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babbushka · 5 years ago

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Two’s Company (1/5)

1989 and New York City is a mess. Life was shit for all but you and Pale, who found that among the rubble and rubbish, there existed peace and calm and hard hot fucking. That is, until, an unwanted visitor makes themselves known, throwing this happy dream into a tumultuous nightmare.

Chapter 1 of the much anticipated sequel to Blue Moon!

(Word count: 4.6k Warnings: N*SFW)

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It had been a year.

Well, almost.

Almost one whole entire year since you came home from the diner to find a big broad man cursing at a mover’s truck across the street. You smiled at the thought that you only remembered wondering what the hell someone was moving in so late for, not paying any attention to the owner of the shiny black car or the penthouse it was parked outside of.

Sometimes, you couldn’t believe it, how things had changed, how nothing had changed at all.

You were still you, and Pale was still Pale. Just, it was one year later.

One year later, Pale still snored.

Loudly.

You were lying on your side in his bed, in his apartment, the very same one you stared into the windows of, so long ago. It was getting late in the morning, too late, late enough that he was going to be pissed he slept in that long, pissed that he didn’t wake himself up sooner.

He always was an early riser, your man. A worker, he called himself. You didn’t know anyone who worked harder than Pale.

The curtains were pulled so that light spilled into the room, and you were sure that Pale would have woken up along with the sunrise, but as it was, he was still snoring. You watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, and you thought about how endearing it was that even in sleep he had a little frown, even in sleep he grumbled and mumbled about things that bugged him. Not even the honking horns or the construction outside was enough to get him out of dream-land, despite it being late enough in the morning that the whole city had woken up by now, you were sure of it.

You rubbed the frown lines away from his forehead with soothing circles of your thumb, kissed his cheek sweetly to try and wake him up gently. You tried to rouse him for the fourth time with a soothing rub of your hand on his exposed bicep.

“Pale.” You whispered, eyeing the clock. He was gonna be so pissed, you thought with an amused smile.

That smile turned into a grin when a great big groan of annoyance spilled from his lips, when his brow pinched together again as he tried to block out the day.

“…No.” He grumbled, and you knew you had won.

You straddled his strong thighs, rubbed at his chest. His arms wound around you and pulled you down flush to meet his lips, but he frowned when he kissed you. What a grouch, you thought with a smile as you tried using your lips as bait to lure him off his pillow.

“C’mon sleeping beauty, it’s time to get up.” You said playfully, and Pale’s grip tightened on you, keeping you in place.

“No it fuckin’ ain’t, go back to sleep.” He mumbled, before abruptly rolling over in the great big bed of his and pinning you underneath him.

“Pale!” You laughed, startled as he let himself turn into nothing but dead weight that you tried to push against.

If he weren’t so fucking grouchy, you knew he’d be smiling.

“Can’t hear you, sorry.” He lied, voice thick and laced with sleep, that handsome baritone of his pressing into your throat where he shoved his whole face in an attempt to hide from the sun.

“It’s Saturday, you gotta go down to the concert hall today.” You reminded him, arms coming around to smooth against his hot back.

He always ran so hot, your man. One-hundred and ten degrees, he said.

“That ain’t until like ten o’clock.” He groaned, sucking needy marks against your skin where his lips rested.

“I know honey but it’s eight now.” You strained to check the clock once more, and the digital alarm clock blinked back at you.

Pale didn’t like the sound of that, if the way he bolted up was any indicator of things.

“What?” He snapped, suddenly very awake, “Why the fuck didn’t you say so?”

You could only roll your eyes with a small smile as he swung his legs off the side of the bed, took three great big strides out the hall and went into the bathroom.

“It’s gonna take me a fucking hour to get all the way down there with this traffic and that leaves me practically no fuckin’ time to eat or do nothin’, christ (Y/N).” He bitched and whined, voice echoing down the hall.

“I’ve been tryin’ for half an hour now to get you up!” You explained, laying back down on the mattress with a little huff of a laugh as you heard the toilet and sink run one after the other. “You were the one who kept snoozin’.” You pointed out when he returned to the bedroom.

You had tucked your hands behind your head, the covers all rustled and pulled away from your naked body from when Pale had practically flung them off of himself.

He never did like the covers, too hot.

“Oh fuck me.” He groaned, scrubbed a hand down his face, stretched his muscles that had you ogling at how fucking good he looked in the dappled sunlight that came through the curtains.

“Okay, come here.” You said real cheeky, and he took one look at you and practically pounced.

You had thought, foolishly, that over time his appetite for you might have started to mellow out. You thought maybe he would have had his fill and gotten bored of it, tired of it, used to it. Hadn’t he once said that getting’ laid was just okay? Maybe you had imagined that part, maybe he had said it a long time ago but not to you. You didn’t know.

What you did know, was that you were wrong – and you normally didn’t like being wrong about things, but you didn’t mind being wrong about this. The way he kissed you, touched you, fucked you…jesus it was enough to wear a girl out. But you loved it, and he loved it, and you opened your legs for him happily, willingly, wanting him to take what he needed, what he wanted.

He only ever wanted you.

“Let me see that pretty pussy of mine, huh?” He licked across his teeth, yanking you down the bed by your ankles so he could pry your knees apart.

You grinned and made room for him to settle between your legs, and he wasted no time in sliding his hard cock right into you.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, I missed this hot cunt.” He sighed, hips already thrusting like a man possessed.

He kept your pelvis pinned down against the mattress, held onto you tightly so he could chase his pleasure. You moaned and tipped your head back, nipples stiffening as they brushed against the skin of his chest.

“You fucked me last night.” You pointed out, making him grip your jaw and pry it open.

He shoved a couple fingers against your tongue, and you sucked, got them soaked with your spit. He spit into your mouth, added to the mix, fucked your throat with those big fingers, fucked your pussy with his even bigger cock. You were wet all over and squelching and Pale was addicted to it.

“Yeah, and? That was ten – oh fuck yeah – fucking hours ago, might as well have been ten years ago. ‘Coulda been sooner but someone – shit (Y/N)! – someone let me sleep in.” He smacked your stomach and watched as the flesh rippled for him when he did it, watched as you grinned and spit his fingers out.

“Hey! I – oh, Pale – I didn’t do nothin’ you didn’t want. And a quickie – oh! – a quickie’s fine.” You assured him.

He liked taking his time with you, liked reducing you down to a tear-stained babbling mess, but there just wasn’t the time for it right now, not right now. And that was okay, you had plans for him tonight, plans that you couldn’t really reveal just yet.

“I’m gonna make you come so fucking hard anyway.” Pale rolled his eyes, let them slip closed as he got lost in his own pleasure for a while, hips grinding into you with all the same intensity and desperation as they had a year ago.

The headboard smacked against the wall, and it was all you could do but hold on for dear life, clench yourself around him to make it tighter, hotter, wetter, better for him. He groaned and grunted and brushed the head of his cock right against that spot that made you see stars every fucking time.

“Yeah, yes! Make me come, please?” You begged, kissed and sucked hickeys onto his neck with more little pleases, breathy little things that had him groaning, had his balls tightening up.

“God what a whore you are, bet you’re gonna go the fuck back to sleep like this huh? My come sliding outta your tight cunt? You gonna lick it all up for breakfast you slut?” He gripped your jaw, bit down hard on your lip, so hard you were worried for a minute he would break the skin.

“Yeah I’m starving, fill me up.” You said, before suddenly your orgasm came out of nowhere, but maybe not nowhere, from the way he was pinching and fucking and pushing and pulling at you. Your eyes flew open with a surprised, “Pale!”

“Shit – oh shit.” He followed soon after, tweaking your nipple hard as he shot his come deep into you.

“Hmm.” You sighed happily, wiggling your hips a little underneath him as he breathed heavily on top of you, the both of you feeling his come filling you up to the brim, just like you asked. You were sure that once you stood up, it’d already start dripping out of you, run down your thigh, but you’d deal with that in a minute.

He always did have such a big fucking load, you thought with a smile.

The two of you breathed together, heartbeats all in sync as the traffic blared on and on outside.

You had been spending more and more time in his apartment, so much that it was starting to become your apartment, the two of yous together. You had moved some of your stuff in, some clothes, toiletries, books and records and mementos. You still kept your apartment of course, but your lease was coming to an end soon, and you still hadn’t decided what you wanted to do about it.

Maybe you’d bring it up tonight, you figured, when you gave him his surprise.

Pale was unusually quiet against you as he came down from the high of his orgasm. He’d been working so fucking hard lately, between running the restaurant in the city – which had been doing so well that Fish was pissed he hadn’t thought of doing it sooner – and planning his next big symphony. Sometimes he didn’t come home until two or three in the morning, exhausted from a long day of yelling at schmucks.

He was going to have a long day today too, but hopefully it wouldn’t be so stressful. The thought of the symphony made you nudge him gently. He needed to get a fucking move-on with his day otherwise he’d be late, and he hated being late more than just about anything.

And that was really sayin’ something.

“Breakfast?” You asked, breaking the silence of the moment and he chuckled, nodded as he kissed your temple before pulling out.

Pale was real fucking picky about his food and drink. If there was one thing he knew inside and out, it was how to make good food, and he hated when people fucked it up. A year ago, he wouldn’t dare let you touch the stove – not because you weren’t good, but because it was just so much easier if he did it all.

Now though, now you’ve been together long enough to know how he likes things, to know how to do it right, and you all but took over breakfast. He always did it all, and you thought he needed a fucking break, just one thing that he could have someone do for him.

He had been so hesitant at first, but now, now you could see the gratitude in his eyes at someone taking care of him for once.

Hadn’t you said that, ages ago? That you’d take care of him?

You smiled as you slid the full breakfast onto his plate a few minutes after the two of you rolled out of bed and cleaned up. Pale was dressed in one of his nice suits, one that wasn’t black for once. He wore a very handsome silver number, one that made his shoulders look extravagantly wide with all the padding. Underneath his jacket he had a crisp white button down and on his feet were his shiny black boots, and you had helped clasp the gold chain around his neck.

You were in your underwear, because of course you were, tits out and hair clipped up and your own gold chain glinting in the sunlight that came from the windows in the big kitchen. Pale was staring out one of those windows with a coffee mug in hand, shaking his head with disdain at the street below him.

“You know I’ve had it just about to here with this fucking construction going on, how long has that been happening? I swear it feels like it’s never gonna fucking end, can you believe that? What kind of a sewer of a city is this? You go to bed to fucking back-up trucks beep-beeping and you wake up to jackhammers. This ain’t no kinda paradise. I’d be pissed if I had to wake up to that every fucking morning for the rest of my life, how’s a guy supposed to get any fuckin’ sleep like that?” He bitched, angrily sipping his coffee.

“It’s for the bond money, you know.” You said matter-of-factly as you plated up a dish of your own, carrying both yours and his to the kitchen table and sitting on one of the nice chairs.

“How’s that?” He turned to face you, practically rushed to sit at the table with you.

He never sat across from you, always next to you. Whether it was a table that seated ten or two, he always dragged his chair around to be able to have you close to him.

Sometimes it all felt very domestic, being here, a game of pretend that you both liked to play.

“The bond money? The city will apply for money to fix the roads, except they know that once the road is fixed, the money runs out. So they delay the building of the road for long enough that by the time it’s basically finished, they gotta go re-pave over the whole fucking thing all over again because it’s been ten years and there’s potholes at the start.” You explained, and he had to hold his hands up in protest.

“Did you just say ten years?” He was already shaking his head.

“You bet.” You nodded sympathetically. You had been dealing with the never-ending construction your whole life, guessed it wasn’t like that back where he came from.

“Oh abso-fucking-lutely not. We’re moving outta this shithole, that’s it, I decided.” Pale grumbled, scarfed his breakfast down.

“Oh yeah, you decided?” You laughed, nudging his calf under the table with your foot playfully. “Where are we gonna go, Jersey?”

“Don’t be a brat.” He pointed his fork in your direction, bit off a big bite of his eggs.

“Me?” You asked with wide eyes, pointing to yourself with mock innocence.

“Yeah you.” He grumbled and you laughed, shook your head at him and ate your breakfast.

He couldn’t help but let the smallest smile slip out, but buried it with his own breakfast, practically scraping the plate clean, careful not to get any syrup from the French toast on his suit.

“Hey, look at me?” He asked, once he was done, and without thinking you turned your head, only to be captured up in a kiss.

He did this sometimes, just kissed you like this, hands wandering around to your tits and giving them a nice light squeeze. He licked into your mouth slow and deep, and you could feel his eyelashes tickle your cheek from where they brushed against your face, the two of you so so close.

In moments like those, you remembered all of the pain and anguish he had been through in the past year, the riot in his chest caused by the sudden death of his brother slowly but surely settling down into a longing ache that everyone who has grieved will know.

You kissed him back just as deeply, broke apart only when the clock chimed nine, when he absolutely had to leave.

“Have a good day, okay?” You whispered against his lips, and he nodded, stole one more chaste kiss before getting up and putting his dishes in the sink.

“You too.” He said, downing the last of his coffee, and grabbing his keys from the small hook on the door.

“Oh, Pale?” You asked, you suddenly remembered you needed to get something, and whipped around quickly trying to catch him before he ran out the door.

“Yeah dollface?” He hung in the doorway a little, always hanging on your every word, much as he pretended he didn’t.

“I was hoping to do a little shopping today, if that’s okay?” You asked, real shy.

You didn’t like asking for money, in fact you never did. The whole time you’d been together the most you ever had asked for was a nickle for the jukebox once. But you were out of cash and didn’t get paid until next Friday, and you really wanted to make tonight special for him. For the both of you.

“Okay? It’s more than fucking okay, Jesus Christ I thought you’d never ask! You know you really oughta let me get you a whole new fucking wardrobe, I tell ya some of your clothes I’m just sick to fucking death of seeing you in. You need nice shit, real nice comfortable shit I’m not sayin’ all of it has to be sexy or nothing – although don’t get me wrong I ain’t gonna oppose to sexy. Where are you gonna go? Actually you know what, don’t tell me, I’ll guess when I come back home. How much do ya want?” He got so excited at the thought of spending money on you, it made you blush.

You just held up your fingers about half an inch apart, knowing he dealt out cash in stacks. He was so good at it, between the drugs and the booze and the backdoor restaurant deals and everything else, that he knew exactly how much was in each of the stacks he split off.

He unrolled a big thick wad of cash and handed it to you, leaning down for a kiss in exchange, a payment you were more than happy to give.

“Thank you.” You smiled, batting your eyelashes at him.

In fact, you thought he deserved more of a payment than just a thank you, so you slowly sank to your knees, right there in the doorway, right where anyone walking by could see.

He was in the penthouse, so there was nobody, but still, the thought made him groan with pleasure as you worked his pants open.

“Ohhhkay, okay now, c’mon you’re gonna make me late.” He tsked, hand tangling in your hair gently as you pulled his cock out, stroked it in your soft hands until it grew hard and hot.

“Come down my throat?” You asked sweetly, little kitten licks at the head where pre-come was already starting to leak.

And he did, oh he did.

Pale shut the door behind him, and tugged at your hair enough to get you to take him all the way, your eyes closed, focused on your breathing. He was so big, obscenely big, and you were still working on being able to deep-throat him right away. You got close, so close, your nose pressed right against his public hair that curled around and around, dark happy trail that you scratched at with your nails, other hand curling around his thigh to steady yourself.

“You look so fucking good on your knees, perfect whore.” He grunted, grip in your hair too tight, not giving you room to breathe or do much of anything other than let yourself be used. “My best girl, god this fuckin’ mouth is the best.”

He shoved himself down further, making you choke and gag, but he fucked your throat through it, made tears prick at the corner of your eyes in mild panic just from the sudden intensity of it all. The tile was cold on your shins, and you could feel yourself growing wet, couldn’t tell if it was his come making its way out of you or if it was your own slick. Either way, you could feel it starting to soak through your underwear, knew it would soon make a sticky puddle on the floor.

He came down your throat just like you asked, but pulled out while it was still shooting from the swollen red tip of his cock. He painted it all over your face, hot come clinging to your cheek and chin, even more splattering onto your tits.

Some still drooled and dripped onto the floor.

A drop got on his shoes, those lizard skin ones he was wearing to death now that he finally broke them in, and you sucked in a breath. He didn’t like his shoes getting dirty.

“Clean up.” He said, releasing his grip on your hair, your scalp tingling as you didn’t hesitate to smear the come off your cheek with the back of your hand, sucking it off your knuckles with loud wet pops.

You bent down to lick off the drop that had fallen onto his otherwise pristine boots, laved your tongue over the shiny leather. Was it leather if it was lizard skin? You didn’t care, you licked and sucked until you could see your reflection, until Pale nudged your cheek with the toe of it.

He struck up a cigarette, breathed in the nicotine deeply as he tucked himself away, checking his watch. He really would be late now, you thought with very little regret. You smiled up at him, and he tapped the floor, tapped the puddle of all your slick and spit and sweat and his come. You knew what he meant, and you licked that up too.

You weren’t worried, the floors were more than clean enough to eat off of.

“Gimmie a kiss.” He said once you were done.

You were more than happy to oblige, taking the cigarette out of his mouth for a moment to smooch him right on the lips, before putting it back between those crooked teeth you adored so dearly.

“Don’t stay out too long okay?” You asked, knowing full well he’d be out as long as it took, but still. You liked him home with you.

“No fuckin’ promises.” He said, in that way of his that meant he’d try.

He didn’t have to say it, you already knew.

With a little wave, you ushered him out the door, closing and locking it behind him.

You only got a couple feet from the front door when the phone rang, and you cursed your bad luck.

Pale had been waiting on a call for a couple days now from a potential commissioner, and go fucking figures that the second your man walks out the door, they would call.

You quickly pick the phone up, already reaching for a pad and pen to write down who called and when, but when you answered, there was nearly silence on the other line.

“Hello?” You asked, not unkindly in the least. The last thing you wanted to do was piss off whoever it was that might’ve been calling.

“Is Jim there?” A woman asked, throwing you for a moment. You didn’t think that the commissioner would have his secretary call, but you shrugged, thinking it was for the better since Pale wasn’t there anyway.

“No I’m afraid he just left, can I ..take …a message?” You frowned at how the line went dead right after you had told the woman no. That wasn’t the commissioner’s secretary, you decided, no one would be that rude when they were trying to work with someone. “Huh.”

You couldn’t help but stare at the phone for a little while, wondering if the line got disconnected. But no, it sounded very much like someone hung up on you, so that’s all you wrote on the little pad of paper, not wanting it to be forgotten.

When the phone didn’t ring again, you shrugged, and went into the bathroom to rinse off and get presentable for the day. You and Pale had showered together earlier, but you figured what the hell, a second rinse could do you good.

You paid special attention to between your legs, making sure to fully wash away all the come and slick and sweat that was cooling and starting to itch. Pale used this really fancy bodywash that you always used, you liked the way it smelled and you liked the way it made you smell like him.

For how much you loved your leaky shitty clawfoot bathtub, there was something so luxurious about the rain showerhead in Pale’s bathroom. It made you feel like you were some sexy thing in a commercial, and it bummed you out that Pale didn’t get to see it. The water trickled down your body, carrying away the soapy sudsy mess of the morning along with it, and you watched as it swirled down the drain.

Almost one whole year, you thought. Ain’t that something?

You shut the shower off once you were all squeaky clean, slipped into the soft robe Pale bought you ages ago, and decided on what to wear.

It was cold again in New York, starting to border on freezing. November was a good month, you thought, a real good month. But it was a cold one, and you weren’t about to go wandering Manhattan in your robe, so you dried your hair and bundled up in some warm comfortable things that Pale had gotten you on a whim. He did that a lot, bought you things he thought you might like, bought things he liked to see you in.

You thought that for the one year, you might treat him to a special sight, wear something you knew he was sure to love. Fifth Avenue was only a half hour train ride away, and you knew the short trip would be worth it to see the look on Pale’s face later that evening.

You grabbed your key, engraved with your name and his on it like the sentimental bastard Pale was deep down inside, and locked up the penthouse, all wrapped up in your coat and scarf. The elevator ride was short and sweet and to the point, and you smiled at the woman who excused herself to squeeze past you in the doorway.

It took a little while, but while you were sitting on the subway heading into the city, you didn’t think that you had ever recognized that woman before. She certainly didn’t live in the apartment complex, otherwise you would have seen her. You resigned to ask Pale about it later, instead content to just look out the window and watch the city zip by as excitement buzzed in your veins at the thought of your great surprise.

You wanted nothing more than to show your love for this man, your man, your Pale.

You were gonna do it, and you were gonna do it right.

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Tagging some pals! I hope you guys are excited for this fic, I know I am! :) (If you’d like to be taken off or added to the taglist, please just shoot me a message!) @fullofbees @spinebarrel @dreamboatdriver @thecurlycaptain @bourbonboredom @driverficarchive @rosalynbair @redhairedfeistynerd @adamsnackdriver @glitzescape @adamsnacc-kler @kyloxfem @fallin-for-youreyes @kylo-renne @attorneyl @jedihbic @bens-rose @callmehopeless @formerly-anonhamster @thepilotanon

#reader insert #pale x reader #pale burn this #blue moon #twos company #burn this broadway

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marinaaniseed · 5 years ago

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No one would riot for less

Song: No one would riot for less from the album Cassadaga by Bright Eyes.

Summary: With Bucky away, it’s Steve’s turn to play.

Pairing: Female reader x Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Length: 1,500 words

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day! My apologies to @etherealwaifgoddess if this post is the death of you. Part 5 of Death on the stairs. Smut, poly relationship, Stucky, inexperienced Steve, bisexuals everywhere. See here for what this is all about.

***

Somehow, Steve didn’t get dragged out of bed for the urgent mission. It’s frustrating that Bucky was taken from you, just as things were starting to get good, but you’re grateful to have him keep you company.

Building Lego sets with Peter is fun, but sometimes you need a friend who isn’t stuck in school most of the week.

“So, I noticed Buck stayed over the other day,” Steve says one evening while you’re playing a card game.

“Yeah,” you say, laying the three of hearts.

“How was it?”

“Good, cosy. It was a shame he had to go back out on the mission,” you observe.

“No, I mean how was it?” Steve asks, cheeks turning cerise.

“Oh,” you laugh. “We just kissed. Don’t worry Steve, we’re not screwing without you. Bucky thought we should take things slowly. Can’t get my leg over when it’s stuck in plaster.”

Steve blushes harder at that. It’s not that he’s shy about sex, at least not with Buck, but it’s just a shock to hear a dame talk like that. They were much more demure in his time, he can’t imagine those words ever coming out of Peggy’s mouth, and she was pretty forward for her era.

“Do you think, maybe I could stay over tonight and do the same?” he asks.

“Is that your way of saying I’m better at cards than you and you want to quit?”

“No - I mean you are better at cards than me - but no,” Steve notes. “That just sounds nice, just being together and maybe kissing.”

“Sure, I’d like that,” you say. Steve lays down his hand and you gather up the cards, wrapping the worn elastic band around the deck to keep them together.

You’re still not weight-bearing, but you have crutches now and you shuffle into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Steve has already tucked himself in when you hobble back. His eyes go wide at the sight of you in your black chemise, the double of the one you were wearing the night you landed on his balcony.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t stare,” he says shyly, averting his gaze.

“You can look,” you tell him. “I mean, it’d be sexier without the cast, but I’m not going to tell you not to look if you’re enjoying the view.”

Propping your crutches against the wall, you climb into bed, cuddling up to Steve. His body’s like a wall of fire, solid and hot, the same as Bucky’s. It must be the serum because you’ve never met anyone else who’s as warm as these two, except when they had the flu.

He doesn’t do anything, except drape an arm around you, and you’re beginning to suspect that Bucky normally takes the lead when the two of them are together. Turning your face to his chest, you begin leaving soft kisses against his skin. Your move up to his collarbone, sucking a little there before kissing across his shoulder, and up to his neck, making him squirm.

“Anywhere else you’d like me to kiss?” you ask. If you’d asked Bucky that question, you’d put good money on him suggesting his cock, but you think Steve is likely to be a little less crude.

“Yeah, kiss my mouth,” he enthuses, sliding down so that his face is level with yours. His breath is hot against your face as he inches closer.

The rain is hammering hard against your window, mirroring your first kiss with Bucky.

For a man made of hard lines, hard muscle, kissing Steve is all softness. Soft lips, soft sighs, soft pressure. No hard and heavy kissing, he takes his time, soft hands roaming over the soft parts of your body, softly kneading, softly pressing you closer to him.

Pulling away, he rests his chin on your head, holding you close.

“Yeah, I can see why Buck didn’t come back that night,” he explains. “I’m sorry if you think I’m too gentle with you… I just worry, with my strength. I would never want to hurt you, even accidentally. With Buck, I can be a little… rougher? He can take it, but I’m scared… not that I think you’re weak or anything, not that just… sometimes I don’t know my own strength.”

“I understand, and I know what you’re saying is sweet, but honestly,” you say, trying to keep a straight face, “did you just admit that Captain America likes getting rough in the bedroom?”

You don’t have to look up to know that Steve’s blushing up a storm.

“I-I didn’t say that. But maybe Steve Rogers enjoys that,” he admits.

“That would be Steve Rogers who is also Captain America, yes?”

“Just… just don’t let that be common knowledge,” he squeaks out like he’s suddenly regressed to being that skinny kid in Brooklyn.

“You know I won’t. Now, how do you feel about something a little more than kissing?”

When he doesn’t respond, you take one of his hands, sliding it between your thighs. He makes a little noise of surprise, completely freezing.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” you probe gently.

“No,” he admits, a little ashamed. “Has-has Buck done this?”

“With his vibranium hand, not the flesh one. When we were on the mission, he said it helped him learn how to use his metal fingers better. In hindsight, I don’t think he was being entirely truthful,” you explain.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. Buck had lived long enough with a metal arm to know how to use it, surely the change to vibranium didn’t require that much adjustment? On the other hand, Steve wasn’t keen on Buck using his metal hand when they were in bed, so maybe he did need the practice.

“You can touch me if you like. Or you can move your hand away, whatever works best for you, I don’t mind,” you observe. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Tentatively Steve begins tracing with one finger. It’s a delicate area and he’s scared of hurting you. There’s a lot more going on down there than he was expecting, not that he really knows what he was expecting. Folds, wetness. It’s different from what he’s used to, but that doesn’t make it bad. He should probably research this some more before he even thinks about taking you to bed properly.

“Can you show me how to make you feel good?” he asks.

“Of course,” you smile at him. “Don’t be ashamed of asking, I wish more people would. You have no idea how many people don’t know what they’re doing. I’d say there are two places that you want to focus on.”

“Uh-huh,” Steve nods, letting you guide his hand.

“Firstly, there’s internally. I’d say start with one finger, but you can add more later, but I guess you’re familiar with that concept.”

He most certainly is, from Buck prepping him.

“You want to kinda curl it up like you’re making a come hither motion towards my belly button. Want to try?”

Cautiously, Steve slips his index finger inside you. It’s warm, wet, hugging his finger. He’s beginning to understand just how good this will feel on his cock, and he feels himself getting stiff. He moves his finger like you told him, stroking against your wall.

“Yeah, that’s good Steve,” you praise him. “You can vary the pressure and the speed to make it more or less intense.”

He ups the tempo and the pressure and can feel your body reacting to him, squeezing his finger. Dear God, did he wish that was his cock right now.

“You said there were two places?” he queries as you sigh with pleasure.

“Yes, that’s right. Let me move your thumb,” you explain, getting him where you want him, figuring it would be easier to show him than tell him how to find your clit.

“Just try rubbing there, little circles, side to side, up and down. Whatever feels most natural to you,” you say.

He moves the pad of his thumb in a slow circle, surprised when you start shaking next to him.

“That’s feels really fucking good, Steve.”

“And I can change the pressure or the speed to change the intensity?” he asks earnestly.

“You got it.”

He does that, trying to get his finger and his thumb to move at the same pace. Your shaking intensifies, breathing getting shallower, and Steve’s a little concerned you might break his finger, the way you’re gripping it.

Things were going well. Too well.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Captain Rogers,” comes FRIDAY’s disembodied voice. It’s like an emergency brake has been applied to your body, and you stop short of your peak. Steve stills his digits, waiting for what’s next. “Sergeant Barnes has requested urgent back up in Cassadaga. Please report for duty.”

Steve scrambles out of bed and into his clothes, apologising all the while.

You hope Bucky’s ok, hope the team is ok, but goddamnit, FRIDAY really needs to stop interrupting your fun before you start a riot.

#366songshots #Female reader #stevebucky #steve rogers #captain america #bucky barnes fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

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avengerscompound · 6 years ago

Text

Behind the Curtain

Behind the Curtain: A Iron Man Fanfic

Buy me a coffee with Ko-fi Word Count: 1906

Pairing: Tony Stark x F!Reader

Warnings: Smut (M|F vaginal sex, voyeurism)

Synopsis: When Tony puts on his suit to give a talk, he’s putting on a persona to please a crowd. You and he decide to take it to a new level.

A/N: @iron-man-bingo fill - Public Sex. And for a prompt about role-playing strangers

Behind the Curtain

God, he looked good in a suit. They were always expensive and tailored to fit exactly. Hugging the parts they were supposed to hug but never pulling tight anywhere. He was good with suits really. He was known for suits. Interestingly they were all a form of armor for him. So when he wore one, he wore it well.

It was hard not to appreciate it. It wasn't just the suit either. It was the confidence. The cocksure way he carried himself like he knew he could get anyone in the room with just a glance. Even the ones who weren't exactly fans. It was the way he spoke with such authority and just the right amount of sarcasm. The showmanship that held every single person’s attention.

It was impressive.

He was impressive.

It was a mask. Part of his protective armor. You knew that. It was still sexy to watch. Like performance art where the performance was Tony Stark the genius playboy, and where that playboy went, was home with you.

Today, the two of you had decided to add to that feeling.

You watched as Tony descended the stairs and you turned your gaze to Thor. “You want to dance?”

He chuckled, that deep warm laugh of his. “Am I to be part of your foreplay tonight?”

You bit your bottom lip and nodded your head. “If you don’t mind.”

He got up and offered you his hand, helping you to your feet. “Far be it from me to stand in the way of true love.”

He led you to the dancefloor and the two of you started to dance. “You do look stunning tonight.”

You smiled. Thor was incredibly charming. You knew exactly what everyone else saw in him, even beyond the physical aspect of a large muscular god. It felt nice to be held by him as he spun you around the floor. “Thank you.”

The music was loud but the dance floor was almost empty. All the stuffy millionaires choosing rather, to stay at their seats or crowd the bar.

“He’s watching,” Thor said.

You smirked up at him. “Who is?”

Thor laughed. “Oh, that’s your game is it?”

“What game, Thor? I’m just dancing with the god of thunder is all.” You teased.

He shook his head. “Well, in that case, Mr. Stark seems very interested in you.”

“He does?” You asked. “In me?”

“Either that or it’s me? I guess that’s possible.” Thor teased.

You nodded sagely. “Mmm… it’s probably you.”

He laughed a deep booming laugh that seemed to light him up from the inside. “Well, who could blame the man? Perhaps I should ask him out.”

You looked up at him and then over at Tony. Tony took a sip from his whiskey and raised an eyebrow at you. “Yeah, I think you probably should.” You agreed.

Thor pulled back and kissed your hand. “You are both very odd, and I like it. I suppose I shall be going and asking him out.”

You moved to the bar as Thor went to speak to Tony. You took a seat and watched them talking. Both laughed at the same time and that mischievous little twinkle entered his eyes. He looked over to you and you turned away ordering yourself a Red Russian from the bartender. You sat sipping your drink and waiting for the game to commence properly.

It wasn’t long before Tony sidled up beside you. “Can I buy you a drink?” He asked.

“I already have one. Thank you.” You said and took a sip of your drink the sweet strawberry cutting through the sharp cherry flavor. You took the maraschino cherry from the glass and flicked your tongue over it as you watched Tony in the mirror behind the bar.

He leaned in closer to you, putting his hand on the back of your stool. "Can I buy you an island?”

You turned in your chair and bit down on the cherry. It exploded between your teeth and you chewed it slowly as you let your eyes slide up and down his body. “I don’t have one of those.”

“Very few do, dear.” He held out his hand to you and you shook it. “Tony Stark. And to whom do I have the pleasure of meeting.”

“Amerline Haberdasher.” You said, trying not to laugh at the fake name you just gave.

He raised an eyebrow at you. “Amerline…?”

“Haberdasher.” You finished. “That’s right. Do you have a problem with my name?”

“Not at all. It’s a lovely name. Also, Haberdashery is a fine art form. I’m a fan of it.” He said as cooly as he could manage though, the corners of his mouth twitched as he spoke.

You pulled the cherry stem into your mouth and swirled it around tying it into a knot with your tongue before taking it out again. “What can I do for you, Mister Stark?”

His eyes flicked to the cherry stem you were now toying with and back to your eyes. He took your drink from the bar and downed it in one go. “You seem like you have a wild side, Miss…”

“Haberdasher. Goodness me, Mister Stark. For a genius, you have a terrible memory.” You teased.

He leaned right into you, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You seem like a very bad girl, Amerline. Would you like to see what I do to bad girls?”

You ran your hand up the inside of his leg. “I would love to find out what you do to bad girls.”

He got up taking your elbow and leading yours through the room. Your skin prickled where he held you and he leaned in close to you, making your buzz all over.

You were aware of the eyes following you. Him really. It was what he did after all. He drew all attention to him. You reached the side of the staged where there were curtains separating the electrical equipment running the lighting and sound in the auditorium. He spun you in close to him and curled an arm around your back, leaning right in close to you. It was louder here than elsewhere thanks to the large speaker by the stage and yet when he leaned in against your ear, you could hear him breathe.

“Did you like dancing with Thor?” He asked.

You nodded your head and rubbed your cheek against his. “He knows how to move.”

His hand slowly slid up the side of your couture dress. “Might need to show you some of mine.”

His lips ghosted along your jaw and just when you thought he was going to kiss you, he pushed you behind the curtains.

The darkened space was loud and cluttered. Cables were taped to the floor with black gaffer and there were racks of audiovisual equipment.

Tony pushed you against the wall and kissed you hungrily. He started pushing your skirt up as he ground against you, his cock starting to harden as he did. You moaned against his lips. Not that you could hear it over the sound of the music. It was just another vibration that ran through you that mixed with that of the bass.

You ran your hands around his waist, under his jacket and tugged his shirt out of his pants. Each roll of his hips against you made your wetter and wetter until and he got harder and harder until all you could think about was having him inside you.

He turned you and pushed you forward. You braced your hands on the brick wall. The fine grain of the clay bit into your palms. Not that you cared. Your focus was elsewhere. He’d hiked your skirt up and his hands slipped into your panties. You moaned as his fingers rolled in tight circles over your clit. They slid easily thanks to how completely and thoroughly soaked you currently were.

“What a dirty girl you are.” He growled right against your ear. “Turns you on to fuck complete strangers where you could get caught at any moment doesn’t it.”

“Fuck… yes.” You gasped. Though you doubted he could hear.

He yanked your panties down and unfastened his fly. The next thing you knew his cock was pressed against your ass, and sliding up and down your crack as he rutted against you.

You moaned again and his hand went to your mouth. He pushed two fingers inside and you sucked on them, swirling your tongue around his digits and savoring the salty taste of his skin.

As you sucked on his fingers, he lined his cock up sunk it deep into your dripping cunt. You moaned into his hand and without even giving you a chance to adjust he began to thrust.

You were buzzing all over. The fingers in your mouth, the way he thrust slow and hard and so very deep into you. The thin curtain separating the two of you from New York’s elite and wealthy. The deep thud of the bass running through your core.

Adrenaline from the danger of being caught and endorphins from the pleasure surging through you, swirled through your veins, making you feel light and high like you’d been taking drugs. He kept deep into you as you braced your hands on the wall. He wrapped his free hand around your waist and began to rub your clit. His fingers working faster and lighter than the deep slow thrusts of his hips.

You started to fall apart. Your legs trembled and in the heels you wore, you worried you were going to fall. That they’d give out on you and everyone would know what you were doing.

You moaned loudly around Tony’s fingers and your core began to clench tightly as the hot press of an orgasm sat in your stomach, ready to break. Tony seemed to feel the change in you and picked up his speed, fucking you hard, so you pushed up against the wall. He leaned in close to your ear. “You gonna come for me?” He growled. “This is what you wanted isn’t it?”

The heat of his breath and the growl in his voice acted as a trigger. You moaned and your body seized up as you came, your cunt pulsing around his cock. He groaned and pressed his forehead between your shoulder blades and with a hard snap of his hips he came, pulsing into you.

He slipped out and you felt like you were going to collapse. He quickly wrapped his arm around your waist to steady you. “There you go, Miss Haberdash,” Tony said. “Everything you hoped for?”

You nodded, slightly breathless and started to straighten yourself back out. “And some.”

“You know I’m gonna call you Miss Haberdash for like the next year right? When people ask you why you have to decide what to tell them.” He teased as he put his cock away and tucked his shirt back in.

“No, Tony! Don’t you dare!” You squealed.

He smirked at you. “I’m sorry Miss Haberdash, what was that?”

“Tony!”

He pulled the curtain back and stepped out. “Oh, Cap! Have you met my friend, Miss Amerline Haberdash?” He yelled

You squawked and chased after him as he took off towards the table where most of the other Avengers were sitting. Not that you really cared. This was just the start of a whole new game.

#iron man bingo 2019 #tony stark #tony stark x reader #iron man #iron man fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #iron man bingo #smut #public #behind the curtain

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smolbeandrabbles · 5 years ago

Text

Lover - Martin x Reader (Untogether)

Read as part of Like You Say You Do / Get Even if you like 💕

Gif Credit: @benmendo

Author’s Note: How and Why he is the easiest Mendo for me to write I’m not sure... But I gotta say, it does mean I can write when inspiration hits in a day... Which is good news for Martin. AND the Martin Squad...! @stcphstrange @beany-ben @mfolcore @alotofrandomfangirling @shantellorraine Disclaimer: The usual / I own nothing but the writing and the reader character Premise: On the final (hometown) gig of the tour, Martin has a surprise for you... Words: 2558 Warnings: N/A

_________ And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years? This is our place, we make the call And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all

Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand? With every guitar string scar on my hand I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue All's well that ends well to end up with you Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover

---

You’d been with Martin for a little while now, and things had gone from good to better. He had never been kidding about your notebook full of poems (or as he consistently called them, lyrics); and before you knew it the band (who, you would like to add also wrote their own stuff) had at least one album, a multitude of music gone digital and a hit in the radio. And there was nothing like that feeling of you both screaming the first time you’d heard it come on in the car. They were also successful, not little clubs to big time stadium successful, but enough to know what it was like to your outside more than just the States. (Though you felt Martin’s heritage helped with that part of the tour).

You and Andrea stayed best friends, and before you knew it - despite your original protests - double dates between her and Nick and you and Martin became nearly a weekly thing; and not always on purpose. In fact, the four of you had also been on holiday together and you couldn’t count the number of times you’d seen them both at concerts. Tara however... didn’t remain a real friend for much longer than a few months. You still saw her around, and she certainly wasn’t your biggest fan - but you supposed being courteous with each other was a lot better than the cat fight you’d had when she turned up on Martin’s doorstep one day. You’d tried to be reasonable about it, but she wasn’t having it - Martin had to prize you both apart and that didn’t end well for him either. Two hours later he came back, having dropped her at home, and his face had said don’t ask, and you weren’t sure you wanted to. Since then you’d pretty much kept out of each other’s way. And that was sensible.

Tonight was the hometown last gig of the tour, and afterwards Martin wanted to take a break, paint a little bit (because he knew how much you still loved to watch him do that in tight white T-shirts) and get his life in order. Not that it wasn’t in order - but you’d bought a house together and hadn’t done a lot with it yet, except paint it; obviously. And there was nothing like painting together; especially as there was now always coffee and donuts involved. Traditions were important things to keep! The show was sold out, and not on-the-day sold out either but months in advance sold out, that made you so happy. You liked to keep track of things like that - you loved yelling; “There’s another one sold out!!” At him from scrolling around on your laptop and how he’d run in; “You’re kidding?!” You weren’t always able to go with them, only when work allowed - so thus far you’d seen him a few times. You had a good supposed network and were fine without him there but, you always loved having him home again. So, you hadn’t seen him in a few weeks either. Luckily you had a couple of days before the show so do nothing much more than lay around the house and make out...

Andrea and Nick would be there, of course. And a bunch of your other friends, because they wanted to be there for the welcome home gig. Also Martin pretty much told everyone he would buy the bar afterwards, so many people didn’t need that much persuasion to buy a ticket! (Not that you would hope they would need much persuasion anyway - you’d kick ‘em otherwise) What did surprise you was that your parents and other family members were going to be there. You remember scoffing when they told you that; Why, it’s not even your type of music! You do know it’s not a sit down venue?! Well, we want to support him... also what do you mean not our type of music?!

So here you were, night of, backstage with about 3 minutes before he went on. And he wouldn’t. Stop. Kissing. You. “You’re gonna be late on!” You giggled, as he set his guitar up in between kisses; “Never late, it’s my gig!” “Well then it’s your fault if they chuck you off stage or cut the power at curfew!” “They’d never...” he pushed his forehead to yours; “Okay fine... One more, for good luck...” You raised an eyebrow; “I thought wishing you good luck was bad luck? I thought it was break a leg?” “Please dear God, no!” He laughed “Good luck is fine...” “What do you need good luck for anyway-!? It’s not luck if it’s talent...” He gave a gentle shrug “Oh, you never know what you’ll need luck for do ya...” “Okay...” you wound your arms around his neck, making this kiss last “Good Luck!”

As you expected he was incredible. He hit all those notes fearlessly; and the band were also on top form. They were riding the high of the home gig, the last gig of the tour - the energy of the crowd... their little steady wave of success. And you couldn’t be prouder that he was giving it his all here. They didn’t wind down because these were the last few minutes they’d spend on stage, they wound up. And you knew that setlist by heart; even the songs that he interwove and changed depending on where they were and what was getting the most airplay. So you knew when there weren’t so many songs left. And that was sad, you didn’t want them to pack up yet, to stop, you wanted them to play all night long.

But with one song left Martin’s energy seemed to completely change. He didn’t talk often between songs; liking to let the music do his talking for him. But every so often he would. But the last song was high energy, the perfect finisher. Or it was supposed to be. Instead Martin took a deep breath and stepped up to the Mic. “Now usually, there’s a song we would play here, which would make sense as the final song on a set list... right? But... tonight I... wanted to do a little something different. But, I also didn’t really want to do it alone... Because I wrote her a song.... so... I figured if I was gonna play it for ya, it would only be right if she was on stage too, yeah?” It wasn’t that you weren’t listening, just when you suddenly froze at the realisation he was talking about you, he’s written a song for you. But even then it still wasn’t completely registering with you what he’d said, until he called your name. “So hopefully with a little encouragement we can get Ms.Y/N out here, what do you say?” There was a cheer from the crowd that made you instantly embarrassed, and for some reason you felt like you still weren’t hearing this correctly - “C’mon, Y/N… don’t go all shy on me now…!” Martin’s laugh edged nervous, and one of his road crew nudged you in the back. Lucky for that too – as it snapped you back into reality. You took a deep breath, and walked out onto the stage.

The spotlight meant you couldn’t really see the sea of people here to watch him. But Martin was clear as day, and just as beautiful. “Ah! Here she is; may I introduce those of you that don’t know her, to my gorgeous Y/N…” You wanted to push him and tell him to stop, but this was neither the time nor place… And with him looking at you like this in front of his own fans, you couldn’t help your grin. Probably like an idiot, and in front of people I know… Dammit Martin! “So as I was saying… I wrote her a song… And I’d quite like to sing it for her…And maybe end this show a little more low key… Is that alright?” Another jubilant cheer from the crowd made him grin; but still he was fixing you with that look; and you couldn’t figure out what it was… “Aha… Earlier I asked her to kiss me for good luck.” You nearly rolled your eyes; Oh, now he was going to start telling embarrassing anecdotes about you too… “And she said ‘You don’t need it’ which… might be true…” He was still staring at you with immeasurable adoration; “…But for this I feel like I might…”

He stepped away from the mic for a moment, cleared his throat and swallowed hard – and you thought the band might begin to play the notes, to accompany his melody. But no, instead you were met with almost dead silence, because instead of stepping back to the mic Martin stepped forward; and then down onto one knee. WAIT-! There was a mix of emotion from the crowd; somewhere between a scream of delight but also dead silence at respect for the moment, and to hear what he had to say (or you could hear what he had to say). You gathered your hands to your mouth; they all KNEW! Your family and friends they must all KNOW! That’s how come they were all here-! MARTIN!!!

“So, maybe I thought I was never going to be the marrying type…” He pulled a little navy-blue box out of his pocket; “…And maybe sometimes things just happen to let you know, even though you might commit to spend your life with one person… There might be more to it than that. I know that it took me a while to realise that that person was you, but I also knew I’d finally found her in you… Y/N… And maybe it took me a while to realise that I wanted to marry you, but you’re also the only person I’ve ever wanted to get down on one knee for. And I know I don’t plan much, but I did plan this…” He opened the box delicately; the dainty silver piece inset with amethyst was beyond-words beautiful. And you held back your tears, even though you knew they were happy ones. Hell, Martin could have proposed with a piece of plastic and you’d have said yes. “So, in front of my band and a bunch of our friends… I’m asking for your hand in marriage… And you can have my heart and soul…” He gave a tiny shrug with a smile; “Heck, I think you already do… So, I know you’re going to take good care of ‘em…” Martin took another breath; “Y/N… Will you marry me?” Not that you would have declined; but how you were supposed to do that in front of all these people anyway was a mystery to you. You also decided that vocalising it might be better, in the circumstances, than just nodding “Yes!” “Yes?” “YES!” The crowd erupted in happy raptures; led by his band, as Martin stood and pulled you to him to kiss you, winding his arms around you you could feel the nervous, now triumphant, energy that flowed through him. “Good thing you wished me luck…” “…Oh yeah, that’s the only reason I said yes…” He couldn’t help but laugh as he let you go and took your hand in his – you watched, still smiling and a little lost for words, as he slipped the ring onto your finger. “Guess now is as good a time as any to tell you I love you?” You shook your head; “I know, why do you think I said yes?”

He motioned to his crew to bring you a stool to sit on; but Martin being Martin wouldn’t let you just sit on it, oh no… He had to pick you up whilst kissing you and put you on it himself. You covered your face with your hands; yes – that what perfect cause to be embarrassed thank you very much!!! You had to live this down to your family now. And Andrea. Who was probably filming the whole thing. He shouldered his acoustic guitar and turned back to you; “So… Y/N… This song is for you…” The band let him start alone – and suddenly you were transported to your living room, where he would cuddle up with you and test out your poems, or his lyrics with tunes in his head and see what stuck, and what sometimes didn’t. But even if you were aware you were in a room full of people – for that first verse there was just the two of you. And you realised something. You realised exactly what he was doing – and what this song was – and how no one in this room would ever know the significance. “Martin…” You knew you’d murmured it, that he knew you’d said his name and you got it by the way he smiled; he’d entwined lines from your poems about him in with his own lyrics about you… Lyrics you couldn’t even believe he remembered from the first time he’d read your notebook and asked if they were about him and you’d denied it… He was perfectly mixing them here… He wasn’t just singing lyrics to a song he’d written. Martin was singing your history. This song wasn’t for you. This song was yours.

***

Andrea was, unsurprisingly, the first one to greet you – almost screaming – as you appeared from back stage “OH MY GOD!! OH MY GOD!!! CONGRATULATIONS!!!” “How long have YOU known!? C’mon, he invited all of you because you knew – don’t deny it! I’m gonna KILL HIM!” “Okay, before you go killin’ your fiancé, we were always gonna come, I’ll have you know! I dunno, I think he finally up and told us about a month ago. I’ve literally been biting my tongue about it, though.” You stared at her for a second, and had barely listened to anything beyond her seventh word, before your face lit up; “Holy sh*t! Martin is my fiancé!” “…Yes, no more boyfriend girlfriend stuff its- YOU!” she yelled again, and another cheer went up from both your friends and family as he appeared looking nothing more than euphoric. Andrea let you go and ran to him; and almost tackled him to the ground; “YOU! YOU ASSHOLE!!! DO NOT TELL ME THAT SPEECH WAS ON THE FLY! YOU SAID EVERYTHING I WROTE DOWN!!! YOU SON OF A-!” “Woah, okay, okay, I took some inspiration…” She smacked his arm; “You didn’t even act like you were interested or listening! I could kill you as much as I could kiss you! But I won’t because I don’t want to make your new fiancée jealous.” You folded your arms with a laugh; “Oh, did Andrea write it?!” “No! No!” He pointed to her “Be fair; I told you what I wanted to say…” “Okay…” she huffed “I put his speech a little more eloquently… Or you would have been up there listening to him ramble for 30 minutes, and then he’d get knee cramp…” Martin scoffed at that idea, walking across the floor to you, taking you back in his arms; “Whatever…” She called after him; “C’mon – short and sexy!” “…Old and sexy!” You looked around him with a grin to your best friend. Martin sighed in mock annoyance. “Geez… I have this for the rest of my life…!” “How lucky are you!?”

💍

---

AHHHH!!! I FINALLY WROTE IT! 🎉🎉🎉🎉

@dennismitchell @krnncsbtch @happyskywhale #MendoTagSquad.

#SO yeaaaaah Taylor Swift's new album #Writing inspo it certainly is #I've had this scenario for a while but the bridge to THIS song #OH wow perfect #Martin #Martin x Reader #Untogether #Ben Mendelsohn #64 #/Hums Beatles Song/

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imyourliquor-youremypoison · 6 years ago

Text

Hjem(løs) - Ivar x OC - Modern AU - Part 12

Hjem(løs) = Home(less)

Synopsis: It’s Juleaften and Silje walks home from a late Christmas shopping spree. On her way back to her apartment, she makes an unexpected encounter.

Word count: 11,5k

MASTERLIST

Part 11 <<< >>> Part 13

The day Ivar flew off to Ireland, Silje was quiet. She was pretty proud of herself for not even crying when she damn well wanted to, especially when he kissed her one final time before hurrying off to board his plane. Quite the deed for someone who usually started sobbing within the first thirty seconds of a cute dog video montage or airport reunion videos.

She half expected the tears to well up during her train ride back home after parting ways with Ivar at the airport. They did not. Her eyes stayed totally dry and she walled herself up in silence the rest of the day. It was still early, barely past noon, and she had yet to eat lunch. Cooking seemed like an insurmountable task.

It was so still and quiet in here all of a sudden. There was no one to talk to. What did she do all alone in her apartment before Ivar moved in? Did she talk to herself? Read? Hum along to a tune? What the hell was she supposed to do all by herself? Chat up her upside-down reflection in her spoon?

She dropped it back into her mug and the clatter sounded louder than usual. Silje glanced at the digital clock on the microwave and groaned, letting her head fall back. Her eyes were trained on the ceiling, and she wondered if she ever took the time to look at it. It was white with light wooden beams. Who even cared about her ceiling? At least she would be back on the benches in a couple weeks, and univeristy would keep her busy enough to stop wondering what to do with her free time.

Ivar had been away for two hours and she was having a quiet breakdown on her couch, slouched in the most unlady-like fashion. Going out was out of the question because she had removed her makeup as soon as she came home and she wouldn't wish her sullen company to anyone.

The loud music of Nicolaj's ringtone nearly gave her a heart attack. She fumbled around to try and find the damn thing. It took her another chorus of Raining Men to find it.

“Yeehaw motherfucker,” her friend yelled into the phone. Was he high? Drunk? No it was too early, even for him.

“Chill out, cowboy,” Silje replied, not entirely sure what to answer to his singular greeting.

“Sorry, I panicked,” he said with an awkward laugh. “Thought you'd be a sniffling mess by now. How's dear Ivar? Catch his flight on time?”

“Exactly. So why are you interrupting my pity party?” she fired back without much conviction.

“We're not interrupting!” Laura's voice came through the phone too.

“We're crashing it baby, and you can't stop us,” Nicolaj kindly informed her.

“Absolutely not, I want to be alone with my dark cloud,” she immediately told them. “Leave me be.”

“Oh I'm sorry,” Ava's voice now spoke. “Did it sound like we were asking permission? Because that's not what's happening.”

Silje held the phone away from her ear and covered it with her hand while she let out the longest sigh she could muster. Then she put it back.

“Alright. But I'll be complaining the whole time. Don't say I haven't warned you!”

It was a miracle none of her friends crashed at her place while Ivar was still there. She should consider herself lucky that they only decided to impose now that he was gone. Maybe it would do her some good to not be alone. At the very least she would be able to speak without feeling like she was slowly spiralling into madness. Seriously, what did she do when she lived alone?

She might have to pick up crochetting just to keep insanity at bay.

“We expect as much,” Laura answered, followed by other people laughing.

The gods knew how many of them would soon crowd her living room. They would have do deal with the empty mugs sitting in strange places and the general mess – she wasn't in the right state of mind to clean up, and Ivar and her had made quite the mess while they packed.

“Oh, we're already here by the way. This was merely a heads up phone call, just in case you were sleeping it off or something,” Nicolaj said. “Open up, bitc-!”

Silje hang up before he could finish his sentence. What an endearing dumbass. She conjured all of her energy to get up and buzz them in, hearing the sound of their footsteps in the stairway.

The entire band was here – Laura, Ava, Nicolaj, Matthias and Asmus. Now she did wish she was still wearing makeup.

“You don't look fresh,” Nicolaj immediately commented, and Silje flipped him off because she wasn't in the mood. “Oh man, sorry. Someone's grumpy.”

“Of course she is.” Asmus pushed his brother aside to hug Silje. Silje stuck her tongue out at Nicolaj while she hugged Asmus, just to spite him. “You're still crying over your ex everytime you hear a Rhianna song playing. She's allow to be bummed about her boyfriend leaving for a year abroad.”

“Excuse me?!” Nicolaj screeched in offense while Ava doubled over in laughter, and Laura and Matthias went off about this being the most shade anyone's ever thrown Nicolaj. “Forgive me for finding Diamonds emotional.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Matthias said. He slapped Nicolaj's back as he walked past him and into the apartment. “Just own up to it, man.”

“Mus, as my brother, you should side with me and not use sensible information against me!”

“What fantasy world do you live in? Of course I'm using my status to dig up dirt about you and use it against you!” Asmus laughed with Silje. “I usually do it just for fun, but today it's to get a smile out of this one.”

“Thank you, Mus. It does lift my spirits to hear about Nicolaj's misery,” Silje admits before letting them all in and closing the door. “It's a mess. That's what you get for coming here unannounced.”

“Ehm, we did announce our coming, technically,” Ava argued. She threw her arms around her best friend's shoulder and held her tight for a moment, until Laura got tired of waiting for her turn and simple joined in.

“I'm feeling left out here,” she said as an explanation. “Do you feel the love yet, Silje? Should we hug longer?”

What a group of nerds.

Silje couldn't sleep. Her bloodshot eyes glared at her alarm clock, staring at the angry red numbers, watching them change. 1:12am.

She blinked slowly. 1:13am. Her alarm was set for 6pm, she had to get some sleep otherwise she would start dozing off in the middle of her presentation for her 8am class. Was it stress that kept sleep at bay? Or the fact that her bed was empty and cold?

All she wanted was a minute in Ivar's arms, to feel warm and safe. A minute was all she needed to finally fall asleep. But her hand stretched up to the edge of the bed and still, there was nothing but her sheets and no Ivar. How much could one miss another person? She felt she would find out soon, because every day she clammed up a little more, what with the eerie silence and stillness of everything in her apartment.

It hasn't been this quiet and lifeless in a long time. Every day when she came home from university only to find the place plunged in the dark and utterly silent, she wanted nothing more than turn back on her heels and leave it. Ivar was missing from the scenery, and from her life.

But even then, life didn't stay on hold because Ivar wasn't there anymore, and she had to deal with her problems alone. Grumbling to herself, Silje threw the duvet away and stood up, quickly wrapping herself in her fuzzy robe to fend off the cold. It was only early October, but Denmark had said goodbye to Summer a few weeks ago already.

In an attempt to think about something else than her dearly missed boyfriend or her upcoming presentation, Silje decided to change her bedsheets. Maybe clean linens would help her rest tonight, and if not then she wouldn't have to change them in two days like she had planned. It took her a while, as per usual, because changing a duvet cover on a queen size bed on your own can be quite the ordeal, especially if you do it in the middle of the night in a zombie state like Silje.

Eventually it was done, and then Silje thought it was useless to go back in the fresh sheets if she wasn't clean herself, and went to take a quick shower, hoping that the smell of her shampoo would soothe her enough to make up for Ivar's absence. He always used the same shampoo as her, she even smuggled one into his suitcase without telling him, so he would have something from home while he was away.

She had never been one to depend on someone else. She never missed not sleeping alone before, she actually liked having a large bed all to herself, but now it just felt a little wrong. Did Ivar have the same issues? Did he lie awake at night and wish he could hold her instead of his pillow?

Mushy romantic thoughts aside, Silje did wish he missed her a little. And perhaps she also wished he couldn't sleep tonight, no matter how selfish the thought. After wrapping her hair in a towel turban, she returned to bed and slipped under her soft, clean smelling sheets, feeling a new person.

But still, she didn't fall asleep, and in a last attempt to get any shut eye tonight, she grabbed her phone and opened her messages. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard a moment, not knowing what to type or if she should type anything at all, but she eventually did and hit sent.

To Ivar: Are you asleep?

A silly question, she knew it. However, even just reaching out to him felt good and made her smile. He probably wouldn't see the message, he must be sleeping. Hopefully waking up to this in the morning would make him smile, even just a little.

Her phone lit up.

From Ivar: No. Watching a movie... [Download file]

Silje's eyebrows shot up, and that's when she realized that she really didn't expect him to answer. She just wanted to reach out. Her thumb slid on the file he sent. It was a picture of his computer sitting on his lap, with Gladiator playing.

From Ivar: Bad choice. Made me cry twice already.

A big smile crept on her face now, and she typed a quick response.

To Ivar: Want me to watch it with you? How far into the movie are you?

From Ivar: You have a presentation in the morning, you should sleep.

To Ivar: You have work in the morning.

From Ivar: Time zones tho.

A second message popped on her screen.

From Ivar: Okay fine, WE should be sleeping.

To Ivar: Why don't you?

The bubble signalling her he was writing appeared, then disappeared. Silje waited a moment. It did it again, and this time she huffed when the bubble went away. The third time she saw it, she began to type too.

Her phone buzzed at the exact moment she hit sent.

To/From Ivar: I miss you.

Her face grew hot even though there was no one to witness her embarrassment, and she couldn't do anything but stare at the identical messages. So, he did share her sleeping issues. She knew it shouldn't make her glad, but it did a little and she couldn't hold back a small, satisfied grin – he wasn't there to see it after all.

Knowing they both suffered from the distance between them was comforting in a way, and she was sure he felt the same.

From Ivar: The place they gave me is very nice, but it's not home.

Upon receiving this message, Silje's mood changed altogether. From smiling to herself she went to fighting back tears. Reading those words tore a hole in her chest and made her feel his absence in her bones. She missed him so much! What follies she would do to be able to see him again right now.

Home. He considered her place like his home, and this thought alone was overwhelming enough, but Silje had to add to it the agony of missing him like a lost limb.

To Ivar: It doesn't feel much like a home without you here.

From Ivar: Are you okay? Do you want me to call you?

If she concentrated a bit, Silje could hear Ivar say these words, she could hear the concern in his voice and see it in his eyes.

To Ivar: No, don't call. I'm fine, just sleep deprived and emotional. I might cry if I hear your voice.

This time his answer didn't come as quick, and she guessed he was trying to find something adequate to say. Maybe he too needed a moment to find the right words and not give in to the urge to get all sappy and romantic at this late hour where their brain functions were at their lowest. After two minutes or so the bubble came back.

From Ivar: I'm 20 min into the movie.

To Ivar: But you said you already cried twice??

From Ivar: I know, don't mention it.

Smiling, Silje grabbed her laptop off the floor and put it on the bed, quickly finding the movie and starting it at twenty minutes.

To Ivar: I'm all set.

Silje buried herself further under her duvet and snuggled her pillow, feeling a bit warmer and fuzzier than before now that she had some company in her loneliness – even if it wasn't what she craved at the moment, it was as much as she would get and she knew it. Knowing that Ivar was holding onto his phone and texting her in the middle of the night on a weekday, even if he was in another country, was comforting.

Her phone lit up again a minute later.

From Ivar: Have I told you I miss you a lot?

Silje stared at her macro-economics assignment with a deep frown on her face, and she was pretty sure that it glared back at her.

Life was going slow these days, as though she just hopped on a carriage after having driven a sports car for months. It was boring. Or maybe she was just done with university? True, she had thought that her classes would keep her busy enough to stop whining about Ivar's absence and how much she missed him – her friends were endlessly grateful for that – but it became harder and harder as time went by.

The truth was that Silje wasn't enjoying herself at all, and it worried her. She was a practical person, who put rational thinking ahead of her other impulses, then why did she feel more and more like she had wasted the last five years of her life doing something she didn't even like?

Anyone would say that no one really enjoys their job, they just have to have one if they want to afford the life they want. She could get behind that, but did it mean that she had to spend her entire life doing the same, boring activities every single day? It got her thinking. But what was more: Ivar told her something shortly before he left, and it had been on her mind ever since.

She had been rambling about Ava's new crush and how the girl always acted like the was the main character of a chick flick whenever she had a boy on her mind ; Ivar was sitting on the kitchen stool, watching her, listening quietly with a smile on his face, until she became self-conscious and asked him what he was looking at so intently.

“You,” he had said. “You're fascinating.”

It had made her heart jump in her chest and the pink rise to her cheeks.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” she had denied, looking away now that she was hot in the face.

“But I think you do. You like telling stories. You're good with words, do you know that?” he had continued, grabbing a piece of red bell pepper and eating it.

“So what of it? Want me to become a bard and go from city to city to serenade pretty ladies in big hats?” she had teased him, slapping his hand away from the bowl of red pepper before he could grab another one. “Hands off, these are for dinner.”

“You should be doing something artistic,” he had suddenly blurted out. “I mean, I know you're good at what you do, but sometimes it looks like it's sucking the life out of you. You're always stressed out. I can imagine you studying literature, art, fashion, be at a cooking school, I don't know.”

She had bitten the inside of her cheek and pouted, pondering what Ivar said. He wasn't in the wrong, but she had her reasons for not going off to live the dream and move to Paris, to the left bank of the river Seine.

“These things don't pay, they are fantasy jobs,” she had argued, and Ivar grinned as if he had been expecting her to say that.

“Listen, I know it might sound rich, especially coming from me, but money isn't everything.” Silje had been about to reply but Ivar had kept talking before she got a chance to. “You need to do something that makes you happy and creating makes you happy, I know it. It's an outlet for the emotions you can't voice. You're just good at those things, you make things with love and it shows.”

To this, she didn't have a counter argument, and she still didn't.

Well done, Ivar. He had planted these words in her head and now they grew. There were little sprouts of “what if I dropped out and starting doing art?” growing in her mind. She had half a mind to fly all the way to Ireland only to grab Ivar by the shoulders and shake him like a tree for the way he had messed with her head.

Before he had said that, her life was perfectly clear: she had boring, practical skills that would land her a job at the end of her master's degree, and pay her bills. What else was there to ask? Who even thought about silly concepts such as professional fulfillment? Ivar, apparently.

“Damn you, Ivar!” she cursed him, throwing her pencil away, out of rage.

The fool was right, of course. And she needed to figure out what to do now.

The black cloud hovering over her head dissipated when a friendly hand came to rest on her shoulder.

“Hej!” she welcomed Ava.

Her friend smiled gently and sat down next to her in the library.

“What'd that pencil do to you?” she asked. Silje blinked when Ava placed said pencil on the table in front of her before taking out her laptop.

She had been sitting in the library for hours now, the sun was starting to set and the last rays hit Silje in her face through the blinds.

“Nothing,” she sighed and slumped back. “Just thinking 'bout Ivar.” She distractedly twirled the pencil around, not looking at Ava – she didn't need to, she knew her friend was rolling her eyes.

Bless Ava, she was the most patient friend in times of need. Though, everyone's tolerance to other people's whining had its limits, right? Ava reached hers six weeks and five days after Ivar's departure. Which was two days ago, when Silje called her on the phone while sniffling in front of a kids' movie, crying about how much she wished Ivar was here.

Even Silje knew she was pathetic; she needed to get a grip because soon, Ava would stop being nice, and start smacking heads.

“Colour me surprised,” she chuckled. “So tell me, what did dear Ivar do to get you so frustrated?”

“He told me to do what makes me happy.”

“Oh, I see. Very problematic. Can't imagine where that comes from,” Ava answered.

“Stop being sarcastic, I'm serious!” Silje groaned and shot her a look. “I hate this, I'm overthinking everything he told me because he's gone. Maybe I'm starting to lose it, that would explain it all.”

Ava's laptop made a soft powering up whirring noise while both girls sighed in unison. They had gone over this topic what felt like a hundred times.

“You're not crazy, you're in withdrawal. I don't know exactly how much time you spent with Ivar when you weren't with us, but you clearly don't know what to do with yourself now that he's away,” she stated.

Silje was a bit shocked by how accurate a description Ava made of the situation, and it brought to the forth something else that had been on her mind...

“About that,” she started, fiddling with the pencil now. Ava's eyes darted to the thing until Silje stopped and spoke again. “I think it's time I tell you how Ivar and I met.”

Quite frankly, it had been a bumpy conversation that lasted well past the library's closing hours and prevented any work from getting done that afternoon. It ended at the coffee shop round the corner, and Ava was practically buzzing both because of the amount of coffee she ingested and the shocking revelations Silje dropped on her.

Getting past the part where she had found Ivar, who was homeless, sleeping on a bench, and invited him, a homeless stranger, into her home for dinner and a night's sleep, was hard. Ava kept interrupting her and pointing out all the moments where Silje could have been killed if Ivar had been a psychopath.

Silje hadn't been drinking coffee, she was downing green tea by the liter to calm her nerves and stay open and understanding of her friend's reactions. Only when Silje mentioned Ivar's injury and his getting a job as soon as he was able to eased Ava's worries.

“You are insane. I take back what I said earlier, you've lost it, completely.” She finished her coffee. “I don't even know what to tell you now. I guess we're well past the part where I give you the “be careful” speech because he's just a stranger you picked up on the street. You guys are in a relationship, hell, you've been living together without me knowing! I am kinda mad about that, not gonna lie.”

“I didn't tell you because I knew you wouldn't approve!” Silje said to defend herself but realized too late that it was a bad point. “Well, I mean... I didn't really know what I was doing in the beginning, I hadn't planned on taking him as a roommate before he got beat up, and then he was there and I was stuck with a hot stranger on my couch, what did you want me to do? Throw away this chance to turn my life into a romance novel? That's how they all start!”

“You're always so down-to-earth, what happened?” Ava cried out in a hushed tone. “For Odin's sake, you sound like me, and it's not a compliment.”

“I get it, I do. But can we rather focus on the now? Everything worked out in the end, don't forget that,” Silje said, pointing her finger toward Ava who fought back the urge to jump over the table and strangle her friend. Silje saw that. “Please, don't be angry with me. I liked him, and once I had introduced him to you all, it became his secret to share.”

“What changed? Why are you telling me now?”

“Because... he's moved on from that now. It's in the past and no longer holding him back, at least I think so. He has a job, a place to live, he'll continue his master's soon. His life is on tracks now, and he can look back and laugh about the past, knowing he pulled through.”

Ava seemed to think about it. Her lashes fluttered a bit and she pursed her lips – a clear sign that she was conflicted. Silje kept quiet because she had been talking for the last three hours, her throat was on fire and she was sweating through her shirt. Was it the air in the coffee shop that was stifling or did Ava's approval matter more than she thought it did.

“You know-” she started slowly, probably for suspens. “I like Ivar. He's a good person, and he's so in love with you that it makes us sick,” she stated as if it was nothing. Silje's puzzlement was evident. “I suppose that I wouldn't have been so inclined to welcome him in our group, had I known his past, so I can't really blame you for hiding it from me. I can also understand that it wasn't your secret to share, I can respect that you wanted to let him come clean when the time was right. But he didn't.”

“Because it doesn't matter anymore.” Silje had jumped in to defend Ivar without thinking. “It's not who he is. It shouldn't define the way people look at him, and that's why neither of us said anything in the end – before now. And this should go without saying, but I'm trusting you to keep this to yourself.”

Now Ava looked very displeased.

“You can't drop this bomb on me to relieve yourself of the weight of your secret and then demand that I keep it for you!” She sounded positively scandalized and ready to storm off.

“You're my best friend, who the hell can I tell this if not you?” Silje replied, equally offended. “I knew you wouldn't be thrilled to hear about this, but I thought you'd understand.”

“I understand that you have lost your mind because of some pretty boy!”

Silje swallowed her comeback and started blankly at her friend. A poor friend, as it turned out. If her closed off expression said anything, Ava must have understood it. The conversation had come to an end and it was time to leave before either of them said words they would regret later.

It was deadly silent and the air had become cool between them when Silje grabbed her bag and stormed off.

She power walked back to her apartment and threw herself face-first on the sofa, screaming into a couch cushion until she felt better. Then she kicked off her shoes, stripped and went directly to bed because it was late already, and she did not want to get lost in her seething thoughts under the shower.

It was a restless night of tossing and turning and angrily crossing her arms over her chest while cursing Ava. Then she thought back to what Ivar told her and cursed him too, for being away and not holding her in his arms after she fought with her best friend, for not being there to talk about her doubts concerning university.

Fuck, now she was crying. She wiped away the tears with such force that her skin burnt under her eyes and she bit hard on her lower lip to calm herself. She had become such a mess in the last few weeks, she didn't recognize herself anymore. Where was the headstrong, independent woman she had grown into? Her parents would be ashamed of her behaviour. And Odin be damned, Ava was right, she had acted recklessly by letting a stranger into her home, she should have sent a safe message to all of her friends the second she invited Ivar into her apartment on julaften.

When she woke up the next day, her face was stiff because of the dried tears and she felt as awful as she looked. Today was Saturday, she had no business being up before noon, especially since she had come to the conclusion that her life was in complete disarray anyway – what was the point of being an early bird for the sake of it? To cease the day? Bullshit.

But a loud banging on her front door made her lift her head from her pillow. What was that now? Couldn't a girl have a breakdown without being interrupted?

“Go away!” she shouted, though whoever was outside her apartment couldn't possibly hear her weak protest through the closed door of her bedroom.

The banging didn't stop, and so Silje grumbled and crawled out of bed, wrapping herself in a robe and combing back her hair with her fingers. She nearly lost a hand amidst all the knots.

“What do you want?!” she asked as she swung the door open.

It was Ava, who looked tired and sorry.

“Hej. You look like death,” she said as a way of breaking the ice after their fight.

“Right back at you.”

“I thought I should rip off the bandaid sooner than later, so I came here to apologize,” she explained with her usual down-to-business voice that she used when she didn't want to get too emotional over something – like when she tried to explain the plot of Star Wars to someone who had never seen them without sounding like an absolute nerd.

“Apologies go well with freshly baked goods,” Silje pointed out, feeling merciless this morning – and hungry: she hadn't had breakfast yet.

Ava knew her well, and she quickly opened a bag to show she didn't come empty-handed. Silje nodded solemnly, granting her access to her home.

“You may enter.” She pushed the door wide open though she refused to smile until she extorted proper excuses from her friend. One should have a minimum of dignity.

“Please, Sil, don't be like that,” she whined.

It seemed that she understood just how badly she had hurt Silje with her hurtful words and obtuse thinking last night. Silje's arms were still crossed on her chest, to give herself countenance even though she wanted to hold Ava in her arms very badly and forget it all.

“I'm really sorry. I was so taken aback, I almost forgot to look at the bigger picture because I was worried about you. It doesn't justify anything, so I brought you this, to make amends...”

She pulled a folded sheet of paper out of her pocket and held it between her fingers until Silje deigned taking it to look at it.

When she did, her eyes widened.

“Go see your boyfriend, Silje. And by all that is holy on this earth, stop with the pity-party. I just want you to be happy, and he clearly does a damn good job of it, so... that's all I, or anyone else for that matter, needs to know about him.”

Silje threw her arms around Ava's shoulders, taking great care of not wrinkling the printed plane ticket in her hand.

If this wasn't the right building, she was truly lost. Her heels clacked on the pavement and the steady rumble of her suitcase' wheels followed her steps. She pushed the heavy oak double doors and walked in. It wasn't dark yet, so hopefully someone would still be there. This wouldn't have happened if her plane hadn't been delayed!

Now wasn't the time to complain though, he would soon be there. Her eyes searched for a sign and fell on a small golden plate on the wall to her left. “Secretary's office” it said. She followed it, happy to see there were arrows painted on the floor to help clueless people like her find their way.

One narrow door stood ajar and soft light came out of there. Gently, she knocked on the door.

“Come in!” A woman's voice called.

Silje pushed the door wide open and stepped in, feeling like she was in high school and being called in the principal's office all over again – it had been Nicolaj's fault, he dared her to sneak into the boys' locker room. Would there ever come a day she wouldn't feel shy and guilty when talking to a figure of authority?

“Hi! I'm sorry for bothering you. I'm a bit lost I think,” she said as way of introduction.

“You're not bothering me at all, dear, come on in,” she gestured her to sit down. “Where are you headed? You're not from around here, you have quite the accent,” she observed with a warm smile.

She seemed to be in her fifties, her hair was already getting gray in some areas and she wore thin glasses.

“I'm from Denmark,” Silje told her to satisfy her curiosity. “I'm actually here to surprise my boyfriend. He works here as a teacher assistant?” she explained, trying to get a reaction out of the woman that would indicate she was in the right place. “His name is Ivar Lothbrok, could you point me in the direction of his room?”

“Oh dear! I'm not allowed to let a stranger wander around school property sadly. You come a bit late.” She looked embarrassed and sorry for Silje. “It's the rules, I'm afraid.”

Silje's face fell. So much for the surprise then. She had pushed off calling Ivar directly because she wanted to surprise him, but nevermind.

“I understand.”

“Wait. What did you say his name is?” the woman asked, obviously feeling sympathetic for Silje who had flown all this way to see her beau. The young woman's face lit up again.

“Ivar Lothbrok. He works here part time as a history teacher assist. You must have noticed him if he's been around here: quite tall, brown hair, blue eyes,” she described. “He should be living on school grounds.”

“Oh I think it rings a bell, let me check in the system.”

The woman pushed her glasses further up her nose and typed on her old keyboard. She was swift and seemed to know exactly where to look. A little smile soon appeared on her face.

“Oh yes, I see,” she hummed to herself. “He does work here, so you're in the right place. However, I see here that he does indeed live on school property, which is why I still cannot let you go on your own. It is technically still a school day, and family and friends are only allowed on school grounds during the holidays, that is, starting tomorrow.”

Silje tried to follow her fast speaking rhythm – she wasn't used to speaking english that much, especially not the irish accent.

“The best I can do is try to call him,” she offered, ever so kindly. “It's the end of the day, he should be back in his quarters if we're in luck.”

“Thank you so much! That would be wonderful! Don't tell him that I'm here though,” Silje exclaimed gratefully.

She sent Silje a conniving smile and dialed the number. He seemed to pick up, which was a relief – she wasn't sure she could hang around here much longer – and the woman made quick work of it, asking him to come over because she needed him to sign a paper. Then she hung up, and Silje took a sharp intake of breath.

“There you go, sweetheart. It's the end of the day for me, so I'll be leaving too. You can wait on the bench outside the office.”

That was a dismissal if she ever saw one. But she nodded and gave her thanks again. This woman had stayed a little longer at her office to accommodate a total stranger who wanted to surprise her boyfriend. She was allowed to shoo Silje out now that her good deed was done.

A grand total of five minutes after the woman locked the office, Silje heard footsteps coming this way and stood up from the bench, her race racing uncharacteristically. It must be Ivar! Her palms became a little sticky and she was more flustered than she cared to admit seeing her boyfriend again. It had only been two months since they parted ways, but on the other hand, it had been two whole, long months that she spent thinking about seeing him again.

She barely had the time to rub her hands against her dress and give herself some countenance before the double doors swung open, and in strutted a nonchalant Ivar, both hands in his pockets, whistling to himself like he didn't have a care in the world. The hallway had been in the dark since Silje sat down because she hadn't moved at all, but as soon as Ivar arrived the automatic light turned on and revealed the presence to his left.

He stopped in his tracks, Silje saw surprise and a bit of disbelief in the way he looked at her and shook his head as if he thought he was having a hallucination, but then he smiled. She smiled back, and her heart leaped at the sight of him.

“Silje?" he asked, his voice fairly cautious but ecstatic still as he already took a first step towards her, a disbelieving smile plastered on his face.

Without saying anything Silje lunged forward and they met halfway, throwing their arms around each other and holding on. The rush of warmth and comfort that erupted inside her when she felt Ivar's arms engulf her in a hug was indescribable. With her head on his chest, Silje heard his chest rumble as he laughed – at least he seemed happy to see her, even if she popped out of nowhere without giving any warning.

“I can't believe you're here!” he sighed, pressing a kiss to her temple but not letting go yet, not even enough to give her a proper kiss.

For now, he just needed to hold her a bit – gods he had craved holding her again for weeks now! At any moment someone might walk in on them, but he couldn't care less, even if it was a student.

“You better start believing it,” she giggled, letting her hands fall down his back and onto his sides. She pulled back reluctantly; she wanted to see his eyes – and maybe his lips too. He smiled so wide and bright she was moved to tears. He really was happy to see her, and here she was worried she might arrive at a wrong time or mess up his holiday’s plans. “Kiss me like you missed me,” she told him.

Silje didn't need to say it twice, Ivar grabbed her face and crashed his lips against hers in a split second, all too happy to accommodate her. They both smiled like total fools in love in the kiss, but they couldn't care less about this somewhat awkward kiss. Silje's hand slid up to his neck and grabbed a fistful of his hair to hold onto and she pulled him down even more, pressing him harder against her lips, urging him to kiss her deeper.

Instead he broke their embrace and placed a quick, feather-like peck to the tip of her nose, startling her.

“I did miss you,” Ivar admitted, smiling fondly at Silje and her rosy cheeks. “Let's go to my place, shall we? We can't be caught making out at my workplace,” he reminded her.

A little laugh fell from Silje's lips when she realized she got carried away so quickly after seeing him again.

“Well at least you won't be able to say I wasn't glad to see you again,” she said, shrugging nonchalantly and turning around to go grab her luggage.

Ivar laughed, shaking his head – he had missed her antics and little innuendos – and he followed her, carried the duffel bag while Silje dragged the small suitcase behind her, and together they made their way to his apartment.

“I wanted to come knock on your door directly but the woman behind the desk said I couldn't go there because it was on school property,” Silje said when they approached a big Victorian-looking building with an impressive number of windows and giant wooden double doors through which an elephant could no doubt fit.

“Yeah they actually gave me the building’s superintendent’s’ apartment, he retired last year so I'm getting his place – and his job too, I have to make sure the doors are locked after a certain hour and signal it to the administration if students sneak out,” he explained, holding the left door open to let Silje through.

“Which happens often?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He sighed. “You'd be surprised how creative these little shits can get when a night at the pub is at stake.” He rolled his eyes and lead her to a door at the back of the hallway, almost hidden behind the main stairway. “Here we are. Me casa es tu casa, you know the drill,” he told her.

Ivar unlocked the door but let Silje step in first, closing behind her and turning on the lights. He sucked in a breath and held it without really thinking about it while Silje silently took in her surroundings, looking around her.

The place was bigger than her tiny student apartment in Copenhagen, and much less stuffed with various unnecessary things such as the unreasonable number of blankets she owns, or the piles of books covering every single square inch of horizontal surface. It felt a little more... empty, but it was nice, clean, and it was Ivar's.

For a week in her life, Silje would be living at Ivar's place, and that was strange in an upside-down kind of way, but also thrilling. She wasn't sure how she should behave because so far, she had been the one 'at home', and for the first time she realized how odd it must have been for Ivar to spend all this time living under a roof that wasn't his, sleeping on a couch, and basically squatting someone else's place.

Now she understood with full force why he needed to leave Denmark, why he needed independence so badly. A tinge of guilt tugged at her heart when she remembered the way she first reacted to his news about leaving.

“I haven't really taken the time to make it mine yet,” Ivar said behind her when the tension became too much for him to handle. This silence was too thick. “I meant to decorate a bit, but I just never got around to it.”

The bare walls and nearly empty shelves did scream 'a man lives here' to Silje, which made her smile. The whole place looked rather old – not in a crumbling way, just as in a historic way. This was an old building and the inside reflected the outside. The walls were a dull shade of forest green, and every piece of furniture apart from the kitchen corner was in dark wood.

“What do you think?”

“I think you miss the Scandinavian minimalistic aesthetic,” Silje teased him, nudging him after they dropped her luggage. “You know, as long as there's a little room for me in your life, I don't really care what it looks like.”

“Oh yeah, I dare hope so, because it was a proper mess when we met,” he reminded her.

He placed a hand on her shoulder and lead her to the back, towards two closed doors. The house tour didn't last long. Ivar opened the doors to show her where the bathroom was, then the bedroom, and that's when Silje decided the tour was over.

She pushed him inside and told him she needed to take a closer look at the bed, because she couldn't possibly form an opinion without trying it out.

Ivar's phone lit up next to them for the third time in a row, making them both sigh. Silje sat upright and climbed off Ivar to go grab it and have a look at who was continuously interrupting their activities. He saw her frown at his phone, which had him on his feet faster that the speed of light.

“What does 'hey man, how's she cuttin'? Don't forget we going out on the lash and mottin' with the lads tonight' mean?” she asked slowly, as if she were reading an obscure foreign language, her brows still knitted together in complete and utter confusion.

Ivar's groan, followed by a chuckle made her turn around, cocking a brow at him while waiting for a translation.

“I completely forgot I agreed to go pub crawling with my friends tonight,” he told her, rubbing his face.

Silje had been here for four days now, and to be frank, Ivar and her and done nothing but walk around town hand in hand, get lost in each other's gaze to the point where they didn't hear the voice of the waiter at the restaurant they were at, and then went back to his place to undress each other with more than their eyes.

He had tried to show her around, had taken her to museums, bookshops and fun attractions, but nothing in the world appealed more to Silje than her dear, handsome boyfriend, and so they clung to one another like their life depended on it, not caring what other people thought of their public displays of affection.

Today, Ivar had insisted on taking her outside of the city and into the gree nature of Ireland. She knew him well and expect as much, which is why she came with adequate shoes for climbing around muddy hills and sharp rocks. They were tired and sore, but not too tired and sore to end the day with a bang. However, the thought of having to go out again really didn't sound appealing anymore, especially now that Silje was here, half naked, and Ivar had a semi-hard on from their heated make out session on his bed.

“I still don't understand anything that's in this message,” she told him, handing him his phone so he could answer.

“It's dumbass for 'hey, what's up? Don't forget we're going drinking tonight',” he explained. “And mottin' means women chasing. Cillian is feeling lonely these days,” he laughed when Silje sent him a nasty glare at the mention of their planned activity. “I'll tell them I can't come.”

Ivar was already typing when Silje snatched the phone from his hand.

“You can go,” she said. “You don't need to babysit me, I'll just read a book or watch a movie while you're out.”

She had taken up so much of his free time already, she wouldn't deny him a night out with his guy friends – the Norns know boys need their boyfriends.

“Nonsense!" he retrieved his phone. “Either I cancel, or you join us,” Ivar said, his tone final.

“But I don't know them, and you had plans. I don't want to intrude on your boys' night or whatever these are called,” she insisted. “Also, it's rude to cancel plans last minute.”

Ivar couldn't hold back his smile when she gave him that motherly glare that meant he had to stick to his engagements.

“Alright, then you're coming.”

“Ivar...” Silje started with a deep sigh.

“No, no, no you need to come. They need to see you're a real person and that I haven't made you up,” Ivar argued, holding onto Silje's hand to pull her towards him. Silje's eyebrow rose at that, an expression of confusion and amusement painted on her face.

“Your friends think you have an imaginary girlfriend?” Silje laughed when Ivar nodded. She pondered the thought for a short moment, leaving Ivar in waiting. “Well, then I guess I have to come.”

Needless to say, they didn't make a quiet entrance. The moment Ivar stepped through the front door of their pub of choice, tailed by Silje who looked around in fascination, taking in her surroundings, a round a disbelieving cheers greeted them. Three boys around their age stood up and raised their glasses, so Silje assumed these were Ivar's friends. By the gods, what have I agreed to?

Ivar did head towards the merry group, and he greeted each one of them while she stayed back, waiting for her turn. She was fascinated by everything around her. It struck her that the place was already filled to the brim with jul decorations, while also having a few pumpkins, glow-in-the-dark skulls and spider webs here and there for Samhain next week.

“Ivar, man! Ya boyo, why have'na told us ya were comin' with such a fine thing?” one of them said, and although the sentence was dotted with words Silje didn't quite catch, she did understand he thought her pretty.

“Shame on ya, Ivar! Don't ya have a mot back home?” another one said, shaking his head in disappointed. Ivar was just about to protest and introduce her when the last one spoke up.

“Shrupp, ya dickbrains, can't ya see the lady's awaitin'?” The third one told them off and stood up to greet Silje.

All three spoke with heavy accents, rolling their r's and using slang Silje had never heard before. Ivar caught her glancing at him for help, looking thoroughly lost. She ended up opting for attack as the best defence, before Ivar had a chance to step in and translate for her.

“Hi, I'm Silje. I'm gonna assume Ivar told you about me?” her Danish accent was a bit heavier than Ivar's.

One of the boys at the table clutched his chest and exclaimed, “I'm in love!”

“Told us? It's hard to make him shut up!” the other one declared dramatically, raising his pint to Ivar who glared at him.

“I'm Dean,” the one who had stood up introduced himself, and Silje shook his hand. “The love sick fool ove' there is Cillian, and that's Caleb.” Each of them waved their hand at her when Dean mentioned their name and Silje returned the gesture with a little smile.

“So you didn'a makeup that story, eh?” Cillian teased Ivar, elbowing him in the ribs.

“Havin' ya girl fly all the way heyar just to prove us wrong is a bit much, innit?” Caleb added.

“Well, you didn't give me much of a choice, now did you?” Ivar snapped back good naturedly shoving his friend in the shoulder.

Dean gestured Silje to sit on the bench next to her boyfriend before he sat down himself.

“Ivar told me I was quite the cryptid around here, so I jumped on the first flight to make a surprise appearance at the pub and freak out the locals,” Silje said, not wanting to be left out of the conversation. Now that she was here she had to make the best of it, and not shrink back on herself while the boys chatted the night away.

“'tis a good thing ya came, ya fella wouldn'a take that puss off his face because he missed ya so,” Dean told her, nudging her gently.

She stared at him with big eyes, then turned to Ivar who wore an amused expression. But he was once again interrupted before he could even start speaking.

“He's telling ya your man missed the heck outta ya, girl!” Caleb said. “Ivar wouldn'a stop sulking and rambling about his amazing girlfriend,” he added with a grin that showed he was quite satisfied with himself for having both supplied Silje with a translation and having made Ivar blush.

“Alright, it was nice seeing you guys, we'll go now,” Ivar declared but Dean sat steady and didn't let him and Silje get up.

“Don't get ye knickers in a twist, man! We're just teasin'. Ya brought us a pretty lash, we're intimidated,” Dean tried to calm him down.

Their exchange made Silje smile, and she rid herself of her coat to get more comfortable.

“De fortæller mig ikke noget, jeg ved ikke allerede1,” Silje told Ivar, placing a hand on his arm. Her words seemed to have an effect on him, though his friends had no idea what she said, Ivar ended up nodding and shrugging off his jacket too.

“It's like she's speaking magic words,” Cillian told the others upon seeing Ivar's annoyance melt like snow in the sun.

“Kan du se hvad du har rodet os ind i ? Fortryder du det ikke?2” he asked her back, if only to bother his friends who didn't understand a single word of Danish – thank the gods for that by the way.

“Nej det gør jeg ikke,3” Silje answer with a triumphant smile. “Should we get drinks?”

Her question woke the others from their fascinated gawking at the couple speaking foreign words to each other and made them snap back to reality. Ever so reactive, Dean raised a hand to call for a waitress from their corner table. The place was packed with people – they chose a Friday night of all days to go out.

Soon as the waitress was there Cillian raised a hand.

“Five pints of brown beer, lovely,” he told her, making the girl smile.

“Oh wait!” Silje called her before she could scurry off to get their drinks. “Make it three pints and two glasses of white wine.”

The girl took note of the change of order and ran off.

“Christ, Ivar! Your mot been heyra for a couple hours and she's leading ya by the nose already! Ordering fancy drinks, eh?” Caleb teased before downing the remaining of his beer to make way for the next one.

Silje blinked in slight confusion. She was leaning on the table with both elbows when she looked at Ivar, waiting for an explanation. He merely shrugged, but he was mistaken if he thought she was going to drop it and make it easy for him. He wanted her to tag along, he would have to own up to it.

“Why Ivar, haven't you told your friends you don't like beer?”

Her question was followed by a round of choked up screeches and a variety of downright offended protests. Meanwhile Ivar closed his eyes and groaned, causing Silje's devious grin to widen even more.

“We're in Ireland Sil, I wouldn't have made any friends if I didn't drink beer,” he grunted unhappily.

Silje nodded. It made sense of course, but she couldn't pass up such an opportunity to tease him in front of his friends. It was usually the other way around since they spent a lot of time with her own friends.

She gave him a gentle smile and pushed a strand of his hair out of his face, effectively making the three boys at the table stop rambling about the beer thing, and start poking at Ivar for being such a sap when his girlfriend was here. He didn't pay attention to them, and instead chose to enjoy the moment. For weeks now, he hadn't had a moment like this, he could only dream of it. To have Silje sitting next to him for a drink, and not halfway across the world, should be something to appreciate to the full, regardless of the presence of his merry group of idiotic friends.

“Jeg kan ikke vente til jeg har dig for mig selv resten af ugen,4” he whispered in her ear, making all three of his friends lean towards them in hopes to catch something even though it was all Chinese to them.

Throughout the evening, whenever Ivar said something only meant for Silje he switched back to Danish both because she wasn't as comfortable speaking English as he was – especially the local slang that was difficult to grasp -, and because it was more private. His friends looked confused as all hell at first but after hearing the tone of their voice and seeing them smile at each other, Cillian came up with a theory.

“Ah, I see! You're speaking that silly language of yours to talk dirty in public! I get it.”

Silje and Ivar both frowned and shared a glance.

“Man, that's not at all what's happening,” Ivar told him.

“Yeah, right,” his friend replied, giving them both a conniving wink as though he was now in on a secret.

“Don't mind him. Han er lidt dum5,” Ivar told Silje, making her chuckle in her glass.

The pub crawl was adjourned due to Silje's presence – not cancelled, never cancelled – and they decided to spend the night here instead. The place became even more crowded if that was possible, to the point where it was impossible to call for the waitress. All the staff was behind the bar, pouring drink after drink.

Silje volunteered to go get their next round of drinks and went to the bar. She hopped on a stool when one became available while she waiting her turn, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the sticky counter top. The waitress from earlier spotted her and yelled over the noise to ask her if she wanted the same. Silje nodded and smiled at the girl.

There weren't many girls here tonight from what she could see. But there sure were a lot of inebriated men, as proven by the one trouble maker who elbowed his way towards her until he was leaning against the counter right next to her. Silje leaned in the other direction ever so slightly.

“What's a ride like ya doin' alone?" he slurred, giving her a once over in an obvious manner, which suggested he meant it as some sort of compliment.

She scrunched up her nose and pretended she didn't hear him over the noise, hoping he would take the hint and go away – though she was positive he wouldn't take a hint smaller than her fist in his face. Maybe she should just do that from now on – hit first and talk later. A thought to ponder.

Silje wasn't one to complain about slow service in any kind of place, be it a pub or a fancy restaurant, but these drinks sure took their sweet time to get to her. All the while the drunk guy attempted to flirt with her with as much subtleness as an elephant in a china shop. How much longer now?

From the other side of the room, Ivar stretched his neck to see where Silje was with their drinks – Caleb grew nasty when he didn't have a cold one in his hand – and what he saw made his jaw clench. Seeing that beefy dude drool over his girlfriend made him glare holes in the back of his head and he stopped listening to the story Dean was telling him altogether.

She said something then, but the gods have mercy it only seemed to entice the guy even more, though she wore her disgust like a pearl necklace and shot him annoyed glances.

He felt his hand tighten its grip on his empty glass. He wished he could read lips because there was no hearing what they were saying over the ambient chatter, and he didn't want to cause a scene for nothing even if he really wanted to get up and teach this asshole some manners. Ivar was left breathless by the force of his urge to mark his territory. Silje would flick his forehead if he ever voiced his instincts.

“Hey man, your mot in trouble?” Dean asked, finally taking notice of Ivar's change of mood and following his gaze. “That chump acting the maggot. Go get her.”

Silje exchanged a few more words with the stranger, no smile in sight as she pulled away slightly when he scooted closer. Then she turned towards the table and pointed right at Ivar. Good. This fucker needed to know she was taken. Happily taken. Now he better back off or the gods have mercy on him because Ivar won't.

He was ready to storm across the room at the slightest hint of distress on Silje's face. But when Silje saw the look of rage on her boyfriend's face her expression softened a bit and she raised her palm discreetly. He blinked, then looked back at his friends and dropped the frown on his face, forcing his rage down.

“Nah. S'all good. She can handle herself,” he told his friends to their utter bewilderment.

A second ago he looked like he was ready to stab the guy in the throat and now he acted like it didn't even bother him to see his girlfriend being hit on. He stared a little harder than he normally would at his empty glass and couldn't help glancing towards the bar every other ten seconds, but he calmed down.

This was her sign. The little hand gesture. He knew it meant she had things under control. He didn't need to come to her rescue - even if he damn well felt entitled to and it itched him greatly to sucker punch this idiot. He trusted her, Silje wasn't overconfident in her skills or reckless at all. If she sensed actual danger coming from this guy, she would call him. After another while of tense silence between the guys where everyone was staring at the exchange except Ivar who glared at his glass like it was guilty of something, his suffering came to an end.

His back muscles relaxed as soon as he felt her familiar gentle hand on his shoulder. She laughed when she felt him literally melt under her touch. She expertly set down the plate of drinks she held with one hand, and joined Ivar on the seat bench, pressing into his side and snuggling him a bit despite the very public space to reassure him.

“Good thing you got rid of that wanker,” one of Ivar's friends chuckled in his glass. “Ivar was about to pop a vein.”

“I would have popped his head like a champagne bottle,” Ivar countered, scowling and leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I know you would have, but I like to try solving situations my way before letting you maim anyone who dares look at me.”

“This is about that guy at the park this summer,” Ivar groaned and rubbed his face. “I thought we wouldn't bring it up again.”

This triggered his friends to ask a lot of questions what exactly went down last summer at the park, and Silje happily obliged them and told the whole story, much to Ivar's despair. It wasn't even his fault; the other guy had started it.

The gang and them were out for the day, enjoying the sun. And some dude at the park kept losing his ball while playing volleyball with his friends and it somehow always ended up at Silje's feet. Ivar's patience ran out after the fifth time and he threw the ball back full force. It hit the guy in the face so hard it sent him stumbling backwards and falling on his butt. Their friends laughed but Silje didn't.

She finished her story with a fond smile on her lips, looking at Ivar with such whole-hearted tenderness that it melted the frown right off his face. She leaned back into him.

“Next time a guy hits on me I'll punch him in the face, promise,” she whispered to in his ear. Then she grabbed her glass and the boys carried on their conversation like nothing happened. “Oh look, they have-” Silje stopped and visibly searched for a word, snapping her fingers as if to summon it. “Ivar, hvad hedder dartspil på engelsk?" she finally gave in, turning to her boyfriend.

“A dart game,” he provided, and Silje snapped her fingers again, this time in victory.

“Yes! A dart game. Let's play darts,” she said, waiting to see if the boys would agree to her challenge.

“I can't accept, it would break me heart to crush ya at a game,” sighed Cillian as if it was a sacrifice on his part in the name of chivalry.

“Can't hand their asses to pretty girls like ye,” Dean agreed with his friend, drinking the last of his beer and chuckling to himself while Ivar's grin grew wider and wider. Silje saw it and smirked a little.

“If you're scared of losing it's alright, I understand you don't want to lose to a girl in public,” Silje said nonchalantly, knowing that they wouldn't be able to let slide this blow to their ego. Boys were so terribly easy to manipulate, it was a wonder the human race survived so long.

As expected from a bunch of young men slightly drunk off beer, they all immediately puffed out their chest and stood up, accepting her open challenge while claiming they wouldn't be held responsible for her crushing defeat. Only Caleb seemed to sense there it wasn't a good idea and remained by Ivar's side.

Ivar leaned back and kept smiling to himself like an all-knowing Cheshire Cat. He followed Silje but declined the invitation to participate – he knew better.

“No mercy, Sil,” he told her with a wink. “I'm going to sit this one out and enjoy the show.”

The two of them watched Silje slowly but surely crush Dean and Cillian's self-confidence with each dart she threw exactly where she intended. The two boys lost their mind – along with a fair amount of people who watched the game, one beer in hand, placing bets – and quickly understood their mistake. That's what they get for underestimating girls.

Silje never lost her grin and she scored more and more points.

“Ivar, ya jammy client6,” Caleb mumbled in his beer, nudging Ivar in the ribs to get his attention.

He had been entranced by Silje's gleeful smile and lethal aim. Yeah, he sure was the luckiest man alive.

It was already time to say goodbye and they both hated it though they knew it was coming. The wind was blowing strong, the sun wasn't even up yet, it was dark and cold and yet neither of them wore gloves because they needed that skin-to-skin contact just a while longer.

Soon, they would be able to wear gloves again as they wouldn't see each other until jul. At least this time, it wasn't a vague goodbye with no idea when they would meet again. Ava's part in their little reunion was much, much appreciated and Ivar would need to thank her, but they had arranged their next meeting ahead of time this time.

No surprise visit, no wandering about on school property to find the right building; Ivar would go two hours early to the airport and wait for Silje with a cheesy note written on a poster that he'd hold very high for her to spot from a distance once she had collected her luggage. She was going to hate it, he thought, amused.

“The bus is coming,” she said, spotting the headlights coming round the corner of the street.

She squeezed Ivar's hand and turned to him, her eyes glowing under the streetlight and looking a bit too glossy for Ivar's liking. If she so much as shed a tear, he wasn't going to let her leave. He didn't care about the consequences, he would pull a proper kidnapping and keep her all to himself, screw Denmark.

“I wish I could come with you,” he said, cradling her face and kissing her softly. Their lips were still swollen from all the kisses they exchanged these last few hours. One would think they were never going to see each other again instead of parting for roughly two months.

Ivar couldn't escort Silje to the airport because he was working today, bright and early; he could only walk her to the nearest bus station and wave her goodbye until she was out of sight.

The bus stopped and the doors opened: it was time.

“Jeg vil savne dig7,” Silje whispered before leaving.

“Jeg elsker dig8,” he answered.

Right before the doors closed on her, he stole one last kiss and felt her smile against his lips.

TRANSLATIONS

1They aren't telling me anything I don't already know.

2See what you got us into? Any regrets yet?

3No, I don't.

4I can't wait to have you all to myself for the rest of the week.

5He's a little dumb.

6Lucky bastard

7 I'll miss you.

8 I love you.

@teenagephilosophersandwich

@marco-hvittyvik

@kenzieam

@captstefanbrandt

@kimskew

@aduncanzombie

@admerxin13

@meikolia

@vikingsmania

@dina-m16

@thinemineours

@didiintheblog

@mblaqgi

@thedorkcitycentral

@hallowed-heathen

19 notes · View notes

irageneveart · 6 years ago

Note

If you're in the mood for some angsty headcanons, how do you think the rfa would react to discovering that mc is anorexic?

hii Anony 🧡 I hope you’re okay! I added a pretty link with eating disorder hotlines if it would help you but on the phone app the link was broken and it looked weird and I can’t sleep knowing it looks like that xigxcphcvh I’m sorry

now, I’m by no means a writer and this is actually the first time I’m publicly writing HCs (asuming you really sent this to me and it’s not a mistake xDD) but I enjoyed it! please feel free to tell me what you think. also, I am not dealing with this disorder so even if I did some research, I might not be the most accurate in the descriptions. if something comes off disrespectful please let me know!

thank you for your request! hope you enjoy

I kind of went overboard with some so everything under the cut lol

RFA discovering their MC is anorexic

ZEN

you always had a thing for your weight. carefully chosen food, daily exercises, nothing too out of common, you just wanted to stay in those healthy digits

having a modeling actor as your boyfriend definitely added some pressure on your shoulders. “I shouldn’t gain weight, I don’t want to damage his image, All those beautiful girls he is working with…I should take care of my weight, I need to stay in shape”

innocent thoughts that turned into poison whenever you saw food

you could get away with it for a while, Zen is not one to eat regularly either, but one night he accidentally caught you in the bathroom trying to free your stomach from the little dinner you ate earlier

“Oh god, babe, are you alright?” he rushes to your side thinking you’re sick. burning tears fall down your cheeks, and you break down telling him everything. he is heartbroken that you are feeling like this, holding you close and telling you how much he loves you

he starts making meal plans for both of you and showers you in constant praise to raise your self-esteem, you’re perfect the way you are and nothing will change that, not weight, age, nothing. he’s always careful to pepper in plenty of kisses whenever you two finish your food

YOOSUNG

since you and Yoosung moved in together, making breakfast and different dinner ideas from You Tube started to be Yoosung’s favorite way to spend his free days. tell him he did great and he’ll be over the moon

slowly he starts noticing you are skipping meals and your health is slowly declining, and the poor boy starts worrying. he doesn’t say anything for a while, but with every meal you leave in the plate he grows more anxious

is he doing something wrong? you don’t like his cooking anymore? should he change the channel he’s following? Yoosung pls

he decides to confront you about it, and boy he wasn’t ready. when you break down he nervously pulls you into a hug, worried and sad because he thought something else, angry he didn’t notice it faster. but it was not time for that, because you were there, a sobbing mess in his arms. you can let all your frustrations and anger out, he will listen and he will try his best not to cry with you. he is the shoulder you need and he won’t move from your side until your hands are not shaking anymore and until your breathing is steady

he’ll go together with you to support groups, cause he needs help to help you. he does his very best to give you all the body and mental care he can, and all the meals he is making now are with your consent, no more surprises: do you think chicken or beef will be fine tonight? we can only have a salad, what about a warm bowl of soup? he is there for you, reminding you that you’re doing amazing and that you’re all he ever dreamed of

JAEHEE

With so much work to do, she didn’t really used to eat regularly and she was always happy when you reminded her to so she won’t pass out during the day. but since you two started your own business Jaehee had more time for herself and for her beloved girlfriend, making sure to return the care tenfold

as you moved in together things started to be a bit different, and Jaehee was quick to notice. you look pale, you’re acting more tired even in your free days and whenever you two make a proper dinner you’re not touching the food in your plate at all.

noticing your declining health, Jaehee immediately demands you to get a physical. moment when you break down and tell her all your story, trying your best not to sound pathetic

Jaehee cups your face, her voice calm and full of love “We’re beating this, together. I love you, MC, and I will always do” she declares and with tears falling down your cheeks you believe her, nodding your head

she will constantly remind you that you’re so beautiful and strong and she will keep tracks of your meds. it will be a hard recovery but Jaehee is with you, and nothing will make her back down from seeing you happy and healthy by her side.

JUMIN

Jumin’s schedule is very strict, but since you moved into the penthouse he is trying his best to come home so you two can have dinner. you waiting for him with homemade food made him all happy inside, his beautiful wife transforming his big and cold house into a warm and happy home.

however the business demands grew in number for few days and he met your dinner with apologizing texts. you know he was trying his best, but as the days pass by you can’t help but overthink, darker thoughts slowly killing you inside

holding Elizabeth in your arms, you start to talk to the cat as if she would understand. “Elly, I’m…I’m afraid.” you confess one day as the beautiful white animal comes into your lap on the couch. “What if he grew bored of me? What if he found …someone else. better, with more beautiful shapes.” you try to remember all the wonderful words he whispers in your ear when you two share the bed, how he loves and touches every part of you, but when you look into the mirror you can’t help but wonder if it was all true. how could he love you? you’re not thin enough, your hips and breasts are not the right size or shape. why would he love you

few more days pass by until one morning you wake up to the sweet smell of pancakes, Jumin nowhere to be found. as you come to the kitchen you see him there, breakfast ready on the table. “Good morning, my angel. I took the day free, I could not bare another day without you.” he states and smile, and you feel your knees grow weak. you really missed him too and you hold him as close as you can

as you were playing with the food in your plate and were talking with him, you notice his expression turn serious all of the sudden.

“MC, I have something I believe we need to discuss. I noticed that our fridge is completely unchanged for the past few days, and forgive me my dear wife, for being suspicious of you, but I am afraid you have not been eating.”

as he was speaking you could feel your face warm up, tears threatening your eyes. he stands, feels your forehead and you start to feel cold and dizzy all of the sudden, your walls breaking down. “Tell me everything.” he demands and you can’t help but tell him, bursting into tears. you can even yell and scream and he will not get angry, he sees you’re in pain and he waits until you tire yourself out, rubbing your back or your head, not leaving your side

this is not happening for his beautiful and perfect wife, his sunshine, his angel, his one flower in the winter-covered field that is his life. his schedule changes completely, now he is with you every breakfast and never misses dinner again. if you refuse to seek professional help, he will personally watch you eat, small amounts to start but he will make sure you will always have fruits and vegetables and all various kinds of meat where you can choose from. you are his goddess, and he will whisper praise into your ear, telling you how perfect he thinks you are every day and every night, every inch of you bringing him happiness. you are loved, and you are perfect

SAEYOUNG

weird eating habits? that’s Saeyoung’s middle name. one of them

Seven is not the most observant one when it comes to food, but he does observe your change in behavior. you are more and more tired, pale and whenever the dinner is ready you find an excuse not to come

Seven, Saeran and Vandy are all living together with MC after the secret endings and you can’t change my mind

he trusts you, so he doesn’t think too much on it. if something is wrong you will tell him… right? right?? but when Vanderwood points out that you haven’t eaten at all in the past few days, Saeyoung starts getting worried

he wastes no time confronting you. that night, assured by the dark in the bedroom you two share, he slowly gets behind you into the bed, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer. he knows you’re not sleeping, but he still whispers slowly into your ear. “The honey to my buddha chips, what is wrong?”

you don’t answer, his tender and worried tone making your eyes teary. he presses a soft kiss on your shoulder, nudging his nose into your nape. you’re not fooling him

you turn around to face him, his golden eyes soft with worries were glued on yours. when you tell him that you can’t help feeling the way you do, he cares your forehead and will listen in silence all you have to say. the more you explain, even in the dark, you can see his face turns sad. you panic and start to apologize, you don’t want to be a burden, you know it’s not right but you can’t help all those thoughts

he stops you from apologizing by softly kissing your lips, and then he shakes his head. “The only thing that bothers me is that I can’t give you my eyes, MC, so you can see how beautiful and perfect you are for me.” the vulnerability in his eyes made you bite your lip, tears rolling down into the pillow.

family therapy! let’s face it the only one that knows how to properly eat in that house is Vandy. with your consent, Seven will tell them about your eating disorder and in the solidarity of the moment, Saeran admits he also shared these feelings after leaving Mint Eye. Vanderwood was the one to slowly but surely make him get on the right path, and all three of them are there for you as well. you’re part of the family, and they all wouldn’t see it the same without you. Seven gets nagged by Vanderwood, putting you in his care and in the same time putting Seven in your care. “Maybe this way he’ll learn he needs real food from time to time too”

you giggled. that’s true, as imperfect as each of you are they’re the perfect family for you

Saeyoung will make sure to remind you that, to make you laugh during meals, cheer for you with the whole cheerleader thing and to praise you

“you’re my better half, MC, now show me how these fries should be eaten because I seem to?? forget?? fries beep beep information not found please reboot” he jokes and you can’t help but shake your head and laugh. he’s such a dork

#ira geneve #rfa headcanons #zen hyun ryu #yoosung kim #jaehee kang #jumin han #saeyoung choi #mystic messenger #tw: anorexia #tw: eating disorder #mysme headcanons #ehhh idk how to tag these #they wont be in the tags anyway cause tumblr hates me #my writing #anon request #writing request

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perlocutionary · 6 years ago

Text

After Hours, pt. 2 - Lawyer!Stiles

Description: You and Stiles work for Stilinski’s law firm, but your relationship goes beyond work. After a lovely night (or weekend...) together, it’s time to focus on a case again. But, discrecy isn’t your strong suit today it seems..

Warnings: As part one was smut, you can expect exactly the same thing with part two. There, you go, enjoy your filthy smut!

Relationship: (Lawyer!)Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word count: 2833

A/N: this serves as a thank you for bearing with me lately, helping me out with that research thing and as a mini-celebration for my birthday! But, I had said that my gratitude would be ever-extending soooo.. This of course will not be the only surprise. Happy reading! (Let me know what you thought!!)

“You’re late.” John addresses me instantly when I walk through the open doorway, my heels clicking loudly against the marble tiles. I cock an eyebrow in his direction, demanding him to tempt me, and as soon as his eyes flick back to the manila folder in his hand, I cannot help but let a snicker quietly pass my lips.

My body shakes when Stiles’ office door roughly swings open, my heart hammering against my ribcage at the sudden movement. He glances briefly n my direction but doesn’t address me or my tardiness.

“We have forty-eight hours left to get this guy out. I know some of you still possess morals, but that doesn’t work when you want to be a lawyer. It doesn’t matter if he did it or didn’t do it – it’s our job to get him out.” Stiles barks, the whole room silent as they stare up at their boss. Stiles coerces discipline and admiration – perhaps a bit of terror as well. It thrilled me.

“So, I don’t want to see any of you loitering around – if you wish to keep your job.” Stiles snaps his final words at his personnel occupying the spacious study, backtracking toward his office before he hoovers beside me. My frame is prepped up against the enormous book case, arms leisurely crossed over my chest as I dare to take a glance at the dapper man beside me.

His features remain stoic as he holds out a manila folder for me to grasp. “Ms. Y/L/N, we better start sooner, rather than later.” As soon as my fingers curl around the paper, I feel his large hand cup my ass. His eyelid drops down into a wink before he makes a one hundred-eighty degree turn and disappears back into his office.

The same words he had spoken to me only ten hours prior - albeit in a completely different setting. My hair fanned out against his satin sheets as his tongue showed me the new tricks he had learnt, making my head spin and my body fall into a complete abyss of pure bliss.

Without further ado, I flip open the folder and start skimming through it - in search of anything that could be of use. I feel my cheeks heat up when I notice the crumpled piece of paper, recalling me laid out over Stiles' mahogany desk, grasping onto something for dear life. This thing I had going on with Stiles was mind blowing, and the excitement I felt every time his name flashed on my smart phone had me feeling like a teenager again. His hands were as skilled as his tongue, and there was nothing I’d rather do than run my hands along his soft, ivory skin. His hair would stick in every direction after a night together, and it reminded me of how wanted he had made me felt – I was hooked.

"Okay, spill."

I hum as my gaze flicks over the last few words at the bottom of the page – turning it briskly before glancing up at the voice. Lauren.

“What?"

My manicured finger traces along the lines of the bold black ink on white paper, but my eyes are continuously glancing toward the impatient tapping of Lauren's Louboutin black pump in my peripheral.

"You know god damn well what." She aggressively whispers, jabbing her pointy red polished nail in my triceps. I flip the manila folder closed, squeezing the paper so roughly between my fingers that it starts to bend around them. I knew damn well what she was referring to, but I was not sure if I even wanted to confide in her. When I started my job, I had the wholehearted intention of keeping my work and my personal life separate – and I had never met one lawyer that I trusted enough to become my friend.

But Lauren, she was different. The corruptness of our system had not tainted her yet and she was still as pure as I was mere years ago.

"Lauren -" I warn her, widening my eyes as I slide my tongue along my lipstick-clad lips. I tried to be as dismissive as possible without barking in her direction – she got that enough from Stiles already. But she was threading dangerous territory nonetheless and I didn’t want Stiles hearing our conversation and deciding to end whatever it is that we got.

"Don't fucking shit me - Are you fucking Stilinski?" She steps closer, readying herself to pry her answer out of me if I don’t respond in the correct manner. Instead of speaking, I let my fingers curl around her bicep and drag her away from the study and into the kitchen, making sure the tips of my fingernails dig into her arm. When I glance back and see the wince on her features, a smug grin curls onto my lips.

I spin on my heel in a split second. "Do you want everyone in the room to hear your questions, or what?" My whisper is harsh, as soon as the door clicks closed behind me. The manila folder is roughly slammed onto the marble kitchen counter top, my fingernails impatiently rapping the faintest tune.

Apparently, I am not threatening enough. "It’s a simple question though. Seeing as how you decide not to answer and avoid it all together, I already have my answer." The grin suddenly appearing on her face is shit-eating, her arms crossing over her chest, as if she had won this battle against me.

"You know I'm with Ben, Lau." I try to divert the ecstatic young girl, leaning against the marble as I cross my own arms over my chest. “I saw Ben yesterday. You two broke up.”

“That doesn’t matter. I don’t do that.”

"Oh yeah, because having an affair with your drool-worthy boss is something that only happens in romantic comedies."

I'm quick to reply. "I'm not like that."

Oh, but I am. And I know it. "There's nothing wrong with it, you know. I kind of understand – I'm sure he's a nice guy when you take away all the lawyer stuff." Lauren shrugs her shoulders, plucking a small thread from her pristine white shirt before her eyes meet mine again.

A sigh leaves my lips when I realizes that for one, I am cornered, second, she was what I considered a great friend right now and three, I desperately wanted to tell someone about it. "It’s just sex though."

I try to nonchalantly shrug my shoulders, but an awkward smile crawls its way into my lips. Lauren's eyes get so wide I think she might be able to go for the Guinness World Record, but I'm pulled from my thoughts when her hand smacks my arm with a loud snap. "That’s even better!"

For a split second I have a feeling we are caught, and my heart is rapidly thumping in my throat. A quick glance tells me otherwise. I scrape my throat when I hear the door squeak, addressing Lauren more formally.

"Therefore, there would be no indication that Mr. Miller has actually committed this foul crime. Perhaps it's indeed for the best if we try a different approach." I motion my head for Lauren to disappear as Stiles steps into view. "Okay, thank you Y/N. Mr. Stilinski." With a brisk nod to her boss she slides through the doors and into the study, leaving Stiles and I alone. He did hear – maybe even everything.

"How much of that conversation have you eavesdropped on, Mr. Stilinski?" I smugly hum as I turn on my heel, filling myself a steaming mug of coffee. A gasp escapes me when I feel his whole frame press my body against the counter forcefully, the cup almost tumbling from my grip.

"I wish to not disclose that information." I can just picture the smirk he must be sporting at this exact moment, humming to myself before I tsk at his words. I slowly turn around in his little cage, taking a sip of the coffee before discarding it and resting my hands on Stiles' broad chest.

"You are aware that every employee in your law firm is less than ten meters away, yes?" I smile, fixing his ajar tie and smoothing out the wrinkles in his pristine white dress shirt. I'm taken aback when his hand cups my jaw and he presses his lips firmly, but briskly, to mine. He didn't give me any time to react. When he pulls away, he hovers in front of me, lips touching just slightly. His voice is a mere whisper. "Let me change that." I swallow, opening my eyes slowly – which I didn't even realize I had let slip closed in the first place; my throat suddenly dry.

"What?"

He hums, smoothing out my loose hair before he lets his gaze meet mine. "The 'just sex'. Let me take you on a date."

It takes me several seconds to respond, both analogous as digitally.

"I - what? Are you even sure about this?" I push him away, my gaze shifting from left to right as I try to assess the meaning of his words – was he kidding? Stiles Stilinski had been my long-time crush for ages, but I considered him so off limits I had never even considered to gain anything – let alone the amazing sex we had.

"Tonight. Meet me here at eight. No work – I promise." This time, when he presses his lips to mine, I do respond and as he pulls away, my body involuntarily follows his retracting frame. I always desperately crave him.

“Why are you even nervous? You’ve known this guy for how many years?” I whisper to myself, running my flattened-out hands against my dress, my hands shaking nervously as I straighten myself again. It’s eerily quiet on the street, only the street lights illuminating my path. I see Stiles’ bedroom light on from the sidewalk, my hands fumbling as I tun up onto his driveway.

“Stiles?” I yell up the stairs as the front door clicks shut behind me, my feet already taking me upward. I hear him hum to himself and follows his voice, ending up in the doorway of his bedroom.

“Hi.” Stiles whips around at the sound of my voice, smiling at me as he glances over my outfit. He discards the buttons of his dress shirt, stomping over to me. Within mere moments, I’m pulled flush against his bare chest, his lips firmly pressed to mine.

I moan into the kiss, my hands roaming over his pale chest as our tongues battle with one another. His hands roam over my back, only to rest on my ass and dig his clipped nails into the soft flesh, drawing another moan from my lips. “You look ravishing.”

Stiles’ gaze is filled with lust, his hands pushing my core to rub along his trouser-clad leg as his lips find my neck again. “We’re doing this wrong.” I laugh against his already kiss-swollen lips.

“We didn’t start this off right either, but I don’t mind if you don’t.” Stiles whispers as his lips trail along my jaw, his teeth sinking into my neck as his hands roam over my waist to the zipper in the back.

He awaits my answer, slowly dragging his pointer finger along my spine as his lips continue to roam over every piece of exposed skin.

“Take me.” I whisper, pressing my upper body against his as I push his dress shirt from his shoulders. Stiles growls in response, finding the zipper with experienced ease and slowly drags it down, the red material dropping near my feet.

My hands are fumbling with his belt, lips clashing together but I’m stilled in my movements when a loud smack resonates through the room and Stiles’ hand comes into contact with my soft ass. A loud moan slips me, most of it swallowed my Stiles’ smirking lips.

I leisurely push his trousers down his legs as my core involuntarily starts riding against him, his large hand kneading my ass and coercing my movements. I hear the rip of my underwear as it flutters to the ground, my body pulling away from his to scold him – but I don’t get a chance to.

Instead, I’m lifted into the air and my dripping cunt meets his erect cock, sliding through the folds and causing me to throw my head back with a shrieked moan. Stiles’ tongue licks a bold stripe along my exposed sternum, turning and guiding both of us over to the bed.

“You like it when I throw you around, don’t you, sweetheart?” Stiles grins down at me devilishly as my body collides with his satin sheets, my legs immediately opening and inviting him to join me. “You’re hot when you’re bossy.” I smile, licking along my bottom lip as I coax him over with a ‘come-hither’ motion of my pointer finger.

Stiles’ long, slender finger wipes along my folds and he lifts his finger to slowly lick off my juices, our eye contact not once breaking nor wavering as he licks his finger clean. “Then you must be wet for me all the time.”

I pull him down by the neck, pressing his cock through my folds with my leg pressing roughly against his ass. “Oh, Mr. Stilinski, you have absolutely no idea.” I moan into his ear, fisting his hair and curling my breasts into his chest.

“Fucking hell.” Stiles growls loudly as he slams his cock into me, my mouth falling open in an ‘o’ without any sound. He doesn’t relent, instead, his pace is rapid and rough, desperate to chase his and my release. I feel his cock throbbing against my walls, his fingertips digging into my waist as he buries his head in the crook of my neck.

“Stiles, please, more.” I moan desperately, throwing my head back and dragging my nails along his back, feeling him groan before his hips snap harshly against my hips, the scruff of his pelvis rubbing deliciously against my clitoris.

I’m dangling near the edge of my orgasm, my hands roaming everywhere along Stiles’ body that I can reach. One of his hands cups my neck, bringing my lips to his, as the other disappears between our bodies to lazily press his thumb against my clit, making me cry out against his opened mouth.

“Come for me, sweetheart. Let me feel you shudder beneath me.” Stiles growls against my lips, sending me over the edge and causing all the muscles in my body to deliciously clench as he keeps up his relentless thrusting. Stiles is groaning against my cheek, breathing harshly against the shell of my ear as he stops suddenly.

His own body weight is too much to bare after his intense orgasm and he drops down roughly, causing the air to momentarily slip from my lungs. “Sorry, babe.” Stiles grins as he rolls off me but keeping in touch with my frame even still. His fingertips are trailing lazy circles along my abdomen, sending shivers along my spine from his gentle touch. My heart his hammering against my chest, my breathing irregular as I just enjoy Stiles’ sweet touches.

As soon as he has caught his breath himself and my own breathing as normalized, he leaps onto his feet, covering my quivering frame with the duvet and pressing a longing, passionate kiss to my lips. My heart flutters when I see him retract with a cute, little smile pulling at his lips, eyes twinkling in the dim lighting.

“How about a date in bed?” Stiles holds out a pair of his boxers along with a plain shirt and I grin as the articles hit me in the bare chest. “Sounds like a plan.” “Pizza or Chinese food?” Stiles questions while trailing over to the telephone, glancing back briefly with the device held in hand.

“Surprise me. And then come back here.” I grin, biting down on my bottom lip as his bare ass is on full show for me. Stiles lets his eyes roam over my naked chest, his left hand absentmindedly toying with his already half-hard cock. He is mumbling his order into the receiver, slowly pumping his erection. He can’t take his eyes off me.

I start running my hands along my stomach, one over my breast as the other dips beneath the sheets. His eyes widen and his jaw clenches, my eyes slipping closed as I feel my fingers trail over my already sensitive clitoris.

“Fuckin’ unbelievable.” Stiles growls as he drops the telephone back onto his dresser, chest flushed and cock standing to its full attention. I hum in response, squeezing my nipple roughly as I slide down further onto the bed.

“You seriously render me ravenous.” Stiles growls again as he stalks over, almost predatory. He yanks the duvet off my frame and I squeal as he rapidly pulls me underneath him, lining himself up with my dripping core again and burying himself inside me. “I can’t ever get enough of you.”

Forever: @ssweet-empowerment @fuckwhateverfuck @youshiverwhenyouhearmyname @behind-my-hazeleyes27 @itsbilescallmebiles @7e6205 @daddyxraeken @lovelynerdytraveler @redstringlovers @suggsmate @dylxnob

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