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mitskifurever · 7 months ago

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A Beginning

It is a sirens curse to kill the fisherman as it is the fisherman’s curse to love the siren.

“What if all your dreams came true?” My mother asked while her long and sharp nails ran through my hair. I remember it to be a rainy night- and dark as the pit-pattering struck the unstable roof of our small hut. I was crying to her about something so miniscule I can't really grasp what.

“What do you mean?” I asked, naively,

“Your dreams my little siren, you dream of a perfect life but what after? If your dream comes true? Every single one of them?”

I thought about it for a little. It seemed like a silly question, a hypothetical that would never be my reality. My answer felt foolish.

“I’ll dream another dream,” I replied, wiping the tears and snot from my face. Isn't that what everyone does? Dream another dream? My heart seemed to be skipping every other beat, as I felt the tension in the air grow thick, unbreathable.

“Lorelai, listen to my question.” Her nails scratched my head, harsher than before.

“What if all your dreams came true?”

•

“Lorelai...”

“Lorelai!”

I jolted awake, ringing was pounding in my ears as I turned over, bringing my pillow over my head. ‘A sirens headache’ is what the town Marinor calls it, and apparently it signals a strong connection to our siren roots. Of course the town Marinor doubles as the town kook. For me, it signaled a strong connection to self-execution. My bed creaked as I yawned, the old wood and screws groaning as I did— thinking of the dull day to come. It wasn’t just that it was a dull day, it was the fact that there would be a dull day tomorrow and the day after and the day after that. A few braids fell over my face as I rose from under my thin scratchy sheet, my boss— Zabib loved making tiny little braids in my hair, I hated it, whenever I finally got the chance to wash my hair the braids that had not fallen out of my almost curless head would tangle and knot. I raised my arms over my head and behind my back, stretching my body in an attempt to wake myself up, another yawn escaping my mouth. I rolled out of bed, my feet hitting the damp wooden floor. I picked up my cotton hood sitting at the edge of my bed and put it on over my head. The hut I lived in was coastal, half on land half over water, I would call it a house- if it resembled anything of the sort. When storms came the water would slap the wooden foundation and make the floor wet. Many of the living blocks in the marketplace were like that. Not by architectural fault— this land used to be tame, never a storm or cloudy sky. Things have changed since then.

I opened my room door, and I could hear the familiar busy bustling of people outside already, even so early in the morning. The marketplace never slept. I grabbed my scratchy hat Zabib had given me around three autumns ago and carefully put on my pants so as to not tear another hole. I stepped into my ratty brown leather shoes that were far too small for me— so much so that my big toe was almost poking out the tip of the worn out leather. I didn't mind my old clothes, in fact I was grateful I wasn't freezing to death near the dark swamp like so many of the people in Majia. I opened my door with a crash of sound filling my ears. I started walking down the hill, the weather today was gloomy as always, and chilly, I knew I'd be needing to buy a new coat soon as winter was approaching. I made a left at the bottom of the hill, my eyes flooding with the sea of people shoving, walking, and bargaining with each other. I dived in and tightly squeezed through the crowd swiping loose change from loose pockets and whatever trinkets people were carrying in their pockets. It was easy, which is why most Majian locals tended to keep their belongings on the insides of their sweaters and coats, while outsiders and newcomers hadn't quite gotten the memo. It made things easier— steal from a Majian you'd most likely get caught and beaten. Steal from say a Sreyin, they'd never know a thing and return home perplexed and uneasy. As I continued swiping the pockets of vast outsiders from different regions such as Erswin, or Fhestia a person behind me had shouted 'Thief!” and I knew it wasn't just any person, only a Majian would call out a thief. My heart skipped a beat and quickly, I looked around to see where the voice had come from, there was a man running down the busy street with a bag of bread. Two of the breads dropped onto the wet ground while he was running and quickly, he disappeared into the crowd. I took a deep breath and turned my head forward scanning the rest of the crowd, I never felt bad for stealing, even though Majia was home to the biggest marketplace, we the Majians were the poorest throughout the entirety of Amarah, the least I could do was steal from the other greedy regions who refused to help my people after the Wreck and all that came after. An idiot carrying a sort of duffel bag that was completely open caught my eye. The zip I'll say was not completely open but it was just enough for my hand to slip in grab a wallet and a small jar, The man holding the duffel was tall, almost taller than the crowd, he was wearing a long black cloak, his face almost completely covered by the hood, when I pulled out the jar it had a bunch of shiny bluish-purple marbles, I didn't know what they were but they had to be worth something, I didn't take the time to look at the wallet, but before I could shove it into my pocket a hand grabbed my arm twisting it back so far that the jar fell from my grip shattering on the floor.

“Bitch.” The man murmured, I tried to free my hand from his grip, but it was strong, too strong. I started to wonder if the man was Majian, no outsider would make a spectacle like this.

“Let me go.” I said too loudly. Some people had started to glance in our direction, I was getting worried he would reveal my identity as a thief. The man's crystal green eyes glared at me, and then in a second he was gone, his black cloak turned into the crowd and disappeared, my arm ached and something told me to go after him, my feet shifted to follow almost like he was leading me but I told myself not to. I continued walking but didn't focus too much on taking, I just replayed the moment in my mind over and over. Eventually I reached the end of the marketplace, where Zabib's Fishery lied, it was open but empty as usual. I walked into the store, the familiar scent of disgusting cod filling my nose.

“Zabib!” I shouted, knowing that he'd emerge from the back of the store a sweaty mess. And not a second later he did, carrying a bunch of papers along with a huge book in his hand.

“My little siren! Any more voices?” I internally rolled my eyes, Zabib had been obsessed with the idea that I was a secret siren since he let me start working for him when I was twelve.

“I told you the voices aren't sirens, nobody's seen or heard of them since the wreck.” Zabib grunted, flipping through his book. People have long believed the Sirens caused the Daryanis Shipwreck, the one led by Calder Daryanis.

“Tide is coming up.” He stated while shutting his book closed. “We must prepare the crates” I nodded my head and headed to the back, where the crates were stored every year. We'd recently upgraded from straw to metal crates— less likely to break. It was a pretty hefty investment for Zabib, he had high hopes for our catches this year. I did too, as crazy as Zabib was, he needed the gifts, he deserved it.

Every year the Mermaids came close enough to shore to leave gifts that would float towards Majia, our town. Gifts like healing seashells, books, things that somehow remained undistressed from the water, nets full of fruit, fish, pearls, any kind of goods a Majian could dream of. Every year since the Daryanis Wreck these gifts would come. Some say it's an apology from the Mermaids to the humans for the devastating wreck, some say it's a promise of protection from the Mermaids, some believe it's a mix of both. I don't believe either of those reasons, we don't even know if it's Mermaids who bring the gifts. I think it's the Sirens, I think they feel guilty. I brought out the crates, Zabib was sitting at the counter, seemingly waiting for me to return. He pulled a box out onto the table, I saw a faint glow inside.

“I need you to sell these little Lorelai.” He opened up the box and revealed some healing crystals he'd been collecting over the years. Healing crystals were precious, when taken they could cure any illness, and some people could even delay their death if they used enough.

“But why? You're getting older Zabib, you need as many as you can collect.”

“It's exactly as you said little Lorelai, I'm getting older. I'm going to buy a house on the land, so the floors won't get damp, and when I die you will live there. I am going to sell the fishery, but still I will need extra coins to buy the house.” I smiled and made my way to hug him. Zabib had never told me he loved me, but he certainly showed it. He was the only person I cared about throughout the entirety of Amarah.

“As you wish Zabib” I said while embracing him. He hugged me back, his big arms lifting my feet up off the floor for a bit. Zabib had lived a long life, I could only pray we caught enough seashells this year so he could live longer. I don't think I'd know how to survive without him. I grabbed the box of seashells, ready to take them out for selling, but Zabib stopped me. He took three out of the box and put them in a black pouch.

“Only take a few, you'll get robbed carrying around a box of seashells.”

“Right,” I said. I took the three seashells and exited the store. The marketplace was still very much alive. I started walking into the swarm again, thinking about how to attract buyers. It wouldn't be hard, people were very willing to buy seashells, for almost any price. I'd be back to get more from Zabib in no time. Then as soon I was about to reenter the crowd a just of wind blew past me, whipping across my face. And I heard a voice calling my name, it was similar to the voice from my dreams, only deeper. I turned around. Looking in the direction of the voice, it led into the Dark Forest, and everyone in Majia knew better than to go into the Dark Forest. Then the voice called again louder, like it was completely filling up my ears. I looked around to see if anyone else had heard but nobody seemed to have noticed. Maybe I was crazy, maybe I was the town kook. And before my mind could notice my feet started walking, carrying my body into the forest. I didn't try to stop it, I didn't want to. I didn't even feel like I was in control and what was worse was that I didn't mind. Soon enough I was approaching the swamp, my feet were numb as I walked through the cold murky water, the voice was still calling my name. And soon enough I saw a woman in the distance. Her hair was a deep brown like mine, she was older but still so beautiful.

“Lorelai, do you accept my invitation to Dedrany Academy?” The woman spoke. My mouth opened involuntarily and everything after that went black.

#dark aesthetic #dark fantasy #fantasy #writers on tumblr #mermaid #siren aesthetic #siren

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

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What’s yours is mine 1

Warnings: nonconsent and rape, allusions to abuse, stalking, possessiveness, pregnancy, and more tags to be added.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairing: dark!Ransom Drysdale x pregnant!Reader

Summary: After five years, your past is far behind you but just as you think you can live your happily ever after, your ex shows up at the worst moment.

Note: I couldn’t sleep and ended up writing this and it will not be a long ongoing series but it will be a few parts. But Roo you say that all the time. Yes, well, I’m trying and I’m sorry but I’m gonna try to not be the worst.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

“Oh my god, is that really you?” the voice made you stand stalk straight.

You took a breath and forced a smile before you turned to the indomitable woman. You never expected to see Linda again, not after you broke up with her son almost five years ago. And there she was, as rigid and righteous as ever, her thin lips curved in a mocking grin.

“Linda,” you greeted her in a singsong and looked around the grocery store. You never went to the overpriced organic market but your local shop didn’t have dragonfruit and you had a painful craving, “how are you?”

“Darling, I’m just great,” she held an empty basket on her arm, an odd sight as you never expected her to do her own shopping, “oh, and look at you!” Before you knew it, her hand was on your stomach and you struggled not shy away, “how far are you?”

“Um,” you looked down at the large ring on her finger and resisted the urge to step away as you often did in this situation, “almost five months.”

“And married?” she grabbed your left hand and pretended to admire the small teardrop diamond, “gorgeous.”

“Mhmm,” you waited for you to release you and swayed in place, “you barely look a day older than the last time I saw you.”

“You’re well? You look well,” she primped her short hair at the compliment, “oh, a baby.” She reached out again and you sighed as she rubbed your stomach, “for luck.”

You tried not to frown and ended up laughing at the tension, “well, it was nice running into you.”

“Oh, you know, I barely come down here but we’re headed up to my father’s place, you remember, such a cozy house, and Joni is in charge of food and well, I wouldn’t trust her with a plastic spoon so of course, I have a back up plan.”

You nodded along with her awkwardly, frozen in the spot as the dragon fruit barely seemed worth the torture. Linda was hard to please and alway derisive, but for as long as you were with Ransom, she had taken a keen shine to you. That alone came with an edge but it was rarely used to cut you.

You forced another laugh, “that sounds fun, getting away from the city.”

“Ugh, just another family gathering,” she waved it off with her free hand, “I’ll have to tell Ransom I ran into you, if he even shows up.”

“Well, I don’t think--”

“He’s grown up so much,” she interrupted, “you wouldn’t believe it. He got his own imprint in my father’s company publishing true crime. He’s really making a place for himself now.”

“That’s great,” you tried not to falter at the mention of her son. You hadn’t ended on the greatest terms and your relationship had been tumultuous and regrettable.

“I hope you have a great weekend, Linda,” you said, “but I got to--”

“Oh, not at all, I’m keeping you,” she squeezed your arm, “God, he was such an idiot to let you go.”

You nodded and swallowed through your tight throat, “I’m glad he’s doing better for himself.”

“You too,” she trilled, “oh, before I let you go, darling, is it a boy?”

You blinked and your smile wavered, “how did you know?”

“I could always tell,” she said, “so precious.”

She gave your stomach one last pat and disappeared into the produce section. You blinked as you looked down at the scaled fruit in your right hand. Chocolate, you needed chocolate.

You were rattled as you waited in the express line and put your things on the belt. You hadn’t thought of Ransom in a very long time. Not much. His shadow followed you around in those moments when your heart raced and your head spun, but you had learned to work through those fits. No one else knew what happened behind closed doors, they only knew Ransom, not Hugh.

You paid and shoved your fruit and candy into a paper bag. You headed out into the misty spring air. The rain had finally stopped and left the streets slick and shining. The sun was hazy as it clung to the last of the clouds and you inhaled the wet scent of grass and gravel.

You let your key hang from the ignition as you took a moment to gather yourself. You stared at the modest ring on your finger and held your stomach and you swore you could still feel Linda’s bony hand there.

You had a loving husband, Dez, and a son on the way. Ransom wasn’t a part of any of that and this was just a blip on radar, the aftershock of the storm that ended years before. You sniffed and turned the engine. You wouldn’t go back to that store, it was far too expensive and the clientele were certainly not of your ilk.

🍼

Dez was in the kitchen when you got home, the smell of steak and peppers rose from the frying pan. You kissed his cheek as he kept one hand on the spatula and you dropped your bag on the counter beside the stove. You went to the fridge and poured yourself a glass of water. You turned and leaned against the marble and drank deeply.

“So, hon, how was your day?” he asked as he put the spatula down and peeked in the bag, “hmm, odd pairing but I don’t hate it.”

“I had a craving,” you shrugged, “it was… okay,” you heaved, “what’s for dinner?”

“Steak fajitas,” he said, “I trimmed the fat for you and,” he turned and reached out to you, “and I got you some champagne… non-alcoholic, obviously.”

“You know it doesn’t have the same effects,” you kidded as you put your glass down and settled into his arms, “and well,” you looked down at your stomach, “we already got one drunken night growing.”

He laughed and bent to kiss you on the lips. He rocked you as the pan sizzled behind him. You closed your eyes and tensed as suddenly your head flashed with the memory of Ransom, of the way he’d kiss you, harder than Dez, and the way it always turned to more whether you wanted it or not.

“Hey,” Dez pulled back, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied, “hormones.”

“Aw, hon, well I have the perfect dessert planned,” he purred.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm, strawberry massage oil,” he framed your face with his hand, “a nice long back rub…”

“Perfect,” you giggled, “why are you spoiling me?”

“Don’t I always?” he smirked.

“Hmm, rarely without reason,” you said.

“Well…” he voice trailed off and slowly he dropped his arms. He turned his back to you and grabbed the pan, stirring the contents with a shake, “I didn’t want you to miss me too bad.”

“Miss you?” you came forward and bent your arms over the counter, “where are you going?”

“Chicago, there’s some evidence down there we need to look at and they refuse to transfer it to our office so… bullshit confidentiality clause, but we need it.”

“How long?” your heart dropped.

“Well, I gotta leave in the morning but I told Gary I won’t stay longer than Monday.”

“And what did he say?”

“He laughed,” Dez shook his head, “I promise, I’ll do my best to be back as soon as I can--”

“No, I understand,” you said gloomily, “it’s just…” you cupped your chin and tapped your lips with your fingertips, “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he said as he turned the burner off, “and this little guy,” he touched your stomach and you shivered as you remembered how Linda had done the same with her cold palm, “so, you choose a name yet?”

“Still not naming him Superman, babe,” you chided, “but no, I can’t make up my mind. God, it’s like my mind is in shambles, I can’t remember why I go in a room or even focus on one thing for more than two minutes before I’m distracted by what colour I want to paint the nursery and I can’t even decide on that because then I’m thinking about what kind of wood the crib should be--”

“It’s fine, you’re fine,” he assured as he opened the bag of tortillas, “you’re still there, you’re just… sharing a brain right now.”

“Wasn’t enough to go around in the first place,” you scoffed.

“Shh,” he arranged the plates carefully, like a five star restaurant, tortillas stacked, steak and veg together, a little dish of cheese, some sour cream, lettuce, salsa, all divvied out in a spectacular salsa you would only make a mess of.

“I thought the pregnancy would give me a chance to finish my book, but--”

“Well, you got maternity leave after that,” he said.

“From what? Sitting at my keyboard and crying? I’ll just be holding a baby and crying,” you sighed, “you said you’d take some time off.”

“I did say that and I will,” he grabbed the plates and nodded you out of the kitchen. He set the plates on the table and you sat as he went to grab two glasses and as many bottles. He poured you your spineless champagne and had a beer for himself, “I don’t want to miss anything.”

“You can’t take forever off,” you muttered, “we both know that. I could go back to copywriting and maybe--”

“Babe, that job made you miserable and you will finish your book,” he handed you a napkin, “I’ve read your stuff, it’s… you said your ex was in publishing?”

“Did I?”

“I thought you did, you never really… talk about the exes, which I love but, I think you said something about it. You don’t think he would--”

“No,” you snapped, “no,” you said softer, “he wouldn’t.”

“Sorry,” he said startled by your reaction, “I didn’t--”

“It’s nothing, I just-- exes, right?”

“It was a stupid suggestion,” he said, “I’m sorry, but… I have a client, he might have some contacts.”

“You don’t have to do that--”

“I don’t have to, I want to because the world deserves to hear your voice,” he insisted, “I hate to share you but I’d be selfish to keep you to myself.”

You smiled and unfolded a tortilla. Still, your heart raced as the second mention of Ransom that day had you on edge. Dez watched you build your fajita and you looked up at him.

“Well, since you’ll be in Chicago, maybe I’ll get a few pages done.”

🍼

The call came on Monday, Dez wouldn’t be home that night. You contented yourself to stay in with your laptop and sugar cookies. Still, you barely got a sentence done before you snapped your computer closed and gave up with a frustrated grunt. You slept, not well, and got up with some trouble as your hips ached.

A good morning text from Dez made you smile but there was still no promise of an impending return. You felt pent up in the apartment and lonely as its emptiness reminded you of your absent husband. Too tense to sit down and type, you opted to go for a walk, hoping it would calm your nerves.

You walked past the shop windows and stopped to peek in at used books and handmade candles. You had no destination in mind, only a restless step. There was a little store at the corner with locally made quilts and knitted sweaters. The smell of potpourri wafted out from beneath the painted door and made your throat tickle. Even so, your curiosity drew you inside.

A small woman greeted you from behind the desk. She held two needles as she crocheted some indistinguishable craft. You smiled and said hello as you headed down the centre aisle. You looked along the racks of quilts, floral, striped, plaid, and polka dot. You stopped at a bright yellow piece with honey bees along the border. You hadn’t thought of yellow for the nursery.

You felt the soft fabric and checked the tag. You lifted the quilt from the bar, content that it was worth it and a great motivator. You stopped before you could turn back, a familiar voice chilled your blood.

“It’s cute,” Ransom said as he stepped up next to you, “kinda girly for a boy though.”

You glanced over at him and folded the blanket over your arm. You backed up but as you turned he did too. He blocked your bath as he stretched his arm across the aisle.

“My mother told me you were expecting,” he said, “and she was right, you look good.”

“What do you want?” you whispered as you clutched the quilt.

“Nothing, just saying hello,” his mouth slanted.

“Hugh, I’m not stupid,” you hissed, “it’s been five years.”

“Hugh,” he repeated dully, “you remember your manners.”

“Leave me alone and let me past,” you tried to duck under his arm but he shifted his body over and backed you up to the end of the aisle.

“And married,” he taunted.

“He’s outside,” you lied, “if I stay too long--”

“I didn’t see him when you walked up,” he intoned, “he must be easy to miss.”

“Have you been following me?” you uttered.

“Only from the cafe,” he shrugged, “short walk.”

“Please, get away from me,” you quivered.

“I’m not doing anything--”

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” you hissed, “now I will scream so move.”

“Mama Bear,” he crooned, “I love it, you’re so protective.”

“Hugh,” you warned.

“Sweetie,” he hummed.

You shoved his shoulder but he didn’t move. You hit him harder and he winced. He chuckled and stood straight. He waved his arm down the aisle and stepped aside.

“Don’t make a scene,” he said, “you always did like to be dramatic.”

“Fuck you,” you snarled, “don’t come near me again.”

“Don’t act like you don’t miss me,” he called after you as you dropped the quilt on the counter, “we were so good together.”

You left without buying, a shrill apology to the lady at the counter as you went as fast as you could out the door. The bell tinkled after you and the door clamored shut. You felt nauseous and dizzy. The last thing you wanted or needed was to ever see that man again.

#ransom drysdale #dark!ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #fic #series #knives out #dark fic #dark!fic #what's yours is mine

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breadqueen95 · 4 years ago

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Dress - Bucky Barnes

bucky barnes x fem!reader

wc: 5k

plot: bucky and y/n’s relationship is new, and they don’t want to share with their friends just yet. but something as simple as a dress can change anyone’s mind, even the winter soldier.

content warnings: kissing. physical affection. flirting. allusions to sex. drinking. being drunk. language. bucky being a flirt.

a/n: this is for @natasha-romancff and her taylor swift writing challenge! it took me awhile, but i’ve had a ton of fun writing this. so many bucky fics are angsty, and rightly so the man has some TRAUMA. but for my first bucky fic, based on dress by taylor swift, i wanted something happier for him

***

Damn. That was a lot of leg.

“I don’t know,” you muttered as you stared into the mirror, “aren’t these things…a little classier than this?”

“Uh…have you met Tony Stark?” Natasha grumbled as she continued to scroll through her phone. “The man has never been classy a day in his life.”

“Well I know he isn’t, but fancy people show up to these things. I just don’t want to embarrass myself.” You were currently standing in front of the full-length mirror in Wanda’s room, staring at the reflection of a woman who didn’t quite look like you.

But it was you, wasn’t it? It was just…that you was wearing a very short, very sexy red cocktail dress. The sweetheart neckline was a nice touch, but the back was completely open. And that hemline? Definitely hiked way up past your knees.

“Y/n, relax,” Wanda reassured in her lilting accent, “sure, the dress is a little…spicier…than you’re used to, but it’s in a good way.”

“I’m pretty sure every single person would be able to tell I spend my days in tactical gear. God, I’m not sure I even know how to walk in heels this high!”

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Natasha threw her phone down and looked at you in the mirror. Her eyebrows were raised, and she was giving you her usual ‘don’t give me that shit’ look. It nearly had you shaking in your very strappy black heels.

“Are you kidding me, y/n? I’ve seen you strut in enough fancy parties during undercover missions to know that you’ve got this.”

“Yeah,” Wanda scoffed as she took a sip of red wine from her glass, “all she’s nervous about is what Bucky will think.”

Rolling your eyes, you tried to hide how much that sentence affected you.

“C’mon, Wanda. You know Bucky and I are just friends.”

“Do friends undress each other with their eyes whenever they’re in the same room?”

Damn it. Damn Wanda and her stupid perceptiveness.

“You’re reading too much into it, Wanda.” She just laughed at you, acting like she knew so much better.

What you knew and wasn’t ready to admit to your two best friends, was that she was right on the money.

Bucky Barnes, the infamous Winter Soldier, your favorite person in the entire world, was now your boyfriend. He had been for a few weeks now. The two of you were insanely private people. Hell, it had been years before the two of you had finally learned everything about each other. Once you had gotten past the walls the other had so carefully crafted, well…

At that point you were in love.

But the others didn’t need to know that, not yet at least. The Avengers were a family, your family. They were really the only true family you’d ever had. But Bucky…Bucky was finally yours. And you were his. You didn’t think it was crazy to just want to enjoy that, just the two of you, without everyone else sharing their jokes and opinions just yet. They did it out of love, you both knew that, but you just wanted him all to yourself.

As you looked back at your reflection in the mirror, you took a minute to really consider what Bucky’s reaction might be. He had the best poker face in the room no matter who he was with, but you knew him well enough to know how he was feeling just based on his eyes. He’d always said how much he loved red on you, and he adored every and any excuse to touch your skin. Those steel blue eyes of his would absolutely burn once he saw you in this dress.

And fuck, that was something you really wanted to see.

“Well, if you aren’t going to wear that dress, you better pick something else,” Nat said, jerking you from your fantasies, “we need to be there in twenty minutes, and we all need to touch up our makeup.”

“Actually…I think I’ll wear it,” you said confidently, trying to hide your grin as you ran your hands down the silky fabric.

What you didn’t see was Natasha and Wanda sharing a secret smirk behind you, like they’d known what you’d do the whole time.

***

Six weeks ago, everything had changed for you and Bucky.

You’d known how you felt for a long time. Bucky Barnes, despite his past, was the kind of man anyone could fall in love with. He was sincere, kind, generous, witty…everything you’d ever wanted in a partner. He had been your best friend for even longer.

It had been a long time before you could even admit your feelings to yourself, let alone to him. After everything the two of you had been through, who had the time and mental capacity for romance? It just didn’t seem important. You just chalked up your feelings to being such close friends. All you wanted was to be near him, even if you just sat in silence doing different things. Just being in the same room as Bucky brought you a sort of peace you’d never had before. Whenever he touched you, even if it was just a brief hug or brushing your back to get past you, your skin erupted into goosebumps. But that was just because physical touch was still foreign to you, right?

And his smile. God, his wonderful smile…

Bucky didn’t smile much. He hid behind a mask of stoicism, a remnant from the trauma of his horrible history as the Winter Soldier. Showing any sort of emotion, especially happiness, was hard for him. But when he finally let himself smile? It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever see.

It took several sleepless nights wrestling with those confusing feelings to figure it out. You didn’t just see Bucky as your best friend. You had it bad. Not just “oh my god he’s so handsome” bad, like the “I would take a bullet for you I’m so in love” bad. That revelation? It left you euphoric. It also left you scared.

Because you were so sure Bucky didn’t feel the same. And that thought was like a knife to the heart every time it flashed through your mind.

So you kept it to yourself. You tried to keep things as normal as possible, but your heart kept fluttering whenever he walked into a room. Being so close to Bucky meant you confided in each other about pretty much everything, and he knew you well enough to know you were hiding something.

It all exploded on a Tuesday night in the compound.

Tuesdays were your movie nights. Bucky had a lot of pop culture to catch up on, so on this night every week he would come by your room to watch a movie. It was a weekly tradition that kind of started by accident. You were shocked he still hadn’t made time to watch Lord of the Rings, so you forced him onto your couch with popcorn and The Fellowship of the Ring. He loved it so much, and immediately asked if you guys could watch The Two Towers the next week. How could you say no to him?

Tonight, you were watching 13 Going on 30. It was your all-time favorite romcom, and you figured you could both use a break from all the action and fantasy movies you’d been cycling through. Something with a happy ending was worth indulging in.

“Does that Matt guy look like Banner to you? Or is it just me?” Bucky asked through a mouthful of popcorn.

“Heh, maybe a little,” you said, “Give or take a few years.” He laughed at that, and you forced yourself to laugh quietly. You wanted to blurt out your feelings every time you looked at Bucky, so you’d gotten quieter and quieter every time you spent time with him. It was an awful reaction, and you knew he noticed. But it was better than losing his friendship, right?

After that awful and painfully obvious forced laugh, Bucky let out a huge sigh and paused the movie. He set the bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table in front of the couch, then turned to face you. Exasperation and hurt glimmered in his eyes.

“Y/n, what the fuck is going on with you?”

“W-what do you mean?”

“Oh come on, don’t give me that,” he said sharply, “I know you better than anyone, and I know for a fact there’s something you’re not telling me. Is it me? Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No, god no!” You exclaimed.

“Well it must be something I did, because you’ve never been this quiet around me and it keeps getting worse. I hate it, and I want to know what I did so I can fix it.”

“Bucky, I’m serious, it’s nothing you did—”

“Then why? Why are you shutting me out?” He cut you off angrily, arms thrown wide. “You’re my best friend, I just don’t get why—”

“I don’t want you like a best friend, Bucky!” Your eyes went wide as the words flew from your lips. In the most comical way, you clapped your hand over your mouth as if you could stop the words that had already been said. Bucky’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

Oh fuck. He didn’t get it. Curse him and his old man ways.

“What does that even mean, Y/n? Are you saying you don’t want me around anymore?”

“Bucky, of course not. God, I would never want that. Never in a million years.”

“Then you better explain, because if you haven’t noticed, I’m over 100 years old. I need a little help here.”

“It means, uh…um,” you stuttered, wringing your hands together. “Is there any chance we can just forget I said that?”

“Nope, not a chance.”

“It means…it means that I care about you. As more than a friend.”

His entire face seemed to crinkle as he processed that. If you weren’t freaking out, you’d be obsessing over how damn cute it made him look. Then his eyes got wide as he began to make the connection. Your stomach nearly fell out of your ass as his eyes lifted again to meet yours.

“I…I think I know what you’re saying,” he nearly whispered, “I just need you to get real specific real fast, because I’m not about to say anything until I know exactly what you mean.”

“It means I’m in love with you, okay?” You burst out. Even through your mortification, there was a sudden sense of relief. A secret as big as that had definitely been weighing you down. Now that it was out there, that was one less thing you had to worry about.

His eyes grew even wider. How that was possible, you didn’t even know. That beautiful mouth of his began to turn up into a small smile as he gazed softly at you.

“You’re in love with me?” He asked, his smile getting wider with each passing second.

“What, you need it carved into stone or something?” You couldn’t help but sass him. Did you fucking stutter?

“No, it’s just…I never thought you’d feel that way about me.”

“Well, clearly I do. So you – wait, you mean you’ve thought about this before?”

“Of course I have,” he said as he shrugged, “I’ve been in love with you for two years now, how could I not think about it?”

You were instantly filled with warmth and pure bliss. In all your obsessing over your own feelings, you’d never allowed yourself to consider that he might feel the same about you. It just didn’t seem possible.

“I’m sorry,” you burst out, holding a hand up, “you’re telling me you’ve been into me for two years and didn’t say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” He shot back, inching closer to you.

“Because you’re my best friend. I didn’t want to lose you because of stupid feelings I have.”

“But…I have those same ‘stupid feelings’ for you. So can we just cut the whole act and get on with it?” Bucky brought a hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing along your skin so gently.

“Uh…um…get on with what?”

“Well I’d kinda like to kiss you, if you’re cool with it.”

“Bucky Barnes did you just use current slang to ask if you could kiss me?” You didn’t move an inch as his face moved right in front of yours, breath intermingling as you gazed into each other’s eyes. God, was this really happening?

“Yeah, guess your lessons worked,” he murmured.

“Well you better kiss me, then.”

As soon as your lips met, it was like coming home.

***

That memory, your favorite memory, replayed in your head as the three of you stepped into the elevator. Nat and Wanda were happily chatting about who would be there, what kind of antics Tony would cook up tonight, if there would be music we could actually dance to. You know, normal party things.

All you could think about was how long you had to stay until you could sneak off with your boyfriend.

You were so happy Wanda and Natasha had convinced you to wear this dress. When you’d first put it on, the difference from your normal look was so jarring that it took you a few minutes to get used to it. But now that you had, now that you felt the silky fabric shifting against your skin as you moved, now that you saw how dangerously long your legs looked in these heels…

Damn, you felt sexy.

And that sexy feeling? It made you want Bucky’s hands all over you.

But this was a party. A party thrown by Tony Stark, one of the most perceptive and observant people you’d ever met. If you left too soon, if he thought you weren’t “having enough fun”, he’d be more than a little upset. So you had to stay, drink, mingle, maybe dance a little…and then, maybe later, you could go do what you actually wanted.

The elevator pinged, indicating you had reached the topmost floor of the compound. This floor was home to a huge communal space, often used for just hanging out with the team. But on nights like tonight, Tony went all out and turned the space into something that resembled…a club?

The three of you stepped out into the massive room, upbeat music already blasting from the speakers. Typical Tony – he never really outgrew his love for dancing and parties. The bass thrummed through your body, making you want to move to the music. The lights were dim, but you could still tell who was around. It looked like you were some of the last members of the team to arrive. There was a huge bar off to the side, and Natasha headed that way right away. You turned to ask Wanda if she wanted to follow Nat, but she was already making a beeline for Vision. Smiling, you just turned right back around to follow Natasha. A drink sounded pretty good right now.

As you made your way to the bar, you felt more than a few pairs of eyes on you as you walked. You sneakily looked around as you went, noticing men and women watching you with admiration, and dare you say it, longing. As someone whose job was to blend in with the background all the time, this was a different and slightly addictive feeling. You leaned on the bar next to Nat right as the bartender slid her drink over to her.

“Straight whiskey tonight? Damn, going hard.” You quipped.

“Hey now, you know I can handle my liquor. It’s you we need to watch out for, you lightweight.”

Laughing, you scanned the party guests, looking for the one person you wanted to see. Tony had had arm around Pepper’s waist, both laughing at something Rhodey had said. Bruce lingered around them, drink in hand and looking a little nervous, but still happy to be included. Wanda and Vision were sitting quietly on one of the couches, both looking absolutely smitten with each other. Scott Lang, one of the newest additions, was busting some moves, while Peter Parker laughed as he watched. Thor, who was visiting from Asgard, laughed boisterously as he watched various guests try to lift his hammer. You couldn’t help the smile growing on your face. You loved these people so much.

Then, you saw him.

Bucky was with Sam and Steve, as usual. But even as Sam and Steve were talking animatedly next to him, those gorgeous blue eyes of his were glued to you. There was a kind of intensity in them you hadn’t seen before. Your breath whooshed from you body as he grinned at you. Trying to maintain the suggestive image your dress gave you, you managed to send a flirtatious smile his way, then turned back around to face the bar. Leaning against the counter, you knew he’d get an eyeful of your bare back. God, this was fun.

The bartender finally made his way over to you, and you ordered two tequila shots.

Nat turned to you, one eyebrow arched in surprise as she asked, “And you say I’m going hard? You can’t just down two shots right away, babe.”

“I’m not doing two shots; you think I’m stupid?” The bartender slid the shots over to you along with two lime wedges. “One is clearly for you.”

Unable to hold back a laugh, Natasha put her arm around your shoulders and pulled you into her side as she said, “Why the fuck not, let’s do it.” The two of you went through the process: salt, shot, lime. You couldn’t help but wince as you downed the harsh liquor. Of all the shots in the world, tequila probably tasted the worst. The only reason you kept going for it was the warmth it traced down your body, and you felt your muscles begin to loosen up.

“Two more,” you called over to the bartender.

“Uh, no,” Natasha shot at you, grabbing her whiskey, and pushing off the bar, “I’m good with my top shelf shit, you keep going after that gasoline if you want but I’m out.”

“C’mon, Nat,” you called out, “what am I gonna do with two shots?”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone else, babe.” She said with a wave over her shoulder.

Sighing, you turned back to the ridiculously pretty bar (seriously, how much had Tony paid for this thing?). Who else would help you look cool and sexy at a bar for your secret boyfriend?

Okay, that was the cringiest thought you’d ever had. Gross.

As the bartender slid the tequila in front of you, you steeled yourself for the nastiness that was about to happen.

“Fuck, I didn’t think this through,” you mumbled.

“Yeah, you tend to do that,” a deep voice answered on your right. Instead of being the slightest bit surprised, you couldn’t help but smile. You’d know that voice anywhere.

“Something I can do for you, Barnes?” You looked up at him from under your lashes.

“Well, it looks like you’ve got an extra shot there. Thought I could bail you out.”

“Is that all?”

Bucky shifted so that your arms were just barely touching. His hand was right next to yours, and you reached out with your pinky to lightly brush his.

“Doll, you have the gall to show up in that dress and ask what I want as if you don’t already know?”

“Sorry Buck, I’m a little slow, must be the tequila. You should probably be a little clearer.”

Putting on quite the show of reaching for one of the shots, his mouth somehow ended up right next to your ear.

“I want you.”

It was lucky everyone was so distracted and couldn’t see how you shuddered at his words. Trying to maintain brain function, you managed to take the shot with him. You were now fully facing each other. He was wearing the cockiest smirk you’d ever seen, one that would put Tony Stark to shame. You couldn’t help but respond with that same energy despite the jitteriness his three little words had reduced you to.

“Well why don’t you—”

“Hello, my friends!” A booming voice sounded between you as Thor threw a huge arm over each of you. Bucky, with his stupid super soldier strength, didn’t really have a reaction to it. You, on the other hand, stumbled a little under the weight and force of it. “It’s so good to be back with you tiny humans.”

Was…was he slurring his words?

“Thor…are you drunk right now?”

He simply laughed in response. Well, that answered that.

“Of course I am, tiny person! It can’t be a party without good Asgardian wine.”

“Wait…you have literal god wine?” Bucky, who had a look of vague irritation on his face up to this point, now looked interested. Maybe even a little excited?

“Of course, metal appendage.”

“Dude, you can’t just call Bucky ‘metal appendage’—”

“He can if he lets me have some,” Bucky interrupted.

“We have a bargain!” Thor slapped Bucky on the back before scurrying back over to where he had come from, probably to get the wine he had promised.

“Bucky, you can’t even get drunk,” you hissed, “what exactly is the point of this?”

“Since everything happened, I haven’t found any alcohol strong enough to get me drunk. I figure god wine is worth a shot.”

“Bucky—”

“When I kiss you against a wall later, I wanna be a little tipsy,” he whispered in your ear, “that cool with you?”

Unable to keep yourself from smiling again, you nodded as Thor sauntered back over. Ever since that moment a few weeks ago, right before he kissed you for the first time, asking “is that cool with you?” had become your thing.

And the idea of Bucky kissing you against a wall? Yeah, that sounded pretty good.

***

As it turns out, Asgardian wine is just as potent as Thor had promised.

For the first time in over seventy years, Bucky Barnes was certifiably drunk. It made him feel like the Bucky from all those years ago, and it was the most incredible thing. Here he was, over 100 years old, partying, and all his favorite people were here.

Including his ridiculously hot girlfriend.

Even as they both flitted around the party, Bucky and y/n still found each other’s eyes, even from across the room. They would send winks, smiles, even funny faces. All he wanted to do was be right next to her, talk and dance with her all night…

But they had agreed. They wanted to keep their relationship a secret for now, keep the attention off of them for a bit while they got to know each other in this new way.

But god damn, that dress.

Y/n in red was…indescribable. It didn’t matter what she wore, she was always the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. But in red? In this dress?

She was breathtaking.

��Buck, you breathing?”

A hand waved in front of his face, snapping Bucky’s attention back to the people around him from Y/n’s back. He had been imagining putting his hands all over that back later and had gotten more than a little mesmerized. He managed to get his eyes to refocus, finding a drunk Sam smirking right next to him and an even drunker Steve dancing next to him. But what Steve was doing couldn’t really be called ‘dancing’ per say…more like an aggressive wiggle.

“Why wouldn’t I be breathing?” Of all the things he could’ve said to get Sam’s attention off of him, that wasn’t it.

“Uh, probably because the girl you’re in love with decided to show up and show off tonight? Pretty sure you’re drooling, man.”

Despite himself, Bucky slapped a hand across his mouth, only reducing Sam to wheezing laughter. Knowing he had been caught, he rolled his eyes and grimaced a little. Of all the people to catch him, he wished it hadn’t been Sam.

“I wasn’t…staring… at y/n, I just never see her dressed up is all.”

“I never said anything about the girl being y/n.”

“…fuck.”

“LANGUAGE,” Steve yelled out, pointing a finger at his two friends before returning to his shimmying.

Turning back to him, Sam added, “Just go be with her, Buck. You’re not fooling anyone, and neither is she.”

“We’re that obvious?”

“A few weeks ago you’d at least try to hide it. Now I’m surprised you’re not jumping each other’s bones right here right now.”

“Point taken,” Bucky said, lightly slapping Sam’s shoulder before power walking over to his girl.

***

“Nat, if you don’t stop asking about Bucky and I’s relationship, I’m going to kick you,” you called over the music before taking another swig from your glass. It was no Asgardian wine, but the human stuff wasn’t half bad in your opinion. It wasn’t like you could drink the god shit, anyway. If you had even one sip, you’d be swinging from the ceiling like Miley fucking Cyrus. You were pretty drunk as it was.

“Okay, fine,” she said with a shrug as she took a sip of her whiskey, still as calm and collected as ever. “You’re almost as drunk as he is, you’ll be talking soon enough.”

“Oh? Is that your spy master plan?”

Natasha was still looking as unbothered as ever, but as she looked across the room over your shoulder, her face split into a savage grin.

“It was, but it looks like I might not need it.”

“What do you me—”

Your words were cut off as a large, warm hand enclosed around yours. Whirling around, you were suddenly face to face with the man himself. Bucky was clearly having a good time. His mouth was relaxed into the cutest smile you’d ever seen him wear, and he moved without his normal stiffness and intensity. He threaded your fingers together, smiling down at you with so much love it was a wonder Nat hadn’t said anything yet.

Looking back in front of you, ready to explain yourself, you only found empty air. Guess she’d seen all she needed to, but honestly, you really didn’t care. All you’d wanted the whole night was to be exactly where you were right now; hand in hand with the man you loved.

“We’re just kidding ourselves, doll,” Bucky called next to your ear, “Sam said we’ve been pretty obvious.”

“Nat said the same,” you answered with a sheepish smile, “kind of hard to keep my face under control when you’ve got that leather jacket on.”

“You’re blaming me?” He asked with mock indignation. “You’re the one who looks,” he gestured wildly to your whole body, “like that!”

Trying ignore the heat spreading over your cheeks, you shot back, “Like what?”

“Like the most…” he screwed his face up in the most adorable way as he searched for words, “like the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” As the last few words tumbled out of his mouth, he gazed at you with such a softness you almost melted right into the floor.

“Wanna get out of here?” You asked, finally giving up the game. It was pointless, really. Now, all you wanted to do was for your boyfriend to keep his promise and kiss you against a wall.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he answered, “Absolutely.” Without looking at a single soul, the two of you began walking as quickly as you could for the exit. You and Bucky were both leaning on each other a bit, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Stepping out into the light of the hallway, you blinked as your eyes adjusted after the dark room you’d spent the last few hours in. Bucky led you until you were right in front of the elevator, and he lazily pressed the button to go up. There was tension in the air between you, like a thread that was being pulled. Biting your lip, you stared at the doors in front of you. You knew if you so much as looked at the man next to you, you’d jump him right then and there.

The shining doors slid open, and the pair of you walked in, his strong arm still around your waist. His grip wasn’t loose in any sense of the word. Bucky kept you right next to him, even as your legs wanted to drift all over the place. You pressed the button for the residential floor.

As soon as those doors slid shut, that thread of tension snapped.

Bucky whirled you to face him, then walked you backward until you were pressed against the wall of the elevator.

“I promised I’d kiss you against the wall, didn’t I?”

He didn’t even wait for a response. His mouth was on yours in an instant, lips moving together like a dance. The kiss was slow and unhurried. You tried to bring him closer, linking your hands behind his neck and pressing yourself to him. Instead of responding in kind, he unwound your arms from around him and pinned them above your head.

Oh damn.

Okay.

No complaints here.

“You’ve been teasin’ me all night just by wearing that dress, sweetheart,” he murmured in between the kisses he trailed down your jaw, “I think it’s my turn.”

“Would it change your mind knowing I only wore this dress so you could take it off?”

The heat that bloomed in those blue eyes of his was unmistakable. As the doors opened on your floor, he swept you up into his arms and began to walk purposefully to his apartment. All the while, he kept that signature cocky smirk of his you’d come to adore.

“Bucky?” You asked once he’d walked into his unit.

“That sentence was the single most attractive thing you’ve ever said,” he murmured as he set you down. Even still, he kept you pressed against him. “But nah, I’m a patient guy. I think I’ll take my time.” He followed this by resuming his slow and sensual kisses, and you couldn’t help but melt into them.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips.

“I’ll never get tired of hearing that, doll. I love you too.”

***

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x you #dress #jenna writes #i love lanie #laniestaylorswiftwc

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inkskinned · 5 years ago

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my arch nemesis cynthia is, of course, at the bank, because we both were sent like clockwork to pick up the checks of our husbands. she is wearing a lovely long green gown, which i know was on behalf of me, because, as my husband will tell you, our house abhors green and glamour. already the tellers look at each other under their little hats, for they love our tirades, i’m sure, although not more than i hate them.

“oh, is that your knitting?” my arch nemesis cynthia peers her eyes at my hands. “is it some kind of... sock?” everyone knows she and i used to be close before we were married and our husbands, smartly so, have introduced us to the idea of true vengeance.

“it is a scarf,” i say. i want to tell her that when the time comes and the world gets cold it will go over my mouth and i will breathe warm air and it will fill my lungs and i will be able to run around with my love even in the dark night. “it is not,” i say, “over surprising that you should be caught unawares of a scarf,” i say, “as i’m sure enjoying winter festivities are too beneath the handsome qualities your husband prefers.” pompous ass.

the tellers pass each other eyes for now it has started and they are delighted.

my arch nemesis cynthia thrusts out her hand. a white bottle. “rat poison,” she says. “i would expect the whole town knows about your little problem.” stage whisper. “such a shame, my dear.” then she rustles her long green skirts - which i know she wore on behalf of me - and she shimmies herself out of the room like royalty. oh, she floats everywhere she goes, beautiful black hair behind her. the bottle in my palm is cold. i will devise how to get her back starting first thing tomorrow.

the week, as always, is a long week, for there is much to make and do and knit and be. my husband comes home and i love him for who he is; for he never comes home without checking the state of the house up and down. he is the kind who loves his home so completely and sets each room like a stage for a great band to come playing. i am too ashamed to tell him why so many of the rats go missing, only make him a stew the next morning to celebrate. his favorite, although not mine, i’m afraid. plenty left over.

my arch nemesis today - of course - in a green the color of rotting. a bruise is uncarefully covered on her cheekbone, so striking against all of her dainty. her husband would say it was for her ungraceful nature, and i know mine would agree. i strike first, already delighted by my master plan, shoving over our best picnic basket tied with a bow. “i made you and yours a stew,” i say, “for beneath all that you carry” all that horrible wealth of your husband “it seems you’re getting rather skinny.” i can’t resist one last comment. “i am worried you’re about to waste to nothing.”

She plucks it out of my hand. “yes, if it weren’t for you and your husband’s dwindling wealth,” her sarcasm is biting, “i’m sure i will be nothing in, oh, 5 weeks time.” she arches a brow. “so long from now.”

“i am counting the days,” i tell her. her lips purse. the tellers behind me make a choked titter. perhaps, by their estimation, i have won this round quite completely. i go home to my husband smiling. he asks where i have been and i tell him i’ve been at the bank, but he checks anyway because i like to get up to tricks and he doesn’t like to fall for it. it is a good game we play. at night, when he is asleep, i am so in love that i must convince myself to pull the covers over my nose and practice breathing. how silly to wake him up for a young girl’s feelings.

the first week of five: she gives me a solid, ugly ring that requires three knuckles to hold. “i feel so badly for your status, and i must remember to practice charity,” she says. “it such a small thing, but do be careful amongst all that thin pine furnishing of your house, which dents so easily.” my husband appears at the bank’s front door. just checking. so lovely to be picked up by him. at night, in a rage, i try it - beneath the table bends easily. i scuff out the scratch with walnut before my husband can see. i pull the covers over my face in bed and breathe.

the second week: i wear her ugly ring and give her more stew, this time hearty with meat. her dress is a meadow. my heart each time it sees her collapses on itself. she hands me clothes for my husband, since his wealth continues to go missing, and the charity of her heart is so loving. i am so ashamed i bury them far by the old tree, where all my shames go hiding. again, the covers. it, by now, helps me sleep. i have gotten so good at it that i can simply shimmy my shoulders to be perfectly toasty and buried.

the third week: she asks how comes my knitting. i tell her it’s nearly complete. she asks how comes my husband, whom she must know has been ill recently, and who is doing quite badly. i go home to him, shaking. even sick he is a good housekeeper, who comes home examining for dust and dinge so i do not fall behind on my chores. who checks to be sure i spoke to only him and no one more, for fear a man might snatch me. tell me, who else has a man so involved, in this day and age?

the fourth week she is envy green. i shove a whole heaping of stew at her, for now her husband has gotten it. i say it will return him to spirits, she laughs, a sudden, beautiful sound, even in the quiet of a bank. everyone stares. maybe it is the stress that is making her quite improper. i feel the same way. so much is happening and it always seems she knows. she says she heard he has left me nothing in the will, which everyone already knows. she says she doubts either of us can dig upwards from the hole we’re both in. i look at the bruise on her nose. i tell her to mind her own husband, and be careful where she goes.

the fifth week: so final. her, garishly lime green. and i in black, to pick up a check that hardly seems the effort. it will be enough to cover my husband’s funeral. she smiles at me and hands me a silver bottle. she says quietly: now that i am destitute, there is one thing for it all, and everyone would understand quite completely. it would be quiet, and quick, and complete.

it is the night of the new moon, so dark no man can see in it. i receive notice her husband has died, and i am sorry to say i find a terrible joy in it. the air has changed cold. i have left a note asking to be buried in my scarf, the last thing i have made on this earth. i go through each perfect room, but there is nothing else to take with me, for the house has always been his and his alone, and now aches to be gone of him. i would not serve as a good tender for it. having spent so many nights watched carefully, the silly girlish freedom i’d gain would surely set the house ablaze.

i follow her instructions. quick, quiet, complete.

the horrible rustling is what does it. like a million green skirts. and then it is dark, and i am in my own coffin, eerie with pine. my head hurts but i must be quick and quiet. they have listened and buried me with my scarf. i shimmy my shoulders just-so and get it over my face. bring my arms up, ugly ring heavy, and begin to hit as hard as i can, over and over, the thin wood of my husband’s favorite furniture, the cretin. it would be pine, of course - he left me no money to be buried in any nicer recourse.

the wood splits so horribly, and then it is very hard to breathe, harder than under the covers, and i have to remind myself to be patient and continue to dig upwards, while my throat closes and my heart beats so loudly and the whole thing is so heavy it is a universe. the shifting of gravedirt is loud, and loud, and i feel i will be turned into a worm, and i fear everyone has forgotten about me, or i have gotten the timing wrong, or i will really die down here in the dirt and the cold

but then her hand, and my hand, and we are both digging towards each other, and she lifts me so easily from the ground like a plucked turnip and holds me against her, us both panting and muddied. we can only stay like this for so long, here in my pauper grave, and then we are both running to the old tree where we met, and unburying a second thing; my lovely box of shame, and men’s clothes, and all of my husband’s dwindling fortune i have slowly been squirrelling away.

my love and angel cynthia, who has black hair like a curtain and a mind so fast i sometimes am in frank awe at it, who is, even now and dirty and raw: even now the only sun in my life.

like this, i a man in an almost-dawn, and us cleaned by the river, and her smiling so widely, and only a faint bruise on her, and our pasts behind us in ugly garish colors. and her delicate hand and beautiful nose and when i finally get to kiss her it feels like green feels; my favorite color, all warm and nature and sunny grace and grass and lying awake so filled with love it makes you shake.

i hold her, and she holds me, and our future is a love like a dream unburied.

#spilled ink #prose #short story #wlw #if you're confused they were planning this from day 1 #rat poison goes to the rats #rats go into stew.... subtle poisoning #the ending can be read many ways #but always happy

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lis-likes-fics · 4 years ago

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Exhilarated

Pairing: Carlisle Cullen x Reader Word Count: 4,602 words heheh Warnings: Car crash (again), smut Author's Note: Took too long because I'm ✨inconsistent✨.

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Y/N sighed deeply as she drove down the dark road, headed back home from out of town. A friend of hers had invited her to her birthday party and she accepted, reassuring Carlisle that she would stay safe while she was out. He had promised her that he would always be by her side, and he took the promise to heart. He was reluctant to let her go by herself, but she convinced him that she would be alright.

Now she was on her way home to Carlisle. She was peering through her windshield when her phone began ringing beside her, the sound was loud and it startled her. She tore her attention away from the road for a moment to decline the phone call, she'd pick it up when she stopped.

Y/N looked back up to the road, cursing loudly when she saw a deer beginning to cross the road. She yanked on the steering wheel, swerving out of the way of the deer that had frozen in the street, staring at the lights that flashed at it.

The car jerked over, just missing the deer. Y/N slammed on the breaks as hard as she could and the car skid across the road. She crashed into a tree, the airbag deploying and smacking Y/N in the face, disorienting her for a moment.

It when she smelled the gas when she knew she had to get out of the car as fast as possible. Her heart pounded in her chest, she could hear her pulse in her ears. She opened her door, struggling to move her legs as she looked down. She groaned when she saw her foot stuck in the car, preventing her from moving.

She wiggled her feet out of her shoes and managed to get her legs out of the car. Just as she was out of the car, the vehicle blew, throwing her in the air from the impact of the explosion.

She let out a strangled yelp when she landed on hard, rolling over the ground before being abruptly halted by smacking another tall tree. Another cry escaped her as she felt a terrible pain in her lower back that soon spread all over her body. She was sure something was broken, and it was something vital. Blood soon started dropping her mouth, creating a bad taste in her mouth.

As if she'd be able to summon him, she choked out a strangled call, "Carlisle…" Her voice was barely audible or understandable, but she didn't stop. She needed him. Her body hurt so badly, she was in need of his aid.

However, it seemed as though he could hear her calls as a black Mercedes came racing down the road to get to her, screeching to a stop before the door was opened and Carlisle was coming out to her within the next second.

He was kneeling at her side, looking her over with worried eyes as he spoke, "What is it with you and cars?"

She chuckled weakly, wincing and coughing up more blood. "I'm sorry," her voice cracked as she got the words out. He shook his head, placing a hand on her cheek, "It's not your fault, dear."

He continued looking her over, trying to make note of everything wrong. She spoke, struggling to get the words out of her mouth, "Carlisle, I can't m-move my legs."

Carlisle acknowledged her words, "I'm going to move you onto your stomach, okay?" She gave him a nod and allowed him to do so. He felt around her back along her spine, asking her questions about how it felt and what happened.

At the end of his assessment and her recap, he let out a heavy breath and gave her a sad look. She couldn't comprehend it, she had started to fade in and out of focus, looking around her surroundings.

When she hit her back so hard on the tree, it fractured part of her spine and paralyzed her from the waist down. Along with that, she was bleeding internally and he knew she wouldn't have enough time before she actually passed out. He knew it would be bad if she passed out, it wouldn't end well at all.

And he couldn't lose her.

With glazed eyes, Y/N turned her scarce attention to Carlisle, "What's….wrong?"

Her breath had become heavy, the other effects of the accident were starting to sink in. Carlisle looked her in the eyes, as if he was memorizing every detail in them. She weakly moved an arm with the intention of placing her hand on his cheek. He took her hand in his, holding it to his cheek as he savored the warmth of her hand.

"Carlisle-?" His name was interrupted by a painful cough that riddled through her. He told her with a sad voice, crying without tearing up. "I don't think you're going to make it. You got hurt really badly."

She wasn't concerned about herself, she was concerned about him. She didn't want to leave him alone, she didn't want to leave his side after promising a million times a day that she never would.

Fresh tears stained her face to cover the old ones, not from physical pain but from emotional pain. "I'm not leaving you," she whispered in a hoarse voice.

He sighed and nodded, "I know. You'd never forgive me if I let you, and I'd never forgive myself if I let you."

She knew what he was getting at. For a moment, she was scared of the physical pain that would come with his cure, but the fear ceased when it was challenged with the despair of even the thought of leaving Carlisle's side.

She gave a weak smile and nodded, "Do it…"

He had a pained expression on his face as he considered the option again. It was the only option where she would come out alive-- or at least for the most part.

Carlisle stroked the side of her face with his thumb, gazing over her features as he looked past the injuries, looking at her true self as if it was the last time he'd see it.

He whispered in a clear but saddened voice, "I'm going to miss these eyes." She smiled at him, swallowing thickly.

Carlisle lifted her head carefully, kissing her deeply with as much meaning as he could without hurting her further. She kissed him back, it was one thing she could focus on fully with her mind slipping in and out of attention.

He whispered in her ear, "I'm so sorry."

She shook her head and told him in a broken voice, "I love you."

He kissed the side of her face, "I love you, too."

He braced himself before finally biting into her neck, his teeth piercing the skin and drawing blood. He fought off his urge to suck her dry quite well, more focused on saving her than he was on tasting her blood.

Y/N inhaled sharply, a strangled sound caught in her throat as she tried her hardest to hold in her scream. She could feel the venom already spreading over her body, burning her up from the inside out with such excruciating pain.

When Carlisle finished, he wiped his mouth and gazed at her painfully. He hated seeing her in pain, he hated seeing her looking so broken.

Try as she did, she couldn't stop the cries from leaving her body. Carlisle wiped at her tears as she squeezed her eyes shut tight, every fiber of her being struggling through the pain.

It felt like she had been lit on fire, for a moment she thought she would be hurting like this forever. She screamed and writhed in unbridled pain, her body jerking all over the place as she clenched and stretched her fingers repeatedly.

She almost wished the bottom half of her body stayed paralyzed, but she decided not to. It was better to go through the pain and spend eternity with Carlisle than it was to die and leave him without the love of his life.

Y/N opened her eyes, forcing a breath out of her lunges before sucking another back in. Her eyes fell on Carlisle. She found some remedy, thought very little, for the pain as she looked into his eyes. Beyond the agony he felt for putting you through such pain, she could see the love he felt for her that justified the physical pain.

It was that love that made him strong enough to do what he needed to do.

She didn't know how long she would be in this state-- it was different for everyone-- but she knew it would be worth it if it meant she would get to spend forever with him.

Y/N had been moved by Carlisle to his home, they couldn't stay out in the middle of nowhere while she was turning. In the safety of the home, she continued through the change.

She felt bad for putting everyone through the ordeal of having to listen to her pained screams as she turned. They wouldn't blame her for that, of course. They knew the pain she was in, they'd endured it before. That didn't stop her from feeling like she was burdening them. If only she'd been a little more careful, they wouldn't have to go through the mess that is changing.

While Edward could hear the thoughts she was having while she turned, he wasn't in the room to dissuade her from thinking those thoughts. Carlisle was right by her side the entire time. He refused to leave her, nothing his children could say would make him for even a second.

They eventually had to move Jasper out of the house. Her change was affecting him because, along with the physical pain, she was going through the emotional pain of having to watch Carlisle watch her turn. It hurt her to cause him any pain and Jasper wasn't holding up because of it.

She was in transformation for four days.

If she hadn't known physical pain before, she definitely did now. While changing made her exhausted, once she was a vampire, the exhaustion disappeared into a drained feeling.

She looked around the room, as if seeing everything for the first time. She could see every small detail in everything she laid eyes on.

She felt this strange feeling in her throat and chest, as if something was wrong, something was going against her natural instinct.

She finally put a finger on it when she realized she hadn't started breathing yet. She didn't need to, so she hadn't realized it when she didn't.

She took in a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. She could smell so many different things at one time: the trees outside, the fresh morning dew, each distinctive smell of each person throughout the entire house.

She listened closely to the sounds around her, the quiet shuffles of the residents in the house, the chips of birds outside, the light breathing of someone sat next to her.

She turned her head to look at the person next to her. A smile spread across her face as she gazed at him, looking at every small detail of his face, listening to every breath he took as he watched her with his own large smile.

"Hey," he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper but perfectly audible to her. She felt as though she might cry as she stared back at him, she was so glad to see him, even if she was with him for the past four days. She was seeing him clearly, there were no tears in her eyes.

She overestimated the amount of strength she needed to use as she got off the bed Carlisle had in his room solely for her and hugged him, straddling his waist as she buried her face in his neck, holding him a little too tight.

He let out a hearty laugh at her enthusiasm, holding her to him just as tightly. She took a deep breath in, inhaling his scent and memorizing it instantly. He was perfect in every single way.

She gripped him tight, carefully not to break him as she tried not to underestimate her strength. She breathed a sigh of contentment.

When she finally let go, it was only enough so she could kiss him. As soon as their lips touched, she sighed. The kiss alone was exhilarating.

She intertwined her fingers in his hair, letting out a soft moan against his lips. His lips tasted sweet, it was a taste she'd never experienced, but she liked it-- loved it, even.

When she pulled away, it was strange to not be gasping for breath. If she were human, she would have been.

She smiled back at him again with loving eyes, "Carlisle." She was surprised by her own voice, it was clear and seemingly perfect in every way. Carlisle watched in admiration as she experienced these things as if for the first time.

She looked back at him, "I sound…"

"Beautiful," he finished with a smile, "as always."

He kissed her again, wrapping his arms more securely around her as he stood, setting her on her feet as he pulled away. He grabbed her hand, guiding her to the bathroom connected to his room, despite him not needing to use it.

Carlisle pulled her in front of the mirror, his arms wrapping around her waist from behind and his head lying in the crook of her neck. She held his arms around her, locking her fingers with his as she stared at her reflection.

It seemed as though all of her imperfections before had been corrected, painting this perfect version of herself that actually seemed to compliment Carlisle now.

Her skin was smooth like silk, her hair was styled to perfection, despite the mess it was in, her crimson eyes were deep but they shone like stars. Even if they were yet to be the honey gold of Carlisle's eyes, they were still strangely appealing to gaze into.

She had always felt like she didn't look right next to him, she felt out of sorts. He seemed like a perfect sculpture carved from the most divine marble while she was a jugged wood carving placed next to him.

Now she looked as flawless as she did, she felt like she finally completed this perfect pair they seemed to form.

She turned her attention to Carlisle, his eyes trained on her face as she looked at him through the mirror. She smiled at him, turning in his arms to lay a hand on his cheek.

She went to kiss him again, but was suddenly distracted by a burning in her throat that made her reach to touch it. Carlisle nodded lightly, "You need to feed."

She sighed softly and nodded, taking his hand in hers and allowing him to lead her out of the house. As they walked downstairs hand in hand, the Cullens were all downstairs waiting.

She paused next to Carlisle, moving her free hand to hold their intertwined hands. She felt strange under their looks like this, like there was something wrong with her. She tensed under the eyes, a strange feeling rising in her as she grew anxious. There was this strange instinct in her that made her feel threatened, thus moving her to be hostile.

But before these instincts could properly kick in, they were smiling at her and rushing over to give her hugs. She was startled for a moment when Alice rushed into her arms happily, slightly squealing at her. She settled and hugged her back, eventually exchanging hugs with everyone in the coven before getting a giant bear hug from Emmett-- and she expected nothing less than that.

They gave her a proper welcome into the coven, expressing how happy they were that she was alright. Before she could strike up some conversation, Carlisle pulled her away so she could feed. "You can catch up afterwards," he smiled at Y/N.

Y/N found that she wasn't clumsy anymore. It was as if being a vampire cured everything wrong with her and made her this perfect woman. It made her feel like she was actually worth Carlisle's time now. She never said anything before, she didn't feel like it was appropriate to, but she always believed that she was far less than Carlisle. She never believed she was really that valuable, Carlisle's reassurances could only last her for so long.

After teaching Y/N how to properly hunt, they returned home. She was smiling the whole way, happy with her new self as she walked with Carlisle.

A few days passed and Carlisle started to notice she felt a lot happier than she had when she was human. He was curious to know why the change was such a big one, she was brighter, more radiant, as if things were finally working out for her.

One night while everyone was out feeding, Carlisle and Y/N were still at home together. He questioned her, "You're happier than you used to be. Even Jasper can feel the difference."

She shrugged, "I am." The simple response was enough to make Carlisle push on. "Why weren't you this happy before?"

Y/N looked at him, her red eyes staring into his golden ones before she sighed. "I'm different now. Before I was this clumsy, accident-prone, mediocre girl and now I actually feel…strong."

Carlisle took her hand in his, bringing it up to kiss the back of it, "Y/N."

She nodded, "I know, I know. I wasn't mediocre before, and I'm not mediocre now. I'll always be special to you."

He chuckled lightly before licking his lips, "Why did you think you were mediocre?"

She shrugged and sighed, "I mean…you literally look like a perfect specimen, like a beautiful statue. I…didn't. I was unimpressive and boring. But now I'm strong and I'm beautiful and…I'm perfect now."

Carlisle said exactly what she thought he would, but it somehow still managed to hit home with her.

"Y/N," he said, "when you were human, I cherished you for what you were. I still cherish you for what you are. Do you want to know something? The only difference I see between you now and you then are the color of your eyes. You were always beautiful, you were always strong, you were always perfect, and you always will be. To be honest, I do miss the clumsiness."

She chuckled at the last part, kissing his cheek, "Yeah, because arriving at the ER at least once every two weeks was fun."

"It amazed me how much one human could get hurt in a month," he replied, a soft laugh erupting from his chest.

Y/N smiled brightly and sighed. Perhaps she was hard on herself. All of her self-doubt wouldn't disappear in one night, but perhaps it would over her time with Carlisle. He would definitely do everything in his power to make sure she knew her worth.

She leaned over to him, kissing him gently before smiling and telling him genuinely, "I love you, Carlisle."

"I love you," he smiled. He took her face in his hands, kissing her lips softly. She moved so that she was sitting in his lap, happy to be with him, as always.

Carlisle's hands smoothed over her back, his touch was soothing over her skin. She pulled away from his lips, her eyes closed, her mind focused on his hands on her. It was such a soothing and exhilarating feeling. Her skin tingled wherever his hands dragged as he watched her sigh in pleasure.

Her voice was feathery as she spoke, "What's happening?"

His smile was one of adoration, "Your senses are stronger. You can feel every touch, smell every scent, hear every sound, taste every taste, and see every sight on a higher level."

She nodded, "That makes sense." She'd never felt anything like this. But, to be fair, she'd never been in a relationship as close and intimate as with Carlisle-- or anywhere near it.

She leaned forward again, her head in the crook of his neck as she pressed her body against his. "Do it more," she whispered.

And he did. His hand glided over her skin, grazing her up her back, over her shoulders, and down her arms. His hands gripped her, his thumbs brushing her skin, before moving back up her arms and down her sides.

Y/N turned her head and kissed his neck. Carlisle's eyes fluttered closed, his hands grazing down her outer thighs, moving back up and starting over running up her back.

She adjusted herself so she straddled his waist, locking her legs behind him. She loved being this close to him, he always felt so wonderful.

"How do you feel?" He asked her in his honey smooth voice.

She smiled, "Really good." She leaned forward, her hands cupping his face affectionately before kissing him again. He hands supported her back, pulling her impossibly close.

He stood, his arms wrapping around her waist to carry her. Laying her gently on the bed, he kissed her more desperately than he had before. Y/N sighed, moving her arms to wrap around his neck.

With every second, her need for him at that moment became more than just for care. She wanted him, needed him. With every kiss, her carnal need for him grew stronger.

Carlisle didn't need to be a mind reader to know what she was thinking. He whispered into her ear, the words so delicate in the air, "Say the words, and I'm yours."

She moaned lightly, nodding her head before giving him another kiss, "I want you, I want this. Please make me yours."

He smiled, kissing her hastily. His hands moved down her sides, gripping her waist as he pressed his thumbs into them. She grabbed his shirt, initially going to take it off of him before deciding to just rip it from his body completely.

He found that amusing as he allowed the piece of fabric to fall to the floor. He chuckled lightly, shifting her to move farther onto the bed. His hands pulled down her pants eagerly. He let them drop to the floor, kicking them out of his way.

She watched him intently, her eyes clouded with lust. He smiled at her and snuck his hands into her panties, rubbing her clit expertly.

She sucked in a breath, gripping the sheets for dear life as she let out a loud moan. Carlisle couldn't believe his eyes at the sight, it was beautiful, she was beautiful.

His finger moved quickly, applying just the right amount of force. Her legs tightened around his waist, pulling him close to her. He moved back over her and kissed her again, swallowing her moans hungrily.

It was ridiculous how fast he made her reach the edge. She was getting close to meeting her release and all he did was kiss and touch her. If she was this sensitive, she could only imagine what he would feel like inside of her.

She was getting so hot thinking about it.

"Carlisle," she moaned before he stopped his ministrations, he knew how close she was. She whined and he told her in a surprisingly seductive tone, "I love the way you look when you get close, but I don't want you to come yet."

She couldn't believe his words as she looked at him pleadingly. She was so ready for him. She was so ready to feel him.

She reached down his pants, undoing his belt eagerly. His eyes closed momentarily before he looked back at her, his eyes liquid gold as he gazed at her. When she had his pants down, she palmed him through his underwear, moaning lightly.

Carlisle groaned at her contact, kissing her neck and earning a sharp gasp from her. One hand went back to his head, holding him down next to her. Her other hand continued before going to take off his boxers entirely.

She let out a soft sigh when she saw his impressive length. He wasn't small, that was for sure. He let out a sigh of his own before whispering in her ear, "Are you sure?"

She bit her lip, kissing his cheek before telling him, "Carlisle, I love you. I want to share everything with you, especially…"

Carlisle glanced at her after her hesitation. "Especially what?" He asked.

She sucked on her lip before admitting, "Especially my first time."

He shared a long, meaningful look with her. He kissed her again. Despite the disheveled state they were in, the kiss was slow and sensual and managed to convey their love for each other with such depth. When he pulled back, he gave one last look to her before she nodded confidently.

He contained eyed contact with her before sliding inside slowly. She threw her head back, closing her eyes and gasping. She let out a loud exclamation as he buried himself deep within her. He groaned into her skin.

He pulled out slowly until he was left with just the tip inside of her before pushing himself back inside. She wrapped her legs around his waist, so eager to keep him close. "Oh, please," she moaned.

Carlisle sighed, a sound so full of pleasure at hearing her voice pleaded for him like she was. His excitement exploded, he had to try and control himself.

Carlisle's breath picked up, he tried to keep himself on as much control as possible, doing his best to keep from pistoning in her.

However, when she got used to his impressive size, tightening her grip around his neck. "Oh, yes," she sighed, "More. Please, Carlisle, more."

He almost lost it when she said his name in such a way. He didn't realize just how much power she had over him until she moaned his name in her plea. He obliged to her pleas and his thrusts became faster and harder.

Her sounds filled the room and his sounds began to mix with hers from his excitement. She could feel a knot in her stomach as she felt herself getting closer to her release.

She cursed under her breath, moaning his name in his ear. Carlisle could feel her squeezing around him, which only spurred him on as his thrusts became more erratic. Her moans, her cries, her pleas, they were so seductively precious to him. He wanted to pull them from her night after night. He wanted to have her forever.

"I'm so close," she whispered, her mouth hanging open as she moaned out.

"I know," he said, "I can feel you."

She smiled, panting heavily as Carlisle thrusted into her so deliciously. He was getting so close, he was just at the edge of his release.

She sighed, the words sending them both over the edge with such force, "I love you, Carlisle."

They gasped, holding their breath as they finally reached their sweet release together. Y/N intertwined her fingers with his, kissing him deeply as she moaned into his mouth.

They chased their highs together, the feeling so intense, so euphoric, so exhilarating.

When they finally started to come down, he eased her through it. Their breaths mingled as they pulled away from the kiss. Carlisle pulled out of her. He brushed a thumb against her cheek, pulling her into another kiss.

She smiled, holding him impossibly close to her. When they pulled back from the kiss, Carlisle whispered, "I love you."

#carlisle cullen #carlisle cullen x reader #carlisle cullen x you #carlisle cullen x fem!reader #cullen #twilight #twilight fanfiction #twilight series #twilight x you #fanfiction #fanfic #carlisle x reader

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bubble-tea-bunny · 3 years ago

Text

dive into you

[bennett x reader]

author’s note: lil fic for bestest boy benny inspired by the song by nct dream and the summer season :’)

word count: 3,600

There’s a bakery opposite of Angel’s Share, just across the cobblestone road, and every morning the smell of freshly baked bread wafts from its open double doors, ready to welcome patrons and the crisp air of the early hours. Bennett has easily fallen into the routine of making this his first stop of the day. When he wakes, eyes slow to open and greeted by little squares of light on the ceiling of his bedroom from the sunlight shining through the window, he swears he can already smell that bread and the pastries and the care put into each one. He doesn’t often find it in him to be lazy, to be sluggish this early, for a new day was a new promise of adventure, and whether he’s swept along by the wind to the wilds or to the bakery, it’s an adventure all the same.

He always picks out food for his dads. He considers carefully what they might like to have (some prefer to have the same each time, others don’t mind the variety and like to be surprised), and carefully, slowly he fills the tray. Usually it isn’t busy during the time he’s there, but he doesn’t want to take risks as he holds it securely with both hands whenever he’s perusing the selection. Even if there were no people to bump into, with his luck, he might bump into one of the displays in the middle of the shop instead, consequence of paying more attention to the shelves against the wall where there are loaves baked into fun shapes like fish or crabs, rather than to what’s in front of him. He’d hate to drop everything on his tray and waste it.

Sometimes the bakery keeps the doors closed, and while uncommon, it’s nothing unusual. On these occasions, the entry of each customer is announced by the small bell jingling just overhead. It’s the only sound in the shop, ringing several times in the past ten minutes but it’s mere background noise, easily ignored, as Bennett absorbs himself in choosing what to buy today.

“Good morning!”

Bennett’s hand freezes just above a loaf of bread that looks like a bear and he glances behind him to the counter because the sound of your bubbly voice, conversely, is much more difficult to ignore. Though to be fair, to him, you’re no mere background noise.

You’re carrying a basket of more loaves just taken from the oven, half of them regularly shaped into circles and the other half like turtles, and grin at the customers who have just walked in. He watches you make your way over to a shelf several feet away from him to arrange the bread, and he stares long enough that you’ve taken notice. Your smile is bright and reaches your eyes, and he’s embarrassed to have been caught. His cheeks grow warm and you can probably see the dusting of red across his face, a speculation which doesn’t help alleviate this embarrassment one bit.

“Good morning, Bennett,” you greet him, more quietly since he’s closer.

He likes when you say his name, and it never fails to make his heart skip a beat and he stutters out an O-Oh, um… as if surprised that you’re talking to him, much less that you know who he is. It shouldn’t take him off guard that you know, considering how often he comes to the bakery, so he supposes it has more to do with the fact that he can’t believe his name should be spoken by a voice as gentle as yours, honeyed tones like the softly plucked notes of the Holy Lyre der Himmel.

Finally he musters an equally quiet Good morning in response, smiling back but he’s certain it looks more like a cringe, owed to his nerves. If it does, you don’t point it out, and simply return to your task. Only when another patron comes up to Bennett’s other side, muttering a pardon as they grab a loaf from the shelf he’s standing in front of, does he break his gaze from you. His hand that had been hovering above the bread that whole time he drops back down to his side, and he scoots to make room with another stutter and a sorry.

You’re back behind the counter when Bennett is ready to pay. The pile of bread, cake slices, sandwiches, and other miscellaneous pastries had in the past led you to ask him if these were snacks for the road, for you’d guessed him to be an adventurer doing commissions for the guild by the sword at his side. He’d chuckled and explained his actual purpose for buying as much as he did, and your grin had widened, and if he wasn’t imagining things, you’d been extra careful when packing every treat.

I’m sure they’ll really appreciate your gesture, you’d said. That’s sweet of you. And it’s not frequently that events in the course of his life run smoothly, but that day they had, and with no falter in his words he remarks it’s thanks to you, for you’re the reason there’s anything to bring back to his dads in the first place. You’d laughed and his chest tightened and he thinks that’s the point where he started to fall (to where, he hesitated to state exactly). But in any case, it was true—without you, there was no bakery filled to the brim with delicious food, and if he had anything to say about that, Mondstadt would be worse off for it.

This morning, Bennett is digging around his wallet for the appropriate amount of Mora while you pack what he’d picked out. Having gone through this process many times prior, he knows approximately how much it should cost.

“Ah—”

A few coins slip from his hand and clatter to the wooden floor, and he bends to pick them up. But on the way down, his head knocks into the tray that he neglected to push all the way onto the countertop, so part of it still stuck out. You blink in surprise at the jostling of the tray and his subsequent Ouch!, muffled because he’s obscured by the counter.

“Are you okay?” You sound genuinely worried, but to Bennett the accident had been no big deal. At least none of the food had fallen.

“Yeah,” he assures you. He’s still trying to gather up the stray Mora, fingers failing to get a proper grip on them and he huffs in slight exasperation. His face once more is burning from the embarrassment of being so clumsy. He’s clumsy around everyone, and it’s something he has long since come to accept, but it matters a lot more when it’s you.

Finally he stands back up, the money clutched in his fist victoriously. “Yeah!” he repeats now that you can hear him clearly. “It’s no big deal.”

For a second you don’t quite believe him, but it’s hard to argue with that smile on his face. There’s no pain he’s trying to hide (embarrassment, on the other hand, is a different issue entirely).

Upon handing him his package you tell him you’ll see him tomorrow and he feels sort of special because you don’t say it to anyone else. To others, you say Thank you, come again! but you know his routine and you know to expect him at the same time each morning. Judging by the look in your eyes and the sound of your voice when you see and greet him, you anticipate his visit every time, and his heart wants to soar out from the confines of his chest upon this realization and he is exhilarated. The wind and the new day have fulfilled their promise of an adventure, and the clock hasn’t even struck noon.

One day you’re a little distracted, focused on a paper in your hand as Bennett approaches the counter with his tray of baked goods. For the most part, your face gives nothing away, but then your brows furrow slightly, a subtle action he doesn’t miss, and he proceeds to ask if anything is wrong. He asks it kindly, keeps his tone neutral, wordlessly conveying that you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. He would hate to pry.

You purse your lips, pausing like you’re caught between saying yes and no. He waits patiently for whichever one it might be.

“I ran out of sugar and had been meaning to make more,” you start, opting to share with him what’s been troubling you.“I bought out Flora’s stock of sweet flowers but it wasn’t enough, so I may have to set aside time to pick more myself later.”

The mention of heading outside of the city makes Bennett perk up, for he never turns down a chance to go exploring. He’s about to offer to do it for you, but it’s the thought of possibly going with you instead that makes him hold back and rephrase his question.

“This afternoon?” he inquires, head tilting. You nod, and up until now he’d felt confident in the offer he was going to present, but then his nerves get the better of him and it doesn’t come out quite the way he was hoping. “I-I could go with you! You know, if you want! To protect you… Just in case…” He trails off and he wants to go hide in a hole. There are few other ways this could have gone worse.

You don’t answer right away, and he regrets having said anything at all, but your beautiful smile soon follows the silence and it sets his mind at ease, and you agree with a concise and cheery Sure! Well, at least the worst way this could have gone had not come to pass. It was the small victories for Bennett—just as important as the big ones. The next challenge would be to avoid making a fool of himself out there, in what should be his natural element; he does want to impress you. But that’s a big ask for someone like him…

Both of you agree to meet at the front gate in the late afternoon. By then, the traffic in the bakery is slow enough that you’re able to step away earlier than the normal closing time. You’ve changed into clothes more appropriate for walking around: in lieu of a dress, your typical work attire, you sport a tunic and trousers you don’t mind dirtying. The trousers are tailored to fit properly but the tunic is a tad big, the sleeves a bit too long, but Bennett thinks you look cute in it. A basket hangs on your forearm and you wave as you walk up to him.

“I hope you haven’t been waiting too long,” you say.

Bennett shakes his head. “Not long at all.” Technically the agreed upon meeting time was only five minutes ago, so you aren’t very late. Though he does refrain from sharing that he’d arrived early, in fear that he could end up late somehow and you would be the one who had to wait. Really, it’s been more like fifteen minutes for him, but he just keeps quiet about that.

One of the nice things about summer is that the sun sets later. There’s still a sufficient amount of light to illuminate the fields as you walk around in search of sweet flowers. At first, the extent of your conversation is discussing where you might be able to find a high concentration of them, then silence filled with the sifting of grass beneath your shoes and the occasional exclamation of having spotted a flower to be picked and tucked away in your basket.

Honestly, walking with you around the wilds of Mondstadt hadn’t been anywhere on Bennett’s list to do today, or any day really, not until he could muster the courage to invite you out like this, and who knew when that might be. Your need for sweet flowers had dropped the opportunity right into his lap, and thankfully he hadn’t squandered it. But now he’s at a loss as to what to talk about; he didn’t think he’d ever get this far.

Maybe you sense his struggle to come up with a topic of conversation because you’re the one to speak up, asking about his adventures and the commissions he takes. Done anything exciting recently?

Bennett’s eyes light up, a reaction which you can't help but smile at, and he regales you of the goings-on of his latest missions. He omits the instances where his clumsiness had made things more difficult (of which there were many), but each story is still truthful. Most of his commissions the past month hadn’t been anything too bold—after a mission that involved nearly getting himself trapped in a ruin due to solving a puzzle wrong then getting food poisoning on top of that from the snack he’d prepped that day, he’s been choosing jobs that he knows he’s more capable of.

To him, they aren’t too exciting, and in the larger scope of things, perhaps they aren’t, but you don’t seem to think that as you hang on each word. You’re absorbed in his story about trying to dismantle towers in a hilichurl camp, and gasp at the mention of their reinforcements coming to attack in the midst of it. Wow, you remark after he finishes his recounting of the event. You’re amazing, Bennett!

His heart does a flip again at the sound of his name and he shrugs offhandedly. He’s not inclined to think so, but your awed comment is sincere and has him reconsidering: yeah, that was pretty cool of him, wasn’t it? For all his clumsiness, he doesn’t often see the feats for what they are, accompanied by blunders or not, but you’re the fresh perspective he’d been missing, and he wishes you’d stepped into his life sooner.

The entirety of your outing together has thus far been free of any monsters, but as soon as Bennett makes this observation it’s like the universe has heard: hydro slimes suddenly pop out from the ground, halting you in your tracks. You squeak in surprise and Bennett is quick to shift into a fighting stance, knees slightly bent and one arm out in front of you protectively.

“Just stay there!” he instructs before drawing his sword and rushing forward.

Luckily there aren’t many slimes to fight off, and they aren’t very big. His sword cuts through them easily, cleanly. They burst and spray water upon being sliced apart, so at the end, when they’re all dead, the only evidence they had been there to begin with is the slight dampness to his clothes and the squish of dirt turned to mud. With a sigh of triumph, Bennett resumes a relaxed stance, then sheathes his weapon and turns to you.

As instructed, you’ve stayed in place, but it seems to have been more out of being frozen in fear than anything else. You’re clutching your basket close, and once the slimes are gone, you follow Bennett’s lead and relax, shoulders releasing the tension they had been filled with for the duration of that fight. You let out a deep exhale of relief, hand placed over your heart which has yet to slow back down to its normal pace.

“Thank you.”

Bennett flashes a toothy grin and waves his hand as if to say It’s not a problem. “That’s what I’m here for isn’t it?”

You smile back. “I’m glad we went together.”

Together. He likes the sound of that. He thinks to himself that he’d go with you to other places too; you need only to give the word. To the edge of this world, and through a portal to the next? He’d meet you by the front gate at dawn.

He’s surprised that the encounter with those slimes had gone as smoothly as it had. It isn’t uncommon for him to get hit a few times, bruises quick to form on his arms or his legs. And it’s quite the run of luck, of which he’s ordinarily in short supply, that he should get through a fight with nary a scratch on him while with you. His efforts to impress are actually succeeding.

However, this is another case of speaking too soon, because he starts to walk back to you, but then his foot gets caught on a rock concealed by the tall grass, and he tumbles to the ground.

“Oof!”

His chest collides with the earth as he lands with a thud and the breath is stolen from his lungs. You gasp and close the gap between you, and in viewing you in his peripherals, he notes that you are much more graceful at it.

“Are you all right?”

Bracing his hands on the dirt, small bits of rock digging into his palms, Bennett pushes himself up to sit on his knees. “Yeah, I’m okay!” Here he thought he had handled himself perfectly well, but then just like that, his clumsiness returned, and once more before you he is awkward, blundering Bennett.

Unlike the incident at the bakery when he’d bumped his head into the tray, this fall had actually hurt, and he can’t hide it successfully, a slight wince of pain crossing his face in spite of his smile. Even if you hadn’t caught on to that, the injuries elsewhere on his body give it away completely.

“Your arms are all scraped up…” After Bennett stands back up, you gingerly take hold of his forearm and angle it to examine the scrapes there, thin red lines from tiny stones tearing the skin.

Your grip is light, like you’re scared to injure him further, and Bennett is thankful for the darkness that is setting in as the sun disappears and the moon begins its trek across the sky, for it conceals the way his cheeks redden to be this close to you, to be touched by you. The concern in your gaze as you look at his arm makes his chest squeeze but not in the good way, and he bends his knees slightly to duck into your line of view.

“Don’t worry! I’m fine.” And it’s true. He’s sustained worse, though he steers clear of sharing this part. He doesn’t like to see you worried.

He straightens up when you finally meet his eyes and dons his smile again, easy and reassuring. It seems to convince you, as you nod and let go. He drops his arm back down to his side but he’s already missing the feather-light sensation of your fingertips. Successfully reassured, your smile also returns, replacing the thin line of worry that your lips had previously been set in.

It’s dark now but the air is still warm, a consequence of the season. In the daytime the heat is more extreme, made even more so by the fire curling from the edge of his sword. At the conclusion of whatever commission he has taken, he’s left sweating, satisfied but exhausted. Missions in the summer are more difficult to get through, the sun beating down with little mercy and its heat lingering into the night, but he thinks that if he were to have you there with him, he’d hardly notice.

Your delicate gaze is the cool ocean breeze and your soft smile the deluge of waves washing over him, a force he receives gladly because he is falling into you, deeper into the expanse of your heart. He’s diving into the sea, the unbearable heat of summer long forgotten as he makes his way to the bottom. What he hopes to find he isn’t sure, but he’d be content to remain there forever, consumed by you and all the love you have to offer.

“Okay?” he asks, voice soft. You had nodded but he also wants verbal confirmation that you won’t burden yourself with worry anymore.

You catch on to his own need for reassurance, and he wants to sink into the refreshing fondness of your eyes as you watch him. “Okay.”

The moon up above illuminates your face, and he wants to run his fingers along all the parts it touches: the line of your cheekbones, the bridge of your nose, the cupid’s bow of your lips. He yearns to be closer to you than that moonlight adorning your skin, and maybe it’s strange that he should be envious of it, of that light which has the privilege to hold you so near, but the feelings he has for you are what’s written about in books, and in those stories, people do tend to do strange things.

In the morning, he stops by the bakery as usual but this time is surprised when you set a cake down alongside the other baked goods he buys. You answer his question before he can voice it.

“For yesterday,” you state simply. “For my hero.”

Your—?

“I think ‘hero’ is too strong a word for it,” Bennett replies, chuckling quietly and rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. After all, they had just been slimes.

You hum noncommittally, corner of your mouth lifted in a grin. “Maybe, but yesterday you were mine. So please take this as thanks.”

He’d like to be yours every day, and the thought of how nice that would be makes his whole world just a little brighter, like the crystal butterflies fluttering around him in the wild on the warm summer nights; and he hopes that the next adventure the wind guides him on leads straight back to you.

#bennett x reader #bennett imagine #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagine #bennett #genshin impact #bubble-tea-bunny #queue

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gointothevvater · 3 years ago

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One year later

I'm giving Magnus and St. Cecilia a happy ending as a birthday present to myself! As the title suggests, this takes place one year post-Doomstar, and also, it is the corniest most self-indulgent schlock ever (Affectionate)

"You remember this was just for the insurance, right?" Magnus stood at the long granite counter in St. Cecilia's kitchen, watching her repot one of her many, many plants.

She said, "I remember."

He watched her work for a moment, dirt under her long black-painted nails, before he said, softly, "I don't think I believe that anymore."

St. Cecilia's hands stilled, one of them wrapped carefully around the roots of a pretty African violet. Then she said, as if trying to suppress laughter, "I never did."

Magnus rolled his eyes at her, crossing his arms and bending to rest them against the edge of the counter. "You're better at this emotional shit than I am," he said, and to his surprise, there was no bitterness in his voice. It wasn't a dig, it was a simple fact.

"Hey, now," she shot back, her pretty golden eyes flitting over to him even as she carefully set the plant in its new pot. "You're getting a lot better at it!"

He was. He had been in therapy for nearly a year now, and though it was slow going, there was definite improvement happening.

Her hands busying themselves in a big ivory pot better suited to the violet's recent growth, patting the dirt down around it, St. Cecilia said , "I'm really proud of you, Mags."

God, was she trying to kill him? Though she praised him often, he was never going to get used to it. Magnus choked on a little sound he couldn't even identify, stepping behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist, burying his face in her silvery hair. He was hiding, and he knew it, and he knew she knew it, too.

There was a window above the counter, and on the sill sat her wedding ring, sparkling in the rare sunlight that was pouring over London. He'd sold three songs to British punk bands to pay for it, and he was proud of himself for it. Maybe not as proud as she was of him, but it was something. St. Cecilia may have been making more money than him, but he was no kept man, and that, too, was something. His matching wedding band weighed heavy on his hand.

Softly, St. Cecilia asked, "Magnus? What were you saying earlier?"

"It wasn't just for the insurance," he said again, though he could go no further. He'd never been able to put to words how he felt, the words sticking in his throat. She knew, he hoped. God, he hoped she knew. She deserved to know. "It was never about the insurance."

She lifted her hands to rest them over his. There was dirt under her nails. He didn't mind. She said, "I know." She glanced at him over her shoulder, her gaze catching his. "You know, I told myself I was doing it because I wanted to keep you close so you couldn't hurt anyone else." The confession felt like a knife to the heart, and Magnus shuddered at the familiar pain. "But honestly, I just couldn't bear the thought of losing you again."

"You never lost me." It was true. Even down in the sickly greenish shadows of the Depths of Humanity, she rarely left his mind. It was corny as fuck, and he had hated himself for it. He bent his head, pressing his lips to the curve of her shoulder, and she shivered.

She sighed, then turned in the circle of his arms, her head tilted back so she could look him in the face as best she could. She was so tiny, so delicate, and she was his. Was it wrong to think of her as his most precious possession? Because she was, whether that was wrong or not. "I understand why there are certain things you can't say," she said, her hands braced on his forearms, her touch warm and familiar. "But I--"

He cut her off with a simple, albeit soft, hesitant, "I love you."

He'd never seen her eyes get so big. She asked, breathless, "Really?"

He opened his mouth to tell her, yes, really, he had never been so certain of anything in all his life, but she pulled him down for a kiss before he could even say it.

#god this is so cheesy i am an awful ridiculous i can fix him type person urgh #magnus hammersmith #Metalocalypse #mtl oc #metalocalypse oc #st. cecilia jameson #my mtl

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imkylotrash · 4 years ago

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Black And White (2)

Pairing: Saul Silva x reader

Summary: Farah discloses an uncomfortable truth concerning the Burned Ones leading you to fear for Saul’s life.

Tagging: @grey-girl @anreeixcobra @kingunder221b @lflores2008 @alexiapayne12 @quuenofblacks @quarterback-5 @bitchwhytho @estelmei @music-of-melody

Series Masterlist

A/N I know this isn’t exactly what happens in the series but I have to change it a little to make it work with the plot.

“Fuck.” You have no idea how to tell Saul without telling Dowling too but it’s clear that he hasn’t spotted it.

“Thank you for seeing me this late. I want your perspective before I do anything,” Dowling says making you realise that this might just be something serious. For a second, you forget about the piece of evidence dangling off the chair instead listening in on the conversation.

“Of course. What’s going on, Farah?” Saul asks concern evident in his voice.

“The Burned Ones. Marco’s team found a whole group.” You furrow your brows wondering why this is so important to discuss with Saul right this instance. The Burned Ones have always been a concern and part of the reason why Saul insists on training the specialists so hard but when you think about it, you’ve never gotten that much information on the Burned Ones.

“A group? How many?” Saul asks clearly as worried as Dowling.

“Eight. Maybe more.”

“They’ve never done that before. They never hunt together,” Saul says revealing the reason why they’re so worried. A change in behaviour like this definitely means something. When Dowling starts moving further into the room, you remember the bra hanging off the chair. It’s only a moment of time before they’ll head for the chairs.

“Shit,” you whisper under your breath knowing that the only way to solve this is getting Saul’s attention but you’re too worried about what you just heard to think clearly. Very slowly you push the door to the closet slightly open cringing when you hear it creak. They both look towards the closet but Saul recovers quickly.

“Sorry about that. I’ve been meaning to get that door fixed.” He hurries over to close the door giving you the chance to whisper bra. He looks back spotting it immediately. You feel like you can finally breathe when he manages to grab the bra and throw it in the bin. But then Dowling sits down and starts talking.

“We haven’t seen a Burned One for sixteen years. Not since Rosalind was here. And now they’re back seemingly stronger. I fear for what that means.” There aren’t many who can hunt Burned Ones. Specialists have been trained to do so but practicing is very different from being out there. You remember Saul telling you about his father one night and the story has haunted you ever since.

“We’ll do a search party tomorrow,” Saul insures her in turn striking you with fear. You know he’s one of the best there is for haunting them but it’s also been almost two decades since he had to do it last. He’s a great fighter but he’s also not as young as he once was. You know he’ll never agree to you going with him but how are you meant to stay here when he’s out risking his life?

“Marco is returning tonight with what’s left of his group,” Dowling sighs covering her face with her hands. Ever since you could remember, you’d been told just how dangerous the Burned Ones are and now Saul will lead to search for them. Just the thought of it chills you to the bones. It takes everything you have to not just burst out and forbid him from leaving but you know you can’t do that. Instead you wait patiently for her to leave for the night and Saul to open the door once it’s safe.

“You can’t go out there tomorrow.” It’s the first thing you say when you’re finally alone with him and apparently, he expected it.

“I have to! I can’t send my soldiers out there and stay behind the barrier. I wouldn’t be able to look at myself.” In any other situation, you’d commend him for his loyalty to the soldiers but right now you want to chain him to the bed and make sure no harm comes to him.

“I know that! But what if you get hurt?” You didn’t mean for this to turn into a fight but you’re already on edge and the fact that he’s not meeting you with more of a reassurance just add fuel to the fire.

“That’s a possibility every day. If anyone should understand that, it’s you!” It’s true. You’re a specialist yourself and you know that danger is present every single day with this job but it’s different when it’s Saul. Logically, you know you wouldn’t think twice about it if it were anyone else going out there tomorrow. You might even volunteer.

“I understand the danger. It’s the reason I’m worried about you. I can’t lose you too.” You cover your mouth in shock from your own outburst. Your father never returned from the forest leaving you to fend for yourself and now you had to watch Saul head into the very forest that stole your father from you.

“You won’t lose me. I’m coming back for you.” He reaches out to touch you and you let him.

“You don’t know that,” you say choking back tears. He gently grabs you by the waist and pulls you towards him.

“I promise you I’m coming back,” he whispers kissing your forehead. He gives you a minute to just breathe before gently placing two fingers under your chin to tilt your head up.

“You can’t promise something like that, Saul. No one can.” Images of your father leaving the house that morning flashes before your eyes proving that even with the best intentions, it doesn’t always go the way you intended.

“I can promise I’m coming back because I’ll need this back when I do.” He holds out his ring to you. It was his father’s ring and in the time you’ve known Saul he’s never taken it off. Carefully, he unlocks your necklace and adds the ring to the chain before closing the lock again. The metal feels cold against your chest even though he just took it off.

“I will be coming back for this. And for you.” This time you don’t argue. Instead you kiss him trying to convey all your feelings for him through it. You don’t much sleep that night and as you get ready for the day, the feeling of his ring against your skin feels like a constant reminder of what’s about to happen.

“It’s time,” he says giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“A kiss for good luck,” you say giving him several kisses before finally letting him go. By the door he stops to look at you a final time and even with his promise of returning, you can’t help but feel like this is a goodbye.

“I’m coming back for that ring,” he says trying to convince you as much as himself.

“I know.” You stand by the window in his room watching the group of specialists cross the barrier and head into the forest. In an attempt to clear your head, you make a beeline for the training rooms. There’s no one there giving you the chance to work off some steam without anyone asking questions. It’s several hours later before you finally collapse knowing you won’t be able to move tomorrow. You don’t even notice that your necklace has slipped out from under your shirt before Terra comments on it at dinner. You meant to just grab a plate with food and hide in your room but of course, it’s not that easy to remain anonymous.

“Hello. My father told me to tell you to meet him in the greenhouse this weekend. He has some new mix of herbs to show you.” Expanding your knowledge of herbs and natural medicine has been a private project with Ben Harvey and a reason why you and Terra have gotten to know each other over the years despite her being a first year.

“Right. I’ll stop by,” you reply not paying much attention.

“That’s a pretty necklace. I feel like I’ve seen that ring before,” she comments and you freeze. At last, you realise that you can’t feel the metal against your skin. If Terra realises that the ring is Saul’s, you know the whole school will know tomorrow. As much as you hate lying to her, it’s necessary to keep your relationship with Saul hidden. You tell yourself that lying is okay when you’ll be able to tell her the truth in a couple of weeks.

“My mother sent it to me. It was my fathers,” you reply hoping that the mentioning of your dead father will shut her up long enough for you to make your escape.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to pry,” Terra quickly says properly feeling horrible about mentioning it but definitely not as horrible as you feel. Lying right to her face somehow seems worse than keeping you and Saul’s relationship hidden.

“It’s fine. I’m just really tired so I’ll get to bed.” You don’t wait for her reply as you hurry off to your room. It’s tiny but right now you’re happy that you have it to yourself rather than suites like the fairies. That night you try your best to fall asleep but nightmares of Saul and your father torments you. Clutching the ring in your hand you tell yourself over and over that Saul will return to you. This is not where your story ends.

#saul silva blurb #saul silva x reader #saul silva gif #saul silva imagine #saul silva #fate the winx club #fate the winx saga #fate winx club #winx saga #winx club #fate winx #fate

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 4 years ago

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Still Like the Letters in Your Name and How They Feel, Babe | Five Hargreeves

✦ pairing — Five Hargreeves x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 3.4k

✦ modern AU

✦ loosely based on the song Still Feel Like Your Man by John Mayer.

✦ summary — you get snowed in with your ex-boyfriend.

✦ warnings — angst, mentions of alcohol, language, fluff, dry humping.

✦ author’s note — the lovely @ohdangitsjay wanted me to write dry humping with Five for kinktober but the slot was taken already so I decided to add some of it here.

════════════════════════

Parties weren’t Five’s thing, much less work parties. He would have skipped the event if he hadn’t gotten a promotion less than four months ago.

He always sat on his own, not interested in his coworkers’ lives. He knew more than he needed already, not only because of their loose tongues but because they were open books.

He would’ve rather been at his place, alone like he had been spending his time for the past months.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to get close to you.”

Five lifted his head out of courtesy, he had recognized his coworker’s voice immediately. She was pretty, he could admit that, but he had read her intentions months ago and he wasn’t interested. “Mmhmm. I know.”

“I’d like to get to know you.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

He felt buzzing in his pants and he didn’t know whether to thank whoever was calling or kill them for bothering him now. Lifting a hand so the woman in front of him wouldn’t speak furthermore, he withdrew his cellphone from his pocket.

Vanya’s photo almost blinded him. He cursed — he hadn’t lowered the screen brightness like a fucking idiot.

Excusing himself, he pushed his way out of the venue. Letting the phone ring in his grasp, allowing himself to take in a deep breath of fresh air, he stood under the cold night.

Vanya insisted which confused him, she always knew when to stop bothering him. And that night, even his coworker insisted. He shook his head as he saw her walk out of the venue, wrapped in her coat.

Taking the call just to avoid her, he grunted, “What?” He pinched the bridge of his nose as Vanya explained that she needed him to pick you up from a bar. Thinking the worst, he exhaled, “I’ll be there in ten.”

“Leaving so soon?”

“Not soon enough, it seems.” He dropped his phone in his coat this time. His coworker’s expression of hurt didn’t faze him, but he still explained himself, “Look, you’re not the problem, it’s just that I know your intentions and I’m taken.”

Five had never wished a lie he had told was true until now. He wasn’t taken anymore, but he was still yours, at least he felt like that. He’d never find another you, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to start looking either.

Tugging his car open, he withdrew his cellphone from his coat and slid into the driver seat. Five introduced the key into the clutch, yet he didn’t ignite the engine.

He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, considering the option of turning his phone off and coming up with an excuse days later. But he didn’t have it in him, not this time when he had a chance to see you — so many days after the morning you left.

The quicker he got it over with, the quicker he would be able to drown himself in alcohol to pretend it hadn’t happened.

His sister was already waiting for him near the entrance of the bar. Vanya turned her head to the side. Five followed the movement with his eyes and ultimately you came into vision. Only you would wear a dress in this weather, always claiming you never got cold.

He knew it wasn’t true, but you were stubborn. His siblings often said he wouldn’t have been so smitten if you weren’t as stubborn and they were right, he liked the challenge. And although he would never admit this out loud, he liked giving in to your stubbornness. He missed it.

You hadn’t realized he was there, head on your friend’s shoulder as they all talked. He could tell how drunk you were just by the lazy position of your hand on your lap.

“Why can’t you take her home?”

“No, God, no! You misunderstood what I said, Five. I need you to take her with you.”

Five gave his sister an incredulous look, hoping she was joking. When he realized Vanya was serious, he shook his head. “You know she hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you. Besides, she’s drunk out of her mind, she might hug you instead of breaking your nose.”

He glared at her. Although his nose was more than fine, that punch hurt.

“Please? For me? I haven’t spent enough time with Sissy in weeks.”

“Too much information, Vanya!” he chastised, shaking his head as he walked past his sister.

It bordered on cruel, having you so close and knowing you would’ve been against it if you knew he was there.

Vanya placed a hand on his shoulder, not reassuring whatsoever as he defeatedly sighed. Only the two of you could convince him to do anything, and his sister still used it to her advantage.

He stood before you and your friends. Chatter died, you didn’t react. His eyes crossed your closest friend’s after Vanya, and as she nodded downward he understood that everybody thought you would be safer with him.

“Come on, (Name),” he said softly, hoping you wouldn’t make a scene.

You turned your head to the side, facing him. His breath faltered. Frowning, you just stared, mind too hazy to come up with a question to blurt even though a few crossed it.

How was work? Did Grace like the jacket you got for her? Are we going home soon?

He nudged his head to the side, signaling toward the exit. “Come on, you’ve got things to do tomorrow.”

Your friends tensed at his comment, but he didn’t think much of the gesture.

Sissy handed him your coat, watching him carefully. Five held the coat for you to slide your arms in, and out of habit helped you to fold it close and button it up.

You interlocked your arm with his, head lulling toward his shoulder. Vanya shoved your purse into his chest, prompting him to hold it in his hand as he gave her a final nod in goodbye.

════════════════════════

You woke up in an all too familiar room. Absolutely nothing had changed, the walls were the same blue walls you had stared at for hours as you waited for someone who cared more about their job than their girlfriend to get back from work.

By the looks of it, Five had been so busy that he didn't even have time to get rid of things you had gifted him. They were in the place they had been the last time you visited him — books stacked up, music records leaned against the other... the painting you had helped him choose still hung over his desk.

“Ah, you’re awake." His voice made you jump. "Coffee? An aspirin?”

You shuffled, pushing the duvet off your body in order to leave the bed. “Why am I here?”

The cold floor made you shiver. You searched for your shoes, looking down as you inwardly cursed yourself for wearing a dress when Vanya told you not to.

“You don’t remember going out last night? Vanya called me.” He tilted his head as he asked, frowning.

“Yes,” you deadpanned, slipping your shoes on before lifting your head to look at him. “But why didn’t you take me home?”

He winced. “Well, Vanya needed the apartment to herself.”

Dragging your eyes off him, not able to look at his face for too long, you whined, ”Unbelievable! She ditched me to get some pussy!”

Realizing your purse had been on the bed all this time, you popped it open and withdrew your phone. You looked at the time and your eyes widened. “Fuck, fuck. I’ll be late!”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Your gaze snapped in his direction. He looked so serious that it made your blood boil. “Excuse me? Who do you think you are to tell me what to do?”

He groaned. “We’re snowed in, idiot.”

“No, no, no... this can’t be happening. Not to me. Not today.” You stood by the window and peered out. He hadn’t lied, the streets were covered in white as snow, which was still falling, piled up. You would’ve found the scenery gorgeous if you weren’t so stressed. “FUCK!”

Only you had such bad luck... getting snowed in with your ex-boyfriend today from all days.

“I’m sure your mom will understand,” he tried to assure you.

In any other instance you would’ve found it sweet that he remembered you visited your mom every Saturday, or that he was trying to comfort you.

You corrected him, “I have a date today.”

“Oh.”

Unlocking your cellphone, you scrolled down your contact list. Your finger hovered over the call button. What would you say? ‘Hey, I’m sorry I can’t meet up with you today, I’m stuck in my ex-boyfriend’s apartment’?

Seeing your exasperation as you went through your phone, he painfully said, “Don’t be dramatic, your date must understand you can’t control the weather.”

“We had been putting this off for a while,” you confided him like you used to when he was your best friend, back when he hadn’t broken your heart yet and he still had time for you. “He’s so nice and sweet... “ you trailed off before sighing, “I was hoping not to ruin it.”

“Why didn’t Vanya call him if he’s so sweet?” he asked, voice laced with venom. He was challenging you to lie to him.

Honestly, you answered, “I’m guessing she doesn’t trust him.”

A shiver ran through you, prompting you to rub your arms.

Five walked toward his closet and opened the doors. “You left some clothes here, I’m sure you can find something in case you want to take a shower or get changed... ah! Your red sweatshirt is in the laundry room.”

Unable to keep it in, you shrieked, “You lent my clothes to other people?!”

“Don’t be stupid,” he said, no malice in his tone, “I wore it myself.” Turning around, finding it hard to read your expression, he blurted, “Once.”

You did find something to wear, and for the second time that day, you felt as though nothing had changed. Nothing made more sense than having a space for your own clothes in his closet.

You entrenched yourself in the bathroom as soon as possible. Being around him was worse than you ever anticipated, you wanted to be angry and hostile yet you were too emotionally exhausted for that.

Failed interpersonal relationships were your norm. The day you met Vanya you felt as though you were having a friend for the first time; then Five came around and became your best friend, your confidant. Having him around used to be easy, even when you developed feelings for him.

The day you left him was one of the hardest days of your life. You didn’t cry, only numbness enveloped you in a tight grip — a grip you had gotten free from a little too late.

Your friends tried introducing you to people multiple times, but it never worked. It wasn’t because of Five, not entirely, you simply weren’t good with new people. And you missed Five, but that was different.

Missing him had become an afterthought, work kept you busy in the same stupid way it kept him. Guilt never took over you, why would it when you hadn’t neglected anyone because of your job? In fact, you were sure you would get over him soon when work became your priority.

Until a few minutes ago, the illusion had been good. What a sweet lie you told yourself for weeks and weeks.

You regretted entering the shower the second you turned around to grab some shampoo. Tears prickled your eyes the moment they fell on a familiar bottle. It didn’t have any marks of use, not a single gram dripped down the bottle, dry product was nowhere to be seen around the cap.

You confirmed that the bottle was brand new when you tested its weight in your grasp. A sob escaped you. Why would he keep your favorite shampoo in his shower?

You couldn’t bring yourself to use it, so instead, you grabbed Five’s shampoo and squeezed some onto your palm.

After a tear-ridden shower, you quickly got dressed and stood behind the door for a prolonged moment.

A heavy silence greeted you as you stepped into the living room. You had expected the sound of fingers against a keyboard or page flipping, but instead, you found Five slouched over his stomach with a piece of red fabric on his lap.

Feeling your presence, he murmured, “Here.” Five offered you the sweatshirt which you took hesitantly.

“I don’t use that shampoo anymore,” you blurted before you could process the words your entire being was desperate for him to hear.

He hummed, avoiding your face at every cost as he stared past you. He really needed to decorate the living room, at least a little bit. “You found a better one?”

“No,” you mumbled. Sliding the sweatshirt on, you waited for him to say something. Five didn’t, he stayed in the same position until you sat down beside him.

As he twisted his body to face you and his eyes landed on your face, you were able to see he had been crying too.

“What did your date say?” he asked, ever the masochist one.

You shrugged. “I haven’t texted him.”

“You should at least call your mom. Tell her you’re safe.”

Nodding slowly, you then turned your face to the other side. He didn’t mean anything more than exactly what he said and yet your heart thumped in your chest at a rhythm you had forgotten it was able to beat.

“She misses you. The whole family does.”

“Tell them I miss them too. Please.”

You sniffed, bolting off the couch. Walking into his bedroom, you tried to ignore the strong smell of his cologne as you blindly palmed the bed in search of your phone.

“Are you okay?”

Tears didn’t allow you to see him properly, but you could tell he was leaning on the doorway.

“I don’t want to talk about anything,” you warned him, scared a fight would ensue if you spoke your mind. “My head hurts.”

You heard him move around the room, opening and closing a drawer. Then you felt him close, so close his breath fanned on the side of your face as he spoke, “It’s paracetamol, it’ll be gentler with your stomach.”

Blinking the tears away, you faced him — this time fully. Opening your palm, you waited for him to drop the pill onto it. Five looked down, softly placing the white circle on your palm.

Closing your fist around the pill, you threw your arms all over his neck. Taken by surprise, he felt his hands tremble as he placed them on your lower back.

Nothing extraordinary happened, and you loved it. He was just as warm as you remembered, and you were as comfortable in his arms this time as you had been before.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, careful not to move you too harshly as he pulled you onto his chest, “so, so, so sorry. You can’t even imagine how stupid I feel.”

“Shhh, it’s fine.”

“We both know it isn’t.”

“Don’t wanna talk,” you reminded him.

So he hugged you tighter. And once again, it felt like nothing had changed — because nothing had, because the idea of moving on was nice on paper and nothing more.

“I’m pretty sure the pill melted in my hand...”

He snorted, begrudgingly parting from you. “I’ll get you some water and another one.”

You stared at your reflection in the mirror as you washed your hands and immediately splashed water onto your face. It was cold, but that was exactly what you were looking for in attempts to make your face less puffy after all that crying.

Five watched you in silence, ready to give you the pill and the glass.

Drying your hands, you thanked him and then proceeded to take the glass from his hand.

“Don’t go out with him,” Five pleaded, unable to keep it in for longer. “I don’t deserve it, but please give me a second chance.”

You glared at him as you snatched the pill from his open palm. Instead of giving him an answer, you swallowed the pill.

He took this as a sign that you needed more convincing. “I promise I’ll spend every second of my free time with you.”

You lowered the glass before you could take another sip of water, scoffing as you walked toward the window once again. “Oh, come on, Five, I never asked for that. I just wanted you to put some effort.”

“I’ll do that, then. Anything.”

“Can you really do that?”

“Yes.”

You nodded, placing the glass down onto the bedside table. You were always so eager to believe in him... you could only hope this time your heart didn’t end up in tiny pieces. “It’s obvious that I don’t need much convincing.”

“That’s fine by me.” Five shrugged, looking down at his hands.

You grabbed his hands, making him look at you. He intertwined your fingers with his, biting his bottom lip as you lifted your eyebrows.

He huffed a laugh upon realizing you were waiting for him to kiss you and for a millisecond considered teasing you, but you knew him so well that you had seen through his nervous demeanor.

Leaning in, he stared into your eyes in search for permission. You tilted your head, brushing your nose with his, fanning your breath on his lips. Five’s mouth met yours in the middle, slowly at the beginning.

You let go of his hands, snaking your arms around his neck to bring him closer. His hands found home on your waist, just as he picked up his pace.

As a moan slid past your lips, he slipped his tongue in your mouth. Five moved one of his hands to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss.

Breathless, you were forced to barely push him away. You stared at his red lips as you gasped for air, ragged breath mingling with his own.

And then his lips were on yours again. The hand on the back of your head fell to your spine as he walked you backward. Five laid you on the bed, careful not to hurt you yet never taking his lips off yours.

Pressing kisses on the side of your neck, he roughly grabbed your hips, making you moan as his hard-on was pressed against your crotch.

Your hips worked against his in sync, so naturally that you still had half a mind to wonder how the fuck you had lasted this long without him all over you.

Five’s groans grew deliciously deep as his hands trailed down to massage your thighs. His mouth sucked on your neck as he pulled you flush against him.

You inwardly thanked whichever God existed for the cold weather. Not only did Five look amazing in sweatpants, but the soft material allowed you to feel the outline of his hard cock even through your leggings as he humped you.

“Would really love to fuck you,” you panted, “but there’s no way I’m taking my clothes off right now. I’m freezing!“

He laughed against your skin. One of his hands left your thigh and he tugged on the covers, draping them over both of you, covering yourselves from head to toes.

Five continued to kiss your neck, still moving his hips against yours albeit more slowly.

“I missed you,” he spoke before you could mutter a teasing comment about how desperate he was for you.

You played with the small hairs on the back of his head, humming as you rocked up against him. “I missed you too. But don’t let it get to your head.”

“Too late,” he said cheekily, letting his weight fall on top of you as he leaned into your touch.

You relaxed against the mattress as his warmth combined with the shielding covers seeped through you. Five slipped an arm under your head, fingers brushing your neck as his other hand came up to softly grip your face.

You hummed in acknowledgment, knowing he wanted to say something.

“We didn’t call your mom.”

You breathed out a small laugh. “I wasn’t supposed to see her today, don’t worry.”

He tensed over you, frowning as he processed what you had just said. Deciding to ignore the fact that you were probably planning to hook up with your date, Five slowly lowered his head so it would rest on your chest.

It didn’t matter what you had planned to do when you were there under him. He was still your man, he had felt as such ever since the day you met — and he wouldn’t fuck it up a second time.

#five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x plus size reader #five hargreeves

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tinysidestrashcaptain · 4 years ago

Text

It's Only Logical - Chapter 22

Chapter 22: The Big Day

First chapter Previous Chapter

Pairings: Logicality/Prinxiety

Warnings: None, this is all fluff!

Virgil’s eyes scanned the jeweler's case with an increasing sense of frantic paranoia. The wedding was literally two days away, and Logan had physically dragged him from his house to finally find Roman’s wedding ring. Perhaps the notion that he could find the perfect ring was one he should have deleted from his brain around jewelry store number three, but he really hadn’t expected it to be this difficult to find a damn ring! And he hadn’t MEANT to put it off this long, LOGAN, but nothing that he saw was really right.

“There are literally ten rings that Roman would wear right in this first row, Virgil. You’re getting married in 48 hours, and you can’t do that without a ring, or so I have been told.” Logan arched a brow at Virgil, who shot him a frustrated glare.

“It can’t be just ANY ring! I need a ring that’s at least as good as the one currently sitting on my left hand!” Virgil held out the hand in question, the ring of red and black melding together in a perfect mix of himself and Roman. “Standard diamonds and gold just aren’t going to cut it here.”

Just as Virgil was about to write it off as yet another failure and melt into a small puddle of panic, Logan spotted a ring in the back of a small case. It was black with a twisting motif of purple, Virgil’s favorite color. “What about that one?”

The ring that Roman had given him sat heavy on Virgil’s finger, and he looked closer at that one ring. It was...him. It would be his favorite color on Roman’s finger, for always. “Excuse me, can I see this one, please?”

“Of course, sir.” The jeweler smiled as she opened the case and pulled the black and purple ring out for Virgil to inspect. As he turned it over in his hands, he thought about how it would look on Roman, about how this flash of dark and color would gleam against tanned skin.

“I’ll take it.” Virgil’s soft smile melted into a put upon scowl as Logan heaved a great sigh of relief. “What?!? It had to be perfect!”

“I’m just relieved that perfection actually exists. What kind of best man would I be if I let you face your future husband without a wedding ring? You’d be dead before you were married.” Logan grinned as Virgil playfully smacked him.

“Yeah, yeah, you saved the day. Now let me pay for this so I can finally check the one thing I’m responsible for in this wedding off my list.” Virgil handed over his credit card with no regrets, taking the small bag from the jeweler with a grateful smile.

“That’s not true, Virgil. You’re also responsible for showing up.” Logan followed him out of the shop, giving the amused jeweler a friendly wave goodbye.

“Nah, that’s what you’re responsible for.” Virgil winked at him as he got into Logan’s car.

“Oh, so I have to add “wrangle Virgil” to my list of matrimonial duties? Thought you were looking forward to this.” Logan laughed as he started the car and drove them towards the cafe.

“Oh, I am. Probably not as much as Roman, if the sobbing over his wedding binder last night was anything to go by.” Virgil shook his head fondly at the memory. “I don’t know, I just don’t see the point of all the fuss, you know? We love each other. We’re in this for life, until we’re old and wrinkly and gray. That’s the headline here, everything else is just window dressing.”

“Don’t let Roman hear you say that! He’s worked very hard on this wedding and it means a great deal to him.” Logan shot Virgil a warning look, arching a brow as his best friend put both hands in the air like he was surrendering.

“I know, and that’s the only reason it matters to me at all. You know me, I hate all the attention, but Roman wants this. He’s been dreaming of this, and I want to give him that one perfect day, you know?” He looked out the window, face flushing at the admission.

“Yeah, I know. Why do you think I agreed to turn Roman’s backyard into his dream garden? Roman wanted to get married at his house, where we all had so many good memories with us and Mom, and I couldn’t say no even if I’d wanted to.”

“His puppy dog eyes should be classified as a lethal weapon, I’m telling you!”

“Oh, his have nothing on Patton’s, let me assure you. Seems to be a family trait.” Logan chuckled as he remembered the way Patton and Thomas had ganged up on him last week. “And Thomas isn’t far behind. I truly stand no chance.”

“Wow, two Sanders Puppy Dog eyes at once? You are well and truly fucked, Lo. There is no escape.” Virgil gave his arm a sympathetic pat as they parked. “I’ll see you tomorrow for the rehearsal dinner. You're still good with all of us crashing at your house for it, right?”

“It’s not like I don’t have the room, Virgil. Go, have fun. Enjoy your last night as singles together, since Roman already asked me to have a guest room made up for you so you won’t see him before the wedding.” Logan laughed as Virgil groaned loudly in protest and threw his head back against the seat.

“Great. Can’t wait. I’ll see you tomorrow, Lo….and….thanks. For everything, you know?”

“You don’t ever have to thank me. We’re family, this is what we do for each other.” Logan’s face softened at his best friend’s quiet words, and he knew why Virgil had said it. Not many people would have given or done as much as he had, and his best friend hadn’t had the easiest life growing up. Of course he’d feel the need to express gratitude, even if it was totally unnecessary. “...Did you ever decide? About your mother?”

Virgil froze, his whole face shuttering like a switch had been flipped. “Yup. Not changing my mind. She may have given birth to me, but she isn’t my mother. My mom is buried out in the cemetery, and my brother is my best man. I don’t need any other family than that.”

Logan felt sentimental tears sting his eyes at that, and he blinked rapidly to keep them at bay. “Alright then. Your family will be right there with you, every step of the way. For what it’s worth, Mom would have been very proud of you. She always thought you and Roman would make a good couple, so she’s probably giggling into her tea right now.”

“Goddammit, why did EVERYONE figure us out before we did?!?” Virgil shook his head as he got out of the car, leaning down to meet Logan’s eyes. “She would have loved all this. Like to think she’s still watching, you know?”

“She is, Virgil. And she’ll definitely be watching on the big day.” He watched Virgil nod once before closing the door and heading into the house, leaving his purchase with Logan for safekeeping until the ceremony.

__________________________________________

It was a perfect day for it, tailor made with candy blue skies and balmy air scented with flowers. Everything that Logan had planted with Patton and Virgil’s help was blooming in an explosion of shapes and colors. There were white chairs set on the lawn, and a shimmery drape of fabric tied with bunches of fresh flowers marked the aisle that Roman would walk down.

Patton turned away from the window, smiling as he watched his mother and sister fuss over Roman’s gown. It was a stunning dress, an elaborate white ball gown with beading and a train, dyed red just at the bottom. Roman had foregone a veil in favor of fresh flowers woven into his hair, and Val had done his makeup in red and gold with lashes that made his eyes look stunning. His brother looked beautiful today, and he could feel himself getting a little misty. “You look incredible, Ro.”

“Damn straight he does! God, I wish I had your cheekbones.” Val giggled as she applied just a touch more highlight before stepping away to let Roman inspect her work. “Virgil is going to absolutely die. I can’t wait.”

“Oh honey, there is nothing straight about today! But I do look spectacular, if I do say so myself.” Roman laughed before giving Valerie a fond hug. “Thank you, menace.”

“You’re welcome, brat.” Val mumbled, blinking back some tears.

“You always were a queen, sweetheart. Today you just look the part.” Lydia grinned as her children laughed, then gently reached out to take Roman’s hand. She placed a beautiful bracelet of sapphires and diamonds on Roman’s wrist, fiddling with the clasp until it sat just right. “Logan asked me to give you something today. Something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue, isn’t that the old saying? He said it was his mother’s set, so now you’ve got the borrowed, blue and old all in one.”

Roman took a deep, shuddering breath, one hand gently tracing over the bracelet with shaking fingers. “I wish you could have spent more time with Minny, mom.”

“I do, too, sweetheart. She was a special woman, and it’s so sweet of Logan to think of this. And all the work he did to put this together just how you wanted? You’d better say thank you.” Lydia smiled as she straightened Roman’s train, fluffing it a little. “And Patton, you’d better hang on to him.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, I intend to.” Patton laughed as he gave Roman a hug. “Now, you ready to get out there and wow the crowd?”

“Aren’t I always?” Roman laughed as he took his bouquet from Val, straightening his shoulders. He knew it wasn’t traditional for a man to wear the dress, but he’d always wanted a gown and his family and future husband were more than supportive. He felt beautiful, regal even, and he couldn’t wait to see Virgil’s face.

Out on the lawn, just underneath an arch that was decorated with red roses and purple wisteria, Virgil fidgeted as Logan straightened his tie for him. “Not getting the jitters, are you, Virge?”

Virgil smiled at him and shook his head. “I’m not nervous anymore, not even a little jump in my belly, Lo. He’s a good man.”

“Yes, he is. A very good one.”

“I made him wait for so long. Years, when you think about it.” He let out a laughing breath as the music struck up. “Time’s up.”

Logan chuckled and took his place by Virgil’s side, feeling his heart absolutely melt at the sight of little Lily toddling carefully down the aisle in her dress, tossing flower petals, then little Thomas in his suit carrying the rings. He gave Thomas a thumbs up before taking the ring boxes with a smile. Patton entered next, his blue eyes alight with joy as he took his place opposite Virgil, Logan and Thomas, gently holding Lily’s hand.

It was sweet, watching Roman walk down the aisle to Virgil. Watching Virgil’s face light up in awed delight at the sight of his future husband. The ceremony was perfect, soft and lovely with a gentle breeze wafting the perfume of the floral blooms through the air. They had wanted to get married in the garden they would tend, in the home they would live in together, and it struck Logan as a perfectly romantic setting.

Virgil’s vows were earnest and heartfelt, prompting Roman to blink rapidly and fan himself to avoid crying. Roman’s own vows were poetic but heart wrenchingly honest, and Virgil kissed his hand after they exchanged rings. It was perfect, Virgil looking handsome in his suit, Roman looking flawless in his gown, and the crowd broke into spontaneous applause when Virgil swept his husband off his feet and twirled him around before kissing him. Barbara topped off the ceremony by popping the first bottle of champagne to toast the happy couple.

“You do good work, sweetheart.” Patton said as he clinked a champagne glass against Logan’s.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“It’s like a family tree. They two of them sprung from a branch on your tree. You aren’t family by blood but it amounts to the same, really. It’s their connection to you that brought them together. They did the rest, but the connection started it,” Patton said softly, watching his brother beam from Virgil’s arms as the photographer snapped pictures.

“That’s a sweet thought. I’ll take it.” Logan sipped his champagne and blinked back the sting of sentimental tears. He’d been mentally wrestling with his own thoughts and feelings lately, and watching the joy on his best friend’s face today was settling his heart into the comfortable acceptance that this was something he might just want for himself. “I wanted to talk to you about something, actually. It can wait until after Roman has his big day. By rights, a wedding day should belong to the bride, after all.”

“Oh? What did you want to talk about?”

“Let’s just say it’s about connections.” Logan gave Patton’s cheek a fond kiss. “I need to run back to the house really quickly. With all the excitement today, I forgot the very special bottle of champagne I had for the bride and groom.”

“I can go get it,” Patton offered, running one hand down Logan’s back with a smile.

“It’ll be faster if I do it. Fifteen minutes, tops.”

As he walked to his car, he was stopped when Barbara called out to him. “Hey, Logan! Hold up!” She paused by Logan, slightly breathless with a crying Lily in her arms. “I’ve got a cranky little girl here who won’t go down for her nap. Car rides always put her out. We can take mine, it has the car seat?”

“Sure. It’s going to be a quick run, though.”

“Oh, that doesn’t matter. She’ll be out like a light in a minute.” Barbara gave him a grateful smile as she expertly wrestled Lily into her car seat and started towards Logan’s house. As advertised, the baby’s head started to droop and she quieted before they even got out of Roman’s driveway.

“Works like a charm.”

“From what Patton tells me, it does the same for Thomas, too. She looks so sweet in her little pink party dress.”

“Everything looked so beautiful today! If Shir and I ever renew our vows, I want it to be just like that. Flowers, family and friends. I always thought I’d want a big church extravaganza, but this was so romantic.” Barbara said softly, smiling as she drove.

“It was just perfect for them. So nice to--wait. Slow down! Stop the car!”

“What? What’s the---oh my god!”

They both stared towards Minny’s Garden. Logan had closed for the day to allow everyone to enjoy the wedding. But someone, he could see, had been there. Someone still was. Several of the outdoor displays were overturned, and a car was parked sideways on the grounds, crushing one of the flower beds.

“Go. You and the baby, get back to Roman’s right now.” Logan said, reaching for the door handle. “Call the police as soon as you get there.”

“Don’t! Don’t go in there right now.” Barbara gave him a horrified look.

“It’s my place.” And he was already running.

A/N: Okay, here we are. This is the second to last chapter, and I'm so sorry I made you all wait this long. I hope the ending lives up to everyone's hopes. I'm sorry to say that I lost my tag list, so I apologize to everyone who was on it. :'( Also, there is no difference between this version, the Wattpad, and the Ao3 versions for this chapter and the next.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logicality #prinxiety #it's only logical #iol fic

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forever-rogue · 4 years ago

Note

Hi darling. I would like to request Frankie being overprotective when reader is sick. I have headache rn and I would like to see how our cutie boy can handle it. Thank you 🤩

I love the idea of an overprotective Frankie 🥺 He would be such a good caregiver.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You set the warm kettle back down as you finished pouring the steaming water into your mug. Spying your favorite tea in the cabinet, you grabbed and opened it fishing out one of the last teabags. You'd have to get more when you went to the store next time. You loathed running out of it, especially now that colder months were starting.

"What are you doing?" Frankie caught you completely off guard as he came back into the kitchen, canvas totes in each hand, filled with fresh groceries. You had dropped the tea in surprise but offered him a sheepish look as he came over and set the bags on the counter, "Honey Bee, you should be in bed."

"I know," you managed to croak out, your throat still dry and scratchy. You'd come down with a harsh cold, which had caused you to have stay home from work and rest. Frankie, the ever doting boyfriend, had taken on the role of caregiver rather well, and had been waiting on you hand and foot, trying to help you to feel better. You hated depending on someone else for everything, but this cold had really knocked you down and out, "I didn't know when you'd be back and really wanted some tea. I can do some things myself."

"I know," he agreed, taking the bag and dipping into the mug for you, adding just a bit of honey like he knew you enjoyed. His hand found your cheek as he stroked your skin delicately before placing a kiss to your forehead, "but its okay to let me help you out. You always do it for me. But come, let's get you back to bed."

"Are you sure?" you asked quietly, "I can help put away groceries and stuff. At least let me help that much..."

"Absolutely not, out of the question," he insisted fervently, wrapping an arm your waist and holding your tea in the other as he led you back to bed. You didn't even bother to argue with him, knowing there was no point.

Setting down your tea on the bedside table, next to a picture of the two of you that you loved, he pulled back the covers and ushered you under them. It was like the universe was on his side because as soon as your head hit the pillows, you were heavy with sleep again. Sniffling a yawn, you offered your love a soft smile, "thank you, Frankie. You're the best and I love you more than words could describe."

"I love you too," he promised softly, "now just rest. But if you need anything, call me. I'm going to and make some soup, okay? After that I'll draw you a bath, if you would like."

"I don't deserve you," it was a wistful sigh as you snuggled into the blankets and he offered you a gentle kiss on the forehead.

"Of course you do," he promised gently, "you deserve the world. Now rest, and if you need anything-"

"I'll call for you," you confirmed with a sleepy grin. He nodded before leaving the room closing the door ever so slightly.

He'd gone to the grocery store early that morning in order to get everything for homemade chicken noodle soup. It was his Abuela's recipe and he swore by it, sure if he had helped him through many colds in the past.

Frankie hated seeing you sick, knowing how independent you were and much you despised relying on the help of others. But he wasn't about to let you handle things on your own either. He had a feeling you'd be okay and feeling much better after the soup anyways, and surely you'd he right as rain in a few days.

»»————-　♡　————-««

When stirred from slumber again, the sun was setting and casting the room in a soft, pinkish orange glow. You stretched and yawned and almost as if on queue, Frankie popped his head into the room.

"Hi baby," he said softly as he came over to you, his hand going to your forehead to set check for any signs of fever, "how are you feeling?"

"Better, I think," you admitted, the tired heaviness of your aching body feeling ever so slightly relieved, "I must have been out for hours."

"You were," he confirmed, "but you need to listen to your body as well and right now your body needs the rest."

"Apparently so," you agreed as you pushed back the blankets, "is that your Abuela's soup I smell?"

"Indeed it is," he grinned at you, "it can work miracles after all. It just needs to finish simmering for a while and it will he ready soon. I made some bread to go with it too."

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Francisco. Thank you for taking such good care of me," you beamed as you ran a hand through his dark locks.

"Like I said, you do the same for me," he said gently, "and I love you. Now, what do you say about a bath?"

"Are you saying I stink?!" you joked as he leaned in and pretended to smell you. He jerked back and scrunched up his nose as you glared at him.

"Very stinky, baby," he almost giggled with laughter, "definitely time for a bathroom. You smell like honey and vaporub."

"Jerk," you teased as you slid your legs out of the bed in order to head to the bathroom. But Frankie was quicker and easily scooped you up into his arms and carried you to the ensuite bathroom, "ahh, what a prince my love is."

"Nah," he teased, "don't get used to it."

But you already were. Because Frankie was like this all the time, treating you like you were the only thing that mattered, because in a lot of ways to him, you were. But you loved and adored him with just as much reverent devotion.

Frankie gently set you back down before turning on the water, fiddling with the taps for a moment to get the temperature just before dropping in some of your favorite bubble bath. Stripping off your pajamas, you quickly stepped into the water, sinking down and letting the rising water start to envelope you. A small groan of pleasure left your lips as Frankie sat down the floor next to you, resting his arms atop the edge and watching you closely.

"What?" you asked as you grabbed a few bubbles and placed them on the tip of his nose, "never seen a pathetic sickling take a bath before?"

"Shush," he said as you blew some bubbles right back at you, "you are always beautiful, no matter what you look like or how you feel."

"Mhmm," you replied as you leaned back and closed your eyes, "whatever you say, mi amor."

"Exactly," he insisted, "do you want me to wash your hair?"

Your eyes opened as a little grin crossed your features. There were few things you loved more than the feeling of getting your hair washed, especially by Frankie. He often took it upon himself when the two of you showed together.

"Really?" you asked as he nodded, "I would love nothing more. My body is still tired and sore, and if I'm being quite honest, it's never as good as when you do it."

"Ahh, I've spoiled you too much already."

"Indeed, you truly have," you agreed.

"I'm joking-"

"I'm not," you promised, taking his face in your hands and staring into those soft, deep chocolate eyes, "I mean it, Francisco. I love you more than anything. You make me so happy."

"You do too," he promised, taking your hand and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles, "now come, let me help you wash up and then we'll have dinner."

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Okay," you said, swallowing a hearty bite of bread and soup, "it's official. Your Abuela is a miracle worker and whatever secret ingredients she puts in the soup are magic."

"I know," he grinned at you, as he took your bowl and laddled some more soup into it, "one day you might even learn the secret ingredients. But she has to give permission first."

"Oh?" you quirked an eyebrow at him as you eagerly took the second helping, "and how does one go about getting permission?"

"Gotta be part of the family-"

"I am part of the family," you insisted, knowing full well it was true. His family, including his Abuela, adored you and always considered you to be one of them.

"I know," he agreed, a flush of pink rising in his cheeks, "but she means family family. Like we gotta get married."

"Ohh," your eyes widened as you stared at your soup, "maybe...maybe one day."

"Obviously," his response was sure, but nonchalant that your head snapped in his direction as he looked back at you with a simple shrug. You'd talked about marriage before, more or less in passing, but you'd never given it that much thought before. You figured if it was meant to happen, it would happen eventually, "what?"

"You want to get married?" you asked shyly as he gave you a surprised look.

"Of course," he beamed, "I'm going to marry the hell out of you. Don't you worry, Honey Bee, its going to happen. When you least expect it, but it will happen."

Frankie was just was just waiting for the opportune moment to pop the question. He'd had the ring for months, carefully hidden away as he tried to plan the perfect moment. Hell, he was half tempted to grab it and do it now. Despite still being sick and tired and run down, you looked as beautiful as ever. The soft expression on your face was enough to make his heart melt.

"Well..." you trailed off, staring at your soup and barely able to contain your smile, "I...I look forward to it. Just, you know, so I can get your Abuela's recipes."

Frankie snorted with laughter as he shook his head and reached over to wipe a crumb from the corner of your mouth.

"You must be feeling better if you're giving me this much sass," he stated as you nodded in agreement.

"Its the soup..." you said as you brought the bowl to your lips and downed the rest of it, "and the amazing care from my Frankie. Thank you for everything."

"You don't have to thank me," he promised, getting up to clear away the dishes, "now, what do you say to a movie? If you're up for it? We'll get under the covers, you can rest, and I'll even let you pick the movie."

"Deal," you eagerly agreed, "I make no promises to stay awake but I will try."

"Perfect," he busied himself with the kettle on the stove, "now get back into bed, turn on Netflix, and I'll be there in a few minutes with tea."

"And honey?"

"Only the finest for my Honey Bee," he promised, waving the bottle at you.

"I love you, Frankie," you said softly, "truly."

"And I love you," he shot you a quick wink, "now get into bed and I'll be right there."

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #triple frontier

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kjack89 · 4 years ago

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gold rush

As was requested, a sequel to ‘tis the damn season (tumblr, AO3). ExR, modern AU, former relationship. Still not a happy ending. Still the potential for writing more.

I’m here.

Enjolras sent the text message and tried to ignore what felt an uncomfortable amount like nerves as he leaned against the fence, scrolling aimlessly through Twitter. He jumped when the gate swung open next to him, relaxing only slightly when he saw Grantaire. “Hey,” Grantaire said, his breath fogging the air.

“Hey,” Enjolras returned, a little awkwardly, wondering what the protocol was for greeting an ex.

Luckily, Grantaire solved the problem for him, reaching out to give him a quick, one-armed hug. “I honestly wasn’t sure you’d call,” he said as he let go of Enjolras. “Considering how we, uh, left things.”

Enjolras was tempted to ask if he was referring to how they’d left things a few nights ago after their chance meeting outside of the bar, or how they’d left things a decade ago when they broke up, but decided against it. “Technically I didn’t call you,” he pointed out instead, shoving his phone in the pocket of his coat. “I texted.”

Grantaire grinned. “Pedantic as always,” he said.

Wordlessly, they fell in line next to each other, walking down the sidewalk in momentary silence, which Grantaire broke with a sideways look at Enjolras. “So are you still scared of my parents?”

Enjolras scowled. “I’ve never been scared of your parents,” he said, somewhat insulted.

“Then why would you not just come up and ring my doorbell instead of texting me?” Grantaire asked, amused. “For that matter, why did you never once ring my doorbell the entire time we were dating?”

“I don’t know,” Enjolras said honestly. “I guess it never occurred to me that I should have.”

Grantaire chuckled and shook his head. “Well, I suppose I can forgive you,” he said, nudging Enjolras lightly with his shoulder. “You were in high school, after all. And an idiot.”

“Thanks,” Enjolras said sourly.

“But I’m sure you’ve had a lot more experience meeting the parents of your significant other, Grantaire continued, glancing sideways at Enjolras. Right?”

Enjolras hesitated. “Depends on what you mean by experience,” he hedged.

Grantaire raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“In my defense, I haven’t really ever dated someone that seriously.” Grantaire didn’t say anything and Enjolras winced with sudden realization. “Besides, um, besides you, I mean,” he muttered.

To his surprise, Grantaire just laughed lightly. “You don’t have to do that, you know,” he said, and Enjolras frowned at him.

“Do what?”

Grantaire shrugged. “Pretend like we were more than what we were.”

Enjolras frowned at him. “I was under the impression we dated for three years in high school,” he said warily, wondering where exactly Grantaire was going with this.

Evidently, nowhere, since Grantaire just shook his head and looked down at the slush-dotted sidewalk. “You know what? Let’s not do this right now.”

Part of Enjolras wanted to ask, again, do what?, but he figured playing dumb wouldn’t get him particularly far. Instead, he asked, “Why not?”

“Because this is our last night in town together, and I assume when you texted me this morning to ask if I wanted to grab a drink that there would actually be drinks involved,” Grantaire said with a sigh. “And I don’t know about you, but I prefer my drinks without dredged up decades-old arguments.”

Enjolras cocked his head slightly. “Does it count as an argument if only one party is seemingly involved?”

Grantaire didn’t laugh. “I’ll defer to the lawyer among us on that.”

“Then I would say no,” Enjolras said, but Grantaire still didn’t so much as crack a smile. “Seriously, I’m not sure where you’re going with this, and I’m definitely not sure I can table something that I don’t understand.”

Grantaire sighed and crossed his arms tightly across his chest. “Can we please just get that drink?” he asked, sounding tired. “It’s too fucking cold to have this conversation out here. And you know that I’ve always been better arguing with a drink or twelve in me.”

“On that point, the defense will stipulate.”

“Ok Yoda,” Grantaire said with a snort.

Enjolras scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Grantaire gave him a look. “Please tell me that I don’t have to explain Star Wars to you.”

“Fuck off, you know that’s not what I meant,” Enjolras said, without any real heat. “But if you see me as Yoda, of all characters—”

“I didn’t say that, but your turn of phrase was particularly Yoda-esque,” Grantaire shot back.

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “So you don’t think I’m like Yoda?”

Grantaire smirked. “Didn’t say that either.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes and huffed, “I feel like I’m beginning to understand why Han shot first.”

“Oh, so now I’m Greedo?” Grantaire asked, half-insulted and half-amused.

“And I didn’t say that.”

The familiar bickering carried them all the way to the bar, where they settled at a table in the back. “Uh, vodka tonic for me,” Grantaire told their waitress as he struggled to peel his sweatshirt off, the tshirt he was wearing underneath caught up in it as he tugged it up over his head.

Enjolras tried not to stare at the swath of taut skin revealed, and it took several tries before he realized the waitress had asked him a question. “Uh, what?”

“Can I get you something to drink?” the waitress repeated, looking like she was trying not to laugh.

“Uh…” Enjolras trailed off as Grantaire, finally triumphant over his sweatshirt, settled back in his seat, his arm muscles shifting as he reached up in vain to flatten his hair. “I’ll have the same.”

The waitress nodded and headed over to the bar, and Grantaire frowned at Enjolras. “Since when do you drink vodka?”

“Since when do you?” Enjolras returned, arching an eyebrow. “Last I saw, whiskey was your drink of choice.”

“Yeah, well, too many Jamo shots will ruin even the best whiskeys,” Grantaire said with a light laugh. “Besides, clear liquor has less calories, and I’m trying to watch my girlish figure.”

Enjolras laughed and the waitress returned with their drinks. Grantaire picked up his drink and made a mock toast. “Happy holidays,” he said, taking a large sip, as Enjolras just shook his head, his own sip much more reasonable.

“So now that you have alcohol in your system,” he said, setting his glass down on the table, “can we revisit what it was you were talking about earlier when you said that I shouldn’t pretend we were something we weren’t?”

Grantaire sighed. “Just when I was beginning to have a nice time,” he said mournfully.

“Grantaire.”

Even after all those years, it appeared Enjolras saying Grantaire’s name had a similar effect as it used to, as Grantaire sighed again, tracing a finger around the rim of his glass. “I just think you and I remember things a little differently,” he said carefully. “Maybe it’s just nostalgia coloring your memories, or maybe you’ve got early-onset Alzheimer’s.”

Enjolras frowned. “That’s not funny.”

“And the one thing I ever had going for me was making you laugh,” Grantaire said, a little too wry to be a joke. “But seriously...whatever you and I had, it wasn’t a relationship.” He tried to smile, but to Enjolras, it looked more like a grimace. “Not in the traditional sense of the word, anyway.”

Enjolras searched his expression for a long moment, trying and failing to understand what he meant. “What are you saying?” he asked finally.

Grantaire picked his drink up and drained it before glancing around for their waitress. “I’m saying that you were my boyfriend. But I wasn’t yours.” He spotted their waitress and gestured to her before meeting Enjolras’s eyes again. “I was, at best, your friend with benefits.” He made a face. “Probably more accurately, I was your booty call. Physical release. Whatever you want to call it.”

“That’s—”

Not true was what Enjolras desperately wanted to say, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to. Mostly because he had a sinking feeling that Grantaire was correct. Grantaire arched an eyebrow as he waited for Enjolras to say something, taking a sip of his drink when the waitress returned with a refill. “Fine,” Enjolras said finally. “Maybe it was mostly physical, but that wasn’t all it was.”

“Sure, it was also your rebellion against the heteronormative world,” Grantaire said, nodding.

Enjolras scowled. “That’s not what I meant.”

Grantaire sighed. “Enjolras—”

“I loved you.”

Grantaire’s expression was unreadable. “Maybe you did. I can’t exactly claim to know every thought that’s run through your head. But I can tell you that that’s not how you acted at the time.”

“Was I really that horrible to you?” Enjolras asked quietly.

Grantaire considered it for a moment. “I think to be really horrible, that would have required you to care more about me,” he said slowly. “Instead, you...tolerated me, I guess.”

Enjolras’s chest felt tight as he thought desperately back on their relationship, on some piece of evidence he could present that would prove Grantaire incorrect. Instead, his mind replayed a litany of memories he had long since buried, of all the times Enjolras had scoffed when Grantaire tried to do something romantic, or told him to be serious when Grantaire asked him to homecoming or prom, or blew off their date nights because he had work to do on a protest.

Or, worst of all, that early morning in Enjolras’s bed, when Grantaire told him that he loved him, and Enjolras had told him that he needed to leave before Enjolras’s parents woke up.

Enjolras swallowed, hard, and forced himself to look at Grantaire. “You must’ve hated me for how I treated you,” he said softly.

Grantaire’s smile was sad. “I’ve never once in my life hated you, Enj,” he said quietly. “If anything, I hated myself for not being someone you could love.”

“I’m sorry.”

Grantaire shook his head. “That’s my issue, not yours. You didn’t do that to me.” He managed a tight smile. “I knew who you were when we were together. I knew what you wanted out of life, and I knew I wasn’t going to be a part of that.” He took a swig of his drink before adding, “And let’s also not pretend like I was some kind of stellar boyfriend. I was a fucked up mess.”

Enjolras huffed a sigh. “Maybe we both were,” he mused.

“Is that what this is about?” Grantaire asked mildly.

Enjolras frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, is this whole trip down memory lane with me just you trying to figure out where it all went wrong for you?”

“I– Who says it all went wrong for me?” Enjolras blustered. Grantaire just arched an eyebrow and Enjolras sighed, frowning down at his own, mostly untouched drink. “I guess I did envision a very different life for myself,” he admitted.

“And you’re not happy with where you are right now?” Grantaire asked, in a way that suggested he knew the answer and just wanted to hear Enjolras say it.

“How could I be?” Enjolras asked, aiming for levity as he added, “I wear a suit to work everyday, Grantaire. With a tie. My father told me he’s proud of me.”

Grantaire snorted. “The horror.” He propped his chin on his hand. “But speaking of your father, what happened to your college fund?”

“My college fund?”

“Yeah, you said that you’re working as a corporate attorney because you have to pay off your student loans, right?” Enjolras nodded and Grantaire continued, “If memory serves, your grandparents left you a fairly sizeable college fund that you were supposed to use to pay for school so that you didn’t have to take out student loans.”

“Ah,” Enjolras said, wincing. “They did.”

“And?” Grantaire prompted.

Enjolras sighed again. “And in a moment of well-intentioned idiocy, I donated every cent of it to charity.” He paused and took a sip of his drink. “Well, almost. I did pay for undergrad with it. But what was left went to charity. And then my father told me that he would be happy to pay for law school.”

Grantaire raised both eyebrows. “Really?”

Enjolras made a face. “Yeah, if I agreed to specialize in business law.”

“And?”

“And I told him to get fucked,” Enjolras said bluntly before making a face again. “Of course he’s clearly had the last laugh, so.”

Grantaire shook his head, his expression softening. “Don’t count yourself out yet. I mean, for Christ’s sake, you’re not even 30 years old yet. You’ve got time.” He paused before adding, “Besides, I still believe in you.”

Enjolras gave him a look. “Be serious.”

Grantaire half-smiled. “I am wild.”

A small smile twitched at the corners of Enjolras’s mouth and he shook his head slowly. “I keep thinking that you’ve changed so much, but then you go and say something like that and it’s like we’re 18 years old again.”

Grantaire laughed and took another sip of his drink. “I don’t know that I’d say I’ve changed,” he said.

“Then what would you say?”

“That I’ve had a lot of therapy, mostly,” Grantaire said, suddenly serious. “And grown up a little. And that while I may not have changed as much as you’re giving me credit for, I’m also not the fucked up mess I was in high school.”

Enjolras nodded, looking down at his drink again. “I wish I could say the same thing.”

“Well, it’s not too late to try.”

“I suppose not,” Enjolras allowed, managing a small smile, though it quickly faded. “And now I feel even worse.”

Grantaire frowned. “Why?”

“Because we’ve spent all this time talking about me and I haven’t asked you anything about you.” Grantaire made a face but Enjolras continued, “What are you doing these days? Hell, where are you living these days?”

“In a van, down by the river,” Grantaire said dryly.

“Hilarious.”

Grantaire smirked. “I like to think I am.” He shrugged. “I also prefer keeping a little mystery about me. Keeps ‘em coming for more, you know?”

Enjolras arched an eyebrow. “So you’re not going to answer even basic questions?”

Something darkened in Grantaire’s expression. “I mean, what is there to say? You want the square footage of my apartment? You want me to drone on about my terrible, awful, absolute godsend of a cat? You want me to talk about the latest exhibit I’m curating at the gallery I work at?”

“Actually, yeah.” Enjolras said, a little defensively, even if he didn’t quite understand the hard edge in Grantaire’s voice. “I’d like to hear about your life, if you’d let me.”

Grantaire shook his head and finished his second drink, already looking around for their waitress. “You really don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?” Enjolras asked impatiently.

“Pretend you’re interested.”

“What makes you think I’m not actually interested?” Grantaire scoffed and looked away, and Enjolras swallowed, hard, realization hitting as the theme of the evening returned in full force. “Because I never used to be.”

“Not particularly, no.”

“I’m—”

Grantaire looked flatly at him. “I swear to God, Enjolras, if you try to apologize one more time…”

Enjolras held his hands up defensively. “Fine, then I’m not sorry for being a completely self-absorbed asshole.”

It was a little too caustic to be a joke, which is probably why Grantaire just shook his head, something contemplative in his expression. “You were never self-absorbed. A little self-important, maybe, and with a white savior complex to rival the colonizers you so desperately hated—”

“Watch it.”

Grantaire smirked, though it quickly faded. “But your problem was never that you only cared about yourself. Your problem was that you cared so much about saving the world that you didn’t have a lot left for the people right in front of you.”

Enjolras nodded slowly. “Yeah, well, I don’t have that problem anymore,” he said tiredly.

Grantaire just raised an eyebrow. “That remains to be seen.”

“Harsh, but fair,” Enjolras said with a dry, humorless laugh. “Well, in the spirit of trying to show you that, tell me about yourself. And I will actually listen.”

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “Fine, I will tell you about myself – if you answer one question for me.”

“Anything.”

“Why now?”

The stark question took Enjolras by surprise, and he blinked at Grantaire. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, why do you suddenly want to know about me?” Grantaire asked, a challenge in his tone. “My phone number hasn’t changed. Facebook exists. Hell, you could even find me on LinkedIn if you really wanted to. But you never made that attempt. So I want to know why you care now.” He gestured around the bar. “Because if it’s just proximity, you go back to your life tomorrow, and I go back to mine, and since the likelihood of us running into each other again is pretty slim, you don’t have to waste time pretending to care.”

“That’s not fair,” Enjolras said quietly.

Grantaire jerked a shrug. “Maybe not. But like I said, I grew up. And I don’t have time for anything but honesty.”

Enjolras’s brow furrowed. “Fine, you want honesty?” he snapped, more riled than he had any right to be. “The phone works both ways. If you had wanted to stay in touch, you could have just as easily.”

A ghost of a smile crossed Grantaire’s face. “Objection. Presumes facts not in evidence.”

“I beg your pardon?” Enjolras said coldly.

“C’mon, you’re a lawyer, if I can pick up what that means from watching reruns of Law & Order, surely I don’t have to explain it to you.” Enjolras just gave him a look, and Grantaire sighed. “Fine, I guess I do.” He picked up his drink and lifted it in a mock toast once again. “I never said that I wanted to stay in touch.”

Grantaire didn’t deliver the words harshly, but Enjolras still recoiled. “Now who’s the one who doesn’t care?”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them, but it was too late to take them back. Hurt flashed across Grantaire’s face before his expression evened out. “There are a lot of things you can accuse me of,” he said quietly, “but don’t ever accuse me of not caring about you. Not after everything.”

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras said softly. “That was...out of line.”

“You think?”

Enjolras swallowed and looked away. “So why didn’t you want to stay in touch?” he asked, a little roughly.

Grantaire sighed. “Because I preferred not knowing,” he said simply. “If I didn’t know where you were at, what you were doing, then I could imagine you however I wanted to.” He managed a small, slightly sad smile. “And, at the beginning at least, I could imagine a way that we could still work things out.”

“Like what?” Enjolras asked, intrigued despite himself.

Grantaire glanced at him. “Do you actually want to know?”

“Yes.”

Enjolras wasn’t sure if Grantaire would believe him, but it didn’t seem to matter. Or maybe Grantaire had been looking for an opportunity, and this was as good as any. “I used to imagine showing up at your fancy law school,” Grantaire said slowly, with a genuine if wistful smile. “I used to imagine that I’d sneak into one of those fancy alumni dinners – I don’t know how – and I’d hide in the background, watching you, biding my time. Then when the opportunity came, when you made some claim about the working class or something, I’d casually speak up, contradict you or ask for your sources, just to watch the recognition on your face as you looked at me.”

“But you never did,” Enjolras said, his heart beating painfully in his chest, and Grantaire snorted and shook his head.

“Of course not,” he scoffed.

Enjolras frowned slightly. “Why not?”

Grantaire just shook his head. “Logistics aside, because I knew the reality would never have been as satisfying as what I imagined.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, in the version in my head, you’d smoothly counter my point, we’d bicker like old times and then you’d excuse us to discuss this further. And then…” He trailed off, his smile turning sad. “Well, then we’d wander around campus, bickering some more and it would be like you’d never left. Like we never ended.” His voice cracked and he looked away. “Perfect.”

Enjolras almost didn’t want to speak, to interrupt the moment, but he also couldn’t stop himself from asking, “And you didn’t want to try for that?”

Grantaire shook his head again. “Of course not. Because it was a dream. That version of me and that version of you don’t exist.”

“Do you think they ever could have?” Enjolras asked.

“I don’t know,” Grantaire said honestly. “But it doesn’t matter. If there’s anything I’ve learned over the past decade, looking back only gets you so far.” He finished his drink and set it down with a clunk on the table. “Let that be the lesson of the evening, I guess. And speaking of…” He looked at his bare wrist as if pretending to look at a watch. “It’s probably time I got home. I’ve got an early train to catch in the morning.”

“Hang on,” Enjolras said, frowning. “You still didn’t tell me anything about you.”

Grantaire smirked. “Oh, you noticed that, did you?”

Enjolras gave him a look. “So stay,” he said, more of a request than an order. “Have one more drink. Tell me about your life.” Grantaire shook his head and Enjolras reached across the table, closing his hand around Grantaire’s wrist. “Please.”

“I can’t,” Grantaire said quietly. “But you’ve got my number, if you ever want to continue this conversation. Or, y’know, start a different one.”

“I wish…” Enjolras trailed off. “I don’t know. I wish I had more time. To make things up to you.” He met Grantaire’s eyes. “Or to at least try.”

Grantaire smiled crookedly at him. “Are you kidding me?” he asked, twisting his hand in Enjolras’s grip so that he could grasp his hand. “You’ve given me the only thing I’ve wanted for ten years.”

“What?”

“You asked me to stay.“

Enjolras’s throat felt tight. “Grantaire—”

Grantaire let go of Enjolras’s hand and stood, grabbing his coat and sweatshirt. “Take care of yourself, Enjolras,” he said softly. “You know how to reach me if you want to. Otherwise…”

He didn’t bother finishing his sentence, just rapping his knuckles lightly on the table before walking away. Enjolras watched him leave, wondering not for the first time if this is how Grantaire had felt watching him leave a decade ago.

Wondering if this was really the end for them.

And wondering, just a little, if this was what heartbreak felt like.

#enjolras #grantaire #exr #enjoltaire #enjolras x grantaire #fanfiction #les miserables #modern au #former relationship #light angst #idk what even to tag this as #there's a lot of painful honesty here #things that should have been said a long time ago etc etc #and then it fades into the gray of my day-old tea 'cause it could never be

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cherriesfineline · 4 years ago

Text

MEET HALFWAY OUR NEEDS - one shot

a/n: hi! this is my first time ever posting one of my writings online (I'm about to shit myself but oh well). I literally wrote this so fast I'm impressed, but anyways I (kind of) proof read this -not really- just quickly read through it after I finished it. English isn't my first language (I'm so self conscious I'm probably gonna say that every time I post something) but besides that, I really hope you enjoy this <3 feedback is truly appreciated, it helps me improve!

-Joey

Pairing: Harry x Y/N

Warnings: detailed sexual content

Word count: 9.2k (of mostly smut??? sorry)

the one where Harry wants to get married but Y/N doesn't.

As you grow older, you start realizing life isn't as easy as it seemed when you were a kid. Not everyone gets lucky enough to have a job they're passionate about. Not everyone can satisfy all their necessities. In fact, you realize it's most people instead of "not everyone". Friendships and relationships won't last you a lifetime (those promises of being there for each other forever now seem like genuine naiveness) if you don't put enough effort in them. When you are young you believe that being able to play for hours straight without getting bored is what true friendship is about. And maybe it is, during those years. Adult relationships require a lot of time, and effort. And sometimes, sacrifice. Conversations have a different weight, and being able to trust someone with your most uneasy thoughts and experiences is hard. To find and to keep. When it comes to love, you start realizing that the thrill and intensity of teen romance isn't what true love is about. It's not about getting into fights, hardcore jealousy and toxicity behaviors. It's about being able to just be there, with that someone. Being able to coexist in each other's worlds, share what you're passionate about without any fear or remorse, being able to communicate. To ask for help when needed. Now, that doesn't mean things can't get complicated. For the past two months, Y/N and Harry's relationship has been balancing on a very, extremely, thin line. After six years of being together, and three of those living together, being the happiest they've ever been, everything started to look different for Harry. He was ready to take a step Y/N wasn't. Harry always knew he wanted to get married, have kids, move to a pretty house outside New York (it's been his favorite city ever since he visited when he was 12, then moving all the way across the globe from Manchester to attend Columbia University). And when he met Y/N, he knew she was the one he wanted all that with. But Y/N... she wasn't so sure that was the life she wanted. Having kids was a no at least until she was in her 30's. And even then, she knew she'd have to re consider if that's what she really wanted. She loves kids, she has a couple nieces a nephew's (coming from a big family has it's perks) and she's a preschool teacher. She's good with kids, but she wasn't so sure she'd be a great mother. Not for a specific reason, but she really feels like that's the case. Taking care of someone else's kids versus your own is extremely different. Now... it gets even more complicated when it comes to marriage. She doesn't believe that a piece of paper kept in a legal's office will make any changes in their relationship. It will all stay the same, married or not, so she just doesn't think it's important, nor worth the money. Harry, on the other hand, thinks marrying her will change everything in his life. For the better. He loves her more than he'll ever be able to put into words. And because he can't put it into words, he feels like it's the actions, small and big, that help him communicate his love a bit better. He still remembers the moment he mentioned marriage to her (not for the first time, but definitely the first time he actually thought 'ok i really want to marry her right now') like it happened yesterday. He remembers exactly what it felt like to physically feel his heart shatter inside his chest, and the way he silently cried himself to sleep that night with Y/N in his arms. "Would you ever, uh... consider g-getting married? like, I don't know, if we ever have, like, an actual conversation about it, would you consider it?" He asked her in the middle of their Lord of the Rings marathon. Harry could feel her intense staring at the side of his face. She was quiet for so long, it killed him. He truly wanted the cushions of their pink couch to just suck him inside the furniture piece. He wouldn't dare to turn his face. He couldn't look at her, no. Not to face the rejection of his lifetime. "Uh, I don't think so." She said, and Harry only nodded, thinking the conversation was over

once he felt her move her head to face the television again. "You know how I feel about you and how I feel about marriage. I honestly think it's useless. You don't need a signed paper to know how much I love you, Harry." Her tone was soft, but the words that left her mouth felt like a million knives inside his chest. That conversation sent him spiraling over a thousand thoughts, overthinking their entire relationship and how he now felt like they were getting nowhere with it. He respected her decision, though. That's why he didn't bring it up again. Y/N sensed his mood change that same night. She kept her mouth shut, because she truly didn't know what to say. She didn't understand where he was coming from, or why it was so important to him. At first, she didn't think his mood was affected because of her not wanting to get married, maybe he had something else going on and was struggling to talk about it, but after many sessions with her therapist going over and over their conversations and trying to decipher why everything was so weird between them, she came to the conclusion it might have to do with them not getting married. She just didn't want it. And she didn't know how to make him understand. But she couldn't lose him either. He was her everything. It took her months to be able to sit next to him like she did the night he was watching The Little Mermaid in the living room of their small New York apartment. It's been months since they last shared a movie night, or a date. They've been eating dinner while having awkward small talk about their jobs and friends, going straight to bed after cleaning everything up, each to their side. They haven't touched each other except the occasional greeting peck ever since that night. And it was killing both of them, but neither knew how to approach the other. As she sat down to his right, she saw him tense immediately. It broke her, to see him so on guard around her. Y/N couldn't look away from him, with her body facing him and her head rested on the back of the couch, she wanted to grab his hand so badly, but she didn't know if he'd reject her. The doorbell rang, and he looked at her for the first time that night. His eyebrows had the cutest frown and she wanted to kiss his forehead to make him relax, but of course, she didn't. She sent him a shy smile and stood up, going straight to the door and picking up the cash she left prepared on the little table next to it. She could feel his stare burning holes in her back, which sent chills down her spine. "Thank you so much." Harry heard Y/N say, immediately hearing the door shut. From where he was sitting he didn't have a clear view on who was on the other side of the door. Y/N made her way to their kitchen (to do God knows what, Harry thought) only to appear seconds after with two tubes of ice cream (from his favorite place) and two big spoons. She sat back down next to him with her legs under her, a little closer than moments ago but still out of Harry's reach. She handed him one of the tubes, and Harry immediately noticed it was chocolate chip mint, his favorite, he might add. He looked up at her, who gave him a small shrug of her shoulders and a side smile, and he couldn't help but smile widely at her, his deep dimples on full display. God, I missed those dimples so bad. Y/N thought. But what she didn't know is that Harry was thinking about how much he missed her. Entirely. He hated himself for overthinking every small detail, and for thinking so lowly of their future. But he couldn't help it. "Thanks." He shyly took the ice cream and started eating right away. Not five minutes later, he grabbed her by her thigh and dragged her next to him, only to have her close to his body. And because he missed her. And her body heat. And her addictive smell of clean soap and vanilla. And a lot of other things which would take a lifetime to enumerate. She looked at him from her new spot, and due to the proximity, she had to shift her head slightly up to look at his face. She slid her right arm around his left,

carefully looking at him to see any kind of reaction that might show discomfort, and when she noticed his smirk slowly and barely making an appearance, she relaxed next to him, fitting half of her body under his arm, with his elbow resting on her stomach and her head on his upper arm. Half way through the movie, with their ice cream tubes forgotten on their coffee table, Y/N looked back up to him, and even though she's been doing it every two minutes, Harry knew she wanted to say something this time. He doesn't look at her, though, thinking it might shy her away, but right when he was trying to concentrate back on the film, he heard her say something. It was barely audible, almost like she didn't want him to hear it. Did he imagine it? Maybe he's so deprived from her and her touch and her words that he's finally going insane. Harry looked at her this time, and looking straight at her grey eyes so closely for the first time in two months felt like a thousand fireworks exploding violently on his stomach. "Did you say something?" He looked at her confused, and the look on her eyes is so hard to decipher he thinks she definitely said something she's scared to repeat. "I miss you." Y/N repeated herself, barely louder. But then he knew for sure he didn't imagine it. His Y/N missed him. For so long Harry thought he was losing her, that after distancing himself from her she finally realized she not only didn't want marriage, but a relationship with him at all. But she missed him. And he missed her. "You miss me?" He asked, almost like he didn't believe her, his tone was low and his voice sounded deeper that ever. Y/N nodded, but she felt pathetic. She felt like he didn't miss her like she missed him, maybe he didn't miss her at all. For two months she's been feeling like he wanted out, that this relationship felt like an obligation to him. Harry felt her slowly sliding away from his arms, and that's when he realized he's been so stuck in his head he still hadn't replied. "Don't," he quickly grabbed her by her thigh with his hand closest to her body "please, don't go." She stayed still in her place, looking at him with soft but sad eyes. "I miss you so much, Y/N." Harry turned on his spot so he's facing her, and softly cupped her jaw with his free hand, caressing her cheek with his thumb. "You have no idea." He whispered, slowly getting her face close to his while closing his eyes. He kissed her forehead so lovingly she literally burst into tears. Y/N's soft sobs alarmed Harry, lifting her head up by his hold on her jaw. "Please, don't cry baby. It breaks me when you cry." Y/N shifted on her place so she was with her body facing the back of the couch, her knees pressed against it, but she tilted her body to the side so she could hug Harry. She slowly draped her arms around his torso, resting her head on his chest. A sigh of relief left Harry's lips, resting his chin on top of her head while he hugged her back. One of his arms was resting low on her back, while the other one rested on her shoulder, his giant hand cupping her head to softly caress her hair. They stayed in that position for a long time. Y/N could feel Harry's heartbeat, and how it slowly picked up speed when she pressed her lips to his chest. And even though he was wearing a shirt, Harry could feel the heat of her lips through it. He pressed his own lips on top of her head, leaving them there for a while, almost like a very long, still kiss, until he felt her head shift underneath his lips. He pulled away just barely to allow her to look up at him, and when she noticed him quickly looking down to her lips, she stretched her neck up to press their lips together. It was a short, very sweet kiss. With fear as an undertaste and nervousness written all over her. She was just scared he was going to leave. When she pulled away from him, she didn't have time to open her eyes as she felt Harry press their lips together again. This second kiss was almost the same as the first one, insecure. It's funny, if you think about it. How similar their

feelings were and how scared they were of messing everything up with a single wrong move. Once Harry pulled away from the kiss he initiated, they locked eyes, yet again. But this time, it was written all over their faces how badly they missed each other, and how much they dreaded to feel the effects each had on one another after so long. The third kiss they shared, it's initiated from both sides, almost as they were able to read each other's minds. Their lips moved in sync, and as Harry softly captured Y/N's bottom lip between his own to slightly suck on it, she put more pressure into it. The kiss slowly started to gain force, passion and need. But she was scared to take the next step. She wanted him to take the full lead, as opposed to what they were used to, just because she didn't want him to feel like he owed her anything. And then, he did take that step. The hand he had holding her jaw moved under her hair to grab her by the neck, while slowly tracing her bottom lip with his tongue, asking for access to her mouth. And once she allowed their tongues to meet, his hold on her lower back got stronger, draping his arm completely around her waist to pull her closer. That action made Y/N's body lift up from how strong he was holding her, and she took this as a sign to move. She straddled him on the couch, sinking (almost on slow motion) to sit on top of his thighs. Harry groaned in frustration. She's too far away, he thought. "Closer." He said in a pleading tone, and Y/N complied immediately. She slid her body up his thighs, and he forced her chest to collide with his. The hand that was holding her neck slowly traced her entire spine, to join his other one on her lower back. Her tongue felt so warm and soft, so inviting. He had always loved the way she kissed him, with so much passion but with a gentleness that was so her. She managed to fully relax in his hold once her hands found their way to his hair, right behind his ears, and he couldn't help but whimper at the feeling of their groins pressing together. This sparked a burning fire inside both of them. A fire that burned so good they'd rather die caught on it, than to never feel it again. Harry slowly slid his hands up and down her sides, all the way from her outer thighs to her side boobs. And when he did it for the second time, on his way up he slid his hands under her shirt instead of continuing their path over it. When his hands stopped at the higher part of their path, he caressed her side boobs with his thumbs, doing the same afterwards right below them, and when she finally grinded down on him, letting a deep groan leave her lips, he cupped her breasts with his hands. But when she pulled away, he dropped his hands automatically.He started eating his brains out thinking he really messed up, he was taking things down a road she didn't want to take yet, which was okay, it's not like he only wanted her body back, but he was scared he made her uncomfortable. Only then, his dick grew incredibly hard when she grabbed the hem of her oversized t-shirt to pull it up and off her body. Her perfectly perky boobs bounced slightly when Y/N dropped her shirt on the floor, resting her arms on her sides. He looked up from the lovely sight of her boobs thinking about how badly he wanted to devour them, only to find her with an uncertain look on her face. And he hated it. He hated the thought of her doubting herself so much. Harry ran his hands up and down her soft stomach, and then slid them up, softly but barely touching her boobs. His destination was somewhere else (for now), and he grabbed Y/N by her neck to pull her close. Their lips met again in the softest kiss they shared that night so far, and Y/N melted in Harry's arms like the forgotten ice cream behind her. He kissed the corner of her lips as he pulled her hair slightly so he could start kissing her jawline, down to her neck, leaving pepper kisses all over her skin. When he reached her collarbone he started sucking and biting (she loved when he bit her) knowing he couldn't do it to her neck

due to her job. She let a moan leave her lips, and when Harry slid one of his hands to grab her by her hip, she grinded down on him again, with more confidence this time. Harry lowered his face a bit more so he could finally reach one of his favorite features of his Y/N, her boobs. He took her left breast in his mouth, sucking on Y/N's nipple, making her whimper and jerk forward, tightening her hold on his brown locks to pull him even closer. He slid the hand that was holding Y/N's hair down so he could pay attention to both nipples at the same time, while using his hand on her hip to keep a steady peace to her grinding. Once she caught up with the slow but rough peace he wanted, he let go of Y/N's hip to grab the nipple he had in his mouth with in his hand, and he pinched both of them at the same time, rolling the hard buds on his fingers, then moving his mouth to the other one. He spent a lot of time paying attention to Y/N's nipples, nibbling, sucking, groping, knowing damn well they were extremely sensitive (she could orgasm just by nipple stimulation if done correctly, but she really wanted him right now). Y/N pulled from his hair enough to let him know she wanted something else, and when he let her nipple fall from his mouth, he looked straight into her eyes. Harry's cheeks were tinted a pretty shade of pink, and Y/N couldn't help but admire the beautiful man under her. He looked at her with such pure eyes, but lustful at the same time. She didn't understand how he could look so innocent but so fucking hot at the same time, it was unfair how angelic he was. She grabbed a handful of his shirt, to let him know she wanted it off. Once Harry complied, throwing his shirt somewhere near Y/N's, he immediately reached for her cream silk shorts, tugging the elastic band down as a silent plea for her to get out of them for him. She stood up from the couch, knowing Harry loved when she undressed herself for him, and still in between his legs holding eye contact, she slowly slid her shorts down her thighs along with her underwear. Harry couldn't keep eye contact for long, though. His eyes were glued to her glistening core that was slowly making an appearance, and he was getting frustrated at how slow she was being. He sat straighter on the couch so he could reach for her, and slid his hands down the front of her thighs, and on their way up he slowly slid them to their insides, getting close to where she wanted him. He slid one of his hands down again, but this time he grabbed her right leg from behind her knee, to pull it up. He made her rest her feet outside his thigh, which was now in between her legs. In this new position he got a clear view of her pretty pussy, all on display for him. "So wet, baby." He whispered, and she couldn't help but return her hold on his hair to pull him closer to her. "All for me?" Harry asked her, looking up to stare at her right in the eyes. When she nodded, he hummed in response. "Let me take care of you, it's been so long. You probably need it so much, don't you?" His voice was so fucking deep and raspy she nodded desperately in response. Y/N couldn't handle much teasing, and she let Harry know by tightening her grip yet again, and forcing his face to be so close she could feel his breathing on her. "Please, Harry." She pleaded. Harry loved teasing her, but he knew it's been a long time, he didn't want to frustrate her much. He finally licked very slowly up her folds, all the way from her opening to her clit, humming when he reached her sensitive bundle of nerves. Y/N let out a long sigh of pleasure, her eyelids fluttering shut. She felt like she could literally come just by that, and when he closed his lips around her clit, she grind her hips against his lips. He started switching between sucking and pressing his tongue on her clit until he started to move it, creating undefined figures with the tip of his tongue. They missed each other so much, so so much. And they both knew sex wouldn't magically fix everything. They knew they needed to work things out. But

sometimes conversation needs a little push, something to remind them why they need to fix things. The magnetic pull they felt towards each other was unbearably strong. They needed each other, in every imaginable way, but at that moment, they needed each other's bodies and emotion, no words needed. Just feel each other close. Harry gave her clit a sweet kiss, and looked up at her while his fingers traveled up and down her folds, until they found their home in her opening. He searched her eyes for approval, and when she whispered a soft 'please' he slowly sank his ring and middle finger, knuckle deep. She whimpered loud at the sudden pressure, and he groaned at the tightness of her hole. He rested his forehead on her navel for a second to let her adjust, and when he felt her grind on his fingers, he held her gaze while lining his mouth with her clit yet again. Harry started to work his fingers in and out of her, sucking on her clit. But what turned him on the most was her slow grinding on his face and fingers, like she was fucking his fingers nstead of his fingers fucking her. Harry used his free arm to slide it under her leg that was up on the couch, and grabbed her ass with a tight grip to pull her even closer. The pleasure was beginning to feel overwhelming, the pressure deep down on her belly begging for release was making her desperate. Y/N's moans and breathy sighs were becoming louder and consistent and the way he could feel her legs slightly shaking gave away how close she was to her release. Harry wanted her to make a mess on his face, so badly. He lowered his head and replaced his fingers with his tongue, not before he moved his fingers one last time to massage her spongy spot at the front of her insides. He fucked her with his tongue as he used his soaked fingers to stimulate her clit, circling in the fast and rough peace he knew she enjoyed so much. Her insides felt like a rocket about to launch, between his moans sending vibrations through her entire body and his fingers stimulating her clit the way she exactly needed, she became a moaning mess. Y/N couldn't comprehend how she was still standing up, even though Harry's arm under her thigh was holding most of her weight up, her knees were about to give up soon. "H-Harry, I'm so close," Y/N spoke as clearly as possible, knowing her panting was messing with her words, "please don't stop." He admired the way her jaw tightened and relaxed, her mouth opening shortly after, making a perfect 'o' with her eyes pressed shut. With one specific movement of Harry's tongue, she finally let go. With her eyes rolling back she let a couple of continuous 'fuck's quickly leave her mouth. Her entire body jolted forwards, bending a bit over him while his mouth was still attached to her core, helping her ride her orgasm, making it last for as long as possible. Y/N pulled Harry away from her with her grip on his hair once it became too much, and looked down at him. Without a second thought she bent down to lock her lips on his, with so much force it threw him back into his original seated position on the couch. "Take your pants off, now." She demanded, but adding an almost inaudible 'please', mostly for her. He happily obliged, taking his boxers down with them, imitating her previous actions. His cock sprung free, and he hissed at the feeling of freedom. Harry was so focused on her he didn't realize how painfully hard he was. He could feel his own heartbeat thundering in his chest with so much force it was almost alarming. He needed her so, so badly. Once his pants and boxers were thrown and forgotten on the floor, she straddled him. Giving him a quick but soft kiss on the lips, she began making her way down his neck, reaching back up again to (what she knew) was his most sensitive spot behind his ear. Y/N sucked a small bruise, and he whimpered. God, Y/N loved those small noises he made. She kissed her favorite beauty mark on the right side where his neck meets his shoulder, and that small action alone made his heart feel like someone was squeezing and

twisting it. He missed those small loving details from her. Y/N kept making her way down his chest, leaving wet, open mouthed kisses all over him, not forgetting to suck and nibble at his nipples. She loved taking care of him. All of him. And the way he enjoyed her playing with his nipples was something he was always scared of admitting, but he knew he didn't have to ask her to do it, because she just knew. She sunk down to her knees, still sucking and licking the skin all over his stomach while caressing his thighs (Oh, those thighs). Y/N finally grabbed his dick and slowly stroked him all the way from his base to the tip, collecting some of the precum leaking from his deep pink, swollen head. He groaned loudly, lifting his hips to fuck her fist once. She took that as a sign to lower her head even more, his cock now in front of her face. "Want my mouth, baby?" She tapped her plump lips with his tip, and when he looked down at her, she moved her closed lips around him, almost like she was using his precum as lipgloss, her hand still slowly moving up and down his length. She got him hypnotized. "Hmm?" She raised her eyebrows at him. "Y-yes, please." He heavily sighed. His begging made her drip down her thighs, he knew how much she loved it, and she knew he loved begging too, maybe even more than her. She always took such good care of him. She swirled her tongue around his tip once, then proceeded to lick up his shaft a couple of times like his dick was an ice lolly. Once she finally wrapped her lips around his tip, he sighed in relief, and relaxed his shoulders. Harry's hands grabbed her neck to pull her head down, and she surprised him when she suddenly deep throated him before even working her way there. "Fucking hell, Y/N." He moaned when he felt her humming around him. Harry grabbed her hair making a shift ponytail, to help her get her hair out of the way, and using his grip on it to lift her head, her mouth left his dick, and he smirked at the small pout on her lips. "You are so perfect." She ignored him and tried to lean forward again, which made him smile at how desperate she was. He let her get what she wanted, allowing her lips to wrap around his tip again. She licked up his slit and swirled her tongue around him, and hollowed her cheeks to suck on his tip. She took more of him in her mouth, using her right hand to work on his base and her left to gently cup his balls and play with them. Harry knew he wouldn't last long. It's been a while since they've done anything remotely sexual, and his hand... his hand wasn't her. So even though he could get himself off, nothing in the world would compare to how it felt when it was his Y/N pleasing him. His breathing became irregular as she bobbed her head up and down his length in a steady rhythm, and when she tugged on his balls he knew he had to pull her away right that second, or he would come. And he really wanted to, but not like this. "Baby, please," he tried to pull her head away with a tug on her ponytail, but she didn't oblige. Instead, she looked up at him through her eyelashes, still bobbing her head up and down on him, and that sight alone could make him come in a heartbeat. But he kept it together. "I wanna come inside you, p-please." And that made Y/N pull away, her mouth making a 'pop' sound when she let his dick fall from her lips. She then straddled him, her hands finding their home right behind his ears, grabbing him by his hair, while his made their way around her body, hugging her close. His dick fit perfectly between her lips, and Y/N grinded on him to feel his wet cock slide through her folds, creating the most delicious friction. Harry kissed her passionately, trying to pour everything he felt in the kiss. And Y/N did feel it, because she was trying to do the same. They repeated the action a couple of times until she reached in between them to grab a hold of him, positioning him on her opening. And when she finally sank down on him, they locked gazes. They sat still, connected. They were so close. They felt so close. Harry

nudged her nose with his, softly brushing their lips together. He then noticed a single tear run down her cheek, and reached for her face quickly. Right before it got in her mouth he caught it with his thumb, and she leaned in his touch. They didn't say a word. Just sat still. With Harry caressing her cheek, and Y/N looking straight into his eyes. Y/N leaned forward to capture his top lip between hers, leaving the sweetest kiss, repeating the action with his bottom lip. After, she went for the right corner of his mouth, his cheek, his jawline, his pulse point, behind his ear. And repeated the exact same trail on the left side of his face, finishing with his top and bottom lips, one last time before starting to slowly grind and circle her hips on him. Harry just couldn't stop staring at her. The amount of love and adoration he held in his heart for that woman was beyond words, and actions. And he then understood. He understood that he could live a life without marriage if it meant living it with her. He could handle it. He would get over it. He involuntarily dropped his head back and shut his eyes with so much force, while hissing through gritted teeth when she finally lifted her weight on her knees, sliding up on his dick until he was almost entirely out, only to sink back down roughly, going so deep it made both of them moan loudly at how tight she was. She slid one of her hands around his neck to grab him by his chin, forcing him to look at her. Y/N kissed him again, and this time their kiss was messy and desperate, between crashing teeth and loud moans due to her fucking him with all she got. She let go of Harry's mouth to sit straighter, using his shoulders as support to move faster. This position gave Harry a view he wouldn't trade for anything in the world. He could see his cock, so drenched of her arousal, and her pussy taking him so well. The wet sounds leaving their connected centers were magical, so erotic, accompanied with the small whimpers and moans coming out of her perfect lips. Harry thought she looked like a fucking goddess, with her round and perky tits bouncing up and down every time her tight pussy took him entirely. "You're being so good, baby. Letting me fuck you just how I like it." She whispered to him, staring at his heart shaped, swollen lips. The lips she was so addicted to. "You take such good care of me, angel. Always." He replied, looking into her eyes which were still glued to his lips. She licked her own, and moved forward to crash them against his on another messy kiss. They both were so close. Harry couldn't understand how he managed to hold his release for so long, but he was proud of himself. Y/N separated their lips for a moment to make him suck her point and middle finger, which he complied immediately, knowing exactly what she was doing. He then watched her lower her hand between their bodies again, but this time to reach for her clit, where she started to gently rub circles, stimulating herself. Harry started thrusting up with force, to meet her halfway, tightening his grip around her middle. Y/N bit down his shoulder to stifle a loud moan, which only made Harry thrust faster. "Please come for me, Y/N, I wanna feel you come all- all around my cock." He managed to plead between breathy whimpers. And it only took a few more thrusts from him to make her insides explode in the most blissful sensation, like electricity running all the way from her belly to her toes. She stiffens in his hold, her inside walls tightening and clenching so hard it almost sends him out of her, making his balls tighten right before he lets go. She could feel him emptying inside her, his spurts of cum filling her up, leaving both of them exhausted, satisfied and utterly fucked. None of them moved for a while. Y/N's breathing calmed him, almost like a lullaby, and the way Harry was gently stroking her back made goosebumps erupt all over her body. Without any warning, Harry stood up, making Y/N wrap her legs around him, she hissed through the feeling of his dick moving while still

inside her, and she bit down his shoulder again. She didn't question what he was doing, she didn't care. Harry sat her down on a cold surface after turning the lights on, and when she opened her eyes she realized he sat her in their bathroom counter. He put some space between them so he could finally look at her again. The fact that they barely spoke during sex today (when they were usually pretty vocal) made everything so... different. Not in a bad way, though. It made them both enjoy sex as the pure performance of just loving someone. No need of crazy positions, weird kinks or edging each other the way they're used to. Just love. The need to feel connected. The need of physically demonstrating each other's love. How they are each other's entire world. "I'm gonna clean us up, okay?" Harry told her softly, and she only nodded in response. She leaned in to give him a soft kiss, which honestly caught Harry off guard now that the sexual act was over. But made him happy nonetheless. She was scared of him shutting her out again. But he was scared of her getting tired of him. He knew she was a free soul. She wanted so many things, and settling down to start a family like he wanted to wasn't in her near plans, maybe in her plans at all. And he knew that. He understood it, and he respected it. He just thought about how badly he truly wanted that life with her. He was just scared she would let him go. They both looked down and hissed the moment he slid out of her. Harry had the perfect view of their mixed cum dripping down her core, making a mess on the marble counter under her. And Y/N saw his dick twitch at the sight, but decided against commenting on it. Even though it made her slightly smirk. Harry took his time cleaning both of them, and Y/N didn't look away from him. Not even for a second. He lifted her up again and literally sat her down on the toilet so she could pee. They've done this a thousand times, it was normal for them, she wasn't modest about him seeing or listening to her pee. After they brushed their teeth next to each other, stealing curious looks (especially Harry at Y/N's boobs through the mirror), they went to bed together. And for the first time in two months, she rested her head on his chest, with his arms wrapped around her. The only thing she didn't notice was that once Harry knew she was asleep, he couldn't keep it in. He cried himself to sleep that night. But it wasn't any different from what he was used to from the past couple of months. The only difference was that this time, he knew he'd give up his dreams if it meant he could keep her around. & The next morning, Y/N felt something, or someone, shift behind her. She knew it was Harry. His arm was thrown over her waist, resting dangerously close to her boobs (she secretly loved the way Harry seemed obsessed with her boobs) and she could feel his breathing hit the back of her neck. She hugged his arm closer to her body to let him know she was awake, which made Harry shift even closer, cup her left breast and press his pretty pink and warm lips to her neck. "Good morning." She said with a breathy laugh, her morning voice was a sound that drove Harry mad. She sounded way too sexy for her (or his) own good. "Hi." He nuzzled her neck with his nose, "how'd you sleep?" He left another lingering kiss, this time below her ear. "Amazing. Haven't slept this good in a while." She replied honestly, wiggling her body back towards him so their torsos were pressing together. "Mhm, me too." He whispered, tightening his hold around her, his morning wood pressing on her lower back. She could already feel the pool of her arousal in between her legs, and when she arched her back so now his dick was pressing against the curve of her ass, he groaned in her ear. He slowly started to grind himself against her ass, moving down on the bed a bit so he could better his position. And when she grinded back against him, he reached in between them to position himself on her opening. He pushed the tip in, just enough to feel her tight hole around

him. "Can I?" He asked her to make sure they both wanted this. When she sighed deeply in pleasure and murmured a 'yes', he slowly thrusted into her, both moaning a bunch of profanities. They both were huge lovers of morning sex. It increased their moods during their days, helped them relax and carry their days with a carefree feeling. So, he fucked her. Hard. Not even close to how loving they were last night. He woke up with an unbeatable energy, and he wanted to take advantage of it. He fucked her in the position they woke up in. He turned her to her stomach and fucked her while (almost) laying completely on top of her (she loved feeling his weight on her) and he fucked her on all fours, only to end up in their initial position, with her back against his chest on their sides, so he could play with her clit to help her come. That morning they spent it in bed, Y/N made them breakfast, Harry read a book. They both knew they needed to talk, but they wanted to enjoy some time where everything felt normal between them again. So they avoided the topic. But the conversation they owed each other kept being pushed. And for another two months, everything slowly started to feel normal again. Usually, avoiding conversation will lead up to more hurting. But with Y/N and Harry, it ended up becoming a realization point. Harry got in terms with the fact they wanted different things. He decided she was worth anything and everything in the world, because she was his world. But what he didn't know was that Y/N spent those entire two months imagining what a life like the one Harry wanted with her would be like. And after one day, on Harry's 28th birthday, during a small walk they were taking on Central Park, she realized she would do anything in the world to make him the happiest man he could ever be. She kissed him so passionately that day, interrupting their walk. He looked at her with a confused look when she pulled away with the brightest smile on her face. But that smile made him confirm he was willing to give up his dream of getting married. That's why in mid February, Y/N found herself shopping in a very expensive jewelry store. She knew Harry liked that place since his 'H' and 'S' rings were from there. They had an amazing section of handmade rings that she spent a long time going through. She wanted to pick the best one she could find. She found the prettiest, most fine silver ring with a red stone adorning it's top. She knew he would love it. It definitely didn't look like the typical engagement ring, but nothing about Harry was typical. It would match the rest of his rings lovingly, and Y/N knew he would simply love it. Not only because it was a pretty ring, but because it would mean something big for them. Three days later, Y/N came back from work to find Harry sitting on their living room couch watching the forecast. Why? Who the fuck knows. He never watched cable TV. Y/N just stood there for a while, just staring at him. "Hi, love." He greeted her. "Are you alright?" He asked with his eyebrows furrowed. The crease between them made an appearance, even though it was there most of the time. "Hey." She finally moved, dropped her keys on the little bowl sitting on top of the small table in the hallway. "All good, gonna put some comfy clothes on really quick." She lied. She just couldn't wait any longer. Watching him sit there all frustratingly beautiful doing absolutely nothing was fucking annoying, it was so unfair how beautiful he was. She had an entire evening prepared but she just couldn't wait any longer. She wanted to do it now. She dropped her purse on their bed and quickly got rid of her shoes, but didn't change into anything comfier. She just grabbed the small black velvet box from her t-shirt drawer and went back to the living room, sliding it in the back pocket of her jeans so he wouldn't be able to see it. Harry looked at her with a confused look, wondering why she was still in her work clothes walking directly to him when she said she wanted to change. She sunk to her knees in

between his legs, which only made him even more confused. "You sure you're alright?" Harry gently asked her. She just hummed in response and grabbed the remote sitting on the coffee table (moving as little as possible, she didn't want him seeing the small bump on her jeans because she knew he would ask about it), and turned back around. She rested her ass on her ankles, and her arms on top of his thighs. "So..." she started. "So..." Harry repeated, confused. "I love you, so very much." Y/N started and Harry's breath got caught in his throat. He wasn't expecting this at all. "So much, you don't even understand." Her voice was barely louder than a whisper. They haven't told they loved each other in so long, scared of the other not saying it back. God only knows why, because it was clear as water they still loved each other with their whole beings. "And I know we both always wanted different things." This is it. Harry thought. She's breaking up with me. "And I know there are some things I believe that you will never understand, and there are some things I- I didn't understand, for a long time." Harry furrowed her eyebrows further at this last part. Now he truly didn't understand what she was trying to say. "For so long I thought I wanted something, you know? Like I was sure I had it all figured out for myself, the life I wanted. But I actually- I was searching for a life that wasn't mine. And I didn't realize that what I already have is everything I could possibly want." Y/N's cheeks were flushed, tears streaming down her face so fast they were drenching his hands that were now pressed against her cheeks, softly caressing them. "I know now, that love is about finding common ground. Meeting each other's needs. And sometimes we have to step out of our comfort zone to do that. And I came to a conclusion." She swallowed the big lump on her throat, and that finally allowed her to let a long breath leave her chest. "I love you more than anything in this world. I hope you know that, and I know I struggle sometimes with letting you know how much I adore and admire all of you. But I promise to do my best today, and for the rest of my life, to make sure you know how loved you are. How much I'm willing to do for you. And this took me a while to understand, but I do now. I understand why you felt like you needed to take that 'next step' with us. And I understand why it'd make you as happy as you always said. So, it'd make me really happy to ask you to," Y/N reached her pocket and heard him gasp when she pulled the box in front of him, revealing a beautiful ring for him, "marry me." Harry was speechless. Truly, ultimately speechless. Not only was the love of his life asking him to marry her, she was saying she truly wanted this. Harry's gaze kept going from the ring back to her eyes. And after a while of no one saying anything, Y/N cleared her throat. "H," she whispered, "Will you marry me?" She asked, the soft tone on her voice and the question he dreamed so many times asking her knocked him back to life. "Yes, yes, Y/N, yes- oh Y/N-" he choked a sob, and the biggest smiles appeared on both their faces. Y/N threw herself to him, wrapping her arms around his neck so tightly. He helped her straddle him so he could wrap his own arms around her. They held each other for a few seconds, both crying the happiest tears they ever let drop, and when she pulled away to put the ring on him, he surprised her by crashing their lips together. They shared their most passionate kiss in the entirety of their relationship, both still crying, smiling, spilling so much love and adoration with each stroke of their tongues. When he pulled away, she finally placed the box in between them again. "Can I put it on you? I know you like to wear your 'H' ring on your ring finger, so we could put it somewhere else, you know? And make it our own thing-" Harry interrupted her giving her a soft peck, "or we could-" another kiss, "I don't know." She finally gave in, pressing her lips harder against him. After another long kiss, he finally told her

where he wanted his ring, and with a last kiss he patted her ass to let her know he needed her to stand up. "Wait here." He pointed at her, and she sat on the couch with a soft 'okay'. He returned moments later with his hand behind his back and a lopsided smirk. He sat in the same position she was for her proposal, in between her legs. Before he said anything, he moved his hands in between them, opening a red velvet box. She gasped like Harry did moments ago when she saw the beautiful ring with a small red stone (yes! Like his own ring) placed on top of a very thin and delicate silver band that was sitting inside the small box. "It was my grandmother's." Harry said in a quiet tone. "She gave it to me before she passed away a couple months after we met, remember?" She slowly nodded, lifting her gaze to meet his eyes. There was so much love written all over his face. "I told her you were it for me. I knew I wanted this with you ever since we met at our university library. She gave it to me in hopes I could... give it to you some time." He gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I kept it hidden from you all this time. Didn't want you to find it and make everything weird between us. But I'd really love if you could, um... wear it if you want?" He shyly asked. "It'd be an honor to carry her ring with me, Harry." His face lit up so fast at her response. "Yeah?" He asked, perplexed. "Yeah." Y/N replied with a big smile. "Will you marry me, Y/N?" He asked her this time, and she couldn't help but giggle. "I asked you first." She pecked his lips. "But yes, Harry. I'll marry you." And she kissed him again, and he couldn't help but smile so widely she ended up with her lips against his teeth. After putting his grandmother's ring on her, they shared another night of pure, loving sex. None remember how many times they made each other come, but they did have another important conversation between rounds. "Something else I wanted to tell you..." She said, in between kisses (they loved giving each other soft small pecks all over each other while they were talking). She was straddling him in their bed, his back against the headboard. He didn't want to pull out of her just yet, keeping his cum inside her for as long as possible. "I know you're ready to have kids, like, right now." She said, and he raised his eyebrows playfully at her. "I can tell by your breeding kink, honestly." He let a loud laugh leave his chest, making her smile too. It was honestly hilarious, I mean, look at their position. "I decided I really want to have kids with you." He gasped, "But..." he sunk down in his position, a visible pout on his lips, which she kissed away from him. "Promise me you'll wait for me, until I'm in my 30's" He locked eyes with her. She really wanted this. So much. "Only three more years?!" He asked with so much hope. "Three more years and we can start trying, I promise. I just thought that- that we could get married now, have some time as a married couple, you know? To enjoy ourselves." She shrugged and he couldn't help but smile widely and her, nodding frantically. "That way we are both adapting to each other, you know? Meet halfway our wants." "God, I love you so much." He chose to say, instead of replying straight away. "I'll wait a lifetime to have kids with you if that's what you wanted, just please- decide before you reach menopau-" He couldn't even finish his sentence since she shut him up by putting her hand over his mouth. "Don't even say it. God, I don't wanna be old." She sighed in frustration. "I honestly can't wait to grow old with you." Harry said with such a loving tone, like an enamored teenager, hugging her closer to him. And she couldn't help but smile back at him. Because even though ageing scares her, she's ready to spend the rest of her life with him. "I love you, my angel." Y/N told Harry, before kissing his lips, yet again.

"I love you, my Y/N." Harry whispered to her, keeping her face close to his.

Thank you so much for reading! Have a lovely day <3

-Joey

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry smut #my writing

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