#A little sunshine goes a long way | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

controld3vil · 30 days

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𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐞

pairing(s): young!rhaenyra targaryen x velaryon!reader (can be read either as romantic/platonic) synopsis: Rhaenyra always seemed to like her position as the only dragon rider in King's Landing. Besides her uncle who rarely visits, she flys with Syrax whenever she can as proof of her imperial lineage. When word comes that you claimed Vermithor, the Bronze Fury, Rhaenyra becomes strangely jealous of your newfound attention.

notes: this takes place closely timeline-wise to the first season. cw: reader experiences a near-death incident, slight angst

Rhaenyra always felt at ease after riding with her dragon, Syrax. She had a distinctive bond with Syrax that no one could replicate. No one could discourage the truth. Her ancestors rode dragons and conquered the Seven Kingdoms. And rightfully so, as she acknowledges its power on the world. They were fierce beasts, little in number, but ferocious and praised as Gods to the people. The Princess of Dragonstone understood that well when she climbed off of Syrax’s saddle. Her golden scales glisten gloriously from the sunshine.

She gleams brighter than before. Switching into a rich blonde gown, Rhaenyra rushes to the Court Council. Hoping none of the Councilmen would be bothered by her disturbed presence, the princess fixates on flattening down her silvery hair with her fingers. Combining through her tangled locks, the princess enters, drawing attention to haste and bewildered looks.

“I was visiting Mother,” The Realm’s Delight she was named, smiled at her father, the King when asked about her whereabouts. She knew he would be displeased by the fact that she was dragon riding incredibly early. But she told the truth wholly. Rhaenyra did visit her mother.

“On dragonback?” Viserys asked after catching a whiff of his daughter’s distinctive scent. It smelled of smoke and sea, resembling the dragon’s nature and their fiery breath. His daughter returns with a cheeky smile when she goes about to collect the pitcher, full of wine. There was much pride in the princess of her ancestral lineage. It was clear as histories can be able to tell of Old Valyria. A dragon was considered a rare delicacy despite having an abundance around the world. King’s Landing, Dragonstone, and Driftmark. Yet people did not consider them to be flesh and blood. Surprisingly, most were wild and had never been bonded with a dragon rider.

“Haven’t you heard? There was a sighting of the wild dragon, Vermithor along the coastlines of The High Tide,” Coryls Velaryon spouts, in cautiousness and weary. His clenched fist was unmistakable to Rhaenyra as he leaned forward with agitation. “My men are terrified, Your Grace. Surely we can think of a way to return the dragon’s course to Dragonstone.”

The silvery-haired girl looks to her father, King Viserys who beams with fazed delight. He thinks in light of the Master of Ship’s concerns. A dragon flies as it pleases. It did not flee far from Dragonstone as her familial home was a mile away from Driftmark itself. Eventually, Vermithor would have to return to rest. “And I’m sure he will return to Dragonstone when he deems it appropriate.”

The lighthearted remark sparked some casual laughter from the table. A few lords shamelessly coughed between their coats while Hand to the King, Otto Hightower could only contemplate silently how to move the conversation to something more time-consuming. Rhaenyra has witnessed enough Council meetings to know that her father is restless. He never wanted to stay in the room for far too long before becoming disinterested in every political matter. What a dull position, she thought, to be the King of the Seven Kingdoms, you must abide by everyone's opinion and request.

Rhaenyra traces her thumb around the handle of the pitcher. It’s glass and gold melded together. Its purity reflects wonderfully when she’s shown it to the light. As she strides around every seat of the table, the princess notices the little nuances each lord has. The old and cold pin of the Hand on Otto’s chest. The chainmail rings around Maester Mellos. And the rustic bronze rings Lord Corlys carried on his right hand. She recognizes why they are so distinctive now.

“Nyra!”

It was like a bell went off in her mind when the Princess of Dragonstone blinked again. Now the Council meeting was left in their final moments. The doors that connected the room to the passive hallways opened, and flooded with the lords, one by one exiting. Well-mannered and poised was she when Rhaenyra placed the pitcher back onto the tabletop. Greeted by her father with a brief smile, she heard the sound of sweet nectar. Did you expect she did not hear you?

“Princess,” Rhaenyra laughs, coming down the stairs. You appeared eager to be near her, as you wrapped your arms tightly around her waist. A warm ache grows in her chest as Dragonstone’s darling caresses your shoulders, pushing you aback to see your face. “My you are eager this morrow.”

Your cheeks were plastered in rosy plums. Pink and delicate. As you burst into unfathomable joy at her proximity, you couldn’t contain your giddy blubbering. “I missed you! Is it so wrong to miss you?” She’d imagined your energy and heart beating simultaneously in the rhythm of a hummingbird. You were such a lively spirit, it complimented well with her own. Can she say that?

She peers at you, fondly. As you were the most precious being one could ask for. If she could, Rhaenyra would shield you from every inconvenience and proposal your way. Even when you would become of age and pursued by your parents, she still would protect you from anyone who deemed you accessible. She brought both of her hands around your small one. They were adorned with rose-colored jewelry. Each is a colored gemstone to match your House colors. Rhaenyra slowly traces the flesh of your palm, “Of course not, Princess! It’s- I haven‘t seen you in so long,”

Your name is hollered and echoed against the looming halls you both stood in. She was sure for a moment, you two would be alone. A pang of discomfort flourishes in her throat when Rhaenyra becomes mute to the person to grab your attention. You, however, were deemed unbothered by it all, and held onto her grip tighter, and firmly, radiating heat and sweat.

“There you are,” Your father, Lord Corlys groans in relief. It was evitable to find you lost around the castle, King’s Landing was a vast place. However, for how long you have visited, Rhaenyra depicts you knew the structure of it all and simply faked being clueless around. She saw it once. When you vaguely asked a guard where the library was to distract him, knowing you would be off avoiding your lessons with the Septa. She wishes she could chuckle out loud for that memory. “Do not get yourself carried away with the Princess, we have important matters to discuss with the King.” Your father seemed adamant about separating you from Rhaenyra, she recognizes. Which offends her greatly. You were a good friend and cousin. But more importantly, you were the only person to enjoy her company and mischief.

For the longest time, the eldest daughter of King Viserys was lonely, not having anyone to relate to with her ancestral blood. The ladies in waiting were shy and polite. They were not her forte, Rhaenyra disliked how courtship worked. The daughter of the Hand, Alicent Hightower was a pleasant fresh air and surprise. When she had arrived at King's Landing years ago, Rhaenyra was rather avoidant of her. Now, they were good friends, only ever to be in each other's presence. Daemon, her uncle, is rarely seen nowadays. His position to the City Watch had in truth bothered and encouraged him to wreak more havoc with the townsfolk. She dismisses everyone clearly, anyone closest to her Targaryen bloodline is old or distant.

But you, and your siblings, Laenor and Laena were much needed in the capitol. Your brother and sister visit rarely, they listen to your father and mother. On the other hand, you weren’t as uptight. As the youngest member of the Velaryon family, you had fewer expected duties compared to her and Alicent. Rhaenyra envied it truly, forever longing for your freedom.

“Yes father,” You mope, an obvious frown on your lips when you depart from Rhaenyra’s side to your father. He stares at you with amused eyes, much contrast when he turns to her direction with a cold glare. It brings a chill down her spine as she quickly bows her head at the Master of Ships. She meant no offense. You did not notice the demeaning tension between your father and cousin. Because childishly, you excitedly tugged on Rhaenyra’s golden sleeves. “We’ll meet again soon, alright?”

God, she can only smile at you. You were so sweet, endearing, and innocent. All traits she could find in any other lady. But you were much lively, more genuine than the girls she watched by the courtyard. They were pretentious and fickle. Alicent was also sweet and innocent. Innocent in the ways of adventure and courage. She was attached to duty and for that, Rhaenyra could not blame her. But for how much it mattered to her, she believed it to be an outrage. Out of everyone, you were just right.

The next time you met Rhaenyra was unconventional. Somehow you managed to convince your father to journey beside him to King’s Landing once more to meet the King’s family. Corlys hardly shrugged, putting little effort to stop you from climbing aboard the Sea Snake. Under unfathomable moments, you were condemned to sail to the capitol to tell the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms the great news. The last islanders left behind were your mother, Rhaenys, and sister, Laena who waved at you, earnestly, honing her fond smile as your figure grew smaller and smaller. Your mother, the Queen who Never Was, stood warmly with her arms crossed, with a look of pride on her face.

Yes, your mother was ecstatic about what you had accomplished. No other dragon rider besides The Old King, Jaehaerys could claim the beast, the Bronze Fury. Many attempted, and many failed. However, because of your efforts, create a sense of joy and relief in your mother’s eyes. Never would she imagine her youngest child to claim one of the largest dragons alive. Vermithor was an untamable beast with a feisty personality. Perhaps it takes likeness to your spirit and simply bonded. She would have to ask you again to recall how you did it.

The walls of the grand castle were empty and welcoming. You felt adrenaline scorch through your veins when you climbed up the stairs of the grand hall. The exterior was glorious. You could holler and scream and it would echo throughout all the corridors like a never-ending chamber. You held a skittish smile, as you made your way up, placing one hand on the rails for support. You could hear your father’s voice echo behind. Careful, you mustn’t fall, my love!

Even if you dropped to the ground, you would immediately pull yourself up and climb the stairs again. It was how desperate you were to meet Rhaenyra. You desperately wanted to tell her!

Across the royal chambers, Rhaenyra was lounging outside notably. She sat under the Weirwood tree at leisure with Alicent beside her with a book in hand. She read aloud one of its stories, a romantic tale of a Dornish princess. But the dragon princess barely paid mind to what the Hand’s daughter was reading, she was more in tune with the moving sky. The baby blue ocean from above and the fluffy clouds that looked like soft cushions. The Realm’s Delight longed to ride with Syrax, despite only returning from her morning ride. If she could live in the sky forever, Rhaenyra would want to.

She spotted a few of the Kingsguards that patrolled stop in front of someone. It looked as though they were permitting passage but seconds later, she saw them nod in unison simultaneously. They cleared the path and there you were. Striding in happy and irregular steps with your flowy dress of blue seashells and gemstones. She is reminded each time of your wealth and beauty. Cool-toned colors were your style as there was no other pigment you dressed in confidently and proudly, Sometimes she wonders how you would look in crimson red and black.

“Princess!” Alicent was the first to speak on your behavior. It was not every day to see you all of a sudden in King's Landing. After Lord Corlys’s many disagreements with the Council. he chose to be absent from court. This irritated King Viserys and the rest of the Council, knowing without their Master of Ships, their collaboration would be deemed incomplete. Nevertheless, your appearance would confirm that your father had once again returned to the capitol. “I didn’t expect to see you here!” The brown-haired princess gleams, shutting the book entirely, and rising to meet you in a short embrace.

Your giddiness is affectionate. It makes Rhaenyra feel light and blissful of your unannounced arrival. “It is good to see you, my Lady!” You’re teasing, tightly wrapping your arms around Alicent before releasing with sweet laughter. Alicent snickers, as the highlights of her dimples flush in soft pales of the color rose.

“I told you, Alicent is fine!”

“I know!” The two of you seemed to be in your world whenever your visits happened. You would appear, and Alicent bursts excitement and jitteriness. Rhaenyra finds it amusing to watch it unfold. But for not witnessing your presence for so long, she rather feels a little hurt and apprehensive of your attachment to the Hand’s daughter. If your mere attendance brought such delight, then your words brought an abundance of warmth and tenderness. “Nyra!”

Finally, the Princess of Dragonstone looks up, feeling slightly closed off from your welcome. Yet when she lays her velvet eyes on you, she can’t help but feel you are forgiven. Your expression was gentle and serene. “Princess,” Your name feels light off her lips as it always did. You playfully roll your eyes before releasing your grip on Alicent to hold onto Rhaenyra’s hands. They were inviting and delicate.

“I missed you,” You whine, dramatically, dragging out the last part as though you haven’t seen each other in months. When really, it has been less than a month. The most you have visited were a full three days, staying overnight in the guest's bedrooms. It was when your father had an important mission to relay with the lords he chose to stay longer. You, on the other hand, wanted a sleepover. And by now, you should have a bedroom, personalized for whenever you wish to come to visit. You have on many occasions to irk your father and mother’s minds.

“The last time we spoke you were whisked away by your father,” She scoffs lightly which earns a questionable raised brow from Alicent. Your expression does not falter at her offense. “even though you said we would meet again.” Petty and stubborn were the words you describe Rhaenyra Targaryen. She was rather protective and loyal to the people closest to her. You importantly, she greatly values you. And weeks ago, you promised her, however, things took a turn with your father and you had to abide.

“And we have,” You grin, lovingly, holding her hands up to your chest. It was a subtle sign of an apology and care. You carried your promise, even if it had taken weeks to fulfill because of interpersonal matters. But you are here now, in front of her, your energetic personality never failing. “I have great news.”

The silvery-haired princess seemed to take your understated gesture sincerely as she closed the gap between you two. Curiosity caught her gaze as her lavender orbs did not move away from your own. “Well, what is it?” Suddenly you’re aware you’ve kept a tight grip on Rhaenyra as she allowed you to trap both her hands. The close intimacy is acknowledged by you when you try not to break away your gaze from hers. Alicent seemed visibly bothered by it but you are not facing her to know.

The wind whistles in anticipation, and the Weirwood tree heaves and blows the dead leaves off of its branches. The luscious green fields dance back and forth in little tiny unison. The scent of dirt and fresh mint is present. As you inhale deeply before revealing, “I claimed a dragon.”

A moment of silence before a heaved gasp came from the Hightower princess.

“Congratulations!”

You can feel the butterflies float up to your chest when you see both of the girl's expressions in a state of happiness and revelation. You give an animated smile, “Thank you!”

“Are you joking?” You can see on Rhaenyra’s face, she is still in shock which morphs into pleasure and ecstasy.

You shake your head enthusiastically, and repeatedly, shaking both you and the Princess in a hop. “No!”

“Oh thank the gods!” Your cousin blurts, embracing you in a well-deserved embrace. Her arms coil around your back with a squeeze. The encouragement both Rhaenyra and Alicent had given you was something you cherished dearly. For the longest time, you blame yourself for not being able to claim a dragon. No egg would hatch or a wild dragon would approach you. You studied and performed all the ways to encounter them. Yet none had prevailed and up until recently, you felt exasperated on the idea of bonding with a dragon. You were extremely jealous of Laenor and Rhaenyra for their impeccable bond. You and Laena longed for it for your entire lives, it made you moody and neglectful.

Therefore their support had kept you least tolerable. Your mother and father were understanding and patient with your fits. Even King Viserys and Queen Aemma sometimes consoled you that one day you would claim a dragon. Whichever dragon you did not care for, you knew your companion was out there.

“Which dragon did you claim?” The brunette girl comes to your side, eager and curious to know what of your new beast.

“Yes, which one did you claim?” Your silver-haired cousin urges, shaking your hands back and forth.

You felt like a bubble waiting to pop with excitement. You wanted all the streams and ribbons the castle could offer to be released for your accomplishment. You took a deep breath before letting out a slow exhale to calm your beating heart. “Vermithor.”

In an instant, Rhaenyra’s face falls. “Vermithor.”

“Yes, Vermithor!” You were blinded by the enthusiasm Alicent portrayed with her hands, clapping and squealing in awe at you. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Vermithor!” The Hand’s daughter takes your left hand and swirls her thumbs around your knuckles. “I’m so happy for you!” Again the call of your name is murmured frankly and in reverence. “One of the largest dragons alive in the world and you had claimed it!”

Satisfaction filled your chest. Nothing could compare to the prideful looks your friends and family had for you on this day. It truly was something to celebrate something this spectacular. Not since Jaehaerys, your great grandfather rode the dragon. Your mother would surely want you to ride Vermithor immediately as he was still considered wild. But if Jaehaerys managed to tame the beast, you knew you could.

She could not explain it. Rhaenyra had always thought highly of you. She would disparage you out of anything. You were too pure for her frustration. What is she angry about? The princess could not explain. But whenever she passed the corridors of the Keep or the chambers of her mother’s ladies in waiting, she would hear the praise and compliments for your achievement. My, haven't you heard? The youngest daughter of Corlys Velaryon claimed Vermithor! The dragon King Jaehaerys rode! It must be fate.

To what end was it fated? Dragons chose their riders. It was unclear how the bonds between rider and dragon existed but it was something genuine. So it shouldn’t confuse her when she sees you when on Driftmark, practicing to fly with the Bronze Fury. You struggled the first few times. She recalls those moments well, laughing and teasing you to no end of the amount of times you fell into the mud. Mounting on a dragon was a gradual adjustment. As she stared into the view of the ocean shore and deep gray-blue waters, you and your dragon were by the shorelines, attempting to be in sync with one another. A few feet from you was Rhaenys. As commanding and benevolent she was to you and not to her.

Rhaenys Targaryen was quick-witted. She never had a great relationship with the Queen who Never Was. But in contrast, she was soft to you and held untainted remorse for her youngest child. Meleys was beside her rider, cooing and staring at you and Vermithor in inquiry. Much similar to her companion, Rhaenys said something Rhaenyra could not understand before watching you shake your head in disbelief. Vermithor was a grueling and deadly creature. The fact that you were young did not change its attention. It croaks and cranes its neck down for you to climb on its upper back.

A saddle was neatly strapped on the beast. It must take ages to put on. Vermithor was known for his savage behavior. Yet if you were present with him, she deems he would have been docile to take care of.

“Why are you pouting?”

It was the late evening on Driftmark when she proposed a walk with you along the beach line. It was the many hobbies you both enjoyed in your homeland. Salt and sea were everywhere as opposed to her home, King’s Landing filled with endless brick walls and dust. The island is peaceful and serene when there are no fishing ships in the water. Rhaenyra can never be tired of the view and the sea salt air Driftmark supplies. It’s refreshing and so calm.

“I’m not pouting.” The Princess of Dragonstone argues, her off tone marks it remarkable that her fickle state of mind. She should know better. You know her well, more than most of her maids and sometimes father.

“You are,” The corners of your lips curve as you kick a few clumps of sand off the ground. “I’ve noticed since coming here, you’ve been…distant.” A personality all of your siblings share is your tenderness. Laena had a graceful heart and Laenor a compassionate one. Yours was resilient. You held onto things for far too long and you’re incredibly devoted to the people you love. You become easily attached to things, people, and the attention. Can she blame you? For a long time, you felt ridiculed and ashamed for your lack of a dragon. Your sadness must be more out of sympathy than Laena’s. By the time your sister claimed Vhagar, you were left as an outcast.

The Realm’s Delights huffs, crossing her arms behind her back. “Seasick I suppose,” In truth, she never was seasick. Rhaenyra had traveled to Driftmark many times to be immune to the sickness. She knew it was a weak lie, one you would catch easily. But she did not like being confronted on whatever was on your mind.

“Nonsense,” You jest, before stomping both your feet firmly into the brown sugar sand. Your stance makes the princess stop. “I know you dislike Vermithor.”

She looks at you, astonished. “What?”

You push further into the dirt until your heels are engulfed. “I can see it, Rhaenyra. You do not like him.” Your assumption makes her head spin. Because in what world would she have any disregard against a dragon? Rhaenyra adored all dragons the same. They were a part of her family’s legacy. But she figures you must’ve seen her sometimes glare in the direction of your dragon to believe she had no love for the Bronze Fury.

The silver-haired girl shakes her head. “No, it’s not that.” She did not want to explain this to you. Feeling ashamed and embarrassed at her feelings, Rhaenyra deems you unfit to hear such nonsense. “It’s more childish than that.”

Your head quirks sideways. You looked confused as your eyebrows rose as well. She can feel the winds pick up as the tides come toward you both. Its cold water brushes past your feet but you ignore it completely. “How so?”

Must she explain at such a time? “I must admit, for the past few days, I’ve been feeling remorseful.” She quipped, finding the freezing chill of the sea comforting for this kind of conversation. “I’m sure you’ve seen me grow bitter, even resentful towards you and Vermithor. For that I apologize but- it’s a small feeling.”

“You feel resentful towards me and Verm?” She can see your eyes flicker, as you contemplate and allow your mind to take in her words. Your loose hair is down, you’re gorgeous. Even in your night clothes and were of the absence of jewelry and pretty colors.

“Was,” She reaffirms, unable to look you in the eye. Rhaenyra feels ashamed for feeling this way. She does not want to hurt your feelings. “The attention, the people, they spoke of you for days about what you have done, claiming King Jaehaerys dragon. All everyone wanted to do was talk about you and how you proved yourself to become the greatest rider.” The more she rambles, the hot tears flood her vision. She does not seem weak to you. She was spilling her truth to you, she had to let it out.

You held a calm expression. “But I’m not the greatest rider,” Yes, you were not. Your bond was still young. You still struggled with communicating with Vermithor sometimes daily. How can you be considered the greatest even when you struggled to mount your dragon?

“That is what the people say,” Accidently your cousin snaps but quickly regains her composure. She looks at her feet and the sand below. It was as if she pleaded for forgiveness. There is nothing to forgive, you’re angry. You’d say but she continues. “I was sick and tired of it all. Even my father spoke highly of you and it offended me. Why do I feel this way? I should be happy for you!” The mist around you clouds the floor. It’s sombrous and cool to touch. Everything Rhaenyra had held back was gone and it felt somewhat cathartic. She knows you must’ve felt hurt by her words, she was harsh.

She was afraid to touch you. But you did not care, gripping her forearm suddenly. Rhaenyra’s gaze finally breaks and stares at you, wide-eyed. Her tear-filled eyes shattered your heart, fully aware of her fragile condition. “I don’t blame you for what you feel, Rhaenyra. I too felt the same way when Laena claimed Vhagar, do you remember it? I was restless, unable to sleep at night - why couldn't I do what she had done.” The Princess of Dragonstone does not pull away from your grasp but simply gazes at your quivering lips. “I grew to be resentful of my sister. My heart grew dark and left people in danger. I regret feeling this way towards her now because of it. Do you understand?”

The expression on your face said it all as she observed. The strained look flashed before you as you recounted the painful memories. In the days after Laena’s bond, you were cruel and cold. You spoke less to your family, ashamed and poisoned by jealousy. You would snap at the sailors more often and drive them into more dangerous scenarios to spite them. Your pettiness was revolting to watch, your father, Corlys growing instantly tired of your immature tantrums for something you could not control. He would cry out to you about how ignorant your actions were and then dismiss your privileges to sailing his ships. All while your mother felt she could do nothing to stop you in your frustration. She watched from a distance as her husband criticized you openly for your infuriating flaws, making it known to all you had gone too far.

Slow but surely, when you stepped closer to her gave you the courage to tell her what needed to be heard. “I cannot change what you feel, but if you wish for me to leave, then please tell me.” You huffed in pain as your cold fingers traced along her arm and then moved to her hands. In some ways like this, you were fragile like porcelain. Sometimes Rhaenyra forgot you were younger than her. And now she felt like the childish one.

“No, I—” She gulps, her fear evident. She didn't want to lose you as well. “Please don’t go.”

Your eye-opening conversation marked the beginning of a new chapter in your life. Connecting with the Bronze Fury required some time to adapt to both yourself and those around you. As the newest rider, you felt the world embracing you. However, what you cherished most was the experience of riding. You hailed from Old Valyria, with the blood of the Dragon in your veins. Riding with Vermithor became a daily routine, a privilege you savored. It was the most incredible gift you could have received.

Rhaenyra slowly became accepting of it as well. You can tell by the way her lips curl when you mount off of your dragon, that she was proud of you. You were a dragon rider! Now, you and she could soar through the skies for eternity if you wished. It was a dream come true, and you were overjoyed that she had forgiven you.

When you were above the skies, it was breathtaking. No view from below could compare to the ones over the clouds. You admit now why you found Rhaenyra’s obsession with flying to be so addicting. It was. When you’re up there, it feels as though nothing matters but you and the pale blue heavens. Vermithor would always groan in his grumpy way to show affection. He enjoyed riding above, you’ve felt his calm heartbeat and knew he too felt as relaxed as you did. When Rhaenyra joined you, which was a regular occurrence, you two would race. Up and down the clouds, like both of you danced in between the midst.

She looked dashing in her rider’s uniform. Black leather, plastered to resemble dragon scales alongside matching gloves. You resembled a familiar approach, having bronze leather strapped all over to stimulate Vermithor’s charming scales. You reminisced that he even once nudged at you from behind as a sign of appreciation for it.

Vermithor, the ruthless wid dragon growing soft because of you. You always had your chance to mention it to him before riding as a reminder of your sincere relationship. As a rider and dragon, the two of you bonded over adventure and tricks. You loved exploring the faraway lands to only encourage the Bronze Fury more driven to fly.

But there were also moments when you were reminded of how reckless you could be with him. On the morning of your uncle’s name day, you convinced Rhaenyra to fly out to the Estermount Sea, close to the Triarchy of Essos. At first, the princess urged you of the danger, the Triarchy were pirates who paraded in raiding others for fun. Additionally, they had been targets of your father’s ships, disrupting trade. Yet you dismissed her pleas and pursued with an eager grin.

The first few moments entering the sea territory were quiet. Both of you were mindful of the harsh waves there and how foggy it was similar to the Stormlands. But Rhaenyra persisted with her worries when you wanted to challenge her to dive down close to the sea.

“We shouldn’t be here!” Her lilac eyes were defined with anxiousness as the princess held her dragon’s reins tightly. However you were indifferent, all too casual in uncharted areas.

“We’re fine! We’re high enough in the sky!” you shout, a broad grin stretching across your face as you gaze at the small islands of Essos below. They look both foreign and beautiful. You’ve never ventured this far from home before.

But that was the last moment of calm you experienced. Suddenly, a harpoon appeared out of nowhere, narrowly missing you and Vermithor by the shoulder. The weapon moved with such speed and force that you had no time to process what was happening. Rhaenyra saw it clearly—she watched as the massive arrow zipped past you, inches away from your body, before plunging into the sea below. Someone had attempted to attack you. The worst followed: the harpoon's impact sent you and Vermithor into a chaotic frenzy. You leaped as your dragon swerved violently, causing you to be thrown from your saddle. For a moment, your body was there, and then it wasn’t.

The princess screamed in desperation, urgently commanding Syrax to dive into the water in an attempt to catch your falling body. Your dragon was beside hers, plummeting and speeding towards the sea floor as you descended. With a whoosh, Vermithor swooped in at the last moment, grabbing you from a fatal plunge. His claws, though sharp, gripped you with surprising gentleness, and you stared in terror as he held you safely.

The memory was deeply distressing. Your hair was now disheveled and tangled from the fall. Tears streamed down your cheeks, leaving your skin glistening and drenched. Rhaenyra could only sob with relief, feeling utterly exhausted and wishing it were all just a nightmare. Yet it was all too real. She felt Syrax’s comforting purr in response to her discomfort. Her father and yours would have been shouting endlessly about this.

Despite everything, all she could remember was the devastated look on your face.

It was madness. Jacaerys would tell her, her son parading around her room as they waited for all of the Targaryen bastards to arrive. Here she was, Rhaenyra Targaryen, in Dragonstone, pursuing the inevitable. The idea of recruiting Dragon Seeds was bizarre but what choice did she have? There was no one left in her family who could claim one. Distant Houses with the blood of Valyria were risky. She had to sacrifice one of her knights to do it. Perhaps this was the only way to win the war.

Years without your presence brought Rhaenyra sorrow and time to reflect on herself. It had been long since she was gifted to speak your name so openly. Everyone knew of her relationship with you. The princess cherished you deeply and with your absence, left the Realm soulfully longing. Rhaenys despises her because of it. She wondered if part of the princess's resentment was directly tied towards you or the fact she was given the title of heir or both. Yet after Alicent’s son had taken her throne, Rhaenys stood by her side, as did her husband.

Meeting all of the Targaryen bastards was daunting at first. Rhaenyra knew many infidelities were common for any lord to allow their seed to spread. To witness so many of them in a room made her all the more encouraged to believe her plan would succeed. It must, it should. She could feel all of their eyes focus entirely on her like a beacon of hope. They believed what they were doing was right to protect the realm. And for that, she will use it to attain.

The Dragonpit had never felt so cold or so secure. It was secluded within a murky cave, miles tall and wide. It’s humid, water drips everywhere as the Black Queen strides down onto the platform where the dragon would be summoned. Forty or so Dragon Seeds followed her, paranoid and trembling about what was to come. She would have to believe in the gods, Rhaenyra sighed. If there is a strategy better than this, she would take it. But Alicent’s son had taken something from her by force and for that, she could not comply.

“Come forward, Vermithor.” Her accent revealed her fluency in the High Vayrlian language. Rhaenyra readied herself for the beast. Seconds of silence loomed over all those in the Dragonpit like a neverending time bomb. The wait was excruciating yet the inevitable was daunting to witness. Out of the shadows comes a growl, which causes a few of the Dragon seeds to slightly panic. But the Queen knew better. And Vermithor as well.

He looms, towering over the cockpit like a living nightmare. His crooked teeth glowed an intimidating appearance for all, and the simmer of his bronze scales shined. “Obey! Stay calm, Vermithor!” Commanded by Rhaenyra as she stares up at the beast, unafraid. She holds an imposing scowl before witnessing the Bronze Fury lower his snout. The Black Queen reaches out of her hand, cautiously and slowly.

Her hand makes contact with his snout and calmly Rhaenyra recognizes the sense of calm Vermithor had with her whenever you were around. It felt as though he resembled your presence and familiarity. This intuition puts a warm smile on her face.

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bucky-fricking-barnes · 8 months

Text

The Cards We're Dealt

Title: The Cards We’re Dealt

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 15k

Warnings: Arranged marriage, alcohol, cursing, objectification of women and mild sexism, bad parents, angst, fluff, mentions of drugs

Summary: Bucky and Y/N are the children of the two most prominent mob bosses in New York. When their parents use them as part of a deal, they’re left to figure out how their lives fit together.

A/N: Wow! Another long fic because I have no self-restraint. There’s a bit of Irish in this because I couldn’t resist it when I wrote Steve. Translations are at the end, and anything incorrect can be blamed on Google Translate. As always, thank you for reading, liking, commenting, reblogging, and supporting me in all the ways you do.

There is an unspoken rule amongst the mobs in New York that the more drug manufacturers a man controls, the nicer you treat his daughter. So, when Bucky’s father tells him that he’s once again been pimped out as part of a deal, Bucky knows to ask the question,

“How many does he control?”

If Bucky had his way, of course, he would treat all girls as well as he is able (which is very well). He likes girls, and he likes going out with girls. He just wishes he could choose which girls he got to take out.

“Seventy-five percent,” George Barnes says, and Bucky freezes with his glass against his lips. He has a club soda to his father’s whiskey—he’s in a good mood and was actually hoping to enjoy the day, though now he’s reconsidering it. His plan to lounge by the pool with Becca and soak up as much of the late spring sunshine as possible is quickly dissipating.

“That’s not possible,” Bucky replies. He quickly does the math in his head. His dad owns over half the manufacturers in Brooklyn. “We own—“

“Not anymore.”

The library falls silent as Bucky tries to wrap his head around the news. Just yesterday he’d overheard his father on the phone with one of his men, explaining in great detail what he’d do if they didn’t get him a sample of their newest product by the top of the hour.

“How?” he asks. He sets his glass aside and sits straighter in his chair. “Did something happen? You didn’t tell me about a takeover.”

George takes a sip of his whiskey. “That’s because there wasn’t one.” He sets the crystal tumbler on the small bronze tray nearby. Marta will come clean it up later. “I sold them.”

“You sold them? If you’ve already struck a deal, then why am I taking out his daughter? Isn’t that normally something you have me do to butter their fathers up before you make the deal?”

Bucky watches as his own father stands and goes to watch the landscapers through the library window, his hands clasped behind his back. He’s long since been out of the army, but some habits die hard. Very rarely did the man ever relax.

“You are the deal,” George answers, his voice much too casual for Bucky’s liking.

“What the hell are you talking about?” snaps Bucky.

“Watch your tone, boy,” his father replies. He doesn’t turn around to witness the way Bucky grinds his teeth together in response. “In exchange for the majority of Theo’s territory, you and Y/N will be married within a year and a half, though the exact date is up to the two of you. I believe that Theo mentioned his daughter likes spring, so perhaps a spring wedding. June is popular, from what I’m told, though that’s cutting it a little close to the deadline.”

Bucky’s up out of his seat now. He can feel his pulse thrumming and he can’t quite catch his breath.

“So what? You threw me in to sweeten the pot? Am I just another bargaining chip to you now?”

He’s shouting. He doesn’t care.

George turns and regards him in silence, and, like always, his expression betrays nothing of what he’s thinking or feeling. He doesn’t seem fazed at all by Bucky’s outburst.

“You’re my heir. I make my decisions based on what’s best for our family. Nothing about this decision is impulsive or frivolous, James,” he finally answers, his voice cool and even. There’s nothing familial in his tone—George Barnes is all business.

“You can’t just decide that I’m getting married. I won’t do it. I refuse,” Bucky tells him. He balls his fists at his sides and he sets his jaw, furious. How dare his father try to control his life like this? It’s one thing to occupy the majority of Bucky’s nights and weekends with dates, meetings, dinners, and weapons runs, but it’s another to throw him into a marriage he doesn’t want.

“I can and you will. If you don’t, there will be consequences. To start, you will be immediately cut off from our family. You will have no money, no home, no resources, and no contact or communication with anyone involved in the business, including your mother and your sister.”

Heart pounding, Bucky glares at him. He’s got a migraine coming on. He knows his father isn’t kidding, but he wants more than anything for Steve to pop out and say that this is all just a joke. He’s never even met Theo’s daughter. He’s barely even met Theo. According to the rumors, his only daughter is his most prized treasure. She isn’t someone who frequents any of the bars, clubs, and restaurants that he and the other “mob children” frequent. Maybe “mob children” isn’t exactly the right term, at least not anymore. After all, Bucky’s engaged now. He’s just part of the mob, another pawn to be moved around the chessboard.

“You have the rest of the day off. I’ll see you at eight tomorrow morning,” says George. He picks up his glass and downs the last of the liquor. “Theo and his family are coming for breakfast, and then Y/N will be moving in with us. I want you on your best behavior.”

He pauses and Bucky continues to glare at him, not validating his words with a response. George’s eyes grow dark with a thinly veiled threat. Bucky knows that look—if he pushes his father any harder, he’ll regret it.

“Do you understand, boy?”

“Yes, sir,” Bucky grinds out.

Turning on his heel, Bucky stalks out of the library and slams the door behind him. He immediately heads down the hall, then down the stairs and across the ground floor of the Barnes Estate to the garage. His keys are still in his pocket; he’d only just gotten back from a night out with Steve when his father had summoned him.

It doesn’t matter that he’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Bucky climbs onto his bike and revs the engine, speeding off down the long driveway that winds around the house. The guards barely get the gate open in time and then he’s flying down the road, heading straight to Steve’s bar in the city. He knows his friend will be there, most likely nursing his hangover and going over the books in his back office. He won’t be hard to convince to go out again, though Bucky knows he won’t approve of the plan to drink as much as he possibly can in the next twelve hours. It doesn’t matter, though—it’s Bucky’s last night as a free man, and he’s determined to make the most of it.

You sit between your parents, staring at the empty seat across from you. They’d told you this morning that you were going to the Barnes Estate for breakfast, and while you’d expected the grandeur of the dining room and the meal, you didn’t expect the eldest Barnes child to be completely absent. You’ve never met him, but your mother has insisted that you speak to James—George Barnes’ only son and heir—as much as possible during the meal. Supposedly, he’s the same age as you.

Rebecca Barnes is a ray of sunshine and her cheery disposition is a stark contrast to the dark clouds that now hang over your fathers’ heads. Maybe it’s a deal gone wrong or maybe it’s something else, but you don’t like it. It leaves an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. Silently, you sneak a hand under the table to find your mother’s. You squeeze and your mom squeezes back, glancing over to give a reassuring smile.

“Y/N,” Mrs. Barnes starts, and you jump a little in your seat. You haven’t been verbally addressed since you’d been seated a half hour ago. The food has yet to be served. “Your parents tell us that you’re very interested in horticulture. Did you know we have a rose garden out back?”

You force a polite smile. “I don’t know about very interested. I have a few house plants that I’ve managed to keep alive, though I would love to see your garden sometime. I’m sure it’s beautiful,” you add.

“Maybe Bucky can take you,” Rebecca says, earning herself a sharp look from her mother. She simply shrugs.

Oh, to be as unbothered as Rebecca Barnes!

“Where is James?” your father asks. His voice is a low, threatening growl and you sink down in your chair, staring at the cloth napkin still folded atop your plates.

“He knows to be here,” Mr. Barnes growls back. “You’ll have to excuse his tardiness, he’s not normally like this.”

Mrs. Barnes gives Rebecca an even harsher look when she opens her mouth to speak, and this time the girl actually looks ashamed. She takes a sip of her orange juice to hide the guilty look on her face. She’s the first person to have actually touched something on the table, and it’s like whatever spell the room has been under is broken.

All at once, the dining room springs to life. A short, slightly heavy-set woman in a gray dress and white apron enters through one door. She’s holding a delicate silver coffeepot and the smell of coffee instantly fills the room. Two younger women in identical uniforms follow behind her, each of them pushing golden carts laden with food. Through the door across the room, a tall man with short, dark brown hair stumbles in. He’s wearing all black, from his rumpled button-up and jeans to his boots and sunglasses. His hair is sticking up in every direction and just like the coffee, you can smell the stench of alcohol coming from him even from your seat.

You grimace at the smell and pull your napkin into your lap as one of the women comes to place food in front of you. It’s a formal dining service and the strange new man who’s entered feels entirely out of place. From his attire to the way he shuffles across the antique rug, everything about him screams that he’d rather be anywhere else. If you acted like that, your father would be pulling you back out into the hallway to reprimand you, and you look anxiously at Mr. Barnes, who’s seated at the head of the table.

“James,” he greets, his voice unnervingly even. A chill runs down your spine. “It’s nice of you to join us. I trust that you slept well last night?”

James collapses into the only empty chair at the table, the one across from you, and pointedly ignores his father. You risk a glance up at him as he reaches for the cup of coffee that’s already been poured.

True to form, Rebecca leans over and claps a hand on her brother’s shoulder blade. “Good morning! Aren’t you excited to have breakfast with our guests?” she shouts, and her smirk makes it much too clear that she’s fully enjoying the way her brother’s scowl deepens. Rebecca also ignores her parents, including her mother, who leans forward to look past James and give her a look of warning.

James shrugs his sister off of him and starts buttering the toast on his plate. You watch for a moment, then start picking at your own food as your mother also begins to eat. Everyone’s acting so strangely that you’re already on edge, and you’ve only managed to get down a few grapes and two bites of dry toast by the time your father speaks up again.

“So when are we signing these papers?” he asks, sipping his coffee.

“As soon as the marriage license is signed,” answers Mr. Barnes.

You frown. Marriage license? Who’s getting married?

“And the terms are the same as when we last spoke?”

Mr. Barnes sips his own drink, something that looks suspiciously like whiskey, and sets down the glass. “Yes. I have that contract in my office. We’ll review and sign after we’re done here. Are all of your daughter’s things ready to be moved?”

Your stomach drops and you turn to stare at your father with wide eyes. He nods, not even paying attention to you as he continues his conversation with the other man. Your mother pointedly ignores you, choosing instead to stare at her plate as she eats. When you look around the room, it seems like almost everyone else is doing the same. Rebecca is the only person who actually meets your panicked gaze. She gives you a pitying look as your anxiety rises.

It feels like your mouth is filled with sandpaper, and you grab your glass of juice. You have to drink half of it before the feeling even mildly abates. As soon as you set it down, one of the women in gray appears to refill it.

“What’s going on? Why are you moving my stuff?” you finally choke out. You twist the napkin in your lap with both hands, wringing it as you look from one person’s face to the next.

Mr. Barnes stops mid-sentence and the whole room freezes. Even James, who’s pouring something into his coffee cup from a small silver flask, stops what he’s doing.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” your mother begins, taking your hand under the table.

You want to pull away. You don’t.

“After breakfast, your father and I are going home, but you’ll be staying here with the Barneses.”

“What?” you whisper, your eyes filling with tears. “No, I don’t— I don’t want to stay here. You never said anything about me—“

“We’re getting married,” James interrupts. He’s chewing and you look over at him, gaping at the casual way he’s sprawled out in his chair. You can feel his gaze on you even from behind his sunglasses and it makes you feel dirty.

“Excuse me?”

He chuckles and sits up, then leans forward in the chair. He drops the greasy strip of bacon he’d been eating onto his plate. “We’re getting married. They’re using us like bartering chips, sweetheart. You and me in exchange for all the drugs and all the territory in New York.” James gestures grandly with one hand, a too-wide grin on his face. There must be at least ten rings on each of his hands and you swallow thickly at the threatening display of black and silver metal.

You’re trembling now and you pull your hand away from your mom’s. She reaches for you again but you shake your head, shying away from her touch. Frantically, you look around the room to see if this is some kind of joke or a drunken rambling, but no one is laughing. Even Mrs. Barnes has the decency to look sympathetic on your behalf.

“No, no. You wouldn’t—“ You look back at your parents, imploring them to say that it isn’t true. You swallow thickly, trying to stave off tears, and your voice wavers as you prompt, “Mom? Dad?”

Their silence speaks volumes and a whimper escapes you as you wring your hands in your lap. The napkin slides onto the floor. It suddenly feels like you can’t breathe and when your mom reaches out for a second time and starts to tell you to calm down, you jerk away and stand. The chair falls backwards behind you, but you ignore it as you rush out of the dining room and into the hallway you’d entered from. Everything is unfamiliar. Frantically, you pick a door and yank on the handle. It doesn’t give way and you continue the process until one of them finally opens and you can rush inside. You lock it behind you and press your back against the door. The curtains on the floor-to-ceiling windows are closed, shrouding the room in darkness. You can’t make out much of the furniture through the tears in your eyes.

Out in the hallway, you can hear your mother calling for you and your father arguing with Mr. Barnes. Mrs. Barnes is yelling at somebody too, but it’s hard enough to hear the others over your own gasps and sobs. You’re properly crying now and you sink to the floor, curling up on the carpet as you heave. It’s a good thing you weren’t able to stomach much breakfast.

A knock on the door makes you yelp and then cry harder, and you crawl into the darkness of the room to try and find a hiding spot. You’re lucky enough to find an old, heavy desk right away. It’s the perfect size for you to crawl under for shelter, and there’s no chair for you to move out of the way. The drawers on both sides create a cubby for you, so you crawl into it and curl up into a ball with your back towards the door, just in case someone manages to get in. If you’re quiet enough, it’s possible they’ll walk right past you.

The crowd in the hallway has definitely heard you by now. The doorknob is rattling as whoever’s on the other side tries to get in, but after a few minutes, they stop and the hallway goes quiet. You hold your breath after every couple of sobs, listening for any sign that they’ve found a key or that they’re picking the lock. Nothing happens, however, and after a while, you give up on listening.

You sit in the darkness and cry until you’re thoroughly exhausted. Once you’ve run out of tears, you sit and zone out with your head resting against the side of the desk drawers for a while longer, numb from the news. Your body feels light and a buzzing, tingling feeling makes moving your limbs seem impossible. You could’ve never imagined that your parents would be so capable of treating you so poorly. You’ve always felt so loved by them, and to hear that they’ve practically thrown you away at the first chance of a profit makes you want to puke. Upon that realization, you actually do throw up, and the stink of your vomit on the carpet of whatever room you’re in makes you want to cry all over again.

The door opens just as the stench is becoming too much to bear. Light floods in from the hallway and you squint, curling up in fear. After a moment, the shorter woman in the gray uniform that you’d seen at breakfast appears a few feet away from the desk, right in the path of light. You look up at her.

“Oh dear,” she sighs, and you instantly feel ashamed at the disappointment in her voice.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. Your bottom lip is trembling again as fresh tears somehow appear in your eyes. Sniffling, you wipe your nose with the back of your wrists. “I can clean it if you—“

“You’ll do no such thing,” the woman says. Her voice is gentle and kind, so much so that you don’t feel the need to argue with her. She waves her hand dismissively and approaches you, then holds out both hands. She’s careful not to step in the mess you’ve made. “Now come on, up you go.”

You let her help you to your feet and then you straighten out your clothes, sniffling and wiping at your nose again in a desperate attempt to look more put together than you feel. Still a bit unsteady, you whimper for a second time, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, dear.” She gives you a warm smile. “My name’s Marta. I’m the head housekeeper here. It’s very nice to meet you.”

You don’t feel the same way about meeting her, given the circumstances, but you hold that comment to yourself and simply nod in agreement. Marta leads you back out into the too-bright hallway. It’s empty except for a bald man mopping the floor on the far end.

The high ceilings and glossy marble floors make it look like you’re in a castle. Even the silence feels regal. Everything seems so cold compared to your home, and you feel too small in the massive space.

“What time is it?” you quietly ask, looking back at Marta.

“It’s almost noon, Miss.”

Your stomach sinks and you press your lips together, inhaling deeply as you look around again. Three hours have passed. “My parents…”

“They left about fifteen minutes after breakfast,” she tells you. Her words are matter-of-fact, even if she delivers the news in the softest possible way.

Somehow it hurts worse that they’ve left you than finding out they’d practically sold you to the Barneses in exchange for God knows what. Drugs or territory, whatever James had said. Not only did they treat you like nothing, but they’d deserted you after it was clear you didn’t agree with their plans. They hadn’t even tried to reassure you that they still loved you or that you’d still be able to see them. Maybe you wouldn’t be. Maybe they didn’t.

You nod numbly. There’s been nothing to prepare you for this, no precursor or warning, so you keep looking around the hall, though in reality you’re not really seeing anything.

“Your room is ready upstairs, Miss Y/N. Would you like me to take you?” asks Marta.

You nod again. You feel like you’re underwater as you follow her up a grand staircase and then down a long, narrow hallway. It’s decorated similarly to the ground floor, though with a plush Persian rug running its length. Marta talks as she walks ahead of you, no doubt explaining what the many doors lead to, but her words simply go in one ear and out the other. It’s all so surreal that when you finally get to your own room, you don’t even open the door. Marta has to reach around you to open it, and then she gently ushers you inside when you still don't move.

Just as they had said at breakfast, your belongings have all been moved into the Barnes Estate. The furniture here is different, grander than what you’re used to, but your blankets and pillows are on the bed, and the two bookshelves are packed full of the books you’ve collected over the years. Even the strip from the photo booth at an old friend’s wedding is pinned to the bulletin board above the desk. Someone’s even thought to put your plants on their own table by the window.

“There’s a bathroom on the left and your closet is on the right,” Marta explains, pointing to each. “If you’re hungry, dinner is at five.”

“Do I have to eat with them?” you ask.

If Marta is surprised by your question, she doesn’t show it. She simply shakes her head with a gentle smile. “No. We can bring food here if you’d like.”

You nod and stand in silence until she leaves and closes the door behind her. Then, after another minute passes, you drag yourself over to the bed, climb under the covers, and close your eyes.

If there’s any mercy left in this life, you think, I’ll fall asleep and never wake up again.

Weeks pass and you still haven’t adjusted to life at the Barnes Estate. The staff is only slightly less friendly than those you grew up with, but they’re more attentive. It helps that there are more of them. For every member of the Barnes family, yourself included, there are at least four staff members to attend to their every need. It makes you feel like royalty, but it also makes you feel guilty. You don’t need this much. You certainly didn’t ask for it.

You haven’t seen James since the ill-fated breakfast, nor have you seen your parents. They’ve gone so far as to block your number. After that discovery, you’d locked yourself in the massive ensuite bathroom and cried for an hour. Marta had been the one to coax you out. The poor maid who’d found you when coming to get you for dinner hadn’t known how to help. You’d spent that entire evening curled up on your bed while reruns of The Nanny played on the TV embedded in the wall across from the massive mattress. Marta had spent every second with you that she could, but eventually Mrs. Barnes—Winnifred, as you referred to her in your mind—had scolded her for neglecting her nighttime duties across the estate. That made you feel even worse.

“Are you okay?” Rebecca asks, and you turn to look at her from where you’re staring out the hallway windows at the gardeners. The backyard is massive, complete with a rose garden in full bloom, an outdoor swimming pool, a forested walking trail, a large green expanse for games and parties, a gazebo, a fountain, and what seems to be stables far in the distance, though you haven’t ventured far enough to be sure. A visit to the rose garden hasn’t been brought up again either, and nothing seems interesting enough to explore on your own.

Nodding, you don’t say anything before turning back to watch the men work. They talk and laugh with each other as they prune, pick, and water. You wish that you could trade places with them.

“You don’t look okay,” she says. Rebecca props herself up on the window ledge to your right, facing you with a suspicious look on her face. “We haven’t seen you at any meals, and Valerie told me that you were crying in the bathtub three nights ago.”

You should feel ashamed, but you’re too numb to care. It feels like you’re floating through each day, detached from most things. You’ve spent your entire life thinking that you would marry for love and live happily ever after. Now, your parents have sold you to the highest bidder and your husband-to-be is a cruel, disgusting man-child that wants nothing to do with you.

Rebecca’s fingers lacing with yours jerk you back to reality and you look down at your joined hands in confusion. Her nails are bitten short and she wears a single ring with the Barnes family crest. It’s dainty and gold, a stark contrast to the many rings on her brother’s fingers.

“You’re safe here, Y/N,” she tells you, her voice gentle. “You don’t have to be alone. I’m so sorry for everything that’s happened to you. If I had any say in it, you could be home right now with your parents, but I’m far from the top of the totem pole.”

“I hate them.” You spit the words out and jerk your hand away from hers. “I hate my parents.”

That’s the first time you’ve ever said that in your entire life and your heart skips a beat as the anger makes your lip curl. You’re baring your teeth at her but Rebecca doesn’t even flinch. She’s a mafia princess, through and through.

“They made me believe that I could have anything I wanted, that I could marry whoever I wanted whenever I was ready, and then they threw that all away and treated me like shit the first time it was convenient for them.”

She nods. “That’s true.”

“I was so foolish to have believed them,” you growl, but the fight in you is fading just as quickly as it came. You burn bright, but you burn quickly, too.

“No,” Rebecca says, shaking her head. “You’re just human.”

You look away, embarrassed by your display of emotion as your eyes begin to water with more tears. You were raised to be reserved. You knew very little about the inner workings of your parents’ business, but you’d learned as a young girl that you’d fare better if you always clung to the edges of the room, avoiding the dirt and grime and blood that surrounded your whole life. Over the years, you’ve grown very good at hiding yourself and your emotions from the people around you. From the spark in her eye, you have the feeling that Rebecca is the exact opposite. She could hold her own if it came down to it. You couldn’t.

“It’s okay to be upset,” she insists.

Shaking your head, you take a deep breath and look back out the window. You lift your chin slightly and when Rebecca tries to rope you into another conversation with her, you ignore her and focus on the men outside. They’re finished tending to the roses on the edges of the garden. Now they’re working their way inwards.

You’re finally left alone a few minutes later and as soon as she’s around the corner, you let out a heavy sigh and relax your posture. Slumping forward, you lean forward into the window ledge, curling up just a little as you continue to watch the gardeners. The silly song from Alice in Wonderland pops into your head and you hum along, eventually mumbling to yourself about painting the roses red.

You feel a little bit like Alice, you realize. You’re out of your element in a strange land where everything you’ve learned about life seems to be turned on its head. In this world, nobody marries for love and the girls are just as entrenched in the business as the men. Does Rebecca conduct business with her father and older brother? You could certainly picture it. Will the same be expected of you?

That afternoon, Marta knocks on your door with a written invitation from Winnifred. Your presence is being formally requested at their dinner table, though from the look the housekeeper is giving you, it’s more of a demand than a request. With her help, you pick out something to wear. By the time five o’clock rolls around, you’re crossing the enormous hallway in a dress and heels that you’ve never seen before. It’s far too showy for your taste, but it’s clearly something someone wanted you to wear. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have put it in your closet.

George Barnes and James stand when you enter the dining room, as do several other men you don’t recognize. Your father is standing near the head of the table with George, though your mother and Rebecca are nowhere in sight. Besides Winnifred, you don’t recognize any of the other women. The only empty seat is beside James and your immediate instinct is to flee, but then he’s stepping aside to pull out the chair and all eyes are on you.

Slowly, you close the distance between the two of you and sit. He helps you scoot in, then takes his own seat on your right. The other men sit as well and then dinner resumes. You sit in silence, staring at the top edge of your plate with your hands in your lap. You’re not really listening to the conversations around you, either, but you can feel someone’s eyes on you as you try to stay as quiet and motionless as possible.

“Are you sick or something?”

You startle and look up with wide eyes. James is watching you. He’s got one hand on the table with his fingers brushing the stem of his wineglass and the other resting on his thigh. Unlike your fateful breakfast weeks ago, James is dressed in a neat, all-black suit. He has no tie, and his rings are all gone except one. It’s identical to Rebecca’s family crest, except his is silver and has a thicker band.

His eyes are full of something you can’t place and you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. As quickly as you turned to him, you turn away and look back at your plate. The napkin is folded in some elaborate way on top of the plate. You’re not sure if it’s supposed to resemble anything at all, but maybe if you stare at it long enough, it will look like something.

“Y/N?” he prompts. You nod once, tightly, and then pull the heavy cloth napkin into your lap when a server appears to present the first course.

Between the second and third course, you can feel James’ eyes on you. After the third, he gets roped into conversation with a man sitting across the table, but you know that he’s glancing at you all the while. After the fourth, he bumps his arm against yours. You shirk away and feel him tense beside you.

“Excuse me,” you mumble, and you push your chair away from the table. Immediately, the conversations stop and all the men stand again. It’s too much attention on you and you hurry out of the dining room as fast as your heels and dress will allow. You’re stumbling over yourself by the time you get back to your suite on the third floor. The door slams behind you and you collapse onto the floor beside the bed, too overwhelmed to even climb atop the oversized mattress. You’re on the verge of tears when there’s a soft knock from the door, and that rips a sob from your chest that you hadn’t expected.

Immediately, the door opens and James is standing in the open space, a dark look on his face. You sob again and scramble backwards until the edge of the bed frame is digging painfully into your spine.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

You swallow hard and take several gasping breaths, trying to control yourself. Your mind is spinning with insults, calling you weak and pathetic, and you believe every one.

“It’s just too much,” you answer through your tears. “I don’t want this!”

James huffs. His angry expression has faded, now replaced with something more akin to irritation. “And you think I do?”

You shake your head. “Of course not.”

“These are the cards we’ve been dealt, doll. You’re gonna have to get over it. Let’s just get married and then we can live happily ever after in a big house where we never have to see each other. I’ll do what I want and you can do what you want. Sound like a plan?”

You look down at your hands. A big part of you wants to say that no, it doesn’t sound like a plan. You don’t want that life. You don’t want a house so big that you practically need a golf cart to get from one side to the other. You don’t want a husband who ignores you in favor of his blood money or his side chick or the next shiny toy off the black market. You don’t want James.

Though every part of you is screaming the opposite, you nod. He crosses the room and you inhale sharply to steady yourself as he approaches you with no care. His black dress shoes are tracking dirt across the rug. James holds out a hand to help you up and you take it. The heirloom ring on his right hand digs into yours until you’re standing, and then he drops your hand like it’s on fire.

“We need to go back,” he tells you, and you nod again. “Our parents are pissed.”

“Of course they are,” you mumble.

James pauses, staring at you critically. You’ve been staring at the baseboards since he helped you up, but when he doesn’t move or speak, you glance upwards at him. He’s got one eyebrow raised. His expression is thoroughly unreadable otherwise and an unsettling feeling blooms in your stomach.

“What?” you ask. You step back a little, but there’s no place to go except up against the bed again.

He shakes his head at you. “Nothing. Come on, princess.”

“Don’t call me that.” You scrunch your nose. “Anything but that.”

“Sugar?” he offers, and when you shake your head, he sighs. “Well, what do you want me to call you, since you’re suddenly the one calling the shots?”

His words cut deep and you look back down, hating the way shame immediately pools in your belly. How could he seem angry and irritated with you, then borderline kind, and then completely disinterested in your feelings the next? It’s disorienting, and you don’t need that on top of everything else.

“That’s what I thought. Let’s go.”

Grabbing your arm in a grip just bordering on painful, James pulls you out of your bedroom and back down the hall. He holds on as you stumble behind him in your heels. When you reach the ground floor hallway again, he drops his hand and offers you his arm. You’re hesitant to take it, but he sighs a little and you decide that it’s easier to give in than to put up a fight.

The two of you walk back into the dining room and the conversations immediately hush. James leads you to your waiting seats, pulls out the chair for you, and then helps you scoot towards the table again once you’re seated. As he takes his spot beside you, your father speaks up.

“Have you and James discussed when you’ll be getting married?” he asks.

You pick up your fork and stare at the strange food on your plate, ignoring him. Though your stomach is churning, you force yourself to take a bite. He can’t expect you to answer while you’re chewing—it would be bad manners.

“Next spring,” James answers. “In the rose garden.”

You want to spit on the roses. You swallow your food instead.

“Good choice,” Mr. Barnes agrees. He turns his attention back to your father. “Your daughter is quite the well-behaved woman. She’ll do well with our James.”

Beside you, James tenses again, his grip tightening slightly on his fork. You glance at him, holding your breath, and wait until he relaxes again to take another bite of your food.

The rest of the dinner passes with mundane, meaningless conversations. Nobody addresses you for the remainder of the meal, not even your parents, and finally the men begin to make their way out of the dining room to an adjoining room. You hadn’t even realized there was a room connected; the door is hidden amongst the paneling and crown molding on the walls.

“You can’t go in there.” James grabs your wrist as you stand to follow the group of men into the new room. His voice isn’t malicious and his grip isn’t tight, but you flinch away from him anyway. It’s only then that you realize the few women that had been in the room are leaving through the door to the hall with their wineglasses in hand.

“Because I’m a woman?” you counter.

“Because you don’t want to hear the things that they’re going to discuss,” he answers. He tosses his napkin on the table and stands, towering over you. After a long second of eye contact, he steps away from you and heads towards the men.

You watch him go and silently weigh your options. A few weeks ago, you wouldn’t have even thought about following the men into the second room. You would have simply taken the same path as the other woman, though your wine would have continued to remain untouched. Now, however, with your wine in hand, you stood at a crossroads. You could go into the room and potentially face the wrath of your father, James, and George Barnes, or you could live forever curious as to what was actually being discussed.

With your mind made up, you down your wine, step around James, and head through the open door into the room. It’s a study with dark wood paneling on the walls, leather couches, and stale cigar smoke in the air. As soon as you enter, the laughter and conversation stop and all eyes land on you.

“Y/N, you should be with Winnie and your mother,” Mr. Barnes says, stepping towards you. James is behind you now and though you’re hedged in, you simply lift your chin at the older man.

“Why? Am I not allowed to know what family I’m marrying into?”

His face darkens. “Girl, I’m warning you—”

“Don’t speak to my wife like that.” James’ voice from over your shoulder startles you and you quickly turn your head, looking back at him with shock.

Why is he suddenly standing up for me?

“Hold your tongue, James,” his father snaps. “You aren’t married yet, and Y/N needs to learn her place. One would think her father would have taught her better, considering the problems his wife caused.”

Though you hate your parents for what they’ve done to you, your blood boils at the insult. Your anger rears its ugly head even more when you realize that your father doesn’t look intent on standing up for you or your mom, either.

“That’s enough!”

You swear the room rattles around you when James shouts and you grit your teeth, furious at Mr. Barnes. How dare he insult your father? How dare he talk to you and his son that way?

James grabbing your hand shocks you back into reality. Once again, his grip is almost painfully tight, but you force your face to reveal nothing.

“Y/N and I are going out. If I so much as hear that you’ve said a single thing about her in my absence, you will regret ever giving me any kind of power in this business,” he growls. “The next time you see her, I expect that you’ll treat her with the respect she deserves.”

The men stare at you and James in disbelief, and then you find yourself being practically dragged out of the room. You’re too stunned to fight back, so you let him pull you across the ground floor of the estate to a door only two down from the dark room where you’d hit the morning your parents had left you behind.

“We’ll have to take the car, unless you’re okay riding the bike in that dress,” James says, pushing open the door. He doesn’t look back at you as he speaks, and it takes you a second to realize he wants a response.

“Car,” you answer after a few seconds. “Please.”

The room James has led you to is a massive garage, stretching farther than you ever realized a similar room could. Three of the walls are made of light gray cement, as are the floor and ceiling, and the fourth wall is made up of windowed garage doors, each one big enough for several cars to drive through simultaneously. Running down the center of the rectangular garage, there is a row of seven parked cars, with enough space to fit at least another car between each one, and beyond that, you can see a row of several motorcycles parked in a similar manner. The cars are in varying shades of gray and black, with the exception of one red sports car at the far end of the group. You can’t see the bikes well enough from the door, but you catch glimpses of blue, silver, gray, and black.

Four enormous, black and silver tool chests are lined up against the wall facing the hoods of the cars, but there isn’t a spot of oil or dirt in sight. You don’t even see any loose tools or equipment. Looking around, you wonder if the tool chests are just there for decoration, or if someone on the estate actually works on the cars and motorcycles.

Maybe James works on them?

“Are all of these yours?” you ask, unable to help yourself. He seems like the kind of guy who would enjoy driving around for fun, and he’s just mentioned something about a bike. You stare at the side of James’ face as he plucks a set of keys off a black pegboard on the wall. There’s a button embedded in the wall beside the board. James pushes it with one thumb and the keys in his hand bump against the wall.

One of the garage doors near the last few cars starts to roll upwards onto the ceiling, revealing the outside of the estate. The sun has completely disappeared from the sky, and the moonlight is blocked by the clouds you’d seen rolling in earlier in the afternoon. The leaves of the large shade trees that surround the estate and form a protective shield from the outside world rustle in the wind. Crickets and cicadas chirp, reminding you of the cool spring nights you’d spent on your family estate as a little girl. You’d run around in the grass near the garden while your mom or your nanny watched you. Sometimes your father’s men would watch from the perimeter of the property, and when you’d wave, they’d wave back, asking what you’d done that day. You always answered them, even if you knew it would get you in trouble. They never stopped asking either, even if it got them in trouble, too.

You stop walking and close your eyes, then breathe in deeply as the night air rushes into the garage. It’s the first time you’ve been even close to the outdoors since arriving at the Barnes Estate. Your skin is still warm from the stifling dining room and the anger you’d felt in the men’s study. The breeze is a blessed relief, even if you do shiver after only a moment. Goosebumps form on your exposed skin—the dress Marta had picked out for you did little to keep you safe from the elements.

James keeps walking down the aisle formed by the wall and the front of the cars, though you hear his footsteps pause a few moments after you stop following him.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You’re a little surprised that he’s not demanding that you catch up. When you open your eyes, you immediately meet his gaze, and a weird feeling bubbles up in your stomach. The expression on his face betrays little, but his stare reminds you of the way your father’s men looked at you all those years ago—interested and almost fond, but ready to push you away at a moment’s notice. You nod and hurry to catch up with him.

Once you get closer, James presses a button on the key fob in his hand. One of the cars in front of the open garage door rumbles to life. The sound it makes is a low purr, almost seductive, and you raise an eyebrow as James approaches, then runs his fingers over the hood. Even if the others aren’t, this car has to be his. It’s a sleek black, with dark tinted windows and a gleaming silver grill in the front. The BMW logo shines proudly in the center. It looks like a car your own father would own. Though you know he’s never owned a BMW, if this car is anything like the ones in your father’s fleet, you know that the inside will be as much a picture of luxury as the outside.

You slide into the passenger seat when James opens the door for you, and in the time it takes him to cross around the front of the car to the driver’s side, you take inventory of the interior. It’s a manual transmission—something your father once said was obsolete, except for car collectors and enthusiasts—which means that you wouldn’t be able to drive it, even if you tried. The car is pristine, so much so that you’re afraid to move. Two water bottles are in the cupholders, and it still smells brand new inside. There isn’t a speck of dirt or dust on the dashboard, nor on the floor mats. The leather seat is soft and there’s a control for seat warming and cooling on the control panel.

James climbs into the driver’s seat and shuts the door. He buckles up and you follow his lead, and then you sit back as he reverses the car out of the garage and onto a winding driveway that leads you around the front of the estate, then along the other side to a large gate with a guard house. You’d forgotten about the extensive security since the last time you’d been outside the Barnes Estate. Your father had handed over your driver’s license, along with his and your mother’s, before breakfast all those weeks ago, and there’d been a strange code word of some kind. It dawns on you as the guard opens the gate for you and James that you’d never gotten your license back.

“Where are we going?” you ask as James pulls onto the main road. It leads away from the estate and into the city.

“To get some real food,” he replies. His tone is gruff, and it feels like he’s on the verge of an angry outburst, so you slump back in your seat as he shifts gears and the car accelerates. The tension in the car is thick. You don’t want to be the one to deal with it, especially since he’s the one creating it.

After several minutes of watching the enormous mansions and the forests surrounding them pass by, you look over at James again. His expression, just like in the garage, reveals nothing, but you can tell that he’s more put-together than the last time you’d interacted, and it’s not just the tailored suit. His hair has been trimmed and styled, and he has an even dusting of stubble that frames his jawline nicely.

In the time since you’d learned you were engaged, James hasn’t said anything to you. You’ve heard him talking in the hallways as you wandered, but you haven’t wanted to be near him. This is the closest you’ve ever been. Your brief conversations so far tonight make up the majority of the words you’ve spoken to each other. His words from the bedroom echo in your head, until finally, you can’t help but blurt out your thoughts.

“Do you really not want to marry me?” you ask. Your voice sounds small and pathetic, and you hate it, but it’s too late now.

He glances over at you with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the gear shift. “What do you mean?”

You sit up a little in the seat, though you keep your hands in your lap and you try not to move your feet, just in case there’s dirt on your shoes.

“I mean,” you say, watching him carefully for his reaction, “that when you came to get me upstairs, you said you didn’t want to marry me. Is that really true?”

“I never said that.” He shifts gears again as you near a stoplight, and the car slows.

“Yes, you did.”

“No,” he shifts again, his teeth now clenched, “I didn’t. I asked if it looked like I wanted to marry you, and you said it didn’t. But I never said I didn’t want to.”

Now you’re confused, and you frown at him, ignoring the obvious irritation in his voice. The car rolls to a stop behind a Ferrari blasting music out the open windows.

“So you do want to marry me?” you ask.

He sighs and drops his hand from the gear shift, then looks over at you. “Y/N, I’m not going to pressure you into anything you don’t want to do, so if this is you testing to see how I’ll treat you, then you have nothing to worry about. I’m not a monster.”

“It’s not. I just…” You stop, unsure of how to phrase what you’re feeling. It’s strange to be upset over a marriage you don’t even want, but for some reason, you are.

“What?”

“If you don’t want to marry me and I don’t want to marry you, then why are we going along with this?” you finally ask, settling for the bigger question than the one that’s truly nagging at you.

“Because we know that if we don’t, life will be hell,” he answers.

It’s the truth. You know it is, and you know it deep down. If the two of you refuse this marriage, your life will be worse than you could possibly imagine, and you’re fairly certain that your fathers will find a way to make it happen anyhow. They’re well-connected in every sphere of life, not just when it comes to drugs and weapons. Your father probably has a priest on his payroll.

The light turns green and James moves the car forward again, merging into the right lane almost immediately. He slows as you approach a valet stand outside an upscale bar you’ve never heard of. It’s not one of your father’s, which means it probably belongs to George Barnes.

Then again, you think as a uniformed man opens your door, maybe it belongs to James.

“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Barnes,” a valet on the other side of the car greets.

James hands him the keys. “You too, Tommy. Listen, don’t park it too far off. We’re not staying too long.”

The man nods and climbs into the driver’s seat as your own valet leads you away from the curb. James meets you next to the valet stand and offers you his arm, then heads towards the doors.

“What is this place?” you ask as he holds open the door for you.

“My friend’s bar,” James says.

Your stomach twists itself in knots as heavy club music starts to get louder. The bass rumbles in your chest and you dig your nails into his arm as you near a set of glossy black double doors. You haven’t been to a club in a long time. The last time you’d gone, you’d been dragged by a childhood acquaintance, but you’d spent most of the night alone after she’d ditched you for someone she met on the dance floor. You’re not particularly eager to relive that experience tonight, especially with the man you’re being forced to marry. Who’s to say he won’t ditch you for someone else right in front of you, just to rub it in your face? After all, he’d said it himself in the bedroom—you’ll do what you want and he’ll do what he wants. It’s the cards you’ve been dealt.

If these are the cards, then I’ve got a sucky hand.

“James—”

“Bucky.”

You stop and squint at him in the low light of the entrance hallway. The two bouncers in all-black suits stop with their hands on the door handles, ready to open them for you once you start walking again. The music pounds in your ears, so much so that you can feel your eardrums vibrating.

“What?” you ask, not sure you’d heard him correctly.

“Bucky,” repeats James, a little louder this time. “You should call me Bucky, if we’re going to be married.”

“Is that… a nickname?”

Even in the darkness, you can see him laugh, and a bashful, boyish smile spreads across his face. “My middle name is Buchanan. Steve used to tease me about it when we were kids, and he started calling me Bucky as a joke. It caught on.” He shrugs it off, but there’s a fondness in his voice when he speaks of his childhood friend, and it makes you smile just a little.

You loosen your grip on his arm. “Okay then. Bucky,” you add.

When Bucky steps forward again, the doors are pulled open, revealing a much more casual bar than you could’ve anticipated. Though it’s clean, it looks a little run down, and the heavy music fades into jazz piano as you step through the open doorway and into the large, open space. With almost cathedral-height ceilings, walnut floors and support pillars, and well-worn wooden booths and tables, the bar feels more homier than you’d expected. It’s clearly been well-hidden from the busy crowds of New York. Only a few patrons are scattered around the room, sitting in the booths or at two-top tables, but Bucky leads you to the wood, u-shaped bar that juts out into the room from the back wall. A single man stands behind it, drying glasses with a white bar towel. He smiles when he looks up and sees you approaching.

“Bucky,” he greets, and he reaches over the bar to pull Bucky in for a hug. It’s the first time you see Bucky smile—a real, full, genuine smile—and you watch in silence as he hugs his friend.

“Steve,” Bucky replies. Instantly, your brain starts connecting the dots. This is his childhood friend, the one who gave him his nickname.

“Tá sé go maith tú a fheiceáil.” Steve turns his attention to you, and you quickly look away from Bucky and at him. Your brain whirs as you try to place the language he’s just spoken. It’s not one you’ve heard before, which means none of your father’s men speak it, and neither do any of the Barneses.

“You must be Y/N.”

You nod and offer Steve a small, polite smile. You’re not sure how to act around Bucky’s friends. If they’re also part of the mob, it’s possible they’ll treat you even worse than George Barnes had after dinner, but a new, surprising voice in your head argues that Bucky would never be friends with someone like that.

“It’s okay,” reassures Bucky. He reaches out and touches your arm, gentler than he has all evening. “Steve’s a nice guy, and he knows about our family businesses. You can trust him.”

Steve looks between the two of you before picking up a glass and setting it right-side-up in front of you. “What’ll it be, Y/N?”

You glance at him, then at the wall of liquor behind him. After a moment, you list off a drink that’s not your favorite, but that you know you’ll be able to stomach no matter the circumstances. Steve nods in response before starting to make it.

Silently, Bucky takes one of the chairs at the bar, and you do the same. He sits with his arms folded on the counter. He’s still wearing his suit from dinner. You feel a little out of place in your fancy clothes, and you wonder if he feels the same.

Your drink is placed in front of you a moment later, and after Steve’s silent prompting, you take a sip. It’s delicious, and you can’t help but smile at him.

“Aha, I’ve still got it!” Steve cheers, and you laugh. He grins at you, a charming type of smile that makes your heart flutter in your chest. You feel a little sheepish at the intensity of his joy, and you fidget in your seat, then with your hair.

Beside you, Bucky rolls his eyes and tosses a round paper coaster at his friend. “Knock it off, Rogers,” he huffs. “Stop flirting with my girl. You’ve already got one of your own.”

You glance over when he calls you that, but you don’t say anything. There’s another weird feeling in your gut now. This one, unlike the one you’d had in the car or the fluttering feeling Steve had given you, you recognize immediately—pride. It feels good to have Bucky call you “his girl”, even if you barely know him. It’s strange, and the thought makes you squirm in your seat again. You drop your hand down to the bartop and take another sip of your drink, trying to quell the strange feelings inside of you.

What is going on with me? Why can’t I just feel normal about all of this? Is there even a normal way to feel about this?

“You hungry?” asks Bucky, and you nod when you realize he’s talking to you again.

“I make a mean twice-baked potato,” Steve says. He plants his hands on the bar to look between the two of you. “Whaddaya say, Y/N? You up for it?”

“Only if you put the jalapeños on the side this time, punk,” Bucky tells him before you can reply. He seems to remember himself a second later, however, because he looks over at you. “Unless, of course, you want them on top.”

You shrug, not wanting to upset anyone, and Steve groans.

“Come on, Y/N,” he says, and he smiles wide as he gestures around the almost-empty bar. “I’ve got all the time in the world to make your food exactly the way you want it. Don’t make me guess.”

“He’s bad at guessing,” Bucky chimes in.

“Terrible,” Steve adds, nodding earnestly.

Tentatively, you list off what you want, and Steve makes a note of everything on a notepad that seems to appear out of nowhere. Once he’s got your order down, he disappears through a door in the back wall. Before it closes, you catch a glimpse of a shining kitchen filled with stainless steel, and you wonder how many patrons come through the bar if Steve has what looks to be a full-sized kitchen in the back.

“You didn’t eat much at dinner, so I figured I’d bring you someplace that actually has good food,” Bucky says. He reaches across the bar to grab a bottle of beer Steve has left out, and he uses one hand to pry the top off.

You gape at him, too distracted by the blatant show of strength to properly process the very thoughtful thing he’s just said to you. “What?”

“I said that you didn’t eat much at dinner, so I figured—”

“You just pulled the top off like it was nothing. How did you do that?” You look around on Steve’s side of the bar for another bottle, hoping to try your luck. Maybe it’s some new kind of bottle that he’s trying out before it hits the market, or maybe Steve has bootleg beer with a different kind of cap.

Bucky is staring at you, seemingly just as confused as you. “With my arm.”

“With your arm?” you repeat. You’re certain that he’d used his hand to pry it off.

He stares at you for a second longer before the confusion disappears and is replaced with a glint of mischief in his eyes. It makes the shadows on his face melt away a little, and his blue irises seem bright and youthful again, entirely unlike a man who’s seen too much.

“My arm,” he reiterates, and then he pulls off the black glove you’d assumed to be part of his personal style. It’s not just for show, however, because he pulls it off to reveal a black metal hand with dull gold knuckles. Bucky continues, standing and shrugging off his jacket, then rolling up the sleeve of his button-down shirt. As he reveals more and more, you realize that the black metal continues, making up what would be his left arm.

No wonder it hurt when he grabbed me.

“It’s metal,” you dumbly say, and he snorts.

“Observant.”

You shake your head and look from his arm to meet his eyes. “You have a metal arm. How didn’t I know that?”

Bucky shrugs and drapes his jacket over the back of the chair. He leaves the glove on the bar where he’d first set it down. Once he’s seated again, he rolls up his other sleeve to match.

“Beats me. I figured everyone knew. My dad wasn’t subtle when he was bragging about the arm he had made for me when it first happened,” replies Bucky. He takes a sip of his beer, then sighs and sets it back down.

You don’t want to pity him, so you try your best to school your expression by taking a sip of your own drink.

“Was it an accident?” you ask after a minute has passed. He doesn’t reply right away, and you scramble to save the conversation. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

He shakes his head. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

“How old were you?”

“Seventeen,” he says, and his voice is quieter than before.

You look back down at the drink in front of you. Twisting the glass around and around, you ask, “And it was an accident?”

Bucky takes another swig of his beer. “I was with my dad, working a job. I didn’t even realize I’d been injured until I woke up in the hospital, two weeks later, missing an arm. Apparently, falling shipping containers are heavy.”

You can’t help but curse. What he’s describing sounds horrible, but Bucky only laughs.

“That sounds about right, yeah. I’m lucky I had Steve around to keep me sane,” he tells you. “My friend Sam was a big help too, but he moved down to Louisiana a few years ago.”

“Steve seems like a good friend,” you agree. “They both do.”

You can feel Bucky staring at you now, and you take a sip of your drink while you wait for him to look away again. When he doesn’t, you glance in his direction.

“What?” you ask.

“What?”

“Why are you staring at me?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are!” you laugh, and you look at him fully this time. Bucky’s grinning, and you ball up a cocktail napkin and toss it at him.

“Okay, I was staring,” he admits, still smiling. “But I can’t help it. You’re pretty, and you’re nice, and you seem smart.”

You feel your cheeks grow warm at the compliment, and you look away. “You don’t have to say that. We’re already engaged.”

“I’m not saying it because we’re engaged. I’m saying it because it’s true.”

You don’t have a chance to reply before Steve comes out with two hot plates. He places them in front of you, joking briefly about giving you the wrong order, and it’s distraction enough that you sit up tall and smile wide. You push Bucky’s compliment out of your head as you chow down, groaning and moaning about the potatoes. They’re exactly what you need after the stressful dinner. Bucky was right—you hadn’t eaten much, and Steve’s cooking is delicious.

Once you’re full, you push your plate away and lean back in your chair. Steve grins at you before he goes back to counting the cash drawer. The other patrons have left already, leaving you, Steve, and Bucky alone in the bar.

“That was amazing,” you tell him for the hundredth time, and Steve chuckles.

“Thank you. I’ll be sure to tell mo bhean chéile—my wife—you said that, considering she still believes potatoes aren’t a meal.”

You notice the wedding band on his left hand as soon as he says it. Above it, also in silver, is a familiar ring. If you weren’t able to see the family crest, you would’ve thought it was the same as Bucky’s, but this ring has an eagle and a star engraved on it, rather than the wolf you’ve seen on Rebecca and Bucky’s rings.

“Potatoes are a meal!” you argue. You can tell that Steve has clocked you looking at his rings because he shifts his hand, instinctively blocking your view as he looks for your own ring. You’d taken your parent’s ring off the day you’d cried in the bathtub and you haven’t worn it since, but no one in Bucky’s family has replaced it with their own. It’s the first time since middle school that you haven’t worn a family ring, and you’d be lying if you said it was a weight off your shoulders. You’d thought it might be, but instead it just makes you feel naked.

Steve laughs and his posture relaxes. He stops hiding his rings from you when he realizes your hands are bare. “Well, whenever you meet her, you can have that argument with her, because I’ve already had it at least a dozen times.” He closes the drawer and fixes his eyes on Bucky, who’s just finishing his food. “Speaking of, when are you two coming over? I promised Peg I’d wait until Y/N had settled in to ask, and you seem settled enough to me.” He glances at you for the last part, and you look down at your empty plate.

“It’s not up to me,” answers Bucky. “We’ll come over whenever Y/N is ready. This is the first time we’ve been together since my dad dropped the bomb on us.”

Steve pauses, his hands on the tablet he’d set down before starting to count the night’s profits. “Wait. Really?”

You nod when he looks at you, suddenly self-conscious again, and you pull your hands into your lap. “I haven’t been the best house guest…”

“You’re not a guest, Y/N. It’s your home now, too,” Bucky interjects.

Reaching over the counter, Steve smacks the side of Bucky’s head. His accent is thick when he huffs, “Íosa Críost, you thick! You didn’t think to go talk to her? To see if she wanted to watch a movie? To see if she needed anything?”

Bucky stammers over in his seat, and you keep your head ducked to hide your smile. Clearly, Steve knows more about being married than Bucky does—most likely from experience, since he’s already mentioned his wife—and he isn’t afraid to tell his friend off for not looking out for your well-being.

“I’m sorry!” exclaims Bucky, ducking another hit. “I wasn’t thinking!”

“Like ifreann you weren’t!” Steve retreats and picks up the tablet with a huff, then looks at you. “Y/N, I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with him. He’s actually a nice guy when he’s not being stupid.”

“Stupid?” Bucky protests beside you.

“I wouldn’t have talked to him even if he’d tried,” you admit, finally looking up, “but it wouldn’t have hurt if he had.”

Steve nods, satisfied with your response. He leaves you a minute later when his phone rings. The wide smile on his face is enough to tell you who’s on the other end, but then he says her name as he walks away, the phone already held to his ear.

“So what’s with this place?” you ask. The quick change in subject is purposeful, and you hope that Bucky will take the bait.

Thankfully, he does. Bucky glances around before finishing off the last of his drink and setting the empty bottle closer to Steve’s side of the bar.

“Well, Steve wanted a place that we—and other people like us—could spend time without feeling like there was always a fight about to happen. We didn’t have that growing up, you know? And now that he’s in charge, he can do what he wants with his money. Everything’s filed properly, he doesn’t advertise, and all employees are paid above the table. If other people show up, then sure, they’re welcomed in, but they’re also fully vetted once Steve gets their IDs. Weapons aren’t allowed, and there’s no shop talk of any kind.”

“So it’s your little hideaway,” you say, propping your head up with one hand. The heaviness of the potatoes combined with the alcohol is starting to make you sleepy, and the emotional exhaustion from the night has started to weigh heavy on you, too.

He smiles a little. “Something like that.”

Bucky stands and rolls his sleeves back down, then pulls on his glove. He pulls a wad of cash out of his pocket and sets it on the bar.

“Come on, doll. We should head home,” he says.

The warm feeling you’d felt when Bucky had called you his girl comes back, and you smile a little when he holds open his suit jacket for you. A little sheepish at the gesture, you slide off your seat and let him help you into the sleeves, then take Bucky’s hand when he offers it.

“Bye Steve!” you call, waving with your free hand.

Steve looks up from the other end of the bar, where he’s wiping down a counter with one hand and holding his phone with the other. He lets go of the rag to wave back.

Silently, Bucky leads you out to the front, where the valet already has his car pulled up. You’re not sure how they knew to have it ready, but you don’t dwell on it. Stranger things have happened in your world. Bucky tips the valets with another wad of cash before opening the passenger door and helping you in.

You fall asleep on the drive home. You don’t mean to, but Bucky turns on the radio a few minutes into the drive, and he lets the first station that comes on continue to play. The music is soft, and he drives so smoothly that it lulls you to sleep before you’re even fully out of the city.

When you wake, it’s because Bucky’s stubbed his toe on something, jostling you in his arms. He’s muttering curses under his breath and hobbling down the hallway, and though the jerking motion and his tightening grip isn’t the most comfortable for you at the moment, you keep your eyes closed and force yourself to keep your smile at bay. Bucky is a much sweeter guy than you’d first thought him to be, and it seems like he’s trying now to make up for lost time. You’d misjudged him at first; just like you, he has his own ways of dealing with the life forced on him by his parents, but he really is a gentleman underneath it all.

He carries you to your bedroom and carefully lays you on top of the covers. Then, as gently as possible, you feel him lift your foot and pry off the uncomfortable shoes Marta had picked out for you. Bucky stays totally silent as he takes the shoes off and sets them on the floor at the end of the bed. He pulls a thin blanket over you, one that you’re sure is just for decoration when the bed is made, and presses a kiss to the side of your head. You have to force yourself not to smile when he whispers,

“Goodnight, sleep tight.”

The door clicks shut as he closes it slowly, and you peek open an eye after a few seconds have passed. Your room is dark and empty. Silently, you smile to yourself and crawl under the covers, your eyes heavy. It’s been a long, exhausting evening, and you’re happy to be in bed. You fall asleep to the sound of spring rain on the estate windows and with Bucky’s jacket still wrapped around you.

Over the next few weeks, Bucky slowly enters your life in both big and small ways. He smiles at you over meals in the dining room and late night snacks in the kitchen. He drives you to the city to visit Steve, Peggy, and his other friends, and when he finds out that his father still has your license, Bucky argues with him for over an hour to get it back. Marta delivers your license to your room the very next day, along with a handwritten note that the dark blue Mercedes in the garage is there for your use. Sometimes, you wake up to a bouquet of flowers with another handwritten note. Sometimes it’s a text, and sometimes it’s a gift. Bucky develops a habit of purchasing anything you mention enjoying or even vaguely liking, and you eventually have to tell him to stop because he’s bought you so much that there’s nothing left to buy for yourself.

Bucky turns out to be a closer friend than anyone you’ve ever known. He’s kind, and funny, and intelligent, and he remembers all the little things about you that nobody else does. When you’re sick or feeling lonely, he’s attentive and his presence alone reminds you of all the good things in the world. He makes your days brighter, even the worst ones. You find yourself falling in love with him, much to your surprise. You admit this to him one day. He kisses you then, and he tells you that he’s been in love with you since the first trip you’d taken to Steve’s bar.

Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas roll around. New Year’s, Valentine’s Day, and Easter come and go. The Barnes’ grand celebrations for every holiday blur together as the months fly by, until eventually, it’s June and you’re standing in your room, staring at your reflection in the full-length mirror.

The wedding dress you’d picked out a few days after Christmas is just as beautiful as you remember it being. It fits you perfectly, thanks to the impeccable work of several tailors employed by Winnifred, and your hair and makeup are flawless as well. There’s no possible way you could’ve imagined how beautiful you look and feel on your wedding day.

Through the open window, you can hear a string quartet playing outside in the rose garden, where the ceremony is set up. Steve has already come by once to check on you at Bucky’s request, but both men are back downstairs. Bucky’s no doubt at the front of the garden with the priest—the one that you now know for certain is on your father’s payroll—and Steve is waiting with the rest of the wedding party. The only people remaining in your room are Marta, your mother, and Peggy.

You’ve grown to love Peggy more than any of your childhood friends. She didn’t grow up in the same world as you. She didn’t even grow up in the same country, and you love her all the more for it. She’s rational, cool-headed, and kind, though she’s not afraid to stand up for what’s right. On top of all that, she’s drop-dead gorgeous. It’s easy to see why Steve fell for her during his time in the military.

The quartet finishes the song and moves onto a new one, one that you recognize after only two notes. Your stomach drops and you close your eyes, gripping your bouquet tightly. It’s the song you’d been listening to the morning you’d found out about your engagement. You’d discovered it the night before, and you’d had it on repeat before going to sleep that night, then again that morning as you’d gotten ready. You’d even listened to it in the car on the drive from your parents’ estate.

Who added this to the playlist? Is this some kind of sick joke to them?

The same feeling of dread you’d felt that morning comes back, making your mouth dry and your head spin. You try to take a slow, deep breath to calm your nerves and block out the song, but it doesn’t work.

“Y/N?” Peggy asks.

You inhale sharply at the sound of her voice so close to you. She’d been texting Steve from near the window only moments before. You hadn’t thought that anyone would realize your distress, and you’d hoped to be able to collect yourself before it was noticeable. You hadn’t even sensed her coming closer.

“Y/N, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you tell her, but your voice wavers and your lower lip quivers. You try to take another slow breath.

“What’s going on?” Marta asks. Her hand lands on your arm and you pull away, closing in yourself and pulling the bouquet tight against you.

Your mother’s scolding makes you feel like you’re a little kid again. “Careful, Y/N! You don’t want to ruin those flowers. We don’t have time to make another bouquet for you. George is already hounding your father about how soon after the ceremony you’ll be signing the certificate.”

Anger wells up in you at her thoughtless comment, and you open your eyes. She’s standing behind you in the main part of the bedroom, near the foot of your bed. Any guilt you might’ve felt over ruining the flowers is gone now, and you turn and chuck the bouquet at the carpet by her feet. It bounces once, then lays motionless in a heap of smashed petals and ribbons.

“Enough, Mother!” you shout.

Marta rushes to close the window so the guests in the garden won’t hear your outburst.

Your mother gapes at you, somewhat surprised, but she doesn’t budge. “Y/N, dear. What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” you yell, stepping closer. Your dress swishes as you walk, and you normally enjoy the sound, but you’re too furious to care how pleasing it is. “What are you doing? I am your only daughter! You should be treating me like a princess and worrying about how I’m feeling and what I need, but instead you’re too busy thinking about the damn flowers! I’m sick of you thinking of me like I’m an object you can sell, steal, and trade away whenever it’s most convenient! You and Dad are so obsessed with the timeline you’ve created for yourselves that you don’t even notice how much this has affected me! You didn’t even ask if this is what I wanted!”

She scoffs at you, and any trace of motherly care and concern has disappeared from her expression. Your mother is showing her true face—the mafia wife that has almost as much blood on her own hands as her husband does, if not more.

“It’s too late for that now, isn’t it?” she asks. She picks up her clutch from the end of your bed and steps closer until you're standing eye to eye. Her voice is patronizing and infuriating, and she continues, “It’s your wedding day, dearest, and you can’t back out now. We’ve made sure of it. Even James has agreed to the contract.”

Your anger wavers. “Contract?”

“Yes, the contract,” she repeats, smirking. Her cards are all on the table now, and she’s got a winning hand. You both know it.

There’s a malicious glint in her eye as she says, “It’s already in effect. It has been since we agreed on the marriage.”

“What contract? What are you talking about?” There’s a sinking feeling in your chest, like your heart has decided to drop into your stomach, then down to your feet and through the floor. Bucky hadn’t said anything to you about a contract, and you trusted him, but you certainly didn’t trust your parents anymore, nor did you trust George and Winnifred Barnes.

Your mother smiles, a sickeningly sweet smile that makes you want to puke. “That’s a conversation for another time. After all, it doesn’t even matter to you until James gets you pregnant.”

The alarm on your phone rings and you close your eyes, your hands trembling. You’d set that alarm to remind you when it was time to leave for the ceremony. Right on cue, the wedding planner knocks on the door to your bedroom.

“Y/N?” she calls, knocking again. “Are you ready?”

Slowly, you squat down and pick up the bouquet. It’s smashed on one side and the petals have fallen off of various flowers, but it’s mostly intact. It shakes as your hands tremble and tears well up in your eyes.

Marta appears in front of you, having pushed your mother out of the way, and over the ringing in your ears, you hear Peggy talking to the wedding planner. Somehow, you make it out to the ground floor of the estate, to the double doors that lead out to the rose garden. You’re dazed by your mother’s strange revelation. The sound of the alarm is still ringing in your ears. Peggy says something to you, but you can only stare straight ahead.

Your father is next to you then, as Peggy disappears through the doors and joins the rest of the wedding party. You see her glancing back at you, and whispering to the rest of the groomsmen and bridesmaids. Most of them are Bucky’s friends who have now become your own, and all of them look worried.

“Let’s go, princess,” your father says, and he pulls you forward by the arm.

Numbly, you follow his lead. Not even Bucky’s initially delighted expression shakes you out of your trance, but the way he rubs his thumb over your hands at the end of the aisle pulls you out of it just enough for you to lift your head and look around. You don’t remember walking to him, nor do you remember handing off your bouquet to Peggy, just like you’d practiced last night at the rehearsal.

“Y/N? Darling?” Bucky asks. He crouches and tilts his head slightly to try to catch your eyes. “You okay?”

“I—” Your mouth is still dry and you swallow, your eyes flitting from one place in the garden to another with no rhyme or reason. The world feels like it’s spinning and you clutch Bucky’s hands, unsure of what to do.

“Someone get her a chair,” Bucky orders, raising his voice enough that you flinch. He immediately starts murmuring reassurances to you, and he pulls you into his arms until he can lower you into a seat.

Someone fans you and a cool glass is pressed to your lips. You drink obediently, closing your eyes as the water helps the sandy feeling in your mouth abate just a little. When the water is gone, the glass is pulled away.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” Bucky asks.

Slowly, carefully, you nod your head. He sighs in relief and when you open your eyes, he’s kneeling down in front of you. His shoulders are tense and his forehead is creased with worry. You’ve never seen him this stressed over anything and it makes you want to cry.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, heat flaming in your cheeks. You feel horrible. Bucky has been looking forward to the ceremony—he’d told you last night at the rehearsal dinner.

“It’s okay,” he quickly replies. He reaches forward and takes your hands, and you glance away from him to peek at the guests, your parents included, who are still watching you from their seats.

“Are you ready for this, or do you need a break?”

You look back at Bucky. “A break?”

“She’s fine,” your mother says, and you look over at her from your seat. She’s standing in the front row, her eyes fixated on the priest behind you. “They’re fine, Father. Y/N’s been a bit nervous all morning. Wedding day jitters, you know.”

“I—” You frown at her, still clutching Bucky’s hands. “That’s not what it is.” You look down at him and shake your head. “I’m not nervous to marry you.”

“I’m not nervous either,” he says with a small smile.

“Then shall we continue?” the priest asks.

You turn to shake your head at him. “No. I’m sorry, Father. I need to talk to Bucky—James—in private for just a minute. Is that alright?”

He smiles gently and nods. “Of course.”

There are more agitated murmurs from the crowd, but you ignore them as Peggy, Steve, and Bucky help you up and back down the aisle. When your mother moves to follow you, she’s blocked by Sam and Clint, another one of Bucky’s friends. She calls after you once, but you ignore her as Peggy helps you onto a bench inside, then leaves, closing the double doors behind herself. She’s handed back your bouquet, and you clutch it with both hands like it’s an anchor in the storm.

“Is everything okay?” Bucky asks. He stands near the door, and you can tell from the way he rolls his shoulders that he’s stressed. His prosthetic always bothers him more when he’s agitated, and you suddenly feel even worse about stopping the ceremony.

“Yes,” you say, but then you shake your head. “No, I’m sorry. Obviously, it’s not, or I wouldn’t have stopped everything. I’m sorry, Bucky, but I have to ask you something.”

“Okay…” There’s a wariness in his eyes, one that you loathe yourself for. You put it there, and you wish with all your might that your mother hadn’t told you what she did. Maybe then you wouldn’t have had to do this.

“Did you sign a contract? With our parents?”

He frowns and his whole body grows very still. “A contract?”

You nod. “Yes.” With your hands still fisted tightly around the bouquet, you inhale deeply and add, “A contract about getting me pregnant.”

“What?” Bucky’s furious response is immediate. He shakes his head, his eyes searching your face for any sign that you might be making this up. “Y/N, what are you talking about?”

“Did you sign a contract agreeing to marry me, and agreeing that my parents get something after you get me pregnant?” The words make you sick to your stomach. You haven’t eaten anything all day, which doesn’t help, but the thought of Bucky agreeing to something so vile… It’s enough to make anyone nauseous.

He’s shaking his head at you again. “Why the hell would I sign anything like that? Do you really think I would do that?”

You shrug a little and look down at the bouquet. “My mother…”

“Darling…” Bucky sighs and comes closer, and he kneels down in front of you again, just like he had outside. All the fight and anger has left his voice. “I would never do anything like that. Not in a million years, and especially not to you. I love you.”

“She said you signed it before they’d even told me we were engaged,” you said, quiet now that he’s so close. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, to see what his face might be telling you that his words aren’t.

“Can you look at me? Please?”

Reluctantly, you lift your eyes from the flowers in your lap to meet Bucky’s eyes. They’re just as blue as the ribbons wrapped around the flower stems, a choice you’d specifically made without the wedding planner’s guidance. You’d wanted him to be your “something blue”, even if it felt a little cheesy.

“Do you want to marry me?” Bucky asks.

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod. “Yes.”

“Do you believe me when I say I had nothing to do with that contract? That I didn’t know it existed?” he questions.

You nod again, tears forming in your eyes.

“And do you trust me to help you find a way to get rid of it, once all of this is over? Do you trust me to protect you?”

You nod for the third time, and Bucky takes both of your hands in his.

“Okay. Then let’s get married, and I swear to you that as soon as our honeymoon is over, the guys and I will start doing some digging.”

“What about me?” you ask, sniffling. You pull one of your hands away to dab at your eyes before the makeup can get too damaged by your tears.

“What about you?”

“Can I dig, too?”

Bucky chuckles and kisses your knuckles on the hand that he’s holding, and then he pulls himself up off the floor to sit beside you on the bench. He pulls you into a half-hug and you cling to him, sniffling and smiling as he rubs the your back and answers,

“You can do all the digging you want, doll. I’ll even hand you the shovel.”

Tá sé go maith tú a fheiceáil. = It’s good to see you.

Mo bhean chéile = My wife

Íosa Críost = Jesus Christ

Thick = A stupid person

Ifreann = Hell

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging my work so that others can enjoy it too.

I do not consent to have my work posted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. If anyone sees my work anywhere other than my personal tumblr, Patreon, or ao3 accounts, it has been reposted without my permission.

If you want to support me further, consider buying me a ko-fi! My ko-fi is also under my SPN fanfiction blog, but I promise it’s me.

If you would like to be added to my tags, please send me a message or an ask! I tag for Everything, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Thor Odinson, and Peter Parker.

Forever: @aya-fay

Bucky Barnes: @lipstickandvibranium @valhalla-kristin @buckymcbuckbarnes

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dokries · 1 month

Text

sunshine

pairing: yoon jeonghan x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

word count: 1.1k

warnings: mentions of bruising (reader gets hurt), passing mention of alcohol (no one drinks), a kiss on the forehead, jeonghan gets called a loser lovingly, pet names (babe/baby, sunshine)

author note: this was requested by an anon! thank you so much for requesting once again, and i’m sorry that my work isn’t exactly what you asked for. i still hope you enjoy this though <3 lots of love!!

masterlist

you probably should’ve taken up jeonghan’s offer when he texted you earlier, asking if you wanted to dropped off before he went to a group dinner with his friends.

of course, you had said no, assuming that it would be the normal amount of traffic when leaving work. to your luck, it turned out the elevators stopped working right before it was time for you to go home and you risked going down the stairwell with everyone else—no one wanted to be stuck in the plain office building any longer, that’s for sure.

however, that also meant that there were some people rushing and elbowing others aside, despite it being…you know, a somewhat steep stairwell that was already crammed with others walking down it. sadly, you were one of the victims of a particularly brutal shover and pushed towards the railing and the cold metal had dug into your body multiple times, which is exactly why your legs ache as you sit down onto the couch slowly.

you take a peek at the back of your forearm and sigh seeing the small red marks leading up to the hem of your shirt sleeve.

you contemplate changing into a shirt with longer sleeves so you don’t worry your boyfriend but decide against it, knowing that he won’t be back for a while; when it’s the whole group of thirteen, they usually stop around one am at the earliest.

you grab an ice pack from the kitchen before stumbling back to the comfortable couch once more with a sigh, turning on the tv to a random channel as you wince at the feeling of the pack touching your tender skin. you keep treating your new bruises gently, with most of your attention on the screen in front of you—it turns out you put on a random reality show and there is drama that’s way too interesting to not watch.

it’s a little after eleven pm when the door unlocks and jeonghan lets himself in, carding a finger through his long hair before he places his motorcycle helmet and keys down, his lip ring glinting in the dimly lit room—he didn’t get to drink anyway since some of the guys had to cancel, and went bowling instead with mingyu and seokmin.

he hums the song that kept playing at the bowling alley as he looks up at you with a mischievous grin. “hey, babe.”

“hey, jeonghan!” you chirp, your voice unusually high as you hurriedly hide the ice pack behind you.

he raises an eyebrow at your cheerfulness this late at night but doesn’t press it, not yet noticing your bruises—that are on full display, even though they are starting to look better—as he goes to hang his leather jacket on the hanger specially designated for it.

your boyfriend turns and walks over to where you’re sitting, placing a small kiss on your forehead as he slumps down on the couch beside you, dangerously close to the biggest bruise you have.

jeonghan smirks at the way the two women on the screen argue with each other. “wow, over a man? he doesn’t even seem to be all that.”

you nod and he smiles, leaning his head against your shoulder as the guy cuts in, taking one woman’s side.

as jeonghan nuzzles his face into your arm, getting bored of what’s on the tv, his lip ring digs into one of the red spots you had gotten earlier and he can feel the way you tense. he frowns at your furrowed brows before looking down at your arm and sighing, his face freezing. “what’s this?”

when you don’t answer, he sighs. “what happened.” he phrases it like a statement instead of a question and you roll your eyes, already knowing he would be like this.

“hannie, nothing happened, i promise,” you say and jeonghan stares at you until you begrudgingly continue. “fine, fine. the elevators stopped working so i went down the stairs when work ended and people kept pushing me off to the side ‘cause they were in a rush. that’s all.”

your boyfriend scoffs, looking out at the window before back at you, his eyes hard. “are you serious? that’s not nothing at all.”

he grabs your hands gently, making sure he doesn’t touch any sore spots and speaks softly. “i’m sorry you had to go through that, baby. next time, i’ll make sure to just pick you up and not ask in case there are jerks like that again. in fact, i’ll be dropping you off and picking you up until the stupid elevators get fixed. i’m not about to take any risks when it comes to you.”

“this really isn’t helping your ‘bad boy’ agenda, you know that, right?” you smile teasingly, squeezing your boyfriend’s hand.

jeonghan looks at you in confusion. “what do you mean by that?”

you smirk. “come on, hannie. you have the whole package: a motorcycle, your leather jackets, the whole package—even your lip ring!” you pause, sighing. “all my coworkers talk about how you seem so brooding and like a lone wolf. it’s like they think you’re the coolest person ever when really, you’re just a loser.”

“hey, i’m not a loser!” jeonghan scoffs before reaching for the ice pack behind you and putting it to the bruises he can see.

“what?” he says when you raise an eyebrow and look down at the pack in his hands. “oh, this? i knew it was behind your back since earlier. you’re not very good at hiding things.”

you roll your eyes before leaning on his shoulder. “see what i mean? loser.”

jeonghan’s eyes soften as he looks at your big grin next to his face and places a kiss on your knuckle. “there’s my sunshine.”

“hey, that’s part of the ‘bad boy’ agenda too!” you chuckle, moving away from him slightly to hit his arm lightly. “besides, i told you not to call me that it’s so cringey!”

“what, sunshine? i’ll never stop calling you that because it’s true.” your boyfriend sticks his tongue out at you before smirking when you roll your eyes again.

jeonghan then pauses before winking, his head making its way onto your shoulder once more with a content sigh. “either way, i need to make sure i keep up my reputation with your coworkers, am i right?”

#dokries works #seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #yoon jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan fluff #yoon jeonghan imagines #yoon jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan imagines #requests!#anons !

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mcflymemes · 7 months

Text

PROMPTS FOR THE GRUMPY VS SUNSHINE TROPE * assorted dialogue for that great dynamic between a guarded character and a warmer character, adjust as necessary

GRUMPY CHARACTER

do you ever stop smiling?

life sucks. get over it.

no one ever listens to me. at least, not until you showed up.

i didn't ask for your opinion.

there are more important things i should be dealing with.

i don't talk about my feelings with anyone.

that was a little uncalled for.

i didn't mean to talk your ear off.

i work better on my own.

what did you say to them to get them to listen?

i don't want to talk to you. in fact, i don't want to talk to anyone.

can you just leave me alone?

i never said i would help you.

you can't just talk your way out of problems.

everything was fine until you showed up.

now if you'll excuse me, i have better things to do.

what's so great about this place, anyway?

my opinion doesn't matter anyway.

i don't have time for "fun."

i just want to get this done and go home.

that's never been up to me to decide.

do you stick your head into everyone's business, or just mine?

if it's all the same to you, i'd prefer to be alone.

no one asked you to get involved.

i don't have a choice. it's my duty.

you're interrupting me again.

can we talk about this another time?

you've been listening to me talk for an hour now.

how do you stay so positive all the time?

i'm perfectly content just the way i am, thank you very much.

can't you see they're taking advantage of you?

SUNSHINE CHARACTER

i wish you would just listen to what i have to say.

i have to try and stay positive. it's the only way we get through this.

nothing good can come from constant negativity.

i believe in myself because no one else will.

i've seen what happens when the bad outweighs the good.

we just have to stay strong.

you never know what someone is going through.

i am capable of more than you give me credit for.

i don't think you're a bad person.

there's so much more to life than this.

you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.

have you tried being nice to them?

a compliment goes a long way.

i choose to be kind.

i just don't see the point in staying silent.

i'm just trying to look out for you.

there's no need to be rude.

we could work together as a team. did you ever think about that?

if you need my help, i'm here for you.

you should smile more often.

i wish you would just be yourself.

for what it's worth, i like who you are now.

we don't have to fight all the time.

being soft is not a weakness.

i want to make this work between us.

despite all that, i'm still here for you.

if you ever want to talk, i'm here to listen.

you're not as bad as you make yourself seem.

i've never seen you that way.

i've come to care about you.

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boyfiejay · 8 months

Text

Princess Treatment with Sunghoon 🎀

PAIRING : Sunghoon x hyper feminine Reader

GENRE : bullet points, sunshine x grumpy

Warning : reader wears skirts, mention of food, reader gets spoiled, hoon can't express his feelings well, kissing, a little suggestive at the end but nothing graphic

Word Count : 1.3k

Author's note : this is just me having a sunghoon brain rot...

●You two were friends for a long time before you got together. Everyone around you witnessed Sunghoon going from the cold, distant guy, to then a slightly more friendly guy to a completely lovestruck puppy

●You two getting together was inevitable tbh, you two just knew the other was the one

●Sunghoon is so whipped for you, the partner privilege is so intense

●If he sees his favourite tiramisu has a bite in it, he's all mad but if he gets to know that you ate it then he just gives the whole thing to you

●All it takes is a doe eyed look and man is folding

●Also he is always talking about you. Like everyone around him knows he has a partner, constantly rambling about anything that reminds him of you or dropping random facts about you

●It is to the point that Heeseung knew your go to order at your favourite cafe and the kind of drink you like

●Do not mention the way he just giggles and kicks his feet like a teenage girl when you do something adorable

●It doesn't even have to be anything cute, he just always finds you cute no matter what

●You just woke up? Beautiful. You are crying? Still pretty. You're dolled up all for him? Oh man...

●This man is obsessed with your skirts and knee high socks and sweaters, particularly if they are ruffled

●He is like drooling when you dress up just for him and do a little twirl

●Always insists on tying your bows and ribbons for you

●Then proceeds to tie one on his bicep and flexes it 😵 (he's so hot)

●He's such a gentleman, but one thing he loves to do is give you his jacket. It doesn't even matter if it isn't cold, or your outfit isn't short, the jacket just completes the look

●He also feels so giddy when you wear his clothes, goes through a mental crisis trying not to smother you with attention

●Fails at it, then continues to give you that whipped smile and just looking at you with so much love

●The attention makes you flustered and shy and that in turn makes him even giddier

●It's sometimes overwhelming how he looks at you with so much adoration

●But thats what makes you know that he does love you because he is not very good at words

●When anyone looks at sunghoon, let's be honest he's intimidating, tall and buff, anyone would be scared.

●But he'd be so so gentle with you, always making sure you're comfortable, holding your hand in crowds, and also giving you flowers :(

●Even his touch in general would be so gentle, he's always touching you as if you would break any second

●He's not great with pda, it makes him a bit uncomfortable to be so mushy with you with people watching.

●But behind closed doors, he's acting like your blanket, always all over you, not a single soul would believe that he's the clingy type

●Calls you cringey nicknames, but the one he likes for himself is 'hoonie' </33

●Literally if anyone else says hoonie, he's giving the nastiest side eye

●But if it's you, he's melting on the floor...

●Some might not like this one, but he's very protective over you. It's not that he doesn't believe that you can't defend yourself, but he can't help but look over you from time to time

●He never speaks up about anything, but if anyone makes you uncomfortable? Oh they're done for

●It's never a physical fight, rather a verbal one with him makes sure that person feels bad for even looking at you

●Thinks you're the cutest when you're mad or annoyed

●Bro just laughs when you are grumbling about something 😭

●Then you proceed to get mad at him and he just clings to you until you forgive him

●As obsessed he is with your clothing, he is also obsessed with buying stuff for you.

●He's always spoiling you, no matter how much you tell him to stop he still does it

●Sometimes you actually get mad and he just gives one pout or a puppy eyed stare and you forgive him. He doesn't even have to whine about spoiling you just this once

●You're just as whipped as he is...

●Sometimes he likes to give you handmade things, paper flowers, love letters, little album of your photos, bracelets and soo much more

●You have a huge box of things he's given, made it his mission to fill up that box by a set time

●He once broke your vase by mistake and then took a pottering class to make you a mini version of that vase (the bigger one kept falling apart) :(((

●Never ever raised his voice on you, like not even once. He can barely get mad at you, this man is never going to yell at you

●Even when you do fight, he tries his best to be calm and talk it out. There hasn't been a single time where he let you go to bed upset

●There are a lot of times when he's just quite and you're talking about something, at first you question whether he's listening or not but he nods along with your talking or hums at things

●It's a bit scary how he remembers stuff you just rambled so well, like you don't even like that new cafe that much but you're so in awe of how well he remembered your words

●He's extremely shy when it comes to professing his love to you, it just makes him annoyed that he can't say how much he loves you.

●What more annoying is that you never push him to say things, he doesn't like that you're so understanding about this

●That's when he started to write letters for you, he felt like he might combust with how much he feels for you. And not being able to say it out loud made it worse

●So he just writes out how he feels and puts it under your pillow, or on your desk or in your bag

●When he first wrote the letter, he insisted that you read in front of him, wanting his fears to at lower a bit

●But when you started tearing up he felt worse, he had tried to keep the letter a bit lowkey but you're tearing up from the bare minimum?

●From then on he tried to be more open about his feelings, and be more vulnerable around you. He wanted you to know that it was just you, it had always been you

●His family loves you so much, it's almost like you are the daughter

●His mom and sister love to tell embarrassing stories about him and make him suffer lmao

●'she's too good for you' his mom, apparently

●He was so shy when you two first kissed, skip to couple weeks later, hes basically devouring your lips

●Very very obsessed with kissing you, no matter what you're doing he's staring at your lips, no thoughts head empty just lips and kisses

●He has to makeout with you at least once a day, it doesn't matter if things never escalate, he just likes the feeling of you being close to him

●Practically melts if you stroke the back of his head or pull his hair

●He gets cock blocked by someone whenever you give him the green signal to continue, he once even chased Jake around because he just burst in without knocking

●He wasnt mad that he couldn't continue, rather it was because he was going to remove your shirt just before he burst in

●Very possessive about what's his but doesnt even bat an eye if you're the one asking for things

●The guys are honestly jealous about how sunghoon only laughs or smiles due to two reasons, either it's lame ass jokes or because of you

●I LOVE HIM SO MUCH YOU HAVE NO IDEA :ʼ(

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hotluncheddie · 8 months

Text

eddie, steve

.🥞✨

‘uh, the pancakes with bacon please, extra syrup? thanks.’

eddie knows that order. he makes it every saturday night, so late it’s almost morning.

but he’s never heard that voice before, never heard it so close, right by the pass window.

he swallows. turning from the sink in the back to face out into the diner, someone’s sat at the counter, right across from him.

the most beautiful boy eddie’s ever seen.

he’s looking right at eddie, cheeks slightly pink, fiddling with a still wrapped straw. he looks perfect and cozy and adorable, hair sleep rumpled and in a hoodie that swallows up his soft lines, making him look even softer.

‘coming right up.’ eddie rasps, his own cheeks colouring.

but the boy, he smiles. ducks his head, looks up at eddie through his lashes.

eddie’s a fucking goner.

steve can’t believe it. his eyes are even bigger this close up, big and brown and sparkling with life.

his hands are just as nice this close up too, delicate but capable as they move around where steve can see. he sticks his tongue out a little when he concentrates. it’s adorable.

he’s the prettiest guy steve’s ever seen.

he puts steves finished pancakes in the window with a little smile, rings the bell and seems to blush even harder. almost cringing at the sound. it’s makes steve laugh, he’s cute.

and they’re still the best pancakes the midwest has to offer, at denny’s, at 3am. even sober and nervous and exited like he is.

steve can’t help closing his eyes like always when he takes his first bite. always blown away by their sweet fluffy texture. and he makes his way through them a little quicker than normal, without robin to distract him.

they taste as good as normal but he’s right there. right there watching steve eat them. something about it makes him feel shy, barely daring to look up from his plate. but when he does the line cook has the softest smile on his face and steve relaxes, tucks his hand under his hoodie to rest on his stomach like normal. finished his pancakes.

when steve looks up again, the guy is staring at his empty plate, kind of stuck in space. but then he vanished for a moment and the door to the kitchen opens. and he’s coming over, picking up the syrupy plate and he has freckles, bats tattooed on his arm.

he’s so close. he’s so pretty this close.

the prettiest guy steve’s ever seen.

‘eddie?’ steve blurts, exited, finally able to read his name tag. his names eddie.

his name is eddie.

eddie’s cheeks get pink, the tips of his ears. he looks at steve with wide eyes ‘yeah?’ he asks, voice small and confused.

steve grins at him. ‘your names eddie.’ and he watched eddie’s smile bloom, he has dimples.

‘wha’ eddie clears his throat. ‘what’s yours?’ and steve feels his heart burst, feels like sunshine and crisp leaves.

‘steve.’ he says, a little breathless.

‘steve.’ eddie whispers.

‘when do you go on break?’ steve asks, heart beating in his throat.

eddie just shrugs, eyes still wide. ‘whenever. as long as there’s no customers in.’ and steve realises he’s the only one here. it makes him blush more, for some reason.

‘make us another batch?’ he asks, deciding to be brave, leaning over the counter, just to be a little closer. ‘we can share.’ and it’s so worth it. to see the smile grow on eddie’s face, watch him nod, watch a curl slip out of his bun. watch him work his magic through that little pass window. stealing glances at steve as he goes.

watching steve enjoy his food is even better close up. even better than eddie could’ve imagined.

they’re sitting in steve’s usual booth, eddie’s where robin normally sits, he finally has a name for the cool girl steve hangs out with. gets to hear a little about how they met, can tell he loves her, so much. it’s sweet, his eyes shining as he talks.

so is the way steve cuts the pancakes, sweet, pushing perfectly stacked mouthfuls towards eddie to have. pancake, bacon, pancake. all covered in syrup, sticky and delicious.

eddie never really even liked pancakes much, more of a waffle guy. but sitting here, watching steve eat them, laughing and smiling at things eddie says. jaw just a little soft, upper lip smattered with hair. watching steve sigh and stretch when they’re done. that hand coming to rest on his stomach again, the way it always does, every saturday night.

eddie knows he’ll always love pancakes.

‘how do you get them to be so good?’ steve asks, hand circling eddie’s wrist loosely, stopping him before he goes back to his job, an orders come in, he has to go. but steve needs to ask, wants to know. wants one more moment with him.

eddie smiles, takes steve’s hand and kisses the back of it. and it’s so out of place, at denny’s, at 4 am that steve giggles, almost manic. it’s the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to him.

‘they’re made with love sweetheart.’ eddie says, looking up at him from his bow, kissing his hand again before walking away. the napkin with steve’s number on tucked safely in his back pocket.

steve’s forearm scrawled in the black ink of eddie’s own.

steve goes home and falls straight to sleep. so late its almost morning, like every saturday night.

he dreams of brown eyes, and syrup.

fin.

ty for reading! mwah!

@xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @pearynice @spectrum-spectre @stevesbipanic @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @acedorerryn @scoops-aboy86

#this was so fun #ty for for tagging along #<3 #hotlunch #steddie #steve x eddie #chubby steve harrington #ideas #i hope u all one day have romantic pancakes at 3am

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rizzkisworld · 2 months

Text

exes to lovers

pairing: ex!enhypen x gn!reader

genre: fluff, slight angst if you squint

word count: 2.6k (each member is 300-400)

warnings: mention of princess treatment in Jay's(I don't feel like it implies a female reader, but understand if gendered terms make you uncomfy), Sunghoon's is a little depressing, lmk if there's anything else

Ty to my bae Milan ( @kairoot ) for the help💋

reblogs and feedback are appreciated!

Heeseung

Guess I never got over you

There's never a moment in time where he's not thinking of you. Everything reminds him of you. Whenever he's scrolling through pictures on his phone, he always comes across yours. He could never bring himself to delete them. You were just.....his whole world. You were his everything and even though you broke up he could still feel a piece of you somewhere in his heart.

He doesn't even try to get with anyone else. He might go on dates here and there, but nothing goes anywhere. Not because the date was bad, but none of them are you. He only wants you. He doesn't admit it to anyone else, but you're always on his mind every second.

A year without you felt like hell. It was the biggest surprise to see you out while he was running errands. He wanted to be normal, didn't want to approach you and make you feel awkward. But most importantly, he didn't want to expose that he still had heavy feelings for you. He assumed you got over him, probably dating someone else now. He wouldn't be surprised cause you're so amazing.

He's in total shock when you approach him. There's a smile stuck on his face the entire time. Talking to you felt as if the gloom in his cloudy brain was overtaken by sunshine. You were his sunshine. You'd invite him to get something to eat after figuring out you both hadn't eaten. Was this for real? Is he dreaming?

You never realized how much you missed him until now. The others never satisfied your needs. Never gave you the proper attention he had, stared at you with loving eyes like he had, going out of their way to make you smile on your worst days like he had. You realized then that Heeseung was made for you. Being together may not have been right a year ago, but now, you knew it was the perfect time.

Jay

Never a moment you're not on my mind

Breakups were difficult, we all know this. But your breakup with Jay broke you. You felt as if a part of you left. You felt as if you were drowning in an ocean and he was the only one who could save you. But he wasn't there. At this point you believed life was unfair. Your first valentine's day without him really reminded you how in love you were.

The sweet gestures he would do, the dates he would plan, the gifts he would get, the princess treatment you received. You felt like you mattered to him. You felt like you were special. And you were. He saw you as more than just his partner. The breakup did a lot of damage to his heart as well. Though he wasn't as broken for long like you were, the impact you left on his life was visible. Especially now that you are gone.

You miss him everyday. There were times you believed you were over him. Times when you believed you were okay. Suddenly everything would come crashing down again. You just knew he was with someone new. Knew he didn't think about you the way you thought about him. Though not to the same extent as you, he did think about you.

Fate. That's how you'd both describe it when you bumped into each other. It was at a concert for a band you both loved. You'd spend so much time gushing over them together when you were dating. Things were extremely awkward. Actually that's an understatement for the tension between you two. It was as simple as a "hi" and a "how are you" before you had parted ways that day.

Little did you guys know that one occurrence was one of many. Suddenly you guys saw each other five times a month. At that point you knew it had to mean something right? The short conversations turned into long ones. All of a sudden you guys were texting? Then calling? Oh this totally meant something. Let's just say a rekindle of the relationship was the next step and it came faster than you could ever imagine.

Jake

Are we even exes?

The breakup was unexpected....kind of. Jake couldn't handle seeing you hurt, you couldn't handle seeing him that way either. With that being said, you both agreed to be friends. Friends, that was totally all you were. He was totally your ex. It was normal to still talk everyday, cuddle in bed, watch movies together, say "I love you" to each other, and make out. You know, things exes don't do.

You both swear up and down that you didn't realize you two were still acting like you guys were together. It took your friend to ask you if you got back with him for you to realize the situation. That's when the real breakup happened. You cried for days after cutting things off. Some days you felt fine and then the next you would feel as if a pile of garbage fell on you.

This sucked. Everything sucked. Everyone sucked. It took months to finally get over him. You had started going on dates again and let Jake completely leave your mind. Life without him was strange at first, but then it became normal. Even when you first saw him again at your mutual friend's party, you weren't fazed. He didn't seem fazed either. In fact, you saw him dancing around with another girl. That had to be his girlfriend right?

Didn't matter to you though. Strangely enough, that wasn't a one time thing. You started seeing him everywhere. Like legitimately everywhere. Was this a sign? Nah, it can't be. Things changed fast however. At another one of your friends party's you saw him again.

This time he was alone. He came up to you first. You guys talked for a bit...maybe one hour... actually for the rest of the party. One thing led to another and you both started talking consistently again. You found out that the other girl wasn't his girlfriend and she was just someone he met at that party. Safe to say you two weren't opposed to the idea of trying to work things out.

Sunghoon

Seems like we both can't move on

You always wondered if he still thought about you. You for sure thought about him. Every single day. There was no proper way to describe the hole you felt in your heart without him around. It made you feel as if you didn't cherish the relationship while it lasted. Little did you know that Sunghoon had thoughts about you. They were never ending. Whenever he tried to focus on other things, you popped back into his mind.

Something he's embarrassed to admit is that he has dreams about you. He didn't even realize that he stopped going outside much. He spent most of his time in his bed doing nothing, but thinking about you. You were no better. You were someone he could rely on and be raw and honest to. He was someone you could be your most authentic self with.

When you went on dates with other people, that was the one thing you noticed. None of them made you feel safe the way he did. None of them made you laugh the way he did. Were you ever going to find another like him? The first time you had seen him again, you chose to not speak. You wanted to get over him, talking to him wouldn't help.

Funny enough, Hoon shared that same thought process. He noticed you, but feared speaking with you would make it harder to get over you. He knew it would. The both of you hated to admit, but you both hoped to see each other again. Unexpectedly, it happened again. This time, you couldn't pretend you didn't see him. He couldn't pretend he didn't see you. Because you both locked eyes the moment you saw each other.

He was about to approach you, but his friend called for him before he could reach you. Feeling somewhat hurt, you went home hoping another occurrence like that would happen. You didn't need to hope, though. Your phone buzzed, and when you checked your notifications, he texted you. 'Wanna talk in person...alone?' That was the message. You couldn't leave him hanging. Better yet, you weren't going to. Maybe, just maybe, this time things would go right.

Sunoo

The words friend and ex don't mix

You never imagined that you could still be friends with your ex, but Sunoo was different....or at least you thought. Everything was mutual, so you guys promised there would be no bad blood. What was meant to be something as simple as being cordial, you found yourself still texting and calling him.

It's not like he was much better either. He picked up all of your calls and called back when he missed them. He responded to all your text messages and eventually found himself going out of his way to message you.

One thing led to another, and you guys began to hang out again. Realizing how much you missed him, how much he missed you, all of this became a regular thing. Still at that, you told yourself that you were just friends and nothing more. That was until your friend asked you directly if you still had feelings for him.

Of course you said no, it was impossible for you to catch feelings for your ex again right? Actually no, not at all. What if he didn't feel that way about you? Wondering if you should cut things once and for all, you then receive a message. From him. He wanted to meet with you. Anxious was somehow an understatement for how you felt.

You knew just as good that you would regret this. You knew he was going to cut things off, so you were preparing yourself. This last time you would spend together felt so bittersweet. You'd be in for a surprise when Sunoo spoke words you didn't know you desperately wanted to hear. "Wanna try us again?" That sweet smile you missed seeing. His delicate voice you missed hearing. Nothing in the world could compare to this moment. "Of course."

Jungwon

Can't escape you

You hadn't seen him since the breakup. It had been about 2 years since it all happened. It took you some time, but eventually you were able to move on from everything. You weren't necessarily trying to get back in the dating pool. Everytime your friends tried to set you up on a date you told them you weren't ready. The time just didn't feel right.

But has timing ever been on your side? Six months ago you started a new job at a café. It was mainly so you could build your bank up to help pay for your studies. Your coworker had told you the other day that someone new would be working. You did not expect it to be Jungwon. While you were wiping down the counter, you heard his voice. There was no mistaking his voice. "Hey, I'm Ju- oh.." He paused the moment he noticed who you were.

"Hi." You avoided all eye contact with him. Opening hours were coming up in 15 minutes, so you needed to make sure everything was set up. However, you couldn't take your attention away from him. He couldn't take his eyes away from you. You both failed to notice that neither of you moved. That was until the door opened and customers started coming in. From that day on you realized you'd be seeing him a lot.

For the first 3 months of working together you didn't dare speak to him and neither did he dare speak to you. The only words you'd exchange were work related. One day however, oddly enough, Jungwon approached you. Why? You still don't know, but the conversation was pleasant. You got the chance to catch up on each other's lives and share a few laughs. That's all. At least you thought so.

More months passed, and whenever you saw Jungwon you got that feeling. You know, the one where you can't think straight when your crush is around and your heart feels like it's 3 steps away from a heart attack? But you didn't have a crush on your ex right? Caught up in your thoughts, you never noticed how his eyes shined whenever they landed on you. How he was so eager to see you and hear your voice. He already accepted defeat. He'd fallen for you all over again. Now, all he needed was for you to admit you wanted him too.

Ni-ki

I'm here now

One of the more..."normal" breakups. Things just didn't work out at the time. He was traveling a lot while you were busy studying. You guys barely had time for each other and the relationship turned into a long distance one. You both decided things weren't working out and ultimately decided to break up. It broke your heart, of course it did. No breakup was easy.

You often found yourself reminiscing on the time you had spent together. He did too. Riki found it hard to sleep some nights knowing you weren't in his arms. I mean technically towards the end of the relationship you weren't there often, but being broken up felt different. Slowly but surely you built yourself up again. You weren't crying anymore and you were able to sleep peacefully now. However, you did still think about him from time to time.

It had only been a few months after all. You were still healing and that journey is never finishing quickly. Once you were in a better state your grades had improved, your skin was clear, you really took time to look after yourself. Riki on the other hand was healing slowly too. A few people had approached him, but he wasn't interested. Though he was getting over you, there were times you were on his mind. When a year and 6 months of your breakup passed, the both of you were in better shape. You both felt better and looked better.

Even better news, Riki was no longer traveling like crazy. He knew this was probably going too far, but he needed to see you. He at least wanted to see how you were doing. He claimed he wanted nothing more, but deep down, he wanted to hold you, kiss you, tell you the words you wanted to hear before you guys broke up. 'I'm here to stay.' You were at the library looking for a book you needed for a class when you noticed a familiar figure in your peripheral entering. It was Riki. You couldn't lie and pretend like you weren't excited. Riki didn't even know why he was there.

Something in his body just told him to go to the library. Now he knew why. Upon seeing you, he couldn't resist the urge to let his arms fly open. You found your way into his embrace. His hug was tight. It made you feel secure. Without saying any words, mainly to avoid noise violations, his body did all the talking. The reassurance you wanted from that time, you finally got it. Riki wasn't letting you go anytime soon. He honestly forgot you guys were in public. To make the moment more perfect, he leaned into your ear and spoke those magical words. "I'm here, and I'm going to stay for you.”

#enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen au #enhypen reactions #enhypen smau #enhypen angst #heeseung fluff #jay fluff #jongseong fluff #jake fluff #sim jaeyun fluff #sunghoon fluff #sunoo fluff #jungwon fluff #niki fluff #riki fluff

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goldsbitch · 5 months

Note

can I request a Lando x reader where the reader’s weakness is when people stroke her hair? Her mind goes completely blank and she falls silent immediately when people stroke her hair and Lando uses it at his advantage.

Fluffy pls and ty🫶🏻

omg, i love this prompt so much - thank you and hope you like it!!

This is one is dripping with sweetness a little too much, don't say I did not warn you. No other warning.

Lando was born a tease, oscillating between clueless and shy, to unapologetic and bordeline dickish. It all depended on the setting, his relationship to the person and how much sleep he got the night before. Sometimes your boyfriend was the sweetest little thing, giggling shyly about everything instead of coming up with an actual response, and the other times he was a walking menace actively seeking every opportunity how to get you into a flustered state.

You and Lando were full on deep in the beginning of your relationship, the sweetest part of the honeymoon phase. To put it bluntly - fucking almost non stop. And the desire was never-ending. Blinding sunshine kissed good morning to every day you two got to wake up next to each other. Problems seem to be non existent. Bliss.

It was the way his hair curled when he got a little bit sweaty, his toned body what you were desperate to explore from every angle and the need to know every little secret trick that worked on him. It became some sort of a game, who would get better at knowing the other. Which one of you found all the buttons to push.

Lando rose up that morning and chose violence. Metaphorical one, of course. Snuggling up to you in order to wake you up as well for some morning work out, as he like to call it. Whispering sweet nothings to your ear and touching you all over your body. But you were just incredibly sore from the past few days, physically unable to keep up.

"Why don't you love me anymore," he pleaded jokingly as you murmured another weak appeal for your sleep.

"Lando, you know I love you more than anything," you replied, still half asleep. But it was hard to distinguish as reality resembled a sweet dream everyday lately.

"I remember when you used to want me, physically," he kept going.

"We literally had sex few hours ago, stop whining," you kissed him between your words. He looked at you with his incredible eyes, little devil dancing in each one of them.

"Exactly, too long ago. Wish I could go back in time when you were not sore and get inside you all over again."

You simply laughed, absolutely smitten with this lovey dovey side of him. His words made you melt like butter sitting under direct sun. You brushed your noses together and then he kissed you.

The best part of romantic relationships is the one that you cannot absolutely share with other people, the almost embarrassing pleas, desire and gross goofiness, simping at each other all the time.

"Fine, if you play by these rules, I'll come back with my own revenge," he said finally as you inevitably had to start getting ready to go to the paddock with him.

Today was the big day. You'd been spotted in public countless of times, the "girlfriend" title officially sitting on your head for weeks now. But this was the first time you were to join him in the paddock as a wag. You were trying to hide your nervousness, but he saw right through you. Before you exited the apartment, he made you stop and took your face in his hands. "I'm happy I get to do this with you. I love parading you around, for everyone to see that we're a team." You smiled, his words hitting like first snowflakes of the year. "Poor Oscar, I can't wait to finally trauma dump the shared misery you bring to our lives," you jokes and locked lips with him once again. "God, it's terrifying how much I like you," you said automatically, without having to think about it.

It actually wasn't as bad as you'd expected. It was definitely weird and strange, but not necessarily bad. Having Lando by your side as you passed the gates definitely helped. The photographers were lined up as people at a shooting range would and it did feel like that at first. But as quickly as you were initially overwhelmed, fatigue took over you and you blocked their ever-presence out. Trying to chat up those Lando introduce you to and memorizing the names. You knew how much some of these people meant to Lando, so you were trying to be at your best behavior. The thought that his friends would hate you in the same way as some of his fans haunted you.

In the middle of all the rush, you parted for a moment. To be honest, little peace of quiet and chill was something you appreciated. But remember, Lando woke up and chose violence this morning. And his plan was quite simple, yet bulletproof.

"Y/N! There you are, my love," you heard from coming from behind you. "I have someone to introduce to you! I'm very much sure you'll appreciate meeting him." As you turned, you saw Daniel Ricciardo walking your way with your Lando. You were a little perplexed as to why Lando was so cheerful about that. You clearly remembered him getting very upset when you admitted to him that at some point in the past, when formula 1 was a world far away from you, that you had a minor crush on Daniel. Which obviously went out of the window once you met Lando. That did not mean that Lando was 100% ok with it.

"Y/N, as I'm sure you know, this is Daniel, hell of a driver and good friend of mine," Lando continued and you knew him well enough to know he had ulterior motives. Not sure what to do, you smiles shyly and shook Daniel's hand.

"Hi, Daniel," you said, eyes flinching between him and Lando. You were full on preparing for anything. Lando's smirk almost had a life of his own at that point.

"Nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I've heard quite a lot things about you!" Daniel opened, life of the party as per usual.

You chuckled. "All good things, I hope!" And with that, Lando stepped behind you and put his arm around you.

"Only the best," he said, leaned closed and inconspicuously started to stroke you hair gently. Oh, he did not just go this low.

It was slow, yet like tidal wave. You stopped breathing for a moment. Your body relaxing, as if you'd just taken the world's best sedatives. The way his hands made you feel was etherial. It was the same sensation the luckier ones experienced when listening to ASMR and the less fortunate ones sometimes called an orgasm. Shivers slowly traveling around your whole body, every part becoming sensitive out of nowhere. You weren't able to look at Daniel, let alone continue speaking. Lando was more than aware of what touching your hair did to you. He'd discovered this trick quite early on. And it was his favorite one.

"So, where are you from?" Daniel attempted at small talk. But how could you possibly give a fuck at that moment. Not that your body would even allowed you to respond. The only thing you were able to take in from the outside world were the soft slow movements Lando's fingers were doing, blocking everything out instanteniously.

Daniel stared at you, waiting. From his perspective, this was a very awkward meeting.

Lando answered for you, with a smirk you did not see, but could feel from the tone of his voice. "You have to excuse her, she is bit shy in front of new people."

You could not give less of a fuck at that moment of what these two were saying. Your lips were starting to shiver from getting so sensitive. You took a short breath and someone who would be standing close and knew you well would know, that what escaped your mouth was not a nervous laugh, but something very close to a moan.

Lando and Daniel were saying words, but none of that was important, while Lando's fingers were working his magic. He would only leave your hair alone once he saw Daniel leaving.

You wanted to be mad at him. But you were still sort of high from all the sensation bomb Lando dropped on you. You slowly turned around to face him, coming down from your own personal nirvana.

You took a deep breath while he watched you without a blink and biting hims smile away.

"You promised," you let out air that got stuck in your lungs somewhere along the way. "You promised you would not do this in public." Your brain was slowly wiring up to normal again.

"I told you I'd punish you for the morning," he said as if it was the most amusing thing ever. "Also, if Daniel is my competition, I'm going to use all the advantage I have."

Lando had a way of looking at you that made you unravel instantaneously and there was no way of stopping it. There was just something about his smile that did it for you. As anyone who is properly in love, you could not imagine somebody being able tor resist that. In your love soaked mind, he was irresistible. To a normal mind, he was probably just a regular guy, but that idea was unfathomable to you.

"I'm pretty sure that after what I just pulled, you will not have to worry about Daniel liking me," you chuckled, having to accept that Lando won this one.

"I would never let my guard down...But yeah, I think this one is pretty safe," he chuckled once more. You kissed his overly proud face and promised to yourself to get back at him later, in the privacy of his bedroom.

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bunnys-kisses · 2 months

Note

hii! brownies with a side of martini with lando for me please 🤭

bakery menu

want to suggest your own order? look at the menu! i'm constantly writing up orders! i even accept for fandoms outside of formula one!! as for this suggestion, i am really liking that people really want mafia au lando, it's very nice and allows me to think a little more outside the box with the au! i just don't want them all read the same, right? this won't be the last time you'll see lando in a mafia au!! i hope you enjoy this!! <3

brownies ("you're so much more agreeable when you have something to occupy that mouth of yours.") + martini (mafia au) served by lando norris (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, mafia au, enforcer!lando, baker!reader, kitchen sex, oral sex (reader receiving), affectionate!lando, mentions of au typical violence

"these are amazing, honey." lando groaned as he took a bite of the warm brownies you just made. it was comfort food in a way. you always know how to make them perfectly.

you leaned against the counter of the kitchen, you watched your boyfriend devour a piece of the treat with excitement, you sighed, "i don't know. i think it's a little too sweet."

"no way, impossible." he said, "these are going to sell like crazy at the shop. can i have another one?"

you chuckled, and leaned towards him. you wiped a bit of stray chocolate off the corner of his mouth, "you're so much more agreeable when you have something to occupy that mouth of yours."

he beamed at you, "well of course." he then snaked an arm around your waist and kissed you on the cheek, "anything of yours that goes into my mouth would shut me up.

this would look like a true domestic scene. a young couple in love, sharing a late night treat on a thursday. but if someone looked closely at the tattoos on your lover's arms. they would know that he wasn't the prince charming on a full rise scholarship to a university. he was an enforcer for the mclaren family.

lando could fight. that was his whole job, he told you about growing up and the brawls he'd get into. he always told you how many he won and told you not to worry at the number his loss.

when he walked down the street and people saw the tattoos along his arms and the cigarette tucked behind his head. they thought he was big trouble, when you two walked together you often got double-takes from people. why was someone like you, with someone like him.

and while you'd go into detail about how much of a caring lover he was. how much he adored you, all the times he brought you home flowers and kept a polaroid photo on you in the back of his jean pocket. there was something undeniable about lando that made you blush.

he was really good in the bedroom.

not that it was the only good thing about him! he went above and beyond anything any other boyfriend had done for you. he was your ray of sunshine. he made sure his woman was taken care of.

you got up onto the counter after you got your sweatpants and panties off. you knew you should be heading to bed soon for another long day at work. but lando was insistent that he made sure that the love of his life got a proper thank you for making him such a nice treat when he came home.

"double chocolate is great and all." he as he got closer to you. bent over to get between those thighs of yours. he held your legs open and licked his lips, "but, it's nothing like your pussy." he chuckled before he pressed a kiss at your slit.

you held onto the edge of the counter while he started to lick at your sex. his tongue between your pussy lips. he groaned against you as he held onto your hips.

lando was a dangerous man, you had heard whispers through the area you lived in about how evil he was. there was a story about him taking out a guy's teeth tooth by tooth and then smashing his jaw.

he could be intimidating, those eyes could go from friend to sharp in mere seconds. his hands were lined with scarring from other the years and many of his tattoos covered up the other scars.

he'd walk around the main street in nothing but a tank top, loose jeans and a gold chain, his face card never failed and his wit was unmatched. but when he stumbled up the bakery you worked at one day, it was like his entire life changed.

now he was between your legs with his tongue up against your pussy. his nose rubbed against your clit which made you clench up. you held onto the back of his head and guided him up against your pussy. the pleasure was a steady throb that made you flushed.

he was in love with you, if he had to describe the feeling. it was like his heart was whole. that the pieces of him were glued back together by your love. and he in turn wanted to give all his love to you.

"please, lando." you said softly as you ran your fingers through his hair, "you know exactly how to do it." you shuddered at the pleasure in your body.

"only the best for you." he said softly, "only the best." before he gave your thigh a little love tap before he continued to lap at your pussy. you held onto him tighter and his cock twitched in his sweats.

you held onto his curly hair tightly and whined a little. you tensed up as you came, finishing on his tongue. the noises you made had lando feeling good all over. he worked quickly to send you right over the edge. when you nails grazed along his scalp his brain turned off for a moment.

"shit." he grumbled against your slit.

you relaxed after a few moments and panted heavily. you rested up against the cabinets behind you and clung to your boyfriend for a moment longer.

he lazily licked at your sweet slit as he nosed at your clit. he was insatiable when it came to you. you then stroked the back of his head lovingly. he groaned a little at the soft touch.

lando was a mafia enforcer, he hurt people for a living. but his true weakness was his baker girlfriend and her lovely desserts. <3

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bunnyhugs77 · 9 months

Text

Daddy Daycare

Pairing: Technician! Jungkook x Teacher's Assistant! Reader

Word Count: 7k

Part: 1, 2, 3

Series Content: daycare au, suggestive themes, love at first sight? dilf jk, mentions of antidepressants, mint jk and blonde jk, jk cant sleep, sexual themes, he's so whipped, toxic ex, minor baby mama drama, gold diggers, mentions of death, complicated family history, cute kid cameos, reader can't drive, jk is good with his hands, mentions of abusive relationships, so much fluff.

Other Series Content: soft dom! jk, muscle kink, pussy puts his ass to sleep, unprotected sex (just don't), oral sex (f! and m! receiving), brief choking, minor breeding kink, hickeys, brief dom! reader, reader makes him wait, intimate cuddling, praise.

"Ready for a new year, Y/n?"

Your nose was filled with the smell of fresh paint and scotch tape as you and your co-worker Vanessa who goes by Ms. Powell when the class is swarming with bright and bustling four-year-old's.

The loud sound of ripping tape rang through your ears as you pasted the pieces onto the back of the welcome sign. The sun was hardly out as the two of you arranged to arrive at your new classroom bright and early at 5 am to finish off the decorations for the classroom.

"I can't believe the summer is finished already." You say with a rejuvenated smile. "I can only imagine how fast the time flies when you're travelling Europe." She reminds you of your two-week-long travels across the south of Europe.

Standing to your feet for what feels like the first time ever after hours of crouching and kneeling to finish up the decorations. "I think that's the last of it," with a puff of air and a pair of hands on your hips you smile to yourself, satisfied with the lively environment the two of you managed to create.

"I think we're ready," Vanessa says, cracking open a fresh whiteboard marker to sign your names on the board in a warm welcome.

With a quick glance down to your watch. "-and just in time too,".

The sun had peaked over the horizon no more than thirty minutes ago which means that theatrical parents would be rolling in any minute now to send off their kids to what could possibly be their first day away from them.

You both took the last few minutes to run down the hall and get changed, making sure you both looked ready to take on 22 pre-schoolers. Although you weren't the head teacher, you still had just as much of a responsibility as Vanessa did and it wasn't always easy.

The scar on your upper arm which was victim to the shark-like teeth of an ambitious little boy last year can attest to that.

You smiled warmly to some parents who passed by you in the halls on your way back to the classroom. Some familiar faces, some new, although based on the direction they were walking, they weren't any kids in your class.

By the time you returned to yours, there were already two parents bidding their farewells with their energetic offspring who were already reaching for the crayons you'd left on each table.

You slowly made your way to the front with Vanessa as the two of you prepared to introduce yourselves to the large crowd of parents and students that situated themselves around the room.

The energy was high, you could practically feel some of the anxiety and excitement from the crowd.

"Hello everyone!" Vanessa starts, clasping her hands together, "On behalf of Sunshine Circles Daycare, we want to give you all a warm welcome to our class."

Vanessa introduces herself professionally before briefly gesturing to you, cueing your smile, "And this is Ms. Hill, she will be assisting both me and the students around the classroom. I wouldn't be able to do this without her." You nod along, preparing yourself to speak.

"Yes, so if ever Ms. Powell is unavailable, don't be afraid to share any questions or concerns with me that you have about the class or your child." Out of sight, somewhere in the crowd a pair shuffled through the large group of bodies and made their way to the front.

"We're looking forward to-" You paused, your eyes meeting the eyes of the man who just emerged from the crowd while holding the small hand of who you presumed was his son, he looked a little younger than the rest of the parents, and significantly buffer if you must add.

You could see peaks of his soft blue hair sticking out from underneath his black beanie that matched his black wife beater. He flashes you a coy smile, so innocent and handsome to the point he'd made you forget your train of thought and completely forget what you were in the middle of saying.

"I think what Ms. Hill was about to say was that we're looking forward to having a wonderful year full of learning and fun." Vanessa fills in your blanks and all you could utter was a small 'mhm!'.

With that said, the parents that'd been here since the very beginning had naturally begun to take their leave, not without a tight hug and reassuring kiss to their child's forehead of course.

"Sorry we're late," You turn around, and it's as if the air was sucked out of your lungs. The man was even more stunning up close, but that was something you vowed you would never acknowledge again. He's the guardian of one of your students, it would be unprofessional.

"That's no problem at all, life happens," you chirp, almost too happily. "Isn't that the truth, Ryan here couldn't seem to find his favourite shoes and refused to wear anything but." The man smiles, and wow, even his smile was attractive.

If you thought his smile was contagious you just couldn't stop yourself from beaming when you finally looked down to meet Ryan's big grin. "Look! It's lightning McQueen!" He shouts, stomping his feet at one hundred miles a minute, the base of his sneakers flashing red and white as he does so.

"Your shoes are awesome! I wish mine could do that." You return his big energy with a bit of a softer tone, oblivious to the way the man is watching you intently. All of a sudden Ryan was hopping up and down, tugging on his dad's arm, "Can I colour?!" He points to the table full of markers and blank papers.

"Well, you're going to have to ask Ms. Hill first, okay buddy?" The man looks at you with a damn near glow in his gaze, "Of course it's okay. Use as many colours as you'd like." Before you could even finish your sentence, Ryan was long gone, only the flashes of his sneakers were proof that he hadn't teleported.

"Have you been teaching here long?" He asks, prompting you to shake your head. "This is actually only my second year teaching here," subconsciously his plump bottom lip found itself victim between his teeth. "Ah," he sighs.

There was a brief pause in your conversation. As if it were planned, both of your gazes dropped down to analyze the other's left hand, looking for any signs of that metallic band wrapped around the ring finger.

Seems like you were both in the clear, for now.

Your conversation resumed as if the ring inspection never even happened and soon the both of you were finally making introductions. "The kids call me Ms. Hill, but you're more than welcome to call me Y/n." That lip ring was taunting you as it sat so comfortably in his plush pink lips that stretched into a soft smile.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Y/n, I'm Jungkook."

"Goddamn it." You mutter. Giving the projector another hard hit in the back as it flickered and failed to turn on. It had been giving you a hard time all week.

You're at least grateful it let you have a successful first week of the year but now it was acting up more than ever. Kids would be coming any minute and Vanessa was stuck in traffic, so you would somehow need to find a way to fix this and supervise all before--

"Good morning Ms. Hill," Never mind you think, giving the projector one last frustrated tap. Disregarding it as if it never happened and focusing on Jungkook and Ryan who just walked in.

Ryan shouts a cheery good morning of his own before getting his hands on the toy car he's grown fond of over the last week. Unspokenly declaring it as his own.

"I couldn't help but notice.. and hear your frustrations with the projector from down the hall. Something wrong?" He takes two confident strides towards the equipment with you trailing along.

"Yeah, it's been breaking down all week. I was hoping to show the kids a video today, but it seems I may have to improvise." He didn't respond with anything more than his warm smile as he laid his hand down on the top of the projector giving it a once over.

His brows furrow ever so slightly before he lets out a little laugh.

"What's so funny?" your arms cross instinctively, eyes never leaving his lean frame as he practically struts over to the outlet and properly plugs in the cord, the graphics now displaying perfectly on the screen.

"In all of my years working in tech, that may have been one of the hardest cases to solve." He teases and you subconsciously let your tongue poke the inside of your cheek, failing to hide an embarrassed smile.

You waved to the parents who were dropping off more students, "If you ever have any more technical issues, I'd be happy to help." He reaches into his back pocket and places one of his business cards in your hand. "I will, thank you."

You shook off whatever the hell it was that was bubbling in your stomach, and reminded yourself things were strictly professional and he was only offering to be nice, nothing more.

The weeks were flying by without you realizing it until Thanksgiving was mere weeks around the corner. Which meant today was show and tell. Vanessa instructed everyone to sit on the carpet in a big circle.

Yesterday you reminded parents to help their child to find something they loved at home so they could bring it to show and tell.

"Thanksgiving is a special day of the year where we-" Vanessa was in the middle of explaining from where she sat crisscrossed on the carpet in the circle while you picked up the abandoned crayons and papers on the desk.

"Eat lots of food," cute giggles filled the room from Carly's outburst. "Yes, that's right. We eat lots of food on Thanksgiving and it's a day to be grateful for everything you have. Can anyone tell me what it means to be grateful for something?"

The class had never been so quiet, full of scrunched brows and blank stares. "It means to be happy with what you have. How many of you have toys at home?" Almost all hands shot up at once, you were afraid someone would lose an eye.

"Do you like your toys,? The room filled with lots of loud and affirmative responses, "To be grateful for something like your toys means showing them extra love and saying thank you to your parents who bought them."

By the time you'd finished cleaning up and joined the circle, they were about halfway through the circle for show and tell, everyone getting a chance to say what they brought and why they loved it along with passing it around the circle.

"Thank you for sharing Ms. Cuddlepuff with us Riley."

"Ryan, what did you bring?" He practically lights up when his turn finally comes around. He introduced his favourite blue race car, and described it as fast and shiny, even holding it while he spun the wheels for us.

"What an amazing car! Do you want to pass it around?" He shakes his head. You tried to be gentle understanding why he wouldn't want to share, "Don't you want your friends to be able to see your amazing car too?" He shakes his head, hugging his toy close to his chest and scooting further back, removing himself from the circle.

"Ryan-" Vanessa tries to reason but he starts to yell, "I don't want to share! It's mine!" He stomps his feet, the lights on his shoes flashing red, a similar shade to his furious expression.

You looked over to Vanessa, the both of you deciding you weren't going to fight him on it.

"Okay Jamie, what did you bring today?" He shakes his head as if he is mimicking Ryan's behaviour. "I don't want to share either."

Oh boy.

Finding a way to get the rest of the class to share their objects had taken all of your willpower and the rest of the day, right until parents were walking in, ready for pick up.

"Hey," You smile as you watched Jungkook walk in wearing his typical white collared shirt with the top button open giving you only the slightest peak of the silver chain beneath that sat atop his honey-kissed skin--

"Daddy!" Ryan squeaked, running off to grab his coat and shoes.

"How was he today?" You tried to hide your regret but he noticed it, no matter how fast it flashed across your features. "What is it?" His voice was soft, welcoming any feedback.

"He had a bit of a hard time sharing during the show and tell. He didn't want his classmates to touch his car, which I understand but we try to encourage the students to be kind and share." Your heart was pounding, you always hated these kinds of talks.

You felt that it was just criticism, but in reality, it was just one rainy in comparison to one hundred sunny ones. Jungkook exhaled heavily. "I don't know what is with him and this car, he won't even let me hold it."

As if on cue, Ryan comes running back to his father with his jacket on and car in hand. His dad ruffles his hair playfully while the boy wraps his arms around his father's legs.

"I'm sorry about what happened. We're working on it, I promise." Nothing but sincerity rolled off his tongue as he looked down at the child who clung to his jeans.

"Come on buddy, let's go. Say bye to Ms. Hill."

"Bye, Ms. Hill!" He waves back to you before walking out the door.

As the clock rolled closer the 4:30, all the kids had gone home and it was just you and Vanessa going through the schedules for tomorrow.

"So how long are you gonna keep flirting with Ryan's dad." maybe you'd put on too much lotion earlier, it was pure coincidence that your pencil had immediately fallen from your hand.

She laughs as if something were hilarious. "I am so not flirting with him." She rolls her eyes, "Oh please, I have never seen you spend nearly half as much time talking to the other parents as much as you talk to him. Not to mention the hearts in your eyes."

You let your head fall into your hands out of sheer embarrassment, "I don't know what to do!" You almost shriek into your sweaty palms.

"A word of advice, save yourself the trouble and don't get involved. I don't believe that he's married but that doesn't mean there are no strings attached either. Believe me, I've been there, things can get messy and it's just not something you want."

Vanessa was bout seven years older than you, somewhere around 32 so you always took her advice to heart. "But didn't you end up marrying them, and then have two children?" She goes silent. "Yeah, well life is unpredictable."

You groan, letting your body fall back onto the carpet.

"Attention passengers, This is your driver speaking. I regret to inform you that we are currently experiencing a mechanical issue, and the bus has broken down. I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause."

Your head rolled back and hit the wall behind you. This is fantastic. It was supposed to be a great day today. It's Friday today. Specifically the last day before your three-day long weekend before the long weekend with Thanksgiving falling on the Monday.

You checked the time, 7:45. You should be there in 10 minutes, and honestly, you considered getting off the bus and walking but there were about 4 inches of freshly fallen snow from last night covering the city and it was far too cold to embark on such a journey at this time of day.

You wouldn't be there until 9 at the earliest.

Meanwhile,

"Have a great day Ryno. Daddy loves you." Jungkook places a quick peck on Ryan's forehead watching him join his friends. He couldn't help himself from scanning the class for you, wondering where you were.

In the meantime he approached Vanessa, handing her a small gift box. "I know Ryan has such a big personality, so here's a little something to help you get through the day." He smiles, "Happy Thanksgiving."

She was shocked to be receiving a gift for Thanksgiving, she usually only expected them around the holidays. It was a $50 gift card to her favourite coffee shop, she has their signature cup of coffee on her desk every morning. "Thank you, Mr. Jeon, this is incredibly thoughtful, and Ryan is such a delight to teach."

"I also have something for Ms. Hill, but I haven't seen her. Is she away today?" Vanessa's brows scrunched, realizing that you would usually be there by now. Her phone begins to ring, "Oh- This is her calling now." Jungkook didn't know whether to stay and listen but he couldn't bring himself to walk away.

"Your bus broke down? Where?"

"East of Park Avenue? That's 30 minutes away." Jungkook's brain was doing summersaults around a mental map he was programming in his head trying to locate where you were based on the information he was hearing.

The conversation continued for a minute more until it ended with Vanessa reminding you to 'stay warm'. "God, that's terrible. It's freezing outside." Jungkook frets and Vanessa manages to contain her thoughts from expressing themselves on her face, suppressing the smirk and opting for a head nod instead.

No less than 5 minutes had passed when Jungkook found himself behind the wheel driving towards your location. The minutes passed like seconds when he spotted the bus sitting on the side of the road.

Parking right behind it, he stepped out of the car and walked along the sides of it trying to spot you, but you saw him first. At first, you couldn't believe it but once you saw that ring tucked into his bottom lip, all doubts were gone.

You grabbed your bag and stepped off the bus, meeting him there at the steps. Looking down at him as the snow gently fell on his beanie, neither of you spoke. Your eyes seemed to be doing all the talking.

"Er-hem." Someone cleared their throat behind you, letting you know that they also wanted to get off and you were blocking the way. Apologizing you stepped off and to the side.

"What are you doing here?"

"I heard about what had happened and I couldn't stand there and do nothing. It's freezing out here." You could hardly look at him, he was just too cute, his nose and cheeks were beginning to turn a little rosy from the cold breeze that swept the snow across the sky.

"You came all this way just to give me a ride?" There were puffs of condensation with every breath and he nodded slowly, a little afraid he was coming off as a creep. "Y-yeah, I hope that's alright with you."

"That's perfectly fine with me, let's go before I lose feeling in my fingers for good." he snickers as you practically run towards the car that he'd unlocked.

You were so relieved to be sitting in a warm car with heated seats.

It was no time before Jungkook pulled out and began the careful drive back to the daycare.

The silence was comfortable and it gave you time to focus on regaining feelings in your limbs.

"I never knew that you took the bus," Jungkook starts, turning your face away from the flurries that fall outside the window and landing on the side of his face as he feigns concentration on the road.

"It's my only option since I don't drive," Jungkook's jaw fell open. He tried to catch it in time but it was too late, "Yeah yeah I know. I'm 25 and I don't drive." He takes advantage of the red light to face you, "There's no shame in that. I didn't mean to come off as judgy I was just surprised."

"No, I know. I'm not mad, I'm actually used to it. " The silence resumes, "Is there a reason why you don't drive?" He immediately regretted asking, he felt like he was prying and didn't want to make you uncomfortable. You were already in his car for god's sake.

"You don't have to-"

"I was 19."

Never mind, he thinks. You seemed more than ready to share.

"I was coming home from school, I had just finished my first exam of many, the roads were dark and I was tired. I thought I saw something run across the street but I told myself I was seeing things. Suddenly there was a thud. My car rocked over and over again, so finally, I stopped. I got out and I was terrified to see the trail of blood that ran behind my wheel. There was a black cat that got caught on my tires and kept getting dragged and rolled around for 20 yards."

Jungkook's hand had somehow found its way cupped over his mouth throughout your story, nothing could have prepared him for a story like that.

"I'm a monster. I know. I've never driven since that day. It's best for the world If I simply don't drive." Now resuming his driving, he took one hand off the wheel to place on your shoulder. "Don't talk like that. You're not a monster. It's not your fault. It's not like you did it on purpose. I'm sure the cat forgives you."

You shake your head, "It doesn't change what I did."

Somehow the conversation had taken a brighter turn to the long weekend. "What are your plans for the weekend?" You ask him as he turns into the parking lot of the daycare.

"Same as always, Ryan and I will probably watch movies, cook and do some crafts." Your heart warmed at the engaged weekend he had ahead of him. "That sounds so sweet. I'm sure you guys have loads of fun." He nods, "How about you?"

You laugh sadly, "My parents decided to ditch the cold weather this year and headed to Florida a few weeks ago, so I'll be thankful for wool socks and gossip girl." he laughs.

"You know, It'd be a shame to spend the holidays on your own. You're more than welcome to join our festivities." you looked out the window, not in disinterest but so that he couldn't see the way your cheeks tinted pink.

He parks, "No I wouldn't want to impose on-"

"I insist. You wouldn't be doing anything of the sort. it would be nice to have you." You smile. "Okay, I'll be there,"

The hours flew by faster than you could even realize. Practically startled to see a parent walking into the classroom ready to pick up their child, and just like that, the day was over.

There were no more than a handful of kids left, but no more than the usual 5 or 6 whose parents had signed them up for aftercare due to their schedules, including Ryan who you just watched offer his crayons to his classmate Lia.

Vanessa was quick to acknowledge his kindness and gave him a sticker, you would have loved to have been part of the moment but unfortunately, you were just pulled into the hall by another teacher being asked to supervise another class while she used the bathroom.

By the time you returned, you saw Jungkook and Ryan packing up the last of their things getting ready to go, but he seemed almost relieved to see you.

"I never got the chance to give this to you earlier this morning," He hands you a small bag. You were stunned at what was inside. "In the spirit of thanksgiving, I wanted to show you my gratitude." He smiles.

You pry the bag open delicately moving over the tissue paper to see a hardcover novel. You knew the cover anywhere. "I've been trying to get my hands on this book for months! It's been sold out everywhere how did you get it?"

A sly grin slowly works its way across his features but he doesn't say. "How did you even know I wanted this?" You were trying your best to resist the urge to hug him. "I'd only seen you with the previous book laying on your desk wide open a dozen times, and all the sticky notes you'd have sticking out. It was a lucky guess that you were a fan of the series."

Stunned to silence, you let your smile speak for itself. "I love it. Thank you so much." His hand raises to his chest as a sign of relief but it is actually him trying to calm his racing heart. He was afraid you wouldn't like it; but what was there not to like?

How couldn't you like it?

Why couldn't you find anything you liked? Nearly half your closet was on your bed, quickly falling to the floor over time as you searched high and low for something to wear. This would be the first time Jungkook would see you outside of your workloads so you wanted to look good, but not too good of course.

You didn't want to seem like you were trying too hard. Being effortlessly flawless was the look you were trying to go for but you fear you've passed that point as you started to break a sweat a few minutes ago.

Unsure of how much time has passed, feeling stuck in the endless fashion time warp continuum. The pit in your stomach suddenly grew three times larger once you'd realized you had no more than 30 minutes to get ready if you wanted to catch your bus.

Begrudgingly, you finally picked something to wear. A minimalistic brown crew neck with your black Lulu leggings and beige wool socks that would match perfectly with your Uggs. You wanted to look cute but still put together, so you decided to slick your hair up into a neat bun.

Scrambling to grab your bag and your house keys before you paced your way down the street to the bus stop.

Watching the apartment buildings slowly become more narrow and shorter as you saw more and more modern condos. Only 20 minutes had passed on your commute until it was time to begin your 7-minute walk to your destination.

With one last sneak peek into your bag to make sure the desserts you'd brought were still in order and weren't dishevelled at some point during your journey.

Looking back up to the door, ringing the bell and waiting no more than 10 seconds before an over-eager Ryan swung the door open, out of sight but not out of earshot, you could still hear Jungkook's sweet voice scolding his son.

"Ryan, what did I tell you about opening the door?" Finally, he comes into sight from around a bend inside revealing an entirely new Jungkook.

He looked, good. Better than good. He looked hot.

Wearing an army green Essentials hoodie paired with beige cargos and a silver chain that hung around his neck.

Oh, and his hair was blonde.

Surprised that your eyes hadn't fallen out of their sockets at the sight of his freshly bleached locks with his naturally dark roots. God, he was so fine.

"Hey! Come in, come in. " He steps to the side and Ryan is gently nudged over by his dad's leg to make room for you and your things as you step inside.

Your senses are immediately welcomed by the scent of mahogany, carefully chosen as it mingles with the comforting aromas of a Thanksgiving feast in the making.

"Hi, Ms. Hill!" Ryan shouts, loud enough for you to hear from 50 feet away. He was just the cutest, "Hi, Ryan!"

Jungkook smiled, "I'm glad you could make it," instinctively reaching out to take the bag from your hands so you could focus on taking off your shoes and jacket. "I brought this for you guys." You say, prompting Jungkook to peek into the bad, grinning at the sight of the mini chocolate cupcakes.

"I can't guarantee these will make it to tomorrow."

Once your boots were off and sat neatly near the door, Jungkook offered to take your jacket from you, entrusting Ryan with the duty of holding the bag with the desserts and sending him off to place them somewhere in the kitchen.

"Your hair." You finally say, giving your neck a minor strain as you look up to the man as he leads you further into the house. Everything was styled so neatly.

The colour palette consists of soft whites and beige with a splash of greens and turquoise. The fireplace was lit, emanating a gentle warmth throughout the open concept. It gave the living room a cozy feel along with the brown fleece throw blanket that was placed carefully over his sectional couch.

"Yeah, I got pretty sick of the blue, I thought it was time for a change." With a mind of their own, his hands run through his hair before he gives it a shake. "Do you like it?" He knew the answer, you're sure he did.

It's like a demi-god asking if they were attractive, the answer was obvious. "It would be a lie if I said I didn't." You leaned onto the kitchen island, your line of sight landing on the four-year-old who busied himself with the pile of crayons and paper on the carpet.

You hated how easily the two of you fell into natural conversation almost forgetting that it was Thanksgiving if it weren't for the sudden waft of a delicious meal in the making hitting your nose. "Something smells delicious." Your nose twitched cutely as you sniffed; your curious brown eyes watching Jungkook as he rounded the island closer to you to check on the food in the oven.

"Hmmm... It'll be about another hour or so, I hope that's alright?" You'd decided to finally plant yourself down somewhere, inwardly unable to decide where since there were so many options, the big comfy couch, the table or the barstool chair that you finally decided to go with.

"In the meantime, do you want anything to drink? I have water, champagne, white wine, red wine, apple cider, coffee, milk- oh! and Apple juice." you can't help but giggle into your hand as he lists off what seems to be a never-ending list of beverages.

"Apple juice is fine, thanks." Or at least you thought it was the safe choice until you heard a loud objection bubble out of Ryan's throat. His voice was absolutely enraged. "No! That's mine!" His little steps quicken over to your feet, reaching for the juice box from your hand.

"Ryan. What did I tell you about sharing?" He doesn't listen, his face becoming more and more frustrated the longer he goes without your (his) juice box in his hands. His small hands reach out for you.

One could blame it on your background of teaching when you had an idea. Reaching for the child-sized cup on the counter as you popped open the juice box.

"Is it okay if we share it? You can have some and I can have some." He still didn't seem entirely convinced but he calmed down a little watching you squeeze half of the box into his cup before handing it down to him.

Holding the cup securely with his two hands he looks down into the cup with an inquisitive look, as if questioning your motives behind your generosity. "What do you say to Ms. Hill for being so nice and sharing?" He looks up at you, with no emotion on his face for an uncomforting amount of time, scanning you.

"Thank you, Ms. Hill!" He beams with a big smile and scuttles back to his drawing station, but Jungkook can't risk the little adventurer ruining his carpet and orders him to drink it in the kitchen. At least that way any spills can be wiped away from the tile.

Jungkook couldn't get over how patient you were, but he supposed it to be expected. You worked with dozens of kids every day for a living. You must be a saint. He's sure he would've lost it.

Jungkook groans, letting his head fall onto his arms as he leans onto the counter with a long sigh, one that lifts a bit of exhaustion from within him. "Everything alright?"

He nods, "'Jus' never thought being a single father would be this difficult. Every day it's eat sleep work repeat, on top of being a dad to a child who just can't seem to share with others, and it makes me wonder if it's my fault."

Maybe it was the hazy scented candles getting to your brain, the toasty fireplace nearby giving you warm fuzzies or maybe the apple juice had a little kick to it but you took a leap of boldness to place your hand on his shoulder.

Watching his eyes trail from your short manicured nails to your big brown eyes that looked at him with the utmost sincerity. Like a pool chocolate kindness. "He's a great kid, Jungkook. Every child goes through a rebellious stage at some point, it's practically inevitable. I've seen this over a thousand times, it doesn't take away from how special he is, just look at him."

The two of you observe the preschooler as he hums the tune to an incomprehensible song with his tongue slightly poking out as he coloured his papers passionately. "Thank you, Y/n." Your head whips around at the warm contact of his hand on yours, it didn't feel alarming at all, it was nice if anything.

"Wow. I don't think I could eat another bite, that may just be the best meal I've ever had." You groan, a limp hand on your stomach as you lean back in your chair, sitting across from Ryan whose placemat was covered in various foods and sauces that he was told to stop playing with half through dinner.

Jungkook grins from ear to ear, "Thanks, it's nice to hear." You sigh, "No seriously, where did you learn to cook like that? And more importantly, when can you teach me?" His head falls back as he laughs right from his chest. You couldn't help but think how much you were enjoying yourself.

"Funny you should say that," Jungkook picks up the empty plates from the table, putting them in the sink before walking out of view briefly leaving you with Ryan who stared at you with a grin.

"Where did your dad go?" His smile grew even wider if possible before bringing his gravy-covered index finger to his lips making a 'shush' noise. No more than 5 seconds passed before Jungkook returned with a pumpkin about the size of your head.

"Who wants to make pumpkin pie?" You laugh, unable to take him seriously.

"No I can't Jungkook- NO!" You shout, afraid you'd collapse from the lack of oxygen that was reaching your lungs from so much laughter as Jungkook was currently holding your hand trying to get you to scoop out some of the pumpkin seeds.

"You can do it, Ms. Hill!" Ryan cheers you on as your fingers make contact with the guts against your will. They were slimy, and soft, and triggered your sensory issues in every way imaginable. You gagged while Ryan laughed until his face was red.

Scooping out the last of them and placing them into the bag that Jungkook would dump into the compost later.

The three of you popped the pumpkin pie into the oven together and transitioned into your next set of activities. Soon the three of you made your own custom turkeys out of construction paper and googly eyes.

Which led you to now. The three of you snuggled up under the big brown blanket that was once just decoration but now provided warmth along with the crackling fireplace.

Now halfway into the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving movie, you looked into your side where Ryan had nestled himself comfortably, soft snores leaving his mouth with each breath.

"He's just the cutest." You say, moving one of his hairs out of his face, watching him while Jungkook watched you. Nothing is more appealing to him than watching you care for Ryan. "When did you know you wanted to start working with kids?" Jungkook asks, prompting you to think endlessly but you couldn't come to a conclusion.

"I don't know honestly. Maybe it's because I grew up in a pretty big family. Even though my immediate family is just me and my parents I was always the unspoken babysitter at family events, watching over all my younger cousins all the time."

"Well if no one has told you, let me be the first to say you're amazing." You turn to him, it was long past sunset, leaving the living room with a darker ambiance than when you'd first arrived but the warm glow of the flames on the side of Jungkook's face paired with that look in his eyes tempting you.

He leaned in ever so slightly but you looked towards the boy that was stirring uncomfortably in his sleep as if you were bothering him. With his still closed he flipped around to lay his head on the couch cushions instead.

It was impossible to contain your soft giggles at his sass even when he was sleeping. "You want something to drink?" Jungkook offers, "Please." you chuckle, unravelling yourself from the tangle of blankets and following him to the kitchen.

He poured you both a glass of wine, resuming your previous conversation from where you stood in the corner of the kitchen against the counter near the oven that radiated a glorious smell of pumpkin spice and cinnamon.

The tension could be cut with a knife. The way the two of you were looking at each other, practically stripping the other down with your eyes. Before you knew it, Jungkook was leaning into you and this time you definitely could blame it on the wine.

Placing your glass down on the counter behind you without thought and pulling his face to yours before finally pressing your lips against his own. Putting your heart into it before he pulled away, looking minorly dishevelled and flustered, "I-I was just reaching for my phone," He points weakly, his joints feeling as though they could fail him any second.

Your head rotates in horror to see his phone was in fact behind you and buzzing-- "Oh my god--" You held your red face in utter embarrassment, turning to walk away from him in shame but Jungkook would never allow that. Instantly grabbing you by the arm and pulling you back into him.

Your hips pressed flush against each other as he initiated a deep kiss, the kind you see at the end of a romance movie, nothing but passion and pent-up feelings. Feelings that he's held for you since the day he saw you.

He backed you up into the counter, your hands scrambling to brace yourself on his firm chest and he groaned softly into your mouth causing your knees to go weak. The kiss lasted longer than you thought you could hold your breath for, never wanting it to end.

"Wow-" you puff out a breath of air after the best kiss of your life. "A great cook and an even better kisser-- What can't you do?" For the first time, Jungkook's cheeks tint a rosy shade of pink but there's no time to respond as he hears Ryan complain.

"Daddy, I'm tired." You see his little head pop up from behind the couch with a bedhead of hair as he rubs his eye. "Yeah? You wanna get ready for bed little man? Come on let's go." Jungkook urges, turning to you with apologetic eyes, "I'll be right back, keep an eye on the pie for me?" You smile and nod.

Watching him disappear down the hall almost in a trace. A trance that was interrupted by the ceaseless buzzing of his phone. Buzz after Buzz after Buzz.

You shouldn't.

But the buzzing wouldn't stop.

What if it was an emergency?

You peeked at the screen.

Hana

-Where are you?

-I can't stop thinking about our night together.

-Pick up, I want to talk to you.

-When will I see you again? :(

Your stomach twisted, and you were certain it wasn't because of the wine. The oven timer goes off. How comedic. You shake it off, using the oven mitts to place the pie on the stove but ultimately deciding you wouldn't be able to stay any longer.

You didn't want to be the other woman, or the 'main' woman for that matter. You wanted nothing to do with someone who was possibly seeing two people at once.

Quietly you grabbed your things and made your way towards the door. Slipping into your Uggs and slinging your side bag over your shoulder when Jungkook sees you about to leave.

"Wait, Y/n. Where are you going? What's wrong?" Nothing but concern and confusion was written all over his face.

"I had a really great time tonight, Jungkook, Thank you. But I should really get going." Already twisting the door open and stepping through it, letting the frosty air nip at your cheeks and sweep by Jungkook's feet.

"it's dark and it's freezing outside, let me give you a ride." You object, "It's fine, it's only a 15-minute bus. I'll be fine. I'll see you tomorrow."

Like a whirlwind, you spun his world around and by the time he blinked you were gone.

Thanks for Reading!!

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kurikive · 3 months

Text

CASUAL | danielle marsh.

— "is it casual now?"

6thmember!reader, situationship/fwb but nothing sexual, angst, fluff at the end i promise, dani swears, reader is a (closeted) lesbian, reader is horrible at reading people, written in 2nd person, they work it out on the remix

warnings : A LOT of internalized homophobia !! reader refers to herself multiple times as a predator but it's just from fear and insecurity, nothing actually predatory is happening in the story. extremely brief mentions of starvation

wc: 5.4k words

inspired by: Casual — Chappell Roan

you and danielle marsh are friends. more than co-workers, you're friends. although you don't have that much in common except for your age, it was easy to adapt to the harsh environment of the k-pop industry's training system with someone like danielle by your side.

she's always been a ray of sunshine in everyone's lives, you're not the exception. if you were in a bad mood, tired from waking up in the early morning everyday, worked to the point of exhaustion, danielle would be there rubbing your shoulders and saying something sweet like

"you're doing great, y/n! keep up!"

and then you'd smile at her, and she'd smile back, and you'd feel so much better, thanks to danielle.

you didn't have many interests in common. music taste, fashion sense, movie picks, food preferences, personality types, if anything you were almost her complete opposite. and yet, she sat in your bed every night while you scrolled on your phone, talking for hours until it the clock hits midnight and she goes back to her room.

danielle did most of the talking, and you carefully listened to everything she said. the enthusiasm in which she enunciated all her words was endearing to listen to, and it couldn't not bring a smile out of you. the girl never forgot to give you your chance to speak too, trying to get to know you better everyday.

there was one thing she could not know, however. that you're a lesbian.

if it was hard enough being gay in korea, it was ten times harder when you were about to debut in a girl group, in one of the biggest companies in the industry at the moment nonetheless.

there were times where the members would all gather and have girl talks, talking about things like movies, celebrity crushes, past boyfriends and all that stuff, and you felt left out every single time.

sometimes it's more a curse than a blessing that danielle notices everything, because when she asks, "who's your celebrity crush, y/n?", "what do you look for in a boy, y/n?", "have you ever had a boyfriend, y/n?", you never know how you're supposed to respond.

it wasn't safe. it'll never be safe.

you've known the girls for almost a year and there has never been an indication of the way they felt about the LGBTQ+ community. hanni was your safest bet, she seemed the most open minded, but then again you can never be sure.

they were all so painfully straight.

so you try your best to answer vaguely,

"i don't know.", "i'm not sure, i don't really think about that." they complain a little about your mysteriousness, but it doesn't take long for them to let it go and move on.

you don't know how long you have to keep pretending you're not sure. you are sure.

you like girls.

you don't want to keep pretending you don't. but how would they feel?.

they'd feel unsafe, uncomfortable, scared, exposed to a threat, a possibility of being prey to a predator, a little voice in your head tells you.

but you're not. you're not a predator. they know you're not a predator. you'd never do anything to hurt them, or make them uncomfortable.

so you keep pretending. but the shell is starting to crack, and a knot in your throat gets tighter everytime you hear your members ask "is he your type?".

your debut is only a couple months away. you pray to god hanni has noticed by now. she's your roommate after all.

you start playing some specific songs without your headphones in hopes she walks by or enters the room and notices. you hope she's the one that asks. but she doesn't, she never mentions the songs, ever.

so you move on to movies and shows.

when she catches you watching heartbreak high in the living room TV, she only says "oh they're aussies, right?"

when she sees you watching heartstopper on your phone while eating dinner she just says, "kit connor is soooo handsome."

she doesn't mention it when she goes into your room and you're playing but i'm a cheerleader on your laptop. but hanni has caught on.

and the next time she goes into your shared room, she closes the door behind her. you're in your bed, and you're staring at each other, both of your eyes shine with nervousness.

"can i ask you something?" she says from the door, so shakily you start fearing she's not going to take it like you wish she would.

"sure." you didn't mean for your voice to come out as quiet as it did.

it's a nerve-wracking couple of seconds watching hanni take a seat in her own bed and face you. she takes a big breath before asking, "do you- no, sorry. are you... gay?"

yes, yes, yes. i am a lesbian. i like girls. you want to scream, but the realization of reality strangles you and your throat feels so tight, and you can't say anything.

"it's not like there's anything wrong about it, i'm just... asking." she tries. you can tell she's trying. it's sweet that she's trying.

"yes." it's a struggle to get it out, and your heart starts racing, but just being able to feels like such a relief that you might start crying. but then fear washes down on you again when you can't read hanni, at all.

"i'm really sorry, hanni. i promise i'm not weird or predatory or anything, i would never try to make you uncomfortable and i'm sorry if i ever did. i promise i don't like you like that, not that you're not attractive or anything, that's not what i mean at all. i just- i would never like you like that, you're like my sister and i promise that i'm still the same y/n you met, i really hope this doesn't change anything in our-" she cuts off your rambled apology-slash-explanation with a hug.

"it doesn't. i promise." it hits you now, just now, that hanni knows. she knows.

"please don't tell the others." you're choked up, and that's the only thing you could say before the tears in your eyes caught up. i don't know how they'll take it, you want to say, but the only thing that comes out is a broken sob.

"i won't. it's okay, y/n."

you've grown closer to hanni than you'd ever thought you would. you spend your nights in your room talking and laughing and watching funny videos you send each other.

it's been a few months since you've debuted and you couldn't be happier. you had someone to rely on, someone who knows all your secrets and can trust her with them, and vice versa.

your career has skyrocketed and your popularity is through the roof, and although there are always negative consequences that come with that fame, it's been mostly great on your end.

danielle doesn't really hang out in your room to talk anymore. if you're honest, you kind of miss it, but she surely has her reasons, and you don't think too much about it.

you're currently in one of the vocal practice rooms at HYBE, setting up your phone to do a phoning live. you'd just finish your vocal practice and you had asked for permission beforehand.

after a few minutes of talking with your fans, recommending movies and talking about food, you hear a knock on your door. quite strange.

"yeah? who is it?" you yell loud enough to no cause any ruckus. the door slightly opens and a face peeks inside, "it's me!" danielle's signature smile shining brightly at you, "i saw you were live and wanted to come hang out."

you didn't even need to tell her anything before she was coming right inside the room to grab a chair and sit beside you. "well, come hang out then!" you face your screen to see danielle struggling to bring the chair closer to you, and you chuckle a bit. "dani's here, guys!"

danielle has always been very touchy; with everyone, that is. today was not the exception, resting her head on your shoulder, holding your hand and locking your fingers together, nuzzling her face in your neck, it's all things you're already used to.

it's never been more than just friendly showcases of affection, to you, at least. and you've also never been irritated by it, but there's some guilt you try to suppress.

you don't want to push her away, you're not uncomfortable with her actions, what is uncomfortable is her potentially finding out your sexuality and thinking you let her shower you with affection for your own amusement. you fear it. but you don't want to think about that right now.

you think about it again, however, when you go back home and open social media only to see videos and threads with thousands of likes and views compiling every sweet moment of affection that happened just mere hours ago.

there's a pang in your chest when you see the tens of delusional comments talking of how much they'd like to see you and your friend as a couple. it feels like you're being strangled, and you suddenly feel unwell, so you close the app and turn off your phone.

"i should watch a movie."

you fully believe your debut was your prime. everyday gets harder, scandal after scandal, comeback after comeback, day after day. you work really hard, your members know, your fans know. but it never looks like it's going to get easier.

you win awards, win some more, get another important deal, shoot another session, write another song, the cycle repeats although not in the same order. like a fucked up loop. you're so fucking tired.

you wonder how hyein is holding up. you care a lot for her, like your little sister. she seems okay, eating a bowl of yogurt and fruits in the living room with haerin and hanni. are you the only one having a hard time?

you need to relieve your stress, and there's really no other option other than going to the gym to work out. so you go back to your room to lazily change into your practice clothes and grab your backpack, "i'm going to the gym." you try your best to sound at least a little enthusiastic as you walk behind the living room couch.

"when are you coming back?" you hear danielle ask from the kitchen, a twinge of concern in her voice. "it might start raining soon."

"i won't take long. if i see it starts to get cloudy i'll get going." you try to put her worries at ease. your gym doesn't have windows, though.

you shouldn't have gone. you're not even supposed to go anyway. it's raining hard, and it might start storming soon. but your manager can't know you're here. one of the many downsides of being in a group with four minors and two barely-adults, you can't call any of them to pick you up. so fuck it, you're taking the public transportation.

kind of extremely risky considering you are literally in newjeans, but okay. what else is there to do? what you failed to consider is the only bus stop being about five blocks away. and the bus doesn't drop you off even remotely close to the dorms. so you're gonna be running in the rain and, fuck it again, you do just that.

the first five blocks to the bus stop weren't that bad, you didn't get soaked like you imagined, blocking most raindrops with your backpack over your head. you really should've just brought an umbrella, though.

good thing you brought a mask, at least. nobody seemed to recognize you on the bus. you take a seat as close as possible to the exit and take out your phone to hurriedly text the group chat.

i got a bit caught up, im omw

domt worry 2 much

ill b there soon :))

minji responds with a thumbs up, hanni leaves an "idiot" that gets a like reaction by haerin. you see danielle write and then stop writing about 3 times, but she ends up not sending anything at all, so you just turn off your phone and look outside for your stop.

it only takes a couple minutes of waiting to see the silhouette of your dorm building. you get off your seat and wait for the bus to halt at the next stop to get off. it's raining a bit harder, but there's nothing you can do except wing it.

and when you get off, you immediately put your backpack on top of your head and start running as fast as you could towards your dorm. you get some looks, but no one can possibly be able to recognize you, not at the speed you're going.

after a few minutes, your legs start getting tired not only from running, but all the exercise you did hours earlier. another thing you failed to consider in this mediocre, careless plan.

but you're almost there. and you're almost not soaked.

by the time you reach your building the only thing about you that isn't wet is your scalp. you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket, it's probably one of your members, but you're almost there, you can't pick up.

you enter the gates of the apartment, and you're probably going to make a mess on the floor on the elevator, but your legs can't take it anymore, and you thank any god that hears your prayers when the elevator doors open and it's empty. you can't take more embarrassment right now.

the doors open once again and you try not to make much noise as you run towards your dorm. someone inside must've heard you fumbling with your keys because as soon as you find the right one the door is already open, a concerned danielle with a just as worried minji behind her. you smile at the sight of them. "hello!"

"get your ass inside!" you hear hanni shout from the couch.

you're drying your hair in your room after taking a shower and explaining the situation to your group members. just as you're about to turn on your phone to see what time it is you hear a knock on your door, "can i come in?" it's danielle.

"yup. come on in!" you answer a lot more energized than a couple hours before. danielle's not wearing her usual bright smile, but rather a more worried expression. "y/n, can we talk?"

you're confused. you've never heard or seen her like this before. she's obviously been worried before, she cares about you just as much as the others, but this time it's different. "yeah, what's up?" you try your best to respond calmly and tap a stop in the bed beside yourself, which danielle gladly takes.

"are you okay?" she asks as she settles down at your side. what?

"what do you mean?" you don't notice it but you start fidgeting with your own fingers. danielle notices.

"it's just," she tries looking somewhere else, but she can't help the need of looking into your eyes all the time, looking for some sort of sign, some crack, "i can tell you're stressed. you're tired and... if you need to talk i just want you to know that i'm here." her eyes are dripping honey and her hand is so warm when she grabs yours.

you show her a sluggish smile, "thanks, dani. i appreciate that." when you look back, her face is already finding it's way to the crook of your neck. "i'm just a little tired of everything. it really feels like i'm doing the same things all over again. i know we've achieved a lot as a group but i feel like i have nothing going on for myself." you sigh, danielle says nothing, urging you to continue.

"all the songs i pitch get turned down, my other drafts feel too personal to release as a group song. every song i write with the group in mind feels, i don't know, empty?"

your eyes unfocus as a wave of emptiness washes over you and the only thing you feel is a water droplet from your bangs fall and travel down your temples. and also the warmth shared by danielle's hand in yours.

"i just feel like nothing's going on in my life." you feel danielle's head leave your shoulder and you turn to look at each other at the same time, "i think i know how you feel." she says with the sweetest eyes ever.

"thanks for listening, dani." you smile at her, but it feels so strange when she doesn't smile back. she just stares, right through you. her eyes are so pretty; you've always known but this is the first time you've looked at them directly for so long (there's really nothing else for you to look at when she's so close to your face).

oh, yeah. in a sudden moment you were inches apart. you don't remember moving so it must've been danielle.

you don't really understand what's going on. maybe this is an eye contact battle and you're not supposed to blink. and you think for a moment you had it easy because suddenly danielle's pretty eyes are nowhere to be found and you're staring at her eyelids and long eyelashes instead.

before your brain even thinks of giving you the chance to mutter "i win!" in a silly manner, you feel your own lips getting shut. covered, enveloped by another set of softness.

oh. this is not what you expected at all.

what are you even supposed to do right now? well, pull away, obviously. but that could could give danielle the impression that you hate everything about this and, really, that's not true at all. it's good. well, not good, but- danielle is not horrible at kissing.

what even is happening, anyway? i mean, you're kissing. but what else? nothing feels like it's moving; it feels like time's stopped. there also hasn't been anything that has lead up to this happening.

so you're just left there, paralyzed, in shock, waiting until danielle pulls away. just waiting until she's done with you. until she's satisfied.

and it's until danielle notices that you're not moving that she realizes what she's done. she pulls away, shaken and distraught.

"y/n, i am so sorry. i don't know what came over me, i am so so so sorry. i really didn't mean to do that. please forgive me, y/n, i am really so sorry." at this point, danielle's voice starts to break. "i don't know why i did that, it's just, i don't know, you just looked good a-and we were just close and-"

"it's okay, dani. i know."

"no, y/n, i really am sorry. i-"

"dani, i swear it's fine." you grab her shoulder to reassure her, but is anything really fine right now? "i..." you don't really know what to say next. "i don't, like, hate you or anything. i understand things like that happen. i'm not mad at you."

"really?" you've never seen her tear up so fast. you definitely didn't expect her to tear up at this. but you know the feeling of guilt so well you can't help but feel sympathy for her. "are you sure? i promise it won't happen again."

"i'm sure, dani. you could never do anything to make me hate you."

you smile at her, she sniffles. it's the last thing you hear before you hear the sound of her wristwatch's seconds ticking. you don't really know what's going through her head. you count about 34 ticks.

"did you hate it?" her voice isn't weak, but it is lower than you normally expect it to be.

you're stunned, but the way she looks at you so earnestly, with a hint of nervousness in her eyes forces you to answer within seconds, "n-no! dani, i didn't... hate it. it was just unexpected. i didn't really process it at first." it's the truth, but it feels so gut-wrenching to say.

another 20 ticks of quiet.

"can i do it again?"

hello? hello? what is going on? hello?

"i-i mean, if you want to." it sounds more like a question than a proper answer. and danielle takes it anyway.

you don't have any romantic feelings for danielle, that's for sure. she's said she doesn't have any feelings for you either. that's established. and yet when hanni is too caught up watching movies in the living room with minji and hyein, danielle is always there, sitting in your bed.

sometime's it's just little pecks while you cuddle and watch something she doesn't care much about. sometime's she's on the verge of kissing the living shit out of you.

it's never more than that. none of you let it be more than that. it's more than okay.

it's comfortable. it's casual.

and yet, every time it happens, you feel guilt eat at your stomach.

because danielle doesn't know. and she can't know.

it's not like this was your idea in the first place, it was danielle's. but the fact that you let her do it anyway could be predatory enough for her to feel unsafe if she ever did find out. even if she's the one who caused this all.

and never once do you think about yourself while it happens. it's not a moment for you, it's a moment for danielle to take. and you're okay with that. as long as she's okay with it.

you're okay with many things just because danielle is okay with them.

if danielle wants to watch a romcom, you watch a romcom. if danielle wants to eat plain yogurt, you eat plain yogurt. if danielle wants to kiss you, you let her kiss you.

it's not that big of a deal if there are no feelings involved. it's just a matter of believing that that's actually true.

you let her do whatever she wants because you're scared to do the taking. because taking feels like stealing, and doing feels like attacking. and you're so scared to hurt danielle that you forget you can also hurt yourself.

but if it's so casual, why doesn't she let go of your hand? why does she call you pretty everyday? why does she look at you with those pretty eyes like you're her whole world?

was the "i love you" she said yesterday something she meant as platonic love? is there such a thing as casual love?

was it just the sound of the raindrops on your window that made you hallucinate the sound of a love confession?

you don't eat anything for the rest of the day.

minji and hyein are visiting their parents. hanni and haerin are out of the country. and you're in the dorm kitchen trying to figure out how blurred the lines are while you mix the milk into your tea.

you feel your heart drop when you hear the sound of footsteps of the line-blurrer herself over the sounds of light rain. it hasn't stopped since the day before.

you don't want to feel anything right now, you don't want to hear anything right now.

she wraps her arms around your waist and says, "good morning." with that big bright smile on her face. at one point it started hurting when she did, but you don't remember when.

she smells like the candles you burnt in your room two days after hanni left. you were trying to get rid of danielle's scent from your room, but you couldn't tell her that, so you just said you were trying something new.

danielle notices you say nothing back, and your eyes are nowhere in particular. "watchu thinkin' about?" her always cheery tone gets you out of your trance, and she notices when you stop stirring the spoon in your cup. you're still silent for a bit, but she lets you take your time.

"i don't think we should do this anymore, danielle."

you tense up when her arms leave your waist, but it feels oddly freeing. you don't turn back to face her.

"what do you mean?"

"are we still casual?"

there's disbelief in danielle's voice when she speaks, "what are you talking about? of course we are!" but she sounds dishonest, in a way.

"really?" that's when you turn around, her eyes are wide and her cheeks are quite flushed but nothing about her seems guilty at all, "because saying "i love you" doesn't seem quite casual to me."

she scoffs, "y/n, i tell all my friends i love them. it's a normal thing!"

"i'd agree with you if we weren't kissing on the low. it's a little too much on top of that."

"i don't know what you think casual means but-"

"what i mean is we should stop before the lines start to blur, that's if they haven't already." you don't want to yell at her. you hope she understands before you have to raise your voice. "we are public figures, famous figures. if this goes wrong we can't go back and that could potentially ruin everything, not only for us but for our group."

"well, it can't go wrong if there's no feelings involved, can it?" danielle is usually playfully sassy, but she's never responded to you like this before.

"we're human, danielle. feelings can't be stopped." you're not too good at reading people, but you can see something has clicked in danielle's brain.

"what i'm getting is that you developed feelings for me while we were casual, is that right?" she seems so sure and confident that it annoys you. it frustrates you. and you want to cry.

"no, that's not what i said. but i am scared of it happening, and i want this to stop before it has the chance to."

"well, you should've thought of that before you said yes." you never really did.

"why are you upset, anyways?"

"b-because!" her voice gets louder, "i just wanted this to be casual, and now your telling me you're scared of catching feelings, it's just weird. that's all."

you sigh, "listen, i don't want this to end on a bad note. i just-"

"well, i don't want this to end at all!"

it takes you a minute to believe what you're hearing.

"a-are you hearing yourself?" it's shocking, it really is, "this is crazy, why are you being so selfish right now?"

"because it feels good! okay?!" danielle has completely let go of the loose strings of morality she was holding on to, "it fucking feels good, a-and you make me feel good. i like it when we kiss, and i like it when we cuddle and, and, i just like it, okay?!" that's the first time you've heard danielle curse in your entire life.

"okay, well, i'm glad you did. but i don't. i don't feel good at all." it's so scary and risky because you're two seconds away from telling her the truth, and this could potentially damage both your careers irreversibly, but you can't think of any lie or excuse that is true enough to keep hiding it.

"i drown in guilt every time we kiss and i feel like i'm choking when you look at me these days."

you've never seen her look so confused, like she really doesn't understand you. because she never had to.

"why?"

"i am a lesbian, danielle." you can't shatter, not now. "and it kills me because you'll never understand how hard it is to hide like this for so long. and yes, we hide this casual thing from our members, but after this is over you don't have to hide anything at all and i still have to hide everything."

she says nothing. her eyes soften, but you can't read them. not like you ever could.

"i didn't catch feelings for you, but i could, and you're not helping out. and you don't have to worry about that. you don't have to worry about your members being disgusted at you for something you can't change. you don't have to pretend. you don't have to be scared that you're making someone uncomfortable by simply existing beside them. i had to pretend i didn't care when you kissed me, i had to pretend to be okay when you kissed me again. i've been pretending to be okay with so much i don't know what being okay is anymore."

danielle still says nothing.

"but that's all gone to shit now, hasn't it?" your voice can't break now, but it does anyway, even when your not done speaking. "i can't be okay with everything. i can't be casual about everything, danielle. not anymore." there's a hot tear running down your cheek, but you try to hold yourself together.

"i never want to hurt you, ever, danielle. but i am seriously hurting myself. i am eating myself from inside out. there's nothing casual about that."

"i think i might be in love with you." is the first thing she says in minutes. and that's when you shatter completely. you turn around to leave your mug of now cold tea on the counter and you rest your elbows on it to hide your face in your hands.

"do you think that helps?" you're sobbing.

"i'm sorry. i know it doesn't. i just had a moment of realization and i think that's why i was so upset. i didn't want you to end this because i was in love with you since the start and didn't realize."

"this is fucking crazy." it really is, that's why you can't hold down the laugh of complete astonishment that leaves your lips. "do you realize how crazy this is? i just came out to you and you're- i don't even want to think about this."

"i'm really sorry, y/n." it's the first time you see guilt in danielle's face in a long time. "i really am. i really didn't know, i- i didn't know anything at all."

"you were upset of me potentially having feelings for you when it was you the whole time, huh?" this is no time or place to make jokes, you're literally crying as you speak. but this is hilarious. danielle seems to think so too given she also laughs.

"i don't know what i was thinking." she says, hiding her face in her palm in embarrassment.

"i wish i knew too." you say, "i never do."

"so what now? i mean, you clearly don't like me back." you don't understand how danielle does it. she never looks away, she faces the truth, something you're unable to do easily.

"that's a good question, i actually never thought about that." i mean, you thought the possibility of danielle ever liking a woman, let alone you, was at a mere 0.1%, can you blame yourself for not thinking of a solution to this?

"i mean, you did say you could."

"selfish asshole." you mutter to yourself, but danielle hears it anyways. "hey!"

"i'm crying right in front of you out of fear and frustration, have some respect, dude."

"i would say it wouldn't hurt to try but it clearly does so i don't know what you want to do." wow, danielle really could never do anything to make you hate her. nothing at all. "i don't mind being the selfless one this time."

"cheesy." she's always been like that, you can't say you hate it. "i'll reheat my tea and think about it."

danielle waits for you. maybe it wouldn't be so bad to risk falling in love with her too. you've risked it once.

the microwave beeps and you take your mug out. it's hot again. you turn to face danielle and she's still there, hasn't moved an inch. "i'm willing to give it a try. but nothing casual."

she shines you the widest grin you've ever seen from her. "nothing was ever casual, i fear."

"i still can't believe you cursed." you say as you walk past her to go to your room (that probably smells like danielle's perfume again).

"i did?!" she trails behind you. you nod. "i almost jumped."

"hey, am i the first one to know?"

"what, that i'm a lesbian?" she nods, now beside you. you shake your head after a sip of your tea.

"hanni knew."

"i'm not even the first? fuck..." is she doing this on purpose... she has to be, right?

"dude? hello?"

"don't dude me, i'm your future girlfriend." she hits your arm as you walk into your room. you don't know what you're gonna say to hanni when she comes back.

"confident much? shut up and pick a movie to watch." you'll figure it out later.

end.

🗒️ this wasn't as long as i thought it was gonna be THANK GOD

#newjeans x reader #danielle x reader #danielle marsh x reader #danielle angst #newjeans angst

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