, then back to you. “It is all right, Hogan. Give the lady what she wants. I am assuming fell strength is also what you require?”

“Yes, full strength. I want all the mistletoe and all the bomb.”

Hogan went to work, making the drink while you continued looking around.

“Em, I’m Henry.”

You looked to him to find his hand outstretched to you, waiting for you to place yours in it. When you did, you repeated your name as you noted how soft his hands were. It felt like he’d never done a day’s work with them. Henry rose your hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. It was one small action, but that action had butterflies flitting in your belly and your cheeks heating as if a heater was aimed directly at your face.

“I am delighted to make your acquaintance,” Henry uttered while looking into your eyes.

“Same,” you whispered.

Henry released your hand and turned back to his drink at the same time Hogan placed a mug before you.

“One Mistletoe Bomb for the lady.”

You looked at the large mug then to Hogan, who waited expectantly. When your eyes drifted to Henry beside you, he too was watching and waiting. No matter how much you felt like this was a setup, you persisted, not wanting to back down. When you took your first full mouthful of the drink, your eyes immediately bugged. Your tongue was on fire in seconds, and it seemed the longer you held the liquid in your mouth, the worse the burn was. You gulped it down and instantly knew the mistake. Not only was your mouth on fire, but now your throat and chest as it burned a fiery path to your belly.

“Holy fucking shit!”

The two men boisterously laughed, the sounds booming off the wooden walls before filling the entire room. You looked around, noticing for the first time it was completely empty.

“What the hell is that?”

“Something that will put hair on your chest,” Hogan teased.

“No, shit.”

Henry seemed to like that response; he laughed again then finished his mug.

“How can you drink this?”

He shrugged, then turned his body to you. You gave him a well-paced once over, taking in his furry winter boots, dark pants, and dark sweater to match the pants. Underneath the sweater, though, you saw peeks of a crisp white shirt. He dressed like he had money, you thought.

“I have done it for half my life. I do not even feel the burn anymore. Do you know why he calls it Mistletoe Bomb now?”

You giggled and nodded, pushing the mug away. If you drank that, you’d need to be carried out of here. As Hogan appeared to take the mug away, Henry reached for it, insisting he’d finish it while Hogan placed a beer bottle in front of you.

“Would you like a straw?”

You looked at Hogan as if he were crazy. Who drank beer with a straw? You shook your head and raised the bottle to your lips to take a swig. This was more your speed, not pure petrol.

“So you are new in town,” Henry began.”

“Kind of. My plane had to detour because of the storm, so here I am in a place I’ve never heard of and cannot figure out why.”

“Is it strange to never have heard of every place in the world?”

You thought about it for a moment as you took another mouthful of beer then nodded.

“Yes. I’m from America,” you began.

“Ah, American. Let me guess. Everything has to be discovered, and if it is not, then either it doe not exist, or it is being hidden.”

You snapped your mouth shut. He’d guessed American thinking in one try. “Well, that’s not fun,” you added. Henry laughed and took his mouthful of fire.

“I am sorry. I know America well,” Henry informed.

“Oh, so you’ve been?”

“No. I do not need to. I have spent my entire life learning it.”

You looked back at him, confused by what he meant.

“Every country gives lessons on other countries of the word, especially powerhouse countries,” he explained.

“Well, your studies have paid off.”

“Do you really believe that everything has to be discovered?”

“No. where is the fun in that? I believe that the world has to have some mystery.”

“Then welcome to Brexendor,” Henry said with a smile.

“Brexendor. What’s it’s deal?”

You leaned closer, resting your elbow on the wood of the bar as you watched him.

“Deal? I am afraid I do not understand.”

“What I mean is, the people are nice. Everyone I have encountered, including at the airport, is nice. You know airport staff can be so mean, but not here. The people who own the Inn I am staying at are so sweet. Even strangers I bump into don’t;’ seem to mind. Not to mention, this place has the whole snow globe effect down. It’s incredible. What is the deal? Is the president some fantastic guy who pays everyone well and gives them ample vacation time for them to be so happy?”

Henry smiled, dipped his head lower, then rubbed the back of his neck.

“Would that be unusual?”

“Yes. Compared to what America has going on—highly unusual.”

“Well, the first thing to know about Brexendor is, a president does not run it,” Henry clarified.

“Ah right, it is a monarchy. So does that mean there is a king, and queen, lords, dukes,” you began, then gasped, remembering more. “Princesses?”

Henry smirked, gulped his drink, then nodded. “Yes.” He continued to take another swig from his mug.

His words slowly resonated. “What!? You’re serious?”

He nodded, then placed the glass onto the bar.

“Wow. How interesting. So this King and Queen are they the good kind?”

Henry’s smile turned somber before it disappeared altogether.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no. Yes, the King and Queen are the best kind,” he filled in before he took the last mouthful of his drink. “They would like you.”

You laughed loudly and shook your head. “Me? I doubt that. While all the mothers of my boyfriends have loved me, I don’t think the King and Queen would care for me.”

“Boyfriend, so uh—you’re involved,” Henry said as he avoided your eyes.

His words sounded like a statement rather than a question, so you remained quiet. After a few moments, he looked at you expectantly. You pinched your lips before you finished your beer.

“Are you involved?”

Henry took a deep breath looked forward to the bottles at the bar as a pained and confused expression washed over his features.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you replied.

“I am not—involved,” he answered.

“You said it like you weren’t sure.”

“It is complicated.”

“Well, I am a stranger in a bar—an empty bar. You’ll most likely never see me again, and I’ve been told I’m a great listener.”

Henry smiled then turned back to you, resting his elbow on the bar mimicking your stance.

“You have not answered my inquiry.”

“Inquiry?”

Henry smiled again, then bit his bottom lip. That is where your eyes went to. He had nice lips, you thought.

“On if you are involved,” he clarified.

“I am not involved with anyone. If you ask my mother, she will tell you I’m an old maid with no prospects.”

“I do not believe that. You are funny, intelligent, fun to be around, and quite beautiful. There is no way you have no admirers.”

You smiled and began toying with your necklace.

“I’m sure you say that to all the girls you meet in deserted bars during a snow storm.”

He snorted, and you felt his breath across your cheek. It was then you realized how close the two of you were to each other.

“To be honest, I have never found myself alone with a woman in a bar. You are my first.”

You bit your bottom lip feeling more flirtatious than usual as you gazed into his hypnotizing eyes. He was gorgeous and becoming even more so with every passing minute. The two of you ordered more drinks, then drifted off to one of the booths on the wall that was more hidden and even more comfortable. You talked about nearly everything and nothing at the same time. He spoke a lot about philosophy and astronomy and the sciences that motivated a lot of the earlier theories. It was fascinating just listening to him speak. There was something about his mouth and the properness of the words he used. Never once did he use slang or even a contraction. You’d never met anyone who didn’t use contractions. The longer you sat there, the more you felt like never getting up.

“There is something about you that is so comfortable and easy,” Henry began.

“You too.”

“I feel like I can talk to you about anything. I even want to.”

You smiled, “You too.”

Your eyes lingered, and you saw him sway forward, but then he stopped only to do it again and again. With your faces were centimeters from one another, it was then you noticed the slight speck of brown in his left eye. You felt Henry’s hand gently cup your cheek; then, his thumb slowly stroked your skin. The heat from his palm seared your cheek, and every stroke of his thumb send heat tendrils down your jaw to your lips, making them tingle and yearn for his.

This had never happened to you in your entire life. You’d known this man a few hours and were ready to possibly bring him back to the Inn with you. Henry didn’t move. It was like he was giving you the last few centimeters to make a decision, but you didn’t make it. A phone went off, but you both ignored it until the sound went off. You raised your hand to rest on top of his. Once your skin touched his, Henry lightly sighed out. Before either of you could make another move, a phone rang again. This time Henry groaned before he looked away just as you did.

You cleared your throat and slid from his body as he checked his phone.

“I have to go,” he announced.

Frozen, you sat there trying to understand if you’d read this entire thing wrong.

“I am sorry, something—urgent has come up.”

You snapped out of it, then nodded. “It’s fine. I should probably get back to the Inn anyway. They say a storm is brewing.”

Both of you stood from the booth while straightening your clothes.

“I really enjoyed tonight,” Henry added.

You smiled and nodded. “Me too. It was—nice.”

Your eyes lingered again, and your bodies drifted closer. It was you who looked away first and stepped back. You reached for your purse, but Henry stopped you.

“It has been taken care of. Let us call it a tourist special, right Hogan.”

“Right your--,” Hogan began before Henry looked at him, cutting him off.

Henry ushered you to the coat rack on the wall by the door then helped you into your jacket.

“Can I drive you back to the Inn?”

“No, please. I am more than capable of getting back,” you assured.”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded then turned to walk out, but Henry pulled you to him. “I want to see you again.”

“I don’t see how. I leave tomorrow as soon as the storm passes.”

Henry looked to be thinking before he sighed. “I guess it was not meant to be,” you whispered, a tinge of sadness filling you as reality set in.

“In another life,” Henry softly said.

He came closer then placed a slow, chaste kiss on your cheek before he released you. The two of you stared at each other for a few moments, and in those moments, anything felt possible. When you faced that anything could have been possible but not for you, you sighed. A few seconds later, you turned and walked out of the bar.

Once outside, the rough wind caught you off guard. You took a few moments to bundle yourself, then continued walking back to the Inn. The swirling snow in the air made it a little challenging to see, but you tried the best you could. Several times, the wind picked up and shoved you where it wanted, forcing you to grab on to something to hold until it passed.

Suddenly a big gust of wind blew you to the right and knocking you off your feet to roll for several feet. When the wind slowed, you rolled over onto your back to spit out the mouthful of snow that you’d managed to ingest. It took you several tries to stand, but when you did, you tried to see where you were and what direction you needed to walk in. That was when the wind picked up again, making you scream. When you turned, you saw two headlights coming right at you, then all you felt was pain before you were out cold.

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

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duuhrayliegh · 3 years

Text

watch your six - part five

pairing: eventual bucky x reader (they’re together in the next chapter i stg)

warnings: language (several f bombs bc i feel like bucky would be liberal w them), sam and bucky being little shits, bad nicknames,

word count: just under 2500

a/n: long awaited but it’s finally here! i’m super proud of this one :) i hope y’all like it also this was the first time i’ve written something like this so constructive criticism please. i hope i did the characters justice

p.s.: my requests are still open babes! i’m working on the next part of this series and also possibly continuing TFCL ;) my tag lists are still open as well

please like and reblog if you enjoyed the story

xoxo ray

series m.list

ray’s m.list

***********************************

The tension in the room was palpable. “What do you mean you know her, Buck?” Steve questioned. Bucky’s eyes were flitting around the room, landing on each face of bewilderment. He honestly didn’t know what he meant but that, it kind of just came out. Where the fuck did that come from? Who is this woman?

“Uh, hello? What’s going on in that cyborg brain of yours?” Sam interjected quickly, to which he received a sharp glare from both Bucky and Steve. Sam shrugged his shoulders and a quiet snort was heard from across the room.

“He’s got a point, Terminator.” Tony said as he plopped himself into one of the rollie chairs. “You can’t just say something like that and then not explain it.” Bucky’s brows furrowed and he expelled a grunt as his response to Tony.

“Bucky, you’ve got to give us something to go on here.” Natasha said calmly as she eyed an increasingly agitated Bucky.

Since coming back from Wakanda and being brought into the compound, Steve, Sam and Natasha have learned how to read Bucky. Steve has always been able to read the one hundred and six year old, they have shared life experience. Natasha was is a trained master assassin, trained in the Red Room by the Winter Soldier. One of her most valuable skills is her ability to read the emotions of anyone around her. And Sam, well he still leads a support group down at the VA. Being a war-torn veteran himself, he knows what it’s like to have to deal with the memories.

“Look, I don’t know what I meant by it.” Bucky finally said, throwing his hands above his head in exasperation. “It just came out, ya know? I didn’t process it before I said it and now, it’s out there. And to top it off, I don’t have the fucking memories there to back it up. They’re definitely there, but they aren’t just presenting themselves to me on a silver platter.” The group around him silenced.

Bucky was known for being the quiet, brooding type. His murder stare was comically famous around the compound. Sam constantly picked on Bucky about it, so hearing the man spout more than a few words at a time was a shocking experience for all of them.

“You know, there is a way that we can know what even your own mind doesn’t want you to know.” Tony said, darting his eyes over to Steve, who stood stoically in front of the large monitor.

“Goddamn, Tony! We said this isn’t an episode of FRIENDS!” Sam shouted.

“He won’t like that Tony. You know he won’t.” Natasha cut in quickly.

“But, if it works and it tells us if this woman knows anything, then it’s worth a shot.” Tony shot back.

“Tony. No. He’s already been through that and you want to subject him to it again?” Bucky was listening intently to their conversation, trying to figure out what they were referring to. Natasha seemed adamant that Bucky would not be a fan of whatever it was. Tony, as usual, couldn’t care less.

“What are we talking about?”

“Wanda.”

“Who’s Wanda again?”

“She’s the witch.”

“We have a witch on our team? That’s not possible, there’s no such thing as witches and wizards.”

“Uh, yeah there is, cyborg.”

“No, there's not bird brain.”

“Yeah. There is, dumbass. She’s the one who does the hand thing and then there’s the crazy red glow around her? She’s got long hair? Dating the android?”

“There’s an android on the team?” Bucky was still getting to know everyone on the team, but he was positive he would know if there was a fucking android on the team.

“Yeah, the guy with the yellow glowy thing embedded in his forehead? Do you pay attention at all, Bucky? He’s dating Wanda, the witch with the red glowy hand thing?” Sam was waving his hands in front of his face and gesturing to his forehead.

“There’s no fucking way. Steve? Is there an android on the team?” Bucky turned to Steve, expecting an answer. All of the sudden, a red mass phased through the wall behind Steve. Vision appeared, looking quizzically around the room.

“Did someone ask for me?” His British accent carried through the room, once again causing the room to silence and turn to Bucky. Bucky’s lips were pursed, disgruntled that Sam was once again right in their little squabbles.

“Alright fine, but there’s not a witch right?”

“If you’re referring to Ms. Maximoff, then no. She simply manipulates molecular polarity allowing her to alter the reality around her.” Vision said it as if Bucky was meant to understand it. When in reality, Bucky was still getting over the fact fangirling that there was an android talking to him.

“However, if calling her a witch makes you more comfortable,” Vision paused and turned towards the doorway on the other end of the room, “I believe you should ask her permission before doing so.” He raised his hand causing Bucky to follow its direction.

“Hey Tony. Friday said you wanted to see me?” Wanda glided into the room, doing a quick survey of its occupants. Her gaze eventually landed on the vibrant being beside Steve. “Vis, you left in the middle of us making dinner. We’ve talked about that.”

“Yes, do forgive me, my love. However, I believe your expertise is required outside of the kitchen.” Wanda’s orbs flicked to Steve’s first and then to Tony’s, waiting for instructions.

“We want you to go inside Barnes’ mind and retrieve memories about someone for us.” Tony stated plainly. Bucky’s eyes widened and his fear grew. She can do that? Who the fuck was going to tell me that? Can she read my mind too? Is she listening now?

“That’s not exactly how it works, Tony.”

“It doesn’t matter because I never agreed to that, Stark.” Bucky said firmly. He was tired of his brain being put in a blender. He was finally getting comfortable in his own body again. He was gaining more and more control over his mind every day. Granted, he wasn’t sleeping because of the nightmares.

No, not nightmares, because of the memories. Why the fuck would he willingly subject himself to that during the daylight? No, his pain, though constant, was only to be shown at night, when he was completely alone and there’s no chance that he could hurt anyone else.

“If this is the only way that we can know for sure, then we need to do it.” Tony pushed, “You know I’m right, Cap. After what happened with the Sokovia Accords, even though they aren’t monitoring us as closely as they could be, they’re still watching. And if we storm in there without any good reason to, then it’s our asses on the line.”

“Hey, I don’t remember giving you authority over my brain. So what the fuck gives you the right to try and get me to do this shit?” Bucky stood as he spoke, “You’re heroes, goddamn it. It’s your fucking job to save people who need you to. So you should fucking do it. With or without a goddamn reason, you prick.” He shoved the chair away from him and stormed out of the room, passed Wanda who watched with a pained expression.

“He’s right, Tony.” Steve said quietly.

“About what, Cap?”

“We shouldn’t have to have a reason to do our jobs.”

“All I’m saying is that if he has information about this woman that could help us, we need to know it.” Tony glanced back to Wanda, “What if he’s enhanced like Wanda and Pietro and we go in there guns blazing. What happens if she perceives us as a threat? What then Cap?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, Tony.” Steve was the Captain, so ultimately it was his decision. This left Tony incredibly unsatisfied, giving him a reason to implement a plan of his own. “We leave tonight. Be ready to leave in three hours.”

The room emptied quickly, everyone having their own rituals to do before departing on a mission. Steve and Sam were the last to remain in the room. “Do you really think this is a good idea?” Sam asked in a hushed whisper.

“It’s the only one I got, Sam.”

“Are you going to let him come on the mission?” Steve made a face as he clenched his jaw. “I mean, Tony has a point. If he knows something, I think we should try to figure out what it is.”

“We can’t ask him to do that, Sam. You know we can’t.”

“I’m not saying that we should, but if you bring him on this mission and he remembers something in the heat of the moment?” Sam turned his body to fully face Steve, “What are we going to do then?” Sam brought up a valid point, but Steve knew he wouldn’t be able to stop Bucky from coming on the mission.

“Like I said, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

********************************

It was somewhat therapeutic for Bucky to be sharpening his knives. He sat quietly on one of the overstuffed couches in the compound’s common area. A wide array of matte black knives was laid out on the coffee table in front of him. He held one in his hand, raking it against a damp stone to create a slick silver edge on the blade. His solitude didn’t last long, not that he expected it to, especially here in the compound.

“Hi, I don’t think we’ve ever formally met. I’m Wanda.” She stuck her hand out for Bucky to shake which he did, with great caution. There is no telling what this woman is capable of. I don’t need to get too comfortable with her.

“Bucky.” He kept his replies short, in the hopes of deterring her from wanting to interact with him. He knows that is exactly what Steve and his therapist in Wakanda told him to stop doing, but that’s irrelevant.

“I know what Tony was suggesting for us to do isn’t ideal, Bucky.” Bucky shuddered unintentionally, his fear rolling off of him in waves. “I just wanted to let you know, I would never do that to you. Not unless you asked me to and even then I don’t know if I would.” Bucky turned his head to face her. She seemed sincere, but then again people are always rotten on the inside.

“I promise, I won’t.”

“I’ve heard one too many promises in my day, Wanda.” He shifted back to his original task, flipping another knife into the palm of his hand and dragging it along the stone. Wanda nods and lifts herself to her feet, about to retreat to the kitchen.

“It’s the nightmares, isn’t it?” Bucky froze mid-drag, eyes boring holes into the table in front of him, not responding to Wanda. “The reason you don’t want me in your head?”

“What do you know of nightmares, witch?” Bucky sneered defensively.

“You would be surprised what I know of nightmares, Bucky.” She approached the back of the couch, curling her hands around the plush fabric. “My brother, Pietro, and I, volunteered for the experiments with HYDRA.” Bucky whipped his head around to face her, immediately registering her on a higher threat level. She lifted her right hand and a glowing red ball danced between her fingers as dynamic vines licked up her palm.

“We thought that they were there to help after everything that we went through in Sokovia.” Her accent thickened with each word, “After Stark’s bomb didn’t go off, we thought it meant we were destined to take him down. So we went to the closest freedom fighter group we could find.”

Bucky watched as she dropped her hand, the red energy dissipating immediately. “We weren’t the only ones, though. There were hundreds of us. Pietro and I just so happened to be the ones that were able to withstand what they put us through.” Their eyes met, gaze holding as she continued speaking. “Then, I watched their future. And in their ideal future, we weren’t there. None of us. No Avengers or enhanced people. No humans whatsoever.” She swallowed thickly, “That’s when we knew they lied. We had suspicions earlier, but we just did what we were told so we could get what we wanted.”

“What exactly did you want?”

“We wanted Stark dead.” She held Bucky’s eyeline. “But now, my brother is dead. And all I want is to see HYDRA's downfall at my hands.” She glanced back down at her hands, “What Tony wanted me to do,” hesitating as she continued, “I know he just wants me to go through your memories and pick out the ones specific to Agent Libra, but that’s not how it works.” Bucky looked at her and then leaned back into the couch cushions, gesturing for her to continue. “The way that I would go about that would be to have you experience the whole thing over again.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean,” Wanda sucked in a deep breath, “It’s like a lucid dream. Your body would be moving and you wouldn’t be in control of it. Any action that you did at that particular moment in history would be reenacted exactly as it occurred.”

“So, if I were to do this, it would be like I was the Soldier again?”

“If that’s what it felt like, then yes.” A shiver ran up Bucky’s spine, he definitely didn’t want that. “I just wanted you to know what you would be getting yourself into if you did decide to allow me access to your memories.” A stiff nod was all she received in return.

He knows she’s just trying to be nice but he can’t help but want to run away and hide in a dark room. Bucky has been through so much because of that freedom fighter organization, he couldn’t fathom people actually volunteering their bodies for their twisted scientific experiments.

“Thanks for letting me know, Ms. Maximoff.” Even though Bucky wanted nothing to do with this woman next to him, his mother still raised him to be respectful of everyone.

“Oh, you can call me Wanda.” She smiled as she began her approach to the kitchen yet again. One thing was still nagging Bucky and he had to know the answer.

“Hey, quick question Wanda.” She stopped and turned to face him, sending a small hum in question towards him. “Are you a witch?”

Her head tilted thoughtfully, “Yes, I am.” She left it at that, leaving Bucky with wide eyes and a mouth that was hanging open. Goddamn it, I fucking hate it when Sam is right.

*****************************

watch your six tag list

@indigo123789 @austynparksandpizza

#watch your six #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #eventual bucky x reader #female reader insert #Sebastian stan #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes

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lassostark · 3 years

Text

So yeah, I got carried away. As usual. *facepalm* Anyway, Happy Birthday, Wolfie @jaskierswolf!!! I hope you enjoy reading this long-ass fic, lovely. 😀💙

(Edited) Word Count: 9k (I have a problem, I know)

Relationship: Geralt/Jaskier

Tags: AU: College/University, Professor!Jaskier, Professor!Geralt, Soulmates, Rated M for Language, Jaskier!Whump, Miscommunication, Enemies to Lovers (ish, can’t find the right tag sorry), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending

Read on AO3 here

--------

The Other Half

“Do I have a class to teach here or are all of you going to be focused on your phones?”

Jaskier is standing in front of his desk, hands on his hips as he gives his Creative Writing class students a stern look. Several of them look up from their phones with guilty expressions, and if Jaskier wasn’t in the middle of a lecture about storytelling in poetry, he would’ve laughed at their almost identical expressions.

“Sorry, Professor,” Rebecca, one of his favorite students, says. Jaskier raises an eyebrow at her, and the brunette blushes faintly as she reluctantly turns off her phone.

“Care to share what has everyone’s attention glued to their phones instead of me?” Jaskier smirks, injecting a bit of humor into his query. He notes how half of his students chuckle as others follow Rebecca’s lead in turning off their phones.

“It’s Sole Mate, sir,” a student from the back answers.

Jaskier frowns slightly. “Soulmate? Did another celebrity couple split up because they met their other half?”

There’s a ripple of laughter in the classroom while others shake their head. Thankfully, it’s Rebecca who gives him a proper answer.

“Er, no, sir,” she begins. “Sole Mate. The new app that’s been circulating lately? Everyone said it’s loads better than Tinder because instead of just random hook-ups -- um, I mean dates -- Sole Mate allows you to find your, well, soulmate.”

By the end of her explanation, Jaskier’s eyebrows are nearly reaching his hairline. He’s no stranger to social media and technology, so Jaskier knows what Rebecca is talking about. In fact, he’s noticed that aside from the students in the campus, he’s heard his fellow colleagues talking about it every now and then. Which is odd, to be honest, because for one, professors like Jaskier aren’t really that open about the whole soulmate thing. It’s not a taboo, per se, but more like a personal thing because not everyone has met their soulmate yet.

So while he’s aware that people are talking about the topic, Jaskier didn’t think that it was this big of a deal.

“I… see.” Jaskier nods, giving himself a few extra seconds to come up with a follow-up question. He coughs lightly before clearing his throat. “I’ve heard about that app, but I’m afraid I’m not familiar with its algorithm. What makes it so special, hm?”

Another student, Marcus, raises his ring-laden hand in the air. Jaskier gestures for him to speak.

“Well, sir, Sole Mate gives you the option to upload a photo of your soulmark. The photo is never made public, of course, but rather it’s an added feature that’ll help the app. Once it’s in the system, Sole Mate narrows down the scope of the search to people who have a similar look to your mark. It’s broken into groups which the app refers to as Sole Groups. Then you just chat with the people who are in those groups that meet the criteria until you meet the one whose mark matches yours.”

“I read an article from CNN yesterday,” Arif pipes in. “Since the app launched three months ago, there’s been a 95% increase of people finding their soulmates compared to the last ten years. And just yesterday, I found out my great-aunt found her match!”

“I’m going on a date tonight and I think they’re my match!”

Jaskier looks on in befuddlement as his students start to whisper excitedly to one another about the prospect of meeting their soulmate. He blinks and shakes his head before calling their attention once more.

“Alright, alright!” Jaskier calls over their chattering. “Enough now, please. Midterms are a month from now and we still have much ground to cover.”

“How about you, sir? Have you found your Sole Group yet?”

Jaskier hides his amusement at how eager his students look at him. Instead, he shakes his head and smirks at them as he moves around his desk to pick up his chalk.

“No, Damian,” he says mildly. “I don’t see a need for me to do so.”

“But why not?” Rebecca asks, sounding both curious and confused. “Don’t you want to meet your soulmate, sir?”

Fortunate that he’s facing the blackboard so his students can’t see his conflicted expression, Jaskier writes a few notes on the board as he flippantly replies, “I’m happy on my own and don’t see myself settling down, Ms. Haywood.” Before his students can pry further, he adds in a sterner tone, “Now, please pay attention to the lecture because there will be a quiz before the end of this class.”

There’s a collective groan behind him which Jaskier happily ignores as he launches into his lecture once more.

“‘I’m happy on my own and don’t see myself settling down’?” Essi repeats to Jaskier later when they’re on their lunch break. “That’s a load of bollocks, love.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes as he pops a grape in his mouth.

“Obviously,” he says after swallowing his food. “My students don’t need to know I already met my soulmate, Essi.”

“I know that,” Essi replies. “And I respect your privacy for saying that. But you don’t have to pretend with me, you know.”

“What the hell are you on about now?”

“I mean that you don’t have to lie to yourself, Jask.”

“I’m not lying!”

Essi scoffs at him. “Oh, please. We’ve known each other for nearly ten years. I know when you’re lying, Jask. You do that thing with your lips; it’s subtle but don’t think I didn’t see it earlier.”

Jaskier scowls at his friend, who’s one of the best and strictest Marketing professors in Redania University. So instead of replying, he decides to take a huge bite out of his ham and egg sandwich.

She’s lucky I love her, Jaskier thinks moodily.

“Still haven’t spoken to him?” Essi asks him after several minutes of comfortable silence pass.

‘Him’ being Jaskier’s soulmate, obviously.

He shakes his head. “Nope.”

“Are you ever going to speak to him?”

“Once he has his head out of his arse, maybe I’ll contemplate breathing the same air as him.”

Essi whistles low. “Damn, was the confrontation really that bad, Jask?”

Jaskier pointedly stares at her.

“Essi, darling, I’ve told you about it a hundred times in various states of inebriation and sobriety. Of course it was bad. It was horrendous for both parties.”

And honestly, Jaskier doesn’t want to talk about it. Hell, he doesn’t even want to think about it because every time he does, he feels nothing but disappointment and anger and hurt. Goddamn it, it’s been three years and it still fucking hurts. It’s a constant phantom pain in his chest that Jaskier doesn’t know what to do with, and he’s been living with that kind of pain for years with no hopes for resolution in sight.

He thinks of that day, the confrontation as Essi puts it, and all Jaskier can think of are golden eyes filled with apathy. An inscrutable expression on his soulmate’s chiseled features after Jaskier told him that they’re meant to be together.

Well, Jaskier didn’t say it like that, exactly, because he was nervous. He was rambling and sweating in places he didn’t know he could sweat, and he had just met his soulmate for fuck’s sake!

Alas, like the idealist he is, his expectations didn’t meet his reality.

“Oh shit,” Essi suddenly says, breaking Jaskier from his glum thoughts. “Don’t look. Your three o’clock.”

Because Jaskier has an issue with impulse control, he looks.

And he freezes.

There, dressed in tight-fitting grey slacks and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, is Jaskier’s soulmate.

Geralt Rivia.

His hair is fixed into a man bun, and Jaskier feels his chest constrict at the wisps of silver hair framing his jawline. Geralt hasn’t seen them, thankfully, because he’s busy chatting with Yennefer Vengerberg, the gorgeous yet cutthroat International Relations professor who’s notorious for failing 40% of her students.

Jaskier is about to look away when Geralt turns his head and meets his eyes.

Fuck.

He notes the deep furrow between Geralt’s brows, the Anthropology professor’s hold on his lunch tray tightening when their gazes meet across the room. As much as Jaskier talks about being alright on his own, he can’t help but secretly admit to himself that he likes the shiver of pleasure that runs down his spine when their eyes meet. Jaskier read somewhere that researchers called it The Spark. It’s cheesy, yes, but it’s exactly that. An electrifying feeling shared between two halves of a whole finding each other.

Then reality comes crashing down and Jaskier remembers what Geralt told him that day and he thinks: Fuck this.

Appetite gone, Jaskier clears his throat and looks away. He deliberately ignores Essi’s sympathetic gaze as he packs up the rest of his uneaten food. He stands up and slings his shoulder bag before daring to look at his friend.

“I just remembered I have papers to grade. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Essi nods her head. Jaskier doesn’t wait for a reply and turns to make his escape, but not before he catches Geralt still staring at him.

For the life of him, Jaskier is still unable to read the man’s facial expressions. It’s just so… inscrutable. Like staring into a slab of brick wall with no hopes of breaking through it. Jaskier doesn’t know why he still finds himself caring at this point.

Who is he kidding? He’s always cared.

“Professor Pankratz.”

Jaskier averts his eyes from Geralt to meet Yennefer’s violet eyes, a smirk on her ruby lips. They’re not close, and though he finds the woman equally terrifying and beautiful, Jaskier can’t help but be a little fond of her.

“Professor Vengerberg,” he acknowledges her haughty look with a faint smile.

From his peripheral gaze, Geralt looks like he’s opening his mouth to address him. But Jaskier thinks it’s probably a trick of the light, so he walks away and forces himself not to look back.

No matter how painful it is. No matter how his soulmark feels like it’s going to burn a hole through his shirt.

3 years ago

“Is that the new Anthropology professor?” Essi whispers to Jaskier excitedly.

Jaskier gazes across the spacious meeting room to find the person his friend is referring to. It’s about damn time the university hired someone to replace Mousesack. The elderly scholar looked like ready to drop if he stayed for another semester.

“I don’t see-- oh.”

Oh, indeed. Jaskier shamelessly eyes the silver-haired Adonis dressed in grey slacks and a tight-fitting dress shirt. He notes with mild amusement how the newcomer looks a little awkward standing beside the drinks table, drink in hand as he silently eyes his surroundings with a guarded expression.

“Oh, he’s gorgeous,” Jaskier says under his breath.

“The hair isn’t doing it for me, but yeah he’s gorgeous,” Essi agrees with a hum.

“I’m gonna introduce myself. Be right back.”

Jaskier doesn’t wait for Essi’s response as he quickly crosses the room to approach the brooding man. Like a lone wolf eyeing his prey, he thinks with an inward chuckle.

“Hello, there,” Jaskier greets the man with a friendly smile once he’s standing a respectable distance from him. He quickly takes note of their height difference. Well, more like a lack of it as Jaskier surmises the burly man is only an inch or two taller than him. “You must be the new Anthropology professor. I’m Julian Pankratz, but everyone here calls me Jaskier. I teach Introduction to Creative Writing and Advanced Creative Writing.”

Jaskier feels his smile start to falter as the silver-haired Adonis initially doesn’t accept his handshake. He’s about to bring down his arm when he feels a warm, calloused hand curl around his.

That’s when he feels it: the spark. Jaskier is unable to hide a gasp when he feels an electrifying feeling trail down his spine. He blinks owlishly at the other man who looks just as shocked as him.

“Geralt Rivia,” the man introduces himself after a few seconds of awkward silence pass. Jaskier feels another shiver down his spine upon hearing the low, growly voice.

“N-nice to meet you, Geralt.”

“Hmm.”

Instead of feeling annoyed, Jaskier feels endeared at the non-verbal reply. He finds his gaze falling on their clasped hands, and he’s about to let go when something catches his eye and he freezes on the spot.

Geralt has his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, so Jaskier can see the veins and light dusting of hair on his arm. But that’s not what he’s focusing on, no. He finds himself drawn to Geralt’s forearm, where a familiar-looking mark resides. A mark that Jaskier can draw in his sleep because he bears the same mark since he was born.

Holy shit, Jaskier thinks as he looks up to meet Geralt’s puzzled frown with a slackened expression. I just met my soulmate.

Present day

“Hang on, you bloody cat,” Jaskier grumbles under his breath as he enters his one-bedroom apartment later that evening. Mister Fuzzball meows and curls his orange tail around his calf while Jaskier locks the door. “Yes, yes, you will get your meal in a bit. Just let me put down my bag, darling.”

Mister Fuzzball meows again as the tabby cat trails after him.

Jaskier goes through the motions of his nighttime routine like clockwork. Change into his home clothes, feed Mister Fuzzball, prepare his own dinner, and then eat his dinner on the couch while watching a rerun episode of The Office.

Afterwards, he leaves the dirty dishes on the sink to sit on the small dining table to grade more papers. He works silently for a couple of hours while nursing a glass of wine, and when Jaskier finds that he can no longer find the energy to constructively criticize his students’ writing, he turns in for the night. He cuddles Mister Fuzzball for a few minutes before going to the loo to brush his teeth and do his extensive skincare routine.

By eleven o’clock, Jaskier is in bed with the lights turned off. He lets out a sigh as he stares aimlessly at his ceiling and wonders how his life has come to this. Just going through the motions of a routine well-established whilst trying his best to ignore the ache in his chest.

Lost in his thoughts, Jaskier finds himself stroking his left collarbone, tracing the lines that are slightly raised as he hums a nameless tune under his breath.

Rebirth. That’s what his soulmark symbolizes. But all Jaskier feels these days is the opposite.

He doesn’t fall asleep until the early hours of the morning.

“- so I told mum that I’ll spend Christmas with them and then go to Scotland for New Year’s with Edmund. What about you?”

Belatedly, Jaskier notices the silence has stretched on, so he looks up from staring at the painting of Philippa Eilhart to meet Essi’s worried gaze.

“Sorry, what?”

“Are you alright, Jask?” Essi asks. “You don’t look too well, love.”

Jaskier bats off her hands as his friend tries to feel his forehead for a fever.

“I’m fine, Essi. Just tired.”

“Not sleeping well?”

He shakes his head. He can’t explain it, but he’s feeling more lethargic than usual.

“No, I’m sleeping fine. I’m just tired, s’all.”

Essi doesn’t look convinced, so Jaskier musters what strength he has left to smile at her.

“I’m fine, mother. There’s no need to get your knickers in a twist.”

“If you say so, Jask,” Essi replies with an eye roll. Then teasingly, she adds, “Better apply concealer, though. I can see your bags from here.”

Jaskier gasps and tosses the crumpled wrapper of his sandwich at her.

3 years ago

“Geralt! Hey, hi. Do you have a minute?”

Jaskier smiles nervously at the hot Anthropology professor who is about to exit the break room. Geralt turns to look at Jaskier with a puzzled frown before he grunts and nods his head. Relieved, Jaskier tilts his head and gestures for the other man to follow him to a somewhat secluded corner of the room. Although standing beside the painting of Philippa Eilhart, one of the founders of Redania University, isn’t such a good idea. But Jaskier is out of good ideas at this point because he’s nearly bursting at the seams to do something he’s been meaning to do for the past three months since he met Geralt Rivia.

“What did you want to talk about?” Geralt asks him, looking curiously at Jaskier now.

Jaskier clears his throat and wipes his sweaty palms on his slim corduroy pants as he works up the nerve to just… do it.

“Yes, um, so,” he begins eloquently. Oh gods, this was easier in his head. “So we’ve known each for a few months now and I like to think we’ve reached a certain understanding of one another. One might, er, even say that we’re casual friends at this point.”

Geralt blinks at him but doesn’t say anything. If Jaskier looks closely, which he is, he thinks there’s something akin to amusement dancing in the other man’s golden eyes. Could be a trick of the light, but Jaskier has high hopes.

“Geralt, um,” Jaskier continues. He tries his best to ignore the butterflies fluttering in his belly as he focuses on what he’s going to say next. “I don’t know how to say this, exactly, because it’s never happened to me before. But, um. Well, the university is singing your praise and you’re an unexpected hit with the students. No surprise there, if you ask me, you’re an incredibly beautiful man and, oh god.”

“You’re rambling,” Geralt notes with a slight upwards quirk of his mouth.

Jaskier scratches the back of his head. “Yes, I’m well aware, thank you.”

Geralt snorts, looking amused now.

“Just spit it out, Jask,” he says not unkindly.

And, well. That ought to do the trick.

“We’re soulmates,” Jaskier blurts out. He doesn’t notice Geralt stiffen, too preoccupied with getting the words out now that he’s finally said it. “And before you say anything, I saw your mark. On the first day we met - well, I introduced myself. We shook hands and you had sleeves rolled up to your elbows, and that’s when I noticed the mark etched on your forearm.” When Geralt doesn’t say anything, Jaskier hurriedly adds, “I have the same mark, you see. Right here.”

Then and there, Jaskier unbuttons his white dress shirt and yanks the collar of his undershirt down to show Geralt the same dandelion tattoo across his left collarbone.

Seconds, and then minutes, pass by and Geralt remains stoic, an unreadable expression on his chiseled features. Jaskier’s smile falters as he self-consciously buttons up his shirt once more, feeling naked and seen under the stoic gaze of his colleague.

“Geralt? What, um. Please say something.”

It takes several seconds before Geralt reacts. The older man breathes in deep through his nose and slowly exhales through his mouth. He blinks at Jaskier, golden eyes swiftly glancing at his covered soulmark.

“Hmm.”

Jaskier nearly balks at the response. Well, he certainly wasn’t expecting that!

“Geralt?”

When Geralt meets his hopeful stare, Jaskier knows his answer from the lack of emotion in the other man’s eyes. Something in him cracks at that very moment.

“I don’t know what to say,” Geralt begins haltingly.

Jaskier’s voice is hoarse when he answers, “The truth would be nice.”

Geralt hums but doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. He looks at the painting to his left, and Jaskier silently observes him as he works up the nerve to share his thoughts.

Eventually, Geralt settles upon saying, “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

A part of Jaskier was already expecting it, based on Geralt’s initial reaction, but it still hurts, holy shit.

“Can you…” Jaskier clears his throat. “Can you tell me why? Maybe, maybe we can compromise?”

His voice trails off when Geralt shakes his head.

“I’m not… available. The whole soulmate thing is… hmm. It’s not my thing. I don’t believe in that whole destiny crap. I’m sorry.”

Not his thing? Doesn’t believe in the “whole destiny crap”?

What?

“But, but Geralt,” Jaskier protests weakly. “You’re my other half. And I’m your--”

“I said I’m not interested,” Geralt reiterates firmly, golden eyes determinedly not meeting Jaskier. “I’m sorry, Jaskier.”

Then without waiting for a response, Geralt shoulders past him and leaves the break room like he’s being chased by a pack of wolves.

Jaskier stares at the spot where Geralt was standing just moments ago, feeling like he lost the one thing he never had in the first place.

Present day

“Remind me again why Valentine’s Day is not considered a proper holiday?”

Essi is looking through the books that line up the shelves of Jaskier’s office as he rummages the piles of paper scattered on his desk.

“Because Valentine’s Day is not a proper holiday, Essi,” Jaskier answers somewhat distractedly. He continues searching for one of the papers he remembers grading the night before, but he can’t find. It. Here. “It’s just a big, fat scheme for companies to capitalize on lovesick fools. Now where the bloody fuck is that paper?!”

Essi ignores his grumbling.

“Hmm, true, but they should. I mean, any business big or small can develop a strong value proposition aimed at lovesick couples. Of course, the competition would be ghastly, but considering that Sole Mate has matched 5,000 couples in the UK alone, I think they missed an opportunity there.”

“Whatever you--” Jaskier starts to say, only to immediately cut himself off when he starts coughing. And it’s not the good kind of cough, either.

He spends almost a minute coughing up a lung, and he ultimately accepts the tissues Essi hands him. He thanks her with a thumbs up before he spits out the phlegm on it. Jaskier crumples it up before tossing it in the bin under his desk. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Are you okay?” Essi asks him, sounding worried.

Jaskier nods as he clears his throat before speaking.

“Yes yes, I’m fine. Sorry, didn’t mean to alarm you.”

“Jask, you don’t look fine.”

Jaskier waves off his friend’s concern as he pushes a book out of the way. He makes a triumphant sound when he finally finds the missing paper. Jaskier quickly shoves it into his messenger bag as he picks up his blazer to shrug into it.

He meets Essi’s worried gaze, and Jaskier tries to appease her with a dimpled smile.

“Turn that frown upside down. I’m perfectly fine, Essi.”

Essi still doesn’t look convinced. “Have you been to the doctor? You should go for a check-up.”

Jaskier shakes his head.

“I’m still recovering from the flu last week but I’m regularly drinking that herbal tea you recommended to me. It’s working wonders on my throat. I’ll be right as rain in no time, don’t you worry.”

Rejected soulbonds are few and far between as far as Jaskier is aware. There’s not much study material available on the Internet, but what he’s found out so far doesn’t help ease the anxiety that’s been building up for months now.

Lethargy. A decrease in the immune system. Difficulty with sleeping. Shortness of breath.

They’re a few of the symptoms that researchers from Kerack Institute compiled a few years ago from studying broken, or rejected, soulbonds. According to their study, it’s not a life-threatening situation. People who experience this usually end up recovering after a period of time. Broken or rejected soulbonds usually occur if the person’s soulmate is deceased before they meet, or if their other half is already in a committed relationship with someone else.

In Jaskier’s case, it’s neither. Geralt’s rejection still stings after all these years, and Jaskier doesn’t understand why he still feels like it happened yesterday. The ache in his chest is not dissipating at all. In fact, it’s worsening as days go by. He’s been to see a cardiologist, and the scans showed that his heart is perfectly fine. So whatever Jaskier is going through right now is not physical, but more… psychological? Emotional?

He’s not certain about that since there’s not enough material about his case. But one thing does stand out from what Jaskier read about rejected soulbonds.

Proximity is what makes or breaks the affected party.

Unfortunately, Jaskier and Geralt are employed in the same university. They attend the same weekly meeting, attend the university’s functions when required, and they usually see each other during their breaks. It’s not often, but it happens frequently.

So the more he sees Geralt, the worse Jaskier feels. And over time, it could literally be his life on the line.

And therein lies the problem.

Well, there’s only one thing left to do.

“You want to go on sabbatical?”

“Yes.”

“Right now?”

“I believe that’s what I just said, yes.”

Vesemir Morhen, the president of Redania University, looks at Jaskier with a perplexed expression.

“Jaskier, may I know why you’re requesting to go on leave in the middle of the semester?”

Jaskier hesitates for a second before replying, “I just think it’s the right time to do so, sir. I talked to Priscilla, and she’s willing to shoulder my classes for the rest of term. There’s not much ground to cover--”

“Jaskier, Priscilla is going on maternity leave starting next month,” Vesemir interrupts him, eyebrow raised.

“Well, um, I’m aware of that.”

“Then why--”

“That’s why I talked to Coën to cover for her, well, for me, next--”

“No.”

Jaskier snaps his mouth shut mid-tirade at Vesemir’s stern gaze.

“Sir, please, I--”

Vesemir shakes his head.

“No, Jaskier. If you really want to take a sabbatical, you can do so after the term ends. At this moment, I can’t allow you to go on leave. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to wait a little longer.”

“Very well, sir,” Jaskier answers stiffly, knowing that once Vesemir has made his mind up there’s no chance of him changing his decision.

So he’s stuck for another three months here.

Fuck, he curses to himself. Damn it.

It’s a little late in the evening and Jaskier is just about to leave his office. After hours of hunching over his desk marking papers from his Advanced Creative Writing class, Jaskier is more than ready to eat leftovers for dinner and binge-watch a few episodes of Anne With An E. Fortunately, he doesn’t have a scheduled class until tomorrow afternoon so he can sleep in a little bit later.

Jaskier locks his office, pockets his key, and turns to walk down the hallway towards the parking lot when he finds himself meeting Geralt’s gaze across the corridor. A jolt runs down his spine as he staggers in his steps, and Jaskier is momentarily nonplussed at the peculiar look on the burly man’s face.

“Jaskier,” Geralt says eventually when he doesn’t speak up.

Jaskier swallows inaudibly, his tongue clicking on the roof of his mouth.

“Geralt.”

Jaskier waits patiently as he eyes the Anthropology professor who looks like he’s working up the courage to say something. It’s certainly a first, and Jaskier is not sure what Destiny has up her - his? Their? - sleeve this time.

He’s fucking exhausted, damn it.

“Yennefer told me you were planning to go on sabbatical,” Geralt finally blurts out in his typical gruff voice.

Jaskier blinks. Well, he was certainly not expecting that.

“What? I mean, how in the world did Yennefer find out? I never spoke to anyone about this except Vesemir.”

He notes with awe as Geralt shuffles his feet on the hardwood floors, and for a moment, something akin to fondness wells up in Jaskier’s chest before he tamps it down. This is not the time to feel anything remotely positive towards Geralt Rivia when he’s the source of Jaskier’s misery.

“Hmm, well,” he hears Geralt reply. “She told me she heard it from someone who overheard Vesemir’s assistant talking to Tissaia after you left. So it could be anyone.”

Jaskier is unable to hide a groan of frustration. He runs a hand through his already disheveled chestnut locks as he thinks, Great, they’re definitely going to bring this up at the meeting on Friday. Nosy little witches.

“Yes, well, it’s not happening,” Jaskier says with a shrug. He finds himself taking a step, and another, and another, before he’s walking down the corridor to narrow the distance between him and Geralt. And he doesn’t stop when he reaches the other man’s side. “Vesemir said I can’t go on leave right now, so I’ll still be here until the end of term.”

He hears footsteps behind him, and Jaskier inwardly curses when Geralt picks up the pace to follow him.

Just his luck. And why the fuck now?

“Is everything okay?”

Puzzled at the non-sequitur, Jaskier doesn’t break his stride, but he does look over his shoulder to see the closest thing to concern written over Geralt’s face. A part of Jaskier finds it endearing before he swats that thought away with a scowl.

“Everything’s fucking peachy, Geralt,” he answers waspishly before turning his attention ahead of him. “And why are you following me?”

“I’m not, I’m going to the parking lot,” Geralt says simply. This time, Jaskier detects a hint of amusement in his tone, which only serves to piss him off. “Where did you plan on going, then?”

“None of your business,” Jaskier says through gritted teeth. He thrusts open the double doors and quickly descends the stone steps two at a time.

“What’s gotten into you?” he hears Geralt ask, and that’s it.

They reach the parking lot, but instead of marching over to his blue Volkswagen Beetle, Jaskier whirls around to face Geralt. He distantly notes with satisfaction how the other man quickly takes a step back.

“Nothing has gotten into me,” Jaskier says, aggravated beyond comprehension in that moment. “I just wanted some goddamn space, but apparently that’s really fucking hard to come by these days. So for the love of god, take your curiosity and fake sincerity and leave me the fuck alone.”

Geralt’s brows furrow as he meets Jaskier’s glare with perplexity.

“I… it’s not--” he protests haltingly before he shakes his head and tries again. “I only wanted to know--”

Jaskier swiftly cuts him off.

“Well, you lost that right the day you rejected me,” he spits out. Distantly, he knows he’s being too harsh, but Jaskier can’t bring himself to care right now because nothing in his life makes sense anymore. He misses the flicker of emotion that passes over Geralt’s face, too busy turning around to unlock his car. “Just… just leave me alone, Geralt.”

If Geralt responds, Jaskier doesn’t hear it. He starts the ignition and doesn’t bother to warm up the car. He quickly reverses from his parking space and presses his foot on the gas, wanting to get as far away as he can from the one person his soul is aching to be close to.

“Damn, Jask,” Essi says after Jaskier relays to her what happened that night over the phone. “You really tore him a new one, huh?”

“Serves him right,” Jaskier grumbles. He takes another bite of leftover orange chicken as he listens to his friend whistle on the other end. “I know that kind of whistle. That’s your disapproving whistle.”

“Yes, well,” Essi starts. Jaskier frowns, so he pauses the show he’s watching, cutting off Anne mid-tirade as she talks to Gilbert Blythe.

“What is it?”

Essi hesitates for another second before eventually saying, “Don’t you think you were a little harsh on him, though?” Before Jaskier can respond, she continues. “Don’t get me wrong. Geralt should’ve seen it coming and I understand where you’re coming from, Jask. But I don’t know, something doesn’t add up to the confrontation. Like, I feel like your reaction wasn’t justified enough?”

Jaskier sighs.

“What do you want me to say, Essi? He was being nosy and I didn’t like it. We barely exchanged a word in three years and of all the occasions, he chooses now to do so? Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t know, either.”

Essi is silent for a while.

“Something’s up with you, Jask.”

Jaskier is lucky that they’re not talking over FaceTime because he would’ve been caught in that moment.

“Nothing’s up with me,” he says with an eye roll. He knows Essi doesn’t believe him, so he adds, “I swear, Essi. I just want a break, and I think not seeing Geralt’s face for a year is the first step.”

Weeks pass, and spring slowly introduces itself in hues of green and yellow. Jaskier is able to breathe a little easier when he notices the distinct lack of one Geralt Rivia. Sure, they still see each other during faculty meetings, but that’s a given. Outside of that weekly assembly, Jaskier doesn’t see neither hide nor hair of the silver-haired Adonis. A part of him sighs in relief because at least his one wish was granted. But another part of him, the bigger part, can’t help but feel melancholy at no longer seeing or bumping into his soulmate.

After all, it’s for Jaskier’s benefit that it has to be this way until the end of term. Less than three months to go and he can finally go on sabbatical. He doesn’t know where he’s going yet, but Jaskier finds the idea of starting in New Zealand to visit Hobbiton very appealing.

He’s going to miss his students, of course. He’s going to miss Essi and Priscilla, and the other faculty members he’s gotten close to over the years. He’s obviously going to miss Mister Fuzzball, his orange tabby purring and constantly requesting for cuddles and treats. He hates to admit it, even to himself, but Jaskier knows he’s going to miss Geralt. Fuck, he misses the man right this moment, and the idea of not seeing his soulmate for a year makes him feel… antsy.

“No, we’re doing this,” Jaskier shakes his head. Mister Fuzzball meows and he looks down to see his cat playfully nipping at his fingers. Jaskier chuckles and cuddles Mister Fuzzball closer to his chest. “You’re right, Mister Fuzzball. This is for the best. Distance is what will heal this rejected bond, that’s for certain. What’s the worst that could happen, right?”

Mister Fuzzball meows and boops his nose to Jaskier’s chin.

Yes. Easier said than done.

It all comes to a head in late May.

Finals week is looming closer so Jaskier and the rest of the faculty at Redania University are working overtime. After a tiring week of preparing exams and preparing his handover to the Literature Department before he goes on sabbatical, Jaskier elects to pamper himself once the weekend rolls around.

He wakes up after eleven on a Saturday morning and decides to have brunch at his favorite pub. He calls Essi, who agrees to meet him at Rosemary & Thyme in half an hour, before he gets up from bed and starts getting ready for a relaxing day outside. Maybe he’ll try and coax Essi to go shopping with him. Retail therapy has worked wonders on his mental state before.

But Jaskier never managed to do any of those things.

Instead of taking his car, he elects to take the subway instead because finding a parking space is always a pain in the arse on the weekend. Jaskier is only a few blocks away from reaching Rosemary & Thyme when he hears the commotion before he sees it.

Several vehicles’s horns start blaring while people from the sidewalks shout in alarm. Jaskier turns at the noise, and he feels his heart leap to his throat when he sees a small blonde girl running to the middle of the road to pick up a round, furry stuffed toy she likely dropped.

“Ciri!”

The voice who yells the child’s name is somewhat familiar, but Jaskier ignores it for the moment because a child is in danger. He doesn’t know how it happens or why, but something clicks in Jaskier that makes him act on instinct. He pushes past the other onlookers staring in horror and sprints to the middle of the busy street.

The small blonde girl -- Ciri -- can’t be more than five years old. She has the furry toy clutched to her chest when Jaskier reaches her side. From his peripheral vision, he glimpses a cab approaching them, and the next several seconds happen in slow-motion.

The cab’s brakes screech as the driver spots them a little too late.

The blonde girl’s emerald eyes lock on Jaskier, a look of awe and confusion on her freckled gaze.

Around them, several bystanders are either frozen on the spot or shouting in alarm.

Geralt stands at the curb with Yennefer and a few other burly men, a look of undisguised terror on his handsome face.

It feels like a lifetime and not, and without giving it much thought, Jaskier finds himself lifting the blonde girl and tossing her in the arms of the one cyclist who had the presence of mind to block the other cars who managed to brake on time.

Except for one.

One second, he has both feet on the ground, and the next Jaskier finds himself on his back on the concrete floor. He feels something sticky trickle down his face, and when he tries to speak, he ends up coughing on the metallic taste of blood.

Oh. So he got hit by the cab, then.

A cacophony of noise permeates through his muddled senses. Sirens and screams and several pairs of feet thudding closer and closer. Jaskier tries to blink but his vision is blurring.

“Jaskier, Jaskier,” the familiar voice says, sounding panicked and choked to his ears. Do they know him? “Jaskier, oh fuck. Hold on, Jaskier. Help’s on the way.”

“Eskel, take Ciri from the cyclist,” another familiar voice filters through. “Geralt, don’t move him. We don’t know what injuries he’s sustained.”

“What injuries-?!” an unfamiliar growly voice interrupts. “He got hit by a fucking car! He’s definitely broken some bones.”

“Lambert, be useful and call a fucking ambulance,” the familiar voice growls back. There’s a gurgling sound before the familiar voice, Geralt, speaks up. “Ssh, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay. I’m so sorry.”

“Ngh,” Jaskier slurs. He tries to keep his eyes open but it’s becoming more difficult by the second. “G’rlt.”

“Keep your eyes on me,” the voice repeats, and they sound choked with emotion. “Jask, stay with me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please stay with me.”

It’s the last thing Jaskier hears before he loses consciousness.

2 weeks later

“You wonder what he’s thinking when he shivers like that. What can you tell me? What could you possibly tell me? Sure, it’s good to feel things, and if it hurts, we’re doing it to ourselves--”

Someone knocks on the door before it opens, and Jaskier looks up to see the nurse, Jackie, standing on the threshold. Essi, who’s been reading to him his favorite poems for the past hour, stops to look up as well.

Jackie smiles at them before she addresses Jaskier, “I’m sorry for interrupting you, but you have another visitor, Jaskier.”

A glance at the clock nailed to the wall in front of him alerts Jaskier that it’s already past three o’clock.

“Shit,” Essi curses beside him, clearly taking note of the time as well. “Sorry, Jask. I lost track of the time. I need to go.”

She looks down apologetically at Jaskier, who shakes his head in understanding and smiles warmly at her.

“Not at all, Essi,” he says, voice still a bit hoarse. “Thank you for visiting me again. I’m sorry for keeping you.”

Essi pockets her phone and slings her messenger bag across her shoulders before leaning down to brush a hand through Jaskier’s unwashed hair and planting a soft kiss on his bandaged forehead.

“Don’t apologize, silly,” she admonishes slightly once she straightens. She smiles crookedly at Jaskier and brushes her fingers on his face, lightly tracing the faint bruises on his cheek. “I’ll drop by again tomorrow before my afternoon lecture. Do you need me to get you anything?”

“No, I’m good. But please feed Mister Fuzzball, and cuddle him for me, won’t you?”

Essi rolls her eyes good-naturedly but nods her head. “Of course, Jask. I got Mister Fuzzies under control.”

“It’s Mister Fuzzball!”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Love you. Take it easy and I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

It’s Jaskier’s turn to roll his eyes, but he carefully waves his bandaged wrist at his best friend’s departing figure.

“Love you too. See you later, Daven.”

When Essi disappears around the corner, less than thirty seconds pass before Jaskier’s next visitors come in.

“Jaskier! You’re awake!” a small, blonde girl greets as she dashes inside the room. She stops at the very last second when she reaches Jaskier’s side, careful with his injuries as she climbs up the bed to plant a sloppy but very welcome kiss on his bruised cheek.

“Of course I’m awake, darling,” Jaskier answers with a dimpled grin as he playfully boops Ciri’s nose, causing the child to giggle. “I would never pass up the chance to miss your visit.”

“How are you? Did you finish watching Frozen yesterday? You fell asleep and Papa said I shouldn’t disturb you.”

“I’m feeling better now that you’re here. And no, I didn’t finish Frozen yesterday but I already watched it before so it’s okay. What movie do you want to watch next, hm?”

Jaskier chuckles as he listens to Ciri prattle on for the next few minutes about her favorite scenes in Frozen and how she wants to watch an old Disney film called The Emperor’s New Groove. Jaskier looks up to see the second visitor who silently trailed after the energetic child, making sure to shut the door behind him to give them privacy.

Geralt is already seated on the chair Essi just vacated, the silver-haired man looking at Ciri and Jaskier with undisguised fondness. If someone told Jaskier that he would be the object of Geralt Rivia’s shameless googly eyes, he would tell them where to shove it. But as it is, since his unfortunate accident two weeks ago, it’s like the man did a 180-degree. It’s probably mean of Jaskier to think it, but he can’t help it. If he hadn’t saved Geralt’s daughter, they likely wouldn’t be in this situation.

But Jaskier won’t have it any other way. Daughter or not, Jaskier doesn’t regret saving Ciri. Not at all. He may only know the child for less than a month, but he already loves her like his own, and that notion should terrify Jaskier. It really should, but for some unfathomable reason, it feels completely natural. As easy as breathing.

Although he and Geralt still have so much to talk about - goodness, there’s so much baggage between them that needs to be unpacked and addressed - Jaskier finds that he doesn’t mind spending this time getting to know his soulmate’s family. Aside from Ciri, he’s already met Lambert and Eskel, Geralt’s foster brothers who also drop in to visit him a few times a week. Jaskier likes them, likes their crude sense of humor and enjoys their company even when he doesn’t feel like chatting.

Then there’s Vesemir, who happens to be Geralt’s uncle or whatever, and isn’t that a fucking shock? Jaskier initially didn’t know whether to be horrified or amused when the president of the university he works at visited him to wish him a speedy recovery. In the end, Jaskier takes it in stride and thanks the old man for his well wishes.

How has this become his life now? Will wonders never cease?

“- and Uncle Lambert said I should watch Monsters, Inc. next after The Emperor’s New Groove because he said I remind him of Boo,” Ciri continues to chatter, the adorable five-year-old making herself at home by Jaskier’s uninjured side.

Jaskier listens to her attentively, while looking up every now and then at Geralt, the Anthropology professor currently balancing his laptop on his knees as he slowly types.

It’s the sixth, or probably seventh, time that Jaskier looks up when he meets Geralt’s golden eyes already trained on him. There’s that familiar jolt that runs down his spine when their gazes meet, and Jaskier raises a brow at him.

Geralt’s lips quirk upwards into a semblance of a smile, and Jaskier feels his heart stutter against his chest when his soulmate quietly mouths, “Hi.”

Jaskier tries to fight off a smile but fails rather dismally.

“Hi,” he mouths back before shifting his attention back to Ciri, who’s now chattering about her morning at the daycare.

All at once, it feels like the end and beginning of something new.

“Gods, I miss playing my lute,” Jaskier grumbles to himself a few nights later.

Ciri is fast asleep beside him, the adorable child already drooling on his shoulder but he doesn’t mind it in the least bit. They watched two movies and had dinner plus dessert, so Jaskier feels a little spoiled.

“Your what now?” Geralt asks, and Jaskier nearly jolts Ciri awake, almost forgetting that there’s another occupant in the room.

He recovers quickly and leans back against the fluffy pillows.

“My lute,” he repeats. At Geralt’s blank stare, Jaskier huffs out a laugh and continues. “It’s a medieval instrument that bards used to play. I learned to play it back in uni - I minored in Music, by the way - and I just… I just love it. And I miss playing it.”

“Oh,” Geralt says after a while. “I never knew you played.”

If Jaskier’s smile comes off a little bitter, Geralt thankfully doesn’t mention it.

“We both don’t know a lot about each other, I’m afraid,” he says.

“Hmm.”

Jaskier snorts. “Well, except for that.”

Geralt doesn’t say anything after that, so they spend the next several minutes in silence. It’s comfortable, for a change, and Jaskier doesn’t mind breaking the quiet with inane chatter. While he enjoyed watching children’s movies with Ciri, he’s easily exhausted, still in the midst of recuperating from his extensive list of injuries. A major head concussion is no joke, but at least Jaskier can sleep peacefully these days.

He’s staring aimlessly at the ceiling and thinking about what he’ll do first when he’s eventually discharged when he hears Geralt clear his throat.

“I was afraid,” Geralt starts when Jaskier turns his head to meet the older man’s eyes. At Jaskier’s puzzled frown, Geralt clears his throat again and explains. “That day, when you told me we were soulmates… I panicked.”

Oh, so they’re finally going to talk about it now. While his soulmate’s daughter is lightly snoring and drooling on Jaskier?

Okay, then.

“That’s some way to panic,” Jaskier teases, but it falls a little flat. He notices Geralt wince, and Jaskier inwardly curses himself because it’s not the time to make jokes right now. “I’m sorry,” he quickly adds. “I didn’t mean it like that. Please continue, I won’t interrupt.”

Geralt blinks, looking surprised. Jaskier smiles at him and decides to wait patiently for him to speak. It doesn’t take long.

“I don’t have a good track record when it comes to relationships,” Geralt begins, his voice quiet and gruff so as not to wake his daughter. He’s not meeting Jaskier’s gaze. Instead, it’s trained on Jaskier’s fingers that’s carefully playing with Ciri’s blonde curls. “Ask my brothers, ask Yennefer, and they’ll gladly tell you of my failed relationships. Don’t know why, but I was more prone to burning bridges than maintaining them.”

Jaskier feels his heart break, and it takes every ounce in him to not reach out to take Geralt’s hand in his because he’s afraid the other man won’t welcome his touch. So Jaskier bites his cheek and keeps silent, and keeps his hands to himself. He continues to wait in silence, willing to be patient for Geralt because it’s clear to see now that his soulmate is struggling with his words.

And he knows better now, too, that Geralt needs this moment to unpack everything that’s been left unsaid between them all these years.

“When Ciri was born, I felt like I finally had purpose,” Geralt continues. “Her mother didn’t want anything to do with her, so Fiona left her in my care and never looked back. I was fine with it, didn’t mind taking on the responsibility of caring for Ciri. She’s my kid, after all, and it’s an honor to raise her. I thought, since I hadn’t met my soulmate at the time, that everything would be fine. And it was fine for a couple of years. Then I met you.”

At this, Geralt finally looks up from studying Jaskier’s deft fingers to meet his cornflower blue eyes. There’s that oh-so familiar jolt, and for the first time in three years, Jaskier allows himself to bask in the remarkable feeling.

“Then you met me,” Jaskier repeats with a small, sad smile. “And I went and made a fool of myself.”

Geralt emphatically shakes his head.

“No, you didn’t,” he says firmly. “I was an idiot.”

“No, I was the idiot.”

“Let’s agree to disagree, then.”

“In retrospect, I probably made things difficult for you,” Jaskier says with a half-shrug. “So I’m really sorry, Geralt. I think I was pretty tactless with my approach.”

Geralt smiles ruefully at him. “My reaction is what caused us to have a falling out.”

Jaskier opens his mouth then closes it with a thoughtful hum.

“I suppose,” he says, then he glances up from studying Ciri’s peaceful face to look at Geralt with a slight tilt of his head. “Why did you react that way, though? I thought… well, I thought you hated me. Hated the concept of soulmates.”

“I could never hate you,” Geralt cuts him off with a sincere look.

Jaskier gapes at him for a few seconds.

“I, well. You said--”

Geralt swiftly interrupts him once again.

“I remember,” he discloses with a grimace. “I’m not proud of it. I was selfish, Jaskier, and I’m sorry.”

“Alright,” Jaskier says with a patient smile. “You’re sorry, but for what? Telling me the truth? Rejecting me?”

His voice trails off when Geralt shakes his head.

“No, no. None of that.” At Jaskier’s puzzled frown, Geralt sighs and rubs the back of his head. “When I met you, I was terrified at how you made me feel. I felt… wrong-footed, I think? And when you told me we were soulmates, it just made the whole thing more… threatening.”

“Threatening how?”

“Ciri is my number one priority. Sure, she has Vesemir and her uncles, and Yennefer, but I’m her dad. My purpose, my… everything I do is for her, Jask, and you have to understand. Please understand, that when you told me we were soulmates, it felt like everything I worked so hard for would come crashing down. Because here was another person who… matters to me more than I could understand at the time. I was… scared… that if I acknowledged our bond, and accepted you, that it would make Ciri feel like I wasn’t prioritizing her. That she was no longer my number one.”

“Because then you’d have to focus all your time and energy on me,” Jaskier finishes, finally understanding where Geralt is coming from. “And on us. Because it takes a couple of months to solidify the bond.”

“Yes.”

Geralt nods, and he looks like there’s a huge weight that’s lifted from his shoulders. Like he’s been carrying this weight for the past three years or so.

Jaskier breathes in and slowly exhales through his nose. He, too, feels like there’s a huge weight that’s been lifted off his chest. Like he and Geralt are finally on the same page.

Well, almost.

“Geralt, I want you to listen to me closely because I’m going to say this once.”

Geralt nods, golden eyes intense as he waits for Jaskier to continue. This time, Jaskier takes a chance and reaches for his soulmates clasped hands. To his immense surprise, Geralt’s fingers curl around his, as if they’ve been doing it for years instead of for the first time.

“I will never fight for your attention, because Ciri will always be your number one. I’m confident in saying that because, believe it or not, I absolutely adore your daughter to bits.” They exchange smiles at that, each turning to look at Ciri sleeping peacefully between them. Jaskier clears his throat and continues. “I’m sorry that you felt like you had to choose between us. If that was the impression I gave you, then I beg for your forgiveness because it honestly wasn’t. I promise you, Geralt. I promise you that Ciri will also be my top priority.” He shakes his head when Geralt is about to open his mouth. “No. If we’re doing this, Geralt, then I want to be involved. I want to be a part of Ciri’s life, not just yours.”

“I can’t ask you of this, Jaskier,” Geralt professes.

“I know you’re not asking,” Jaskier says with a good-natured eye roll. “That’s why I’m offering, silly.”

Something in Geralt breaks because his shoulders sag. He stares unbelievably softly at Jaskier, golden eyes tender with emotion.

“Jaskier,” Geralt says, awe in his tone.

Thinking that he literally has nothing left to lose, Jaskier moves his hand from grasping Geralt’s to cupping his cheek. He feels his soulmate lean into his touch, and Jaskier knows right then and there that they’re going to be alright.

“We both have baggage,” Jaskier tells him once their gazes lock once more. “And we still have so much to talk about. But I’m in this for the long haul, Geralt. You’re my other half, and I’m yours.”

“I’m yours,” Geralt repeats, and he sounds like he’s starting to believe it.

When he leans over to press soft, dry lips to Jaskier’s slightly chapped ones, Jaskier lets himself believe it, too.

They’re going to be alright.

#jaskierswolf #birthday fic #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #the witcher fic #geralt of rivia #jaskier #professor jaskier #the witcher au #will cross-post on AO3 in a bit #my writing #dapperyklutz

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hanseosvincenzo · 3 years

Note

hanseo/vincenzo first kiss?

i'll put it under a cut here, but if you'd rather read it on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31693313

requests are still open!

The ice of a hockey rink is tumultuous to Han-Seo. He loves hockey and playing is something of a catharsis to him, but his brother’s enjoyment of the game often comes to bite him in the face as a result. He comes here to escape the weight of all that’s going on, and when Han-Seok doesn’t decide to crash the party, it’s exactly what he needs.

Tonight is no different. Han-Seo is the only one on the ice, standing amidst a scattering of hockey pucks and exhaling steam. The thick padding of his uniform keeps him warm and births within him a desire to play endlessly, until he can’t function the next day, but he knows that he can’t take it that far. He’s currently living a double life, and even with Han-Seok sitting in a jail cell at the moment, he can never be too careful. Besides, he’s in charge of things until the man is freed anyway, and for that reason, he has to watch his back for attacks from virtually all angles. At this point, he’s not so sure he even trusts Seung-Hyuk.

But enough overthinking. Han-Seo takes control of one of the many pucks and skates toward the goal, guiding it around the net before he practices a well-aimed slapshot right into the netting. It’s more fun when you have a goalie to compete against, but Han-Seo lives a bit of a lonely life. There aren’t many people he could convince to come out here and play with him, especially considering he’s probably better than all of them.

Han-Seo smiles to himself as he recalls that he’s better than Vincenzo at hockey. It’s on this rink that he learned how naturally competitive the man is. Vincenzo is incredible at just about everything, but he’s still a bit awkward on the ice and has a long way to go. Han-Seo likes dragging out that competitive nature, even if Vincenzo’s lack of expertise winds up getting him upset in the end. They almost always come out of it in good spirits, though.

Yeah…Han-Seo likes playing hockey with Vincenzo.

He seizes another puck and picks up speed, circling around the rink. In his head, he’s playing the forward, scanning his way through fantasy traffic in search of the best lane to fire from. The goalie slides from side to side, crouched low as he anticipates the shot. Han-Seo mentally passes the puck to another person in his formation, and they pass it back, before he shoots, scores! The horn blazes in his mind and he raises both hands in the air, hockey stick almost like a trophy in his pretend hockey game.

“That must be incredibly boring by yourself.”

For a moment, Han-Seo freezes on the spot out of instinct. He’s fully aware of the fact that Han-Seok is locked up right now, and that voice isn’t his brother’s, but it’s a knee-jerk reaction to tense, pivot, and greet him a la ‘hyungnim, I didn’t see you there’. He knows that voice is Vincenzo’s, but his blood still freezes in his veins regardless.

It isn’t until he lays eyes on Vincenzo that he relaxes. Vincenzo steps out from the gate and glides onto the ice. He’s getting much better at balancing, as he slides smoothly into the center of the court. His expression is as no-nonsense as ever, though.

“Hey, hyung,” Han-Seo greets, smiling broadly at Vincenzo from his spot a few feet away from the goal netting. “I thought you were busy today.” Frankly, Vincenzo is always busy with Jipuragi. Fighting the construction of the Babel Tower is more than just a full-time job, but he almost always seems to be preoccupied with a handful of other things. Geumga Plaza in general seems to be a bustling place that requires a lot of attention. Han-Seo has yet to meet most of the residents, but he’s heard Mr. Nam and Ms. Hong chattering about them quite often.

“Actually…” Vincenzo skates a wide circle around the grouping of pucks on the ice as he speaks, his tone thoughtful and perhaps just the slightest bit irritable. “I got kicked out of the office. Ms. Hong was singing something to the tune of ‘I need to come up with gift ideas for Mr. Lee and Mrs. Jang’s baby and you’re about as helpful as a how-to book run twice through a washing machine’.” He turns his gaze up to Han-Seo. “Just to clarify, I’m not bad at gifts.”

“You’re pretty thoughtful,” Han-Seo agrees as he skates backwards for a few seconds. “But it doesn’t sound to me like Ms. Hong actually thinks you’re bad at gifts. She’s probably competing against you without you realizing it.”

Vincenzo’s brow furrows at that thought, before he turns wide eyes over at Han-Seo. “…That makes sense, actually. She probably wants credit for the best gift or something. I’ll have to make sure I get something worlds better than what she decides on.”

Han-Seo laughs out loud there. “You’ve got the money for it, hyung. So…you came out here to spend your doghouse time with me?”

“Doghouse?” Vincenzo frowns again.

“Yeah,” Han-Seo replies, taking another puck and guiding it around the ice some. “Like when one partner in a relationship kicks the other out for doing something that upsets them.”

“But I didn’t—”

“—it’s essentially the same.”

“But we’re not in a relationship.” Vincenzo seems adamant about that, skating about lazily as he tries to keep up conversation.

Han-Seo fires a shot and lands another puck in the goal netting. “What…really? Have you just not worked up the courage to take the next step or something?”

Vincenzo stops skating and frowns at Han-Seo. “It’s just not like that. Ms. Hong and I are very close, but we’re not…”

Han-Seo stops skating there, too, blinking in genuine confusion. From this angle, it’s starting to look like Vincenzo is getting flustered. Could it be that he’s still trying to work out those feelings? Or maybe there’s another, much more personal reason he doesn’t see her that way. “That’s okay, hyung. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” He smiles there. “Let’s just play some hockey, okay?”

Vincenzo breathes a visible sigh of relief there. “That sounds good. But let’s play together this time—can we practice passing?”

Han-Seo ponders that for a moment, before he shrugs and takes control of one of the many pucks on the ice. He skates a short distance away, aims, and passes it to Vincenzo, who slips into action and captures it.

They play in silence for several long moments. Frankly, Han-Seo isn’t sure how much time has passed as the two shoot the puck back and forth between one another from different spots around the ice. Vincenzo is actually really good at passing, so he probably didn’t need all the extra practice. Chances are, he just didn’t feel like getting competitive today. In his defense, Han-Seo doesn’t lose in a game of hockey unless it’s against his brother.

After the pucks are scattered all over the ice from at least an hour’s play, Han-Seo skates back to neutral ice, letting the end of his stick rest against the surface as he comes to a stop. He’s getting tired, so it’s probably about time for him to head back home.

“Do you think Ms. Hong is ready for you to come back yet?” He questions as Vincenzo stops alongside him. They’re both staring at the goal from their spots next to one another.

Vincenzo tugs one of his gloves from his hand and digs into his pocket, withdrawing his phone from it. He stares at the screen for a moment, before he tucks it back into his pocket. “She hasn’t called me to give me the all-clear yet.”

“Hmm…she must be really determined,” Han-Seo thinks aloud, his attention falling to the ice, and then turning to look up at Vincenzo. “Why don’t we grab something to eat while you wait?”

Vincenzo seems to contemplate that question, before he shrugs his shoulders. “I could eat. Let’s go.”

Han-Seo turns to start back toward the seating area, but Vincenzo stops him short before he can get too far with a grip of his now ungloved hand on the sleeve of Han-Seo’s uniform. When Han-Seo turns to face him, he’s doing that thing he does with the corner of his mouth when he’s lost in thought.

“I think you’d be jealous if Ms. Hong and I were a couple.”

That statement is so blunt and jarring and out of nowhere that it leaves Han-Seo outright gawking up at Vincenzo. The man is always confident with his own thoughts on things, so it shouldn’t come to Han-Seo as a surprise, but here he is, staring up at Vincenzo like he’d just sprouted a second set of ears on his forehead.

“Wh…Excuse me?”

The answer is yes. Absolutely, one hundred percent yes, but that’s something Han-Seo has been making a point to keep to himself long before he decided to help Jipuragi in the fight against his brother. It only makes things messier, and none of them have time for—

Let me clarify,” Vincenzo tries, releasing Han-Seo’s hand. He skates a few inches closer. “I wouldn’t be upset if you told me that I was correct.”

Han-Seo’s ears are burning with embarrassment at this point, and he’s catching himself in the act of doing that thing he does when he’s nervous—the thing where he can’t seem to bring himself to look up from the ground or really anything that isn’t the face of the person he’s supposed to be talking to.

“H…Hyung, you’ve said it yourself—I’m not that smart, so you’re going to have to—”

Vincenzo scoffs, though there doesn’t seem to be any real bite to the sound. He’s not trying to insult Han-Seo, and that alone relaxes the man somewhat. He stops a foot or so in front of the younger man and stares down at him. “You seem to think I’m good at everything, Han-Seo, and I’m not going to deny I’ve got a pretty wide skill set. But there are two things that you yourself have shown me I’m not good at.” He raises his hand. “The first? Hockey. I could probably get much better at it and you’d still hand my head to me on a silver platter.”

Han-Seo can’t stifle the giggle that escapes him at those words. “I am pretty good at it, huh?”

Vincenzo looks momentarily unimpressed, before he speaks up again. “And number two: people. Jang Joon-Woo is actually Jang Han-Seok and it took me an uncomfortable amount of time to draw that conclusion. Ms. Hong initially comes off as catty and pretentious but is actually a very dedicated, quirky young woman with a loyalty that I can’t even begin to understand. I currently live in a plaza filled to the brim with people I should consider tedious and annoying, but I actually quite enjoy their company and have relied on them for a great deal of help. And as of late, you.”

Han-Seo swallows down butterflies. He’s been doing so for a long time now, so he should be good at it. But here he is, struggling like his body’s trying to throw up and he can’t let it. His crush on Vincenzo had started a long time ago, birthed initially from the small ways Vincenzo and the rest of Jipuragi managed to get back at Han-Seok and Babel, and then suddenly growing into something so much bigger when he saw how far Vincenzo was willing to go. It had been the pig’s blood that had done it for him. Vincenzo wasn’t your shining example of a good person simply willing to fight the good fight for moral reasons. He was evil, not unlike Han-Seok, but he was evil fighting evil for the sake of taking it down.

Han-Seo always has and still does believe that Vincenzo is the single coolest human being he’s ever met, and he’s been toying with the strength of his growing feelings for the man for quite some time now. He knows that Vincenzo isn’t a man you form a relationship with, but the person inside him who has never quite gotten the chance to be young and think about trivial things like love and happiness aches for just a taste of what Vincenzo could give him.

So he can’t help the way his hopes are up right now. He stares up at Vincenzo, waiting for him to continue speaking.

“You’re right, you know,” Vincenzo starts, shrugging his shoulders matter-of-factly. “You’re not incredibly smart. But you’re determined. You’re always going on and on about how much you’re studying so that I’ll trust you to take over for Jang Han-Seok once he’s gone. You keep me on the edge of my seat, because I’m just waiting for you to decide to be chairman instead of helping me…but you never do. You refuse to leave my side. You’ve made me question so much in the past handful of weeks that I’m having difficulty figuring out how to handle it.” The tiniest smile forms on Vincenzo’s lips there. “On top of that, you’ve got a surprisingly playful side.”

Han-Seo immediately takes that as a huge compliment. Vincenzo has been through the wringer ever since he came here. From Myung-Hee taking out someone Han-Seo later learned Vincenzo had considered a father figure to Han-Seok’s cruel murder of his mother and all the horrible things in between, he has had a lot on his plate to worry about. And somehow, amidst that busy, anxiety-ridden schedule, he’s made time to have Han-Seo on his mind.

“I’m not good at this,” Vincenzo continues as he tosses his hockey stick aside and slips off his other glove, letting it drop to the ice. “When it comes to my own feelings, I’ve spent a lot of time making sure they never had to make it to the equation—it’s protected me many times in my past.” Han-Seo can imagine he’s right about that. Being in the Mafia probably relies heavily on keeping your thoughts grounded and practical. “But right now, I want to be selfish and tell you that I know you’d be jealous of Ms. Hong if she and I were together, because you’d want me to want you instead.”

Han-Seo’s gaze drops down again, and he realizes it’s impossible for him to make eye contact right now. His conditioned reaction is to start apologizing and tell Vincenzo he won’t let that get in the way of their plans thus far. No matter how much this man is waxing poetic, Han-Seo can’t believe his ears.

There’s just no way Vincenzo Cassano is telling him all of this.

But he does, anyway.

“And here’s the kicker: I do want you.”

And like that, Han-Seo’s gawking up at Vincenzo once more. His own hockey stick drops from his gloved hands, his fingers limp behind the thick material. His shoulders are slumped, and he’s just plain staring.His mouth hangs open. He probably looks ridiculous.

Vincenzo scoffs and shakes his head. “Don’t look up at me like a goldfish. I mean it, okay? You know what—let me show you.”

Han-Seo has very rarely seen Vincenzo break composure. It seems like everything the man does is with poise and tact, and he thinks about every step he’s going to take at least three steps in advance. This, however, cannotbe thought out.

Despite that, Vincenzo’s movements are smooth as he sweeps in close, places his thumb and forefinger underneath Han-Seo’s chin, and tips his head up so that he can capture those open lips in his own.

It’s such a strange feeling—the chill of the ice surrounding them has cooled the skin of Vincenzo’s nose, and it almost tickles as it presses against Han-Seo’s cheek. His hand is cold, but also comforting enough that it feels warm in its own way. And those lips are so incredibly soft against Han-Seo’s that he genuinely doesn’t know how to react.

It’s as he’s trying to find a place to put his hands that Vincenzo breaks off the kiss and stares pointedly down at him. “You don’t have to keep trying to impress me, because I’m already impressed. You mind your manners when I ask you to, and yet, you’re not uptight. I like that a lot about you. You’re…relaxing to be around.”

“It’s strange. You curse at me, and it’s fine. We play hockey, and I feel at ease. And it just feels like I’m drinking with a friend. That’s how I feel.”

Han-Seo almost feels like he’s hearing the same statement from Vincenzo that he’d made to him. The same realization. It’s mutual. Shit, it’s mutual.

It’s also in this moment that Han-Seo realizes just how not-used to situations like this Vincenzo is. Once he sees the realization on Han-Seo’s face, his stern demeanor seems to break, and he’s shaking his head, suddenly rushing to explain himself on some other level. “I’m not saying this to get your hopes up or anything. I’m certain this would put you in a very awkward position—”

Han-Seo can’t help himself. He’s already degloved both his hands, so he quickly brings one up to cover the entirety of Vincenzo’s mouth with his palm. “Stop talking, hyung.” He bites back laughter at the way Vincenzo blinks at him. “Are we good? Is it my turn to say something?”

The look on Vincenzo’s face is downright comical. Han-Seo knows by reaching up like that, he’s basically signed himself up for a twisted wrist and a few broken fingers. It’s compliment enough that he didn’t wind up getting fought off like that. Either way, Vincenzo nods his head, still as bug-eyed as ever, and Han-Seo lowers his hand.

“I don’t care about any of that,” he responds simply. “I’ve wanted a lot of things in my life, you know?” He won’t spill all the gory details, because Vincenzo most likely knows most of them. His drug addiction, his struggles with his brother’s abuse, his love for Babel and longing to help it blossom into a legitimate company…Vincenzo probably knows all of it. “Even if it’s fleeting, or sporadic, or whatever you need it to be, I’ll take it. I know you won’t be in Korea forever, and I know something…y’know, between us can’t really happen, but…you make me happy, hyung.”

Vincenzo’s brow furrows, and for a moment, Han-Seo worries he’s made the man emotional. That in mind, he closes the distance between them once more. “I’m gonna kiss you back now,” he warns, before he raises his hand, curling his fingers around the back of Vincenzo’s neck, and leans up to kiss those lips once more. He feels the way Vincenzo hesitates, before both of those arms come around his waist and pull him in close. It’s a shame they’re bundled up in all this padding right now, because the close contact would probably feel downright incredible right now.

But like Han-Seo said, he’s going to take what he can get, and a kiss in hockey uniform on the ice doesn’t sound half-bad.

The future may be uncertain, but what’s going on right now is very, very real.

#hancenzo #vincenzo #vincenzo cassano #jang hanseo #jang han seo #vincenzo x hanseo

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