#and too I'm in a much better place this winter than I was last winter | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

roosterforme · 4 months ago

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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 20 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley gets the update he's been waiting for. You get something you weren't expecting. Neither of you can tell the other how you're feeling.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, romantic Bradley, 18+

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

You drove Bradley's Bronco back to his house, dragged yourself back inside, and climbed back in bed. You cried so hard when you watched him carry his duffle bag into the airport, you had painful hiccups for twenty minutes afterwards. Now you were emotionally drained and on the cusp of a headache, and this was only the first day.

With your cheek on Bradley's pillow, you pulled the covers over your head and took a few deep breaths. He didn't know much about his deployment, but the communication blackout was designed to keep you from learning anything. If something happened to him, it might be weeks before you heard about it. Your heart ached as you thought about how lonely he was going to feel after he made it a point to tell you how much he loved getting mail from your class last time.

You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket, and you scrambled to get it out.

About to take off. I love you, Gorgeous. I'll let you know when I land.

Well, you had about six hours to kill until you would hear from him again, which felt bad enough. Then seven full weeks after that. You typed back to him with fresh tears in your eyes, and then you tried to sleep, but the hiccups came back. When you moved to the couch, it felt too cold. You were tempted to call Natasha, but if you couldn't even make it a handful of hours without Bradley, you didn't think she would be able to help you.

It would start to get better. It would have to. When your winter break ended, you'd be back in your classroom with your students. You could dive into your lesson plans for the new year. You could focus on teaching. You could do this. Because if you found out the hard way that you couldn't, then you had no business being with Bradley.

--------------------------

Bradley was given a tiny room in the barracks on base in Norfolk, and he spent the entire night talking to you on the phone. Literally six hours straight before he passed out, sound asleep, hanging halfway off the bed with his phone connected to the charger. One of the last things he remembered you saying was, "As soon as you know if it's San Diego or Norfolk, let me know. I love you."

The following morning, he was so exhausted, he was practically dizzy as he met with his commanding officer, Admiral Walker, for this new special deployment. Even his arm felt heavy as he saluted Walker in his office. It was barely seven o'clock which equated to four in the morning in San Diego, and he knew it would take him a few days to get caught back up on sleep at this point. But every second of talking to you was worth it.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw. Welcome back to the Atlantic Fleet," Walker told him, gesturing to the empty chair in the office.

"Thank you, Sir," he replied, even though he was far less than thrilled to be back in Virginia at all. The prospect of a change of station could not have come at a worse time when he spent the flight from California looking at engagement rings on his phone.

As Bradley sat down, the older man said, "We never wanted to lose you to the Pacific in the first place, so I'm sure you can understand why you'll be staying on the east coast after your seven weeks on the Gerald R. Ford is complete."

His heart sank to his feet, and he felt like he was going to throw up. "Sir?" Bradley asked. "That's it? There's no chance of me returning to North Island?"

When the response he got was a raised eyebrow, Bradley pressed his lips into a line. This man wasn't going to give a shit that he owned a house in Coronado or that he was in love with the most beautiful woman in the world who happened to work in Mira Mesa. Something told him that keeping his mouth shut was the better option right now, even though he felt like punching a hole in the wall and flipping the desk.

Walker shuffled some papers on his desk. "Plans still need to be finalized, but it is our goal, and the goal of the US Navy, to change your station to Norfolk."

The words echoed in Bradley's mind. He couldn't decide if he should tell you about this yet. It wasn't like he had signed paperwork in his hand. Until he did, as far as he was concerned, he was going back to Top Gun and the love of his life. He knew you were stressed and concerned enough as it was, and he didn't want you to have to dwell on this unless it was finalized.

"Once aboard the carrier, mission details will become available to you and the other aviators," Walker informed him. "I have a folder with your bunk assignment and some more information that you can take with you right now. You'll have access to your phone for about another hour, but as soon as you report to the carrier, it will need to be shut down and locked up. Are we clear, Lieutenant?"

Before Bradley could even respond, there was a sharp knock at the door. Walker heaved a weary sigh as his gaze left Bradley's face, and he barked, "Come in."

Of all the faces he knew from North Island, Bradley wasn't exactly sure if it was a friendly one, but when the door opened, Admiral Simpson came strolling inside in his service khakis. He couldn't fathom why his meeting was being interrupted by Cyclone, but he sat quietly with the folder in his hands.

"Admiral Walker," Beau Cyclone greeted, voice as stern as ever. "You never returned my calls, and red eye flights the week of Christmas are not something I find endearing."

Walker stood behind his desk with all of his accolades hanging on the wall behind him, and Bradley jumped to his feet as well. "Admiral Simpson," Walker replied, voice dripping with disdain. "There was no need for you to fly out in person to release your pilot to my fleet."

Bradley could hear Cyclone's knuckles crack as he watched his eye twitch. He was somehow caught in the middle of this, but it looked like the Top Gun admiral was in no mood to be outmaneuvered and lose a member of his team. Bradley silently goaded him on while he stood there completely still.

"I'm not releasing anyone to you. That's not how this works," Cyclone barked. "If you can't manage your fleet, you don't get to poach from mine."

The admirals seemed to be in a competition to see whose face could get redder. "Admiral Simpson, I'm sure you'll find my rank alone is reason enough for-"

"You do not outrank me," Cyclone interrupted, voice loud but calm. Then he turned toward Bradley with his jaw clenched and said, "Lieutenant Bradshaw. You are dismissed. Please board the USS Gerald R. Ford on time for your deployment."

"Yes, Sir," he replied, saluting both men before walking back out into the hallway on slightly unsteady legs. He paused, hoping to hear some more of their conversation or an outright blow up that would give him a clue as to what the fuck was going on, but instead he walked the rest of the way to the barracks to collect his duffle and head to the docks.

With his phone in his hand once again and his bag slung over his shoulder, Bradley called you. He knew it was early and he'd be waking you up, but time was tight now. And your voice was the only thing that would keep him sane at the moment.

"Bradley," you sighed a second later, and he pressed his phone tighter to his ear.

"Baby, I miss you so much," he promised, heart aching. He swallowed hard and decided not to bring up anything that was going on since he didn't have a completely clear understanding of it himself. "I'm about to board the carrier."

He could hear you crying, and he wanted to kick himself. "Just come back safely. That's all I want. As long as you're safe, that's all that matters to me, okay?"

He was having a hard time keeping his own tears at bay. "Me, too. We'll figure out the rest of it later, Gorgeous. Take care of yourself. Write in the journal. And don't forget to check the mail."

"I love you, Bradley!"

"I love you so much."

As soon as he ended the call and turned off his phone, he had to walk through a small building for security screening. It was there that his bag and phone were taken from him. When he exited the other side, his duffle was handed back to him, but his phone was not.

"Sorry, Lieutenant," the petty officer told him with a shrug when he glared. "I'll tag it for you and return it when you get back to Norfolk. At least it's not a long deployment."

Bradley couldn't even argue with that. It wasn't that long in the grand scheme of things. He'd been overseas for a full twelve months at a time when he was younger. This should have felt like nothing, but he knew it would feel like the worst one. He hefted his bag higher on his shoulder and started to head for the bunk that would be his for the duration. There was no sense in standing on deck when there was nobody who would be looking for him to see him off.

He made it down two hallways before a loud voice echoed off the walls around him. "Lieutenant Bradshaw." When he turned, Admiral Simpson was heading his way, face so red it was almost purple. Bradley's heart sank.

"Yes, sir?"

The other man pulled his composure together, sighing like an angry bull. "While you will be under the command of Admiral Walker for this deployment, you will fly directly back to San Diego when you return to port in Norfolk. You'll be presented with the paperwork today."

Bradley's jaw dropped open. "I'm returning to the Pacific Fleet, Sir?"

He got one firm nod in response. "I told you last week that I would do what I could to retain you."

This was honestly the best case scenario, and Bradley could feel some of his tension melt away. "You weren't kidding," he mumbled before clearing his throat. "Thank you, Sir. Being in San Diego is important to me."

"Fly safely, Lieutenant. See you in seven weeks," Cyclone barked before turning on his heel and walking toward the ramp back down to the dock.

Bradley pumped his fist in the air. "Fuck, yeah," he whispered, spinning on the spot. He would get to go back to the station he preferred in North Island as well as his friends, but most importantly, he would get to return to you. There would be no stress of packing and moving and hoping you were still willing to come with him. He could stay in Coronado.

When he slid his hand into his pocket to get his phone out to call you back, he froze. "God damn it."

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If waiting for emails and letters was bad before, this was torture. The early days of getting to know Bradley through written notes left you with constant butterflies in your tummy, but now it felt like you were walking around with a lead weight instead. You constantly caught yourself reaching for your phone to text him before setting it back down in frustration.

You hadn't heard from him since before he stepped onto the aircraft carrier, and that was four days ago. Today was New Year's Eve, and at least you had the wine bar with Natasha to look forward to. While you got dressed and ready to go, you couldn't help but put in just the bare minimum amount of effort. What was the point when your boyfriend wasn't even here to give you kisses along your neck and call you Gorgeous? You pouted at your reflection in the bathroom mirror and put the cap on your lip gloss before even using it.

"You look nice," Nat said as you climbed in the front seat of her car. You turned to look at her with one eyebrow raised.

"I'm wearing Bradley's old sweatshirt with a pair of leggings that are starting to get a hole in the crotch."

She started cackling as she pulled away from the curb. "Well, you still look nice."

"Thanks," you said softly, watching the houses go by.

As Nat turned toward the highway to head up to Oceanside, she asked, "How are you making out?"

You pressed your lips together for a few seconds, trying to make sure you weren't going to cry. "I'm just having a hard time being off from work while he's gone. It's... harder than I thought it would be. I can't wait to return to my classroom in a few days."

"I'm sure that will make it easier," she agreed. "You'll be so busy, time will start to fly by. Oh, I forgot to ask if you got any interesting mail at Bradley's house since he left?"

You shook your head. "I barely remember to check the mailbox most days. Why?"

"Don't worry about it," she replied smoothly. "You'll be back to work in a few days, but in the meantime, we've got merlot and chardonnay to keep your mind occupied."

"Sounds like you're talking about two hot French men," you said with a laugh.

"I could be! You don't even know!"

Now both of you were laughing. And you were still laughing when you actually did order a glass of merlot and a glass of chardonnay. You and Nat enjoyed some wine flights and cheese platters, and she regaled you with stories about Bradley from flight school.

"When he was twenty-two, he probably weighed a hundred and twenty pounds," she said with a smirk. "He was such a nerd, too. God, it was so bad." You were trying to stifle your laughter as she added, "Once he really started working out and grew the mustache, he thought he was hot shit. He's still a fucking nerd."

"He kind of is," you agreed through your giggles.

"But he's a good one," she promised. "Wears his heart on his sleeve too often, but I don't think he has to worry about you breaking it."

You ran your hand along the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "Never."

Once the two of you were filled with cheese and sober enough to get back in the car, you paid for your adventure with the gift card Bradley gave you, only to find out it had five hundred dollars on it.

"Natasha! We need to come back like four more times," you said as you signed the slip.

"I don't see any issue with that," she muttered, leaving cash for a tip. "I think I'll write Bradley an email and thank him for funding girls' day so he can read it when he gets back to Norfolk."

"I think he'd like that."

You started thinking about the journal sitting on the nightstand in his bedroom. Every night before you fell asleep, you'd been pouring your heart and thoughts out into the thing, but even the mention of the word Norfolk had you fretting again. You managed to keep up the conversation with Bradley's best friend as she drove you back to Coronado, but perhaps you should keep most of your things packed after you moved your stuff to his house. What if you had to move to Virginia when the school year ended?

"Thanks for driving," you told her when she pulled up to Bradley's driveway to let you out.

"Anytime," she said, waving you off. "We'll go back up again soon." When you leaned in to give her a hug, she told you, "Don't forget to check the mail."

"Okay."

You weren't sure exactly what her deal was since Bradley couldn't send you anything, but if she wanted you to, then you would. You already promised your boyfriend you'd keep an eye on anything unusual that arrived, so as you walked up to the front door, you took a peek inside the mailbox. Empty. Just like the house. You curled up on the couch with the journal and started to write your daily entry.

I heard from a very reliable source (Natasha) that you were and still are a nerd. I'm going to need to see some pre-stache photos of you when you get home. Your best friend is a wealth of information when you get some wine in her, and I had a great time with her today.

But I miss you. So much. Sometimes it knocks the breath out of my lungs. Your house is too cold and quiet without you here, hogging the couch and eating snacks. I'm looking forward to school starting up in a few days. It'll be a little less lonely when I have eighteen kids telling me what they got for holiday gifts. Of course I'll have to tell them they won't get a visit from their favorite aviator for a while. We'll just be nineteen sad pen pals.

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On January second, you were working on your lesson plans while wearing Bradley's gym shorts and eating potato chips. Tomorrow you'd get back into a routine with work, but first you were going to allow yourself one last day of being kind of pitiful. You bit off more than you could chew with Bradley, and now you were paying the price.

You sporadically started crying at random times throughout the day, and it was only made worse by the overwhelming feeling of being alone. If you could barely make it a week without hearing from him, how were you going to make random deployments with no communication your lifestyle? Why did you even think you could?

While you were crunching your way through some potato chips, you heard something thump on the front porch. The sound made you jump on the couch, and you set your snack down on the table and crept to the front door. When you peeked outside, there was nobody there, but when you cracked the door open, you saw a box. A fairly large box. Addressed to you.

"Oh my god," you gasped. It was from Bradley. According to the date stamped next to your name, he somehow sent a box from the post office in San Diego last week. "Oh my god!"

You grabbed it and kicked the door shut, almost tripping on your way back to the coffee table. When you tried to claw at the tape, you almost broke your nails. "Scissors," you shouted, running for the kitchen drawer by the sink where your boyfriend kept a random assortment of junk. Then you walked quickly back to the couch and started to cut into the box.

Natasha had to be behind the arrival of the box, but you couldn't fathom what could possibly be inside. If Bradley wanted you to have something, he could have simply given it to you before he left. Your heart was pounding as you set the scissors down and looked inside.

"Bradley," you gasped, tears filling your eyes as those familiar butterflies zoomed and swooped around in your belly. You'd been so upset about missing out on his letters, he sent you a whole box of them. There were dozens of envelopes and little treats filling the box nearly to the top, but a neon orange envelope with OPEN ME FIRST written on it caught your eye. You pulled it out of the box and tore into it.

Hey, Gorgeous,

I'm thinking about you right now. Guaranteed. It doesn't matter when you get this box or when you read this note, I'm thinking about how much I love you. And if I'm asleep, I'm dreaming about us eating Thai food on the beach in front of a sunset that is nowhere near as beautiful as you.

I hope you realize there was no way you weren't going to get some letters from me while I'm deployed. I would never let that happen. Somehow, you fell in love with me this way in the first place, and more than anything, I want you to feel as loved as I do. So I filled this box with little notes and long, rambling love letters and things I thought you might like. When you read the individual envelopes, you'll know what to do.

Please fill that journal up for me. I can't wait to read it in seven weeks. I'm missing you like crazy, and I selfishly hope you're missing me just as much. I love you.

Yours Truly,

Bradley

With shaking hands, you set the note down on the orange envelope and swiped at your tears. You never dreamed you would meet a man this romantic, but somehow you did, and he became your boyfriend. "Oh, Bradley," you whispered, picking up a stack of envelopes and reading what was written on each one.

Open me when you've had a bad day

Open me when you really want some coffee

Open me when you need a laugh

Open me when you're in bed

Open me when you need a girls' night

Open me with your class

You flopped down onto the couch and kicked your feet in the air. "Bradley!" you shrieked, voice breaking as you started to cry. You hugged the letters to your chest and let the warm feeling of being loved wash over you and fill your heart. He was unbelievable. He was perfect. He was everything you wanted. And somehow you loved him a little more and missed him a little less with this box on the coffee table.

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He's so romantic. He's taking care of Gorgeous from afar! He's coming home to San Diego, but she doesn't even know it! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls and @daggerspare-standingby

PART 21

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sugusearrings · 1 year ago

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( ' summertime sadness ' ) oh my god, i feel it in the air telephone wires above are sizzlin' like a snare honey, i'm on fire, i feel it everywhere nothing scares me anymore. kiss me hard before you go summertime sadness i just wanted you to know, that, baby, you the best.

— summary: it's been a hard summer for suguru geto to adjust and deal with his emotions. while his best friend satoru gojo has been on a lot of solo missions lately, he's been spending a lot of time with you (fem!reader). — genre: smut ending with fluff — playing: summertime sadness by lana del rey — note(s): this is my first writing smut in a real long time. it won't be my last but i'm sorry if it wasn't spicy enough. i'm kind of rusty i sorry :( hints of virginity lost but not necessarily. — word count: 3k

— warnings: vaginal sex, fingering, oral sex (female receiving ), missionary, doggy, mating press, cumshot, squirting, and finger sucking

Maybe it was the heat wave.

Maybe it was the curse he digested not too long ago.

But Suguru was throwing up more than he usually does.

His eyes closed tightly as he felt everything come rushing out of his mouth to pour into the toilet bowl. Even when there was nothing left in his stomach to puke, his body kept going.

But you were behind him holding onto his dark silky locks so they wouldn’t get in the way or inside of the murky water. Despite him being in the middle of throwing up his insides, he was embarrassed to do this in front of you.

“It’s okay, Sugu..” you reassured him like you knew what he was thinking of. You rubbed his back gently with your free hand. His eyes glanced over his shoulder to you, he saw the small smile on your lips. He looked over back to the toilet seeing everything he’s eaten today. Maybe even yesterday too.

When he was finished, you reached over to flush it down. You went to get him a bottle of water while he washed his face. His face was flushed and hot. His throat was aching along with his stomach feeling hollow.

After drying it away with the spare wash cloth you had just for him, he took his extra toothbrush you bought him. As he brushed his teeth his amethyst color hues stared back at him. The lack of sleep was catching up to him. His dark circles were so noticeable these days. He knew you must have noticed them too. But you didn’t say anything, you have some of your own if you didn’t cover yours with makeup.

Your dorm had the biggest windows and nobody knew exactly why. But it came handy when it was the summer. Winter not so much. Suguru sat on the windowsill with the window wide open. There was barely a breeze and when there was one, it was a warm one.

He had a cigarette in the middle of his lips. It was quiet today. Satoru must still be away on his mission. He wasn’t exactly sure where Shoko was. So that just left you and him. It’s been like that for the past few weeks.

He could hear your gentle voice singing softly as you showered. As much as you whined about the brutal cold, you hated the warm weather. You didn’t like to sweat. Suguru couldn’t blame you for that. The smoke slowly blew out of Suguru’s thin lips as he just zoned out.

“Shoko’s bad habit is rubbing off on you.”

His eyes averted to you once he heard your voice. You wore an oversized shirt (his shirt that went missing a week ago) with nothing but your nude panties underneath. When you stretched the shirt rode up exposing the fabric that barely covered your rear. He couldn’t help but to stare. The amount of time you two spent together comfortability was formed. There was times you would change clothes in front of him and he would do the same. You never caught him staring but that’s because he knew how not to get caught.

“You see a flaw in Shoko?” Suguru teased you then took another pull. You smiled to yourself, placing your dirty uniform in the hamper.

“Cigarettes don't have a better taste, y’know?” You reminded him. He knew you were concerned about his health. You were always concerned about him. Suguru was hard to read for others but when it came to you. It was like you saw what he was thinking like it was written on his forehead. Suguru swore you had some kind of unique curse technique but you just reassured him you’re very observant. He still doesn’t believe that till this day.

“You don’t know what those curses taste like.”

Suguru put out the cigarette then flicked it away. He took his bottle of water.

“True but I could tell they’re bitter.”

You sat down on the edge of your bed. Your hair was still damp from the shower reaching past your shoulders now. He noticed how fast it was growing. He also noticed the dark circles of your own now. It wasn’t as dark as his but close enough. You looked so much younger without the makeup. He didn’t mind either but you not wearing makeup might be his favorite.

“What gave you that clue?”

He tilted his head to the side with a sly smirk. You both chuckled at the same time. A comfortable silence came afterwards. The breeze was cool now thanks to your shower. You glanced down at your bare feet.

“So they don’t come in different flavors?”

“Why the sudden interest in this again?”

Suguru never really recalled you or anyone really asking him about the taste. You shrugged your shoulders crossing your legs over the other. His eyes sneaked down to look at your bare legs. He could tell without even touching them they were so smooth. He quickly looked back up at you before you noticed.

“I’m just asking, Sug. I just wish,” you let out a soft sigh, “I just wish I knew how to consume them so you wouldn’t have too.”

A light blush crept on Suguru’s cheeks.

“Name…even if you could, I wouldn’t let you.” He smiled. “But thank you.”

“Anytime.” You smiled back. You laid back on the bed and closed your eyes. The heat started to slowly kick in. By the end of the night you knew you were going to take another shower.

“I bet your flavor is sweet.”

Suguru’s honey-like voice broke your thoughts. Your body shot up, feeling your eyes widened. Then you looked across to your friend who hasn’t moved from his spot. You blinked a few times before clearing your throat.

“H-huh?”

“You’ve been eating a lot of fruit lately. Especially cherries.” He told you nonchalantly with a shrug. You bit down on your bottom lip feeling the blood rush to your cheeks. You thought about the times you would eat your cherries after training because you would get hungry. You didn’t want a big meal to sit in your stomach plus cherries were in season.

Suguru would watch you bite down into the dark red fruit being careful not to bite into the seed. You would suck the remains on the seed before you placed them back into your container not wanting to throw them onto the ground. Your lips would a faint red after eating them all.

“T-they’re my favorite.” You mumbled shyly shifting a bit in your seat now. Suguru chuckled lightly.

“Am I making you nervous, name?”

“N-No!” You quickly answered. He let out a laugh, you haven’t heard him laugh like that in weeks. You didn't realize how much you missed the sound of his beautiful laughter.

“You’re lying.”

“Am not.”

“You think you’re the only one who can be observant?” He countered. You part your lips but close them making a thin line. He smirked knowing he used your own words against you.

Sure Suguru would flirt with you but so would Satoru. It didn’t mean anything, right?

But Suguru didn’t speak to Shoko like that and Satoru was just a natural flirt. You slowly shook your head. Suguru stood up from the windowsill. “You’re right, name. Cigarettes don’t taste any better. But I don’t have anything to replace it”

He was walking towards you now. Your breathing picked up but couldn’t be heard. His cat-like eyes stared at you like you were his prey caught in the corner. “I am very convinced you can help me with that.” He stood in front of you. You bit down on your bottom lip.

“H-how can I do that?” You asked nervously. Suguru smiled at your curiosity.

“Easy,” he sat down next to you to move your hair behind your ear to lean close, “let me taste you.” he whispered in a husky tone. You stiffened up with your face completely flushed and it wasn’t because of the heat. You both just stared at each other for a few moments.

Maybe it was the heat wave or the curse he just ate

Or maybe he was tired of hiding these urges he had whenever you would come around.

The way your skirt would flow when you would run or jump to block attacks. The way you stared up at him with your doe eyes. The way you would brush against him so close he could smell your perfume you would spray on the side of your neck.

But Suguru needed to taste you.

Suguru was down on his knees in front of the edge of the bed. Your leg was draped on his shoulders. Your panties were already on the floor completely forgotten. His eyes were half closed not wanting to miss the pleasure on your face as his tongue swirled inside your gummy walls. His tongue would creep and twirl around your swollen clit. You did your best to keep your moans down, not wanting to be loud. But Suguru was making it so hard.

"F…uck…S-ugu…mmf!” You muffled underneath your hand to contain your volume. Your toes curled behind his shoulders. Suguru wasn’t shy to make any noise. You could hear his tongue moving against your wet core. Whenever you tried to squirm, he would use his hands that were placed on your thigh to give you a tight squeeze as a warning.

He pulled his mouth away and replaced them with his two forefingers. He dragged them slowly up and down your wet slit.

“Just like I said, sweet.” His sultry voice spoke to you. You looked down to meet his gaze. His lips glistened from your wetness and his saliva. He had a smirk. He saw you try to shy away breaking the eye contact you two were sharing. He found it so cute.

“Don’t act all shy now, pretty girl. We’re only getting started.” He slowly pushed his two fingers at once. You could feel the pressure of your wells stretching for his long thick fingers. “You’re so tight, baby.” He groaned, pressing his tongue back inside of you. He was always good at mulit-tasking.

Suguru felt himself feeling a natural high. Maybe it was the heat that spiked this feeling but he was sure it was your pussy. The leftover taste of the curse completely washed away by your juices overflowing his taste buds. Your clit was throbbing against his thumb. You started to feel your lower abdomen tightening now.

“S-Suguru! Please!” You cried out reaching down to grab some of his dark hair. He made loud slurping and sucking sounds. He moaned against you to give vibrations like a tease. He pushed your thighs open as wide as they can be. He glanced up then back down at your pretty puffy lips. He pumped his fingers in and out at a fast pace. Your legs began to fidget.

“Are you going to cum, my pretty girl?” He taunted you. You nodded your head feeling your hips move on their own against his fingers.

“S-so…so bad I-I wanna cum.”

“What’s stopping you?” he smiled.

That’s when you finally lost it and gave in. You loosened your lower body into the pressure. Suguru flattened his tongue feeling a gush of your juices coming down. He moaned how much it was and how sweet it tasted. He didn’t want to waste not one drop. Even on his fingers he sucked down on them. He turned to you laying on your back, trying to gain composure. Your lower body was exposed but you still had his shirt on. He felt the warm breeze brushed against the back of his neck.

He forgot about the window that was still open.

“Take it off.”

He told you as he went back to close the window then pulled the curtains. As much as he didn’t care, he didn’t want someone to see the way you make those cute faces when you receive pleasure. That’s for his eyes only. You slowly sat up feeling your legs stiff and weak. The room was dark now the curtain was closed. He looked over at you still with his shirt on. “You really don’t like to listen do you, hm?”

“I-I -”

He walked back over to you. He started to pull the bottom of the shirt over your body. Your arms automatically rose to help him remove the last bit of clothing you had left. It wasn’t too dark in your room. He could still see your breasts bounce back into place on your chest. He smiled.

“Such a pretty girl.” he purred. He removed his regular white shirt along with his loose joggers. You swallowed and moved to the middle of the bed. Your eyes gazed down at him slipping out of his boxers. He sprung free and you nearly choked. You couldn’t get over how he was just perfect everywhere.

His cock just thick and long. He had a few perfect veins, one vein going up to his tip that was already leaking of pre-cum. Suguru noticed you staring and chuckled lightly.

“We’ll make it fit, pretty girl. I promise.”

“H-how?” You blurted out leaning back on the few pillows you had on your bed.

“I have some kind of experience.” His larger frame hovered over you. You raised your bright brow.

“Oh?”

“Mhm.”

It shouldn’t have bothered you but it was more of a bit of this new found jealousy. This new feeling. Or maybe you always felt like this and just repressed it. Like that one time you overheard Suguru speaking with Mei Mei. Of course she was flirting with him but he also flirted back. You felt some kind of tightening in your chest. You gave him a whole silent treatment for the rest of the day. He was so clueless why you did. He did apologize.

Suguru could see your puzzled face. He leaned down to press his lips against your own. Your stupid thoughts were pushed to the side once the kiss began to heat up. His tongue claimed dominance you knew you couldn’t fight for. You could taste yourself on his lips and tongue. You moaned into his mouth as your tongues massaged against each other.

He aligned himself a bit since he was so much taller than you.

“There’ll be some discomfort.” He mumbled against your lips. You rolled your eyes as you pulled away to scoff.

“I’ve been stabbed and thrown out of a building how many times?”

“Not many because Satoru and I were always there to -”

“Suguru.” You cut him off with a glare. He laughed and gave you another kiss.

He dragged his tip up and down your slit. You let out a shaky breath already making a mess just with that alone. Suguru took note and smirked. “I didn’t even do anything and you’re already a wet mess, pretty girl.” He purred.

“S-shut up and fuck me…” you breathed out. He was amused how eager you were starting to become.

“Hmm…you could say it a lot nicer, name.”

“Suguru I swear I –”

He pushed his tip against you. You gasped then your doe eyes widened. You gazed up at him. He studied your face before pushing further. A strong pressure was being pressed against you. Suguru sucked in a harsh breath. “I need you to relax, name. Be a good girl for me.”

It was like his voice put you under a spell.

You nodded slowly and tried your best to ease your body. He kissed along your neck and shoulder. You felt his hair brushing against your heated cheek. You bit your lip trying to contain a moan from coming out. He nibbled down on your collar bone then began to suck down on it. After he was done he went to breasts and sucked down on your nipple. His tongue swirled around it slowly with his eyes staring up at you.

After a few moments, Suguru pushed the tip inside of you. Another shaky breath escaped your lips.

“You’re doing a good job, baby. Just like that…” he whispered into the crook of your neck. It didn’t take long till he was able to push more of his thick grith inside of your tight core. You felt a sharp discomfort like Suguru warned you. He stood still so your tight warms could adjust for his cock. “You’re okay baby?” You mumbled a mhm and gave him a nod.

This definitely wasn’t like being stabbed or thrown out of a building.

He strokes your cheek and admires your facial features. You were used to him staring at you but not too closely. You tried your best not to break eye contact. But even in the slight darkness, he could see how your cheeks darken. You look beautiful as ever to him.

“Y-you can move, Sugu…” you whispered.

“Are you sure?”

You nod. He gave you another kiss then he began to thrust his hips slowly. The slight discomfort came back but the pleasure started to mask over the pain. You began to pant heavily when Suguru picked up his pace. You were moaning and whining with the movement of your hips trying to follow his rhythm. The jolt of pleasure shooting up your spine.

Since the curtains were closed the room’s temperature began to rise. A light form of sweat formed on your forehead making your hair press against it. Suguru could feel a thin layer of sweat on his back.

“Mmm…fuck…this pussy is so good to me.” He moaned into your ear. His moan alone made you become a sloppier mess. He was able to push deeper inside of your gummy walls. Your walls expand for his cock hitting your spot over and over.

“Suguru…a-ahhh..”

He rolled his hips then began to pound into you. Your nails raked down his lower back then clung into your skin feeling your back being pressed into the mattress. The headboard was banging into the wall behind it. Thankfully you’re not next to anyone.

“Suguru!” You screamed out. Suguru smirked. Sure he didn’t want to get caught but hearing you yell his name out, he was willing to take the risk.

“Squeeze me, name. That’s it. Good girl. Your pretty pussy is hugging my cock so tight.”

“I-I…y-you…Sugu” You couldn’t even form a sentence being a rambling mess at this point. Cock drunk for the first time. Your vision was blurry with tears of pleasure but you could see Suguru’s beautiful face flushed. Your hand reached behind to hold onto the headboard. But he snatched it away and laced your fingers together.

“You’re mine, you hear me, name? All mine.” He breathed into your neck before he licked up your pulse. You nodded rapidly.

“A-all yours, Sugu…” you babbled, feeling his lips leave kisses on your chest down to your neck again. He loved to hear you become so vulnerable to him. "Forgot how to use your words, pretty girl? I thought you were a smart girl." He chuckled pushing your thighs to your chest and your legs against the headboard. You held your breath feeling him slide deeper you swore you could feel him in your guts. "Well look at that, you're completely stuff with me now." His eyes stared down watching your pussy engulfing him whole. He could see himself twitch inside of her. "S-Sugu...p-please..." you whined just aching for him. His eyes moved to your face. He smirked seeing how desperate you were for him. Your eyes barely open and cheeks darkening from the temperature of the room. He started to pound into you feeling every inch of him in this new position. "F-Fuck! Ngh!" You cried out not able to move with him pressing your thighs down on your chest with his board chest against your legs. He was heavily panting onto your face. He pressed his forehead against yours then leaned in for a kiss. It was a sloppy kiss but it made it easier for him to just go as deep as he wanted. You both could hear how wet you were with the loud sounds your pussy made with each time he pounded into you.

He suddenly pulled out of you completely.

You backed away from the kiss, confused and whiny.

“Suguru..” you whined out in the dark.

“Don’t be a brat now, princess,” he chuckled, then moved your body so you can be lying on your stomach, “I think you can handle me like this now, hm?”

His voice was so taunting and sexy at the same time. He could have made you do whatever he wanted. You nodded your head.

“Y-yes! Please just…need your cock back inside of me.”

Your hips moved eagerly. He reached over to grab a pillow and lifted your lower body to put your pillow underneath you.

“Arch your back…such a good girl. Look at you taking orders now.” He placed his hand on the fat of your ass. He lifted it up to see your swollen puffy folds, dripping to your inner thighs. He smiled admiring you. “I can’t believe you were hiding this from me. I’ll remember that for punishment later on.”

Your eyes widen and a faint blush crept on your cheeks.

“Geto…”

“Oh. You’re addressing me like that?”

He placed a smack on your ass cheek. You whined and buried your face back into the pillow, closing your eyes tightly. He squeezed and massaged the fat of your ass before he greeted your slit with his tongue again. Your lips part to let out a faint moan, moving your hips back to him.

Suguru removed his tongue to replace it with his cock. He pushed back into you hearing a small wince for you. He started to slam his hips into your ass. Your walls clench around him, squeezing him tighter than before. One hand tightened on your hip then the other was placed on the back of your neck and squeezed. Your face being pushed into the pillow.

“Fuuuuuck. Name, n-name….”

You nearly came just hearing the way he moaned your name. Suguru felt his cock throbbing. You were babbling, slight drool coming from the corner of your mouth. Tears from the corner of your eyes going down your flushed cheeks. You came for the third time before Suguru gave you one last harsh thrust and release his warm load into you.

Your heavy panting and breathing matched with his. He slowly pulled out watching his load leaking out of you now. He took two of his fingers and coated them with it. He brought them to your lips.

“Suck.”

You lazily leaned over to place your mouth over his fingers and do what you were told. When you finished, he moved your hair out of your face. He leaned down to kiss you and your shoulder over the marks he left.

He wondered how noticeable they were going to be. Suguru got up and went to get your wash cloth then came back to clean you up. After placing the washcloth in the hamper, he laid next to you in the stuffy room rubbing your back. You couldn’t keep your eyes open and went to sleep instantly. He chuckled, kissing your lips then got up to shower.

Suguru felt better after the cool shower he had. He placed your blanket over your naked body as you snored quietly. He grabbed his stolen shirt that was thrown onto the floor and put it on.

He walked over to the window to open the curtain half way. He was greeted by the cool breeze.

He sat on the windowsill and went to light another cigarette but he was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Hey! Name! Have you seen Suguru? He hasn’t been answering my calls or texts!” Satoru’s voice was heard behind the door as he kept knocking.

Suguru gazed over to you then got up to answer the door. He opened the door enough for him to see Suguru but not enough to see you. Satoru was surprised Suguru answered the door. His eyes were slightly larger but a grin formed on his lips.

“Speak of the devil himself.”

“Didn’t expect you back so soon, Satoru.” Suguru smiled back. Satoru scoffed at his best friend .

“Only the weak would struggle with that kind of mission. Speaking of, where’s name?”

Suguru made a mental note of how often Satoru would come to your room. Alone.

“She’s asleep. The heat made her a bit fatigued.” He answered. Satoru nodded.

“It is fucking hot today.” He began to unbutton a few buttons on his uniform shirt. That’s when his eyes lowered down to Suguru.

“Hey! Suguru, you found your shirt! Where was it?”

“Name stole it.”

Suguru smiled softly. A smile he hasn't had in weeks.

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rkiveinmarvel · 3 months ago

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upon a different life - james bucky barnes des. barnes never trusted you, not once. but upon a different life, he would. notes. angst/comfort, establishing relationship, slow-burn, enemies-to-lovers, i miss bucky, avengers being siblings (and weak for plot),mentions of violence,

hello! it's my bucky fic! i had a bucky fic back then but I deleted it anyway, this was supposed to be a one part but i got carried away, enjoy barnes knowing you! *i wrote this around 3am so, if i have some mistakes, i'm sorry!!*

(part i) (part ii) | w.c: 3.5k

James Buchanan Barnes is slowly getting used to in living with Avengers and the era he is in, in general, he enjoys the slowly yet steady step to forgive himself and earn forgiveness to those people around him as well familiarizing the more advanced world, but nightmares and remarks of his past action come and go; everyone notices it, especially his friend Steve Rogers, but despite this minor setback, he still move forward because it’s not every day, that you die in the 80s and woke up 75 years later.

In terms of forgiving, the sergeant doesn’t know if the genius, billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist have forgiven him—it’s not a secret Stark gives the money and sponsor on the compound they live in but despite his hesitation to live with them, Stark still offered him—it might be a silent agreement with Rogers but somehow, Barnes hopes Stark acknowledges how sorry he was.

But among other things, he wishes he can finally get used to. He finds himself not getting used to you. Even the entire team knows how much James hates you; to you, it’s no secret: you’re his last handler afterall and if the tables are different, you would hate Barnes too. Before Zemo took control of Barnes as Winter Soldier, you were his last boss, a menace actually, you would let him be used. He gets used by someone, you get rich, a simple deal between HYDRA and you. But that changed, when the Winter Soldier regained his memory; with no leverage in making a deal with HYDRA, the Black Widow offered you a place to stay.

It was a nice place, really, a lot nicer than the one you lived in, except, maybe for the fact that you’re still under someone jurisdiction: while the sergeant is able to roam around the city, you keep staring at the wonderful electronic tag in your ankle: in your deduction, you believe that the Avengers are only keeping you alive because of what you know—it’s not even sympathy why the Black Widow offered you stay with them, it’s more of a business.

From the moment you receive glares from everyone in the room, you know damn well that this is just another business. So, it is indeed a surprise, when the A.I enters your room.

“Ha, did Stark send you to check on me again, Vision?” You asked as the artificial intelligence gave you a look. Despite the team’s lack of enthusiasm with you, Vision, Clint, and Thor are the only ones who seem to talk to you. You have talks with Natasha, Tony, and Bruce as well, but it is more of a business than a talk.

“No, I was wondering if you wish to join me, Clint, and Wanda to watch Dick Van Dyke, she seems very excited about it.”

“What makes you think she wants me to join you guys?” You asked hypothetically.

Vision nodded as he glanced at your electronic tag. “If it makes you feel better, they don’t really hate you that much. In my defense, I think you only did the things you have done because you want to survive.” You scoffed as you said that.

“Well, tell that to Sergeant Bar–” but Vision cut you off. “People won’t always use you. The sooner you learn that, the sooner you realize you’re more than just a HYDRA pawn.” You stared at him, as he continued. “At least, that’s what I observed with Sergeant Barnes.”

“Thanks, Vision.” You gave a bland smile, as he left your room. A part of you wants forgiveness, but for someone who learnt life in a hard way, you’re hesitating to give this one a try. Yet for once, a robot was more human than you.

A year after an endless discussion between the Avengers, they decided to remove the electronic tagging and let you roam freely, but still under their jurisdiction. Somehow, Stark and Banner acknowledge your knowledge while the rest give respect to your fighting ways and quick judgment; well, all of them are getting used to you. Well, maybe except for Bucky. Steve told you it takes time, but to your knowledge, it won’t take time because it won’t happen. You accepted the terms that Barnes will not and never forgive you, you don’t blame him though, mostly you blame yourself.

In this scene, you finally learn to adjust, not going out of your room if he was outside, not training–the same time as him, and definitely not talking to him; even a spare glance, felt like a struggling pain of unforgiven lingering. The team respected Barnes more than they respected you, but somehow, it felt like you finally belonged to something. Well, atleast, that’s what you thought.

Their mission to infiltrate HYDRA failed terribly, despite the information you gave them, they weren’t prepared and outnumbered. Despite their failure, they were able to take a hit on HYDRA’s camp, it’s not much but still affected HYDRA. As the quinjet landed on the hangar, the medical team supported those who were injured. A lot of them were, including those who sometimes get out without a scratch.

In the med bay: you saw Clint and Sam—they somehow, took a toll, as you walked further, you saw the entire team taking care of their small cuts, with them helping another, they were able to close the wounds, well, maybe except for the Winter Soldier—or as they call him the White Wolf. On the back of his right shoulder, he was bleeding badly, despite having all the needed things to tend his wounds around him, he sat on the bed feeling out of place, besides it’s only a shoulder wound.

Due to the lack of people in the med bay, you offered help in the team. As you finished to tend some of the team’s wounds including Rogers’ and Romanoff’s. Your eyes met a struggling Bucky Barnes, grasping his right shoulder with his metal arm. Your footsteps were slow as you walk towards him.

“...Do you need help?” He wanted to say no, everything part of him says no, but as he glanced that there’s no person who can help him in his injury, he nodded. Afterall, you’re also the one who patches him up whenever he gets injured in his missions back then.

You carefully clean his wound as you tend him, you wipe the dirt and the things visible that might infect the wound, as you try to start a talk. “Was it bad out there? In the mission, I mean..” He just let out a grunt, which you expected, but he replied with. “They have three more Super Soldiers and one enhanced, just like Wanda.”

You didn’t respond, just continued stitching his wound. As you finish, you put on some bandages as he asked. “Did you know?” Barnes asked.

“Did you know about the Super Soldiers?” He asked again, for a quick moment, you realized that he is still an assassin, you felt his anger and bloodlust. At that moment, you wish you didn’t work with HYDRA. In truth, you didn’t know where they were but you knew HYDRA didn’t stop making them. But your stuttering left the Sergeant furious even more.

“I–I..” That was the only thing you could say when you suddenly felt his metal hand around your neck, at other times this can be hot and daring, but at this time, you were damn sure that the Sergeant would be able to crack your neck: he could kill you. The team in the med bay immediately sat up.

“Buck, put her down.” You assumed it was Rogers who was talking to the Sergeant. As it was getting hard to breath, James starts to explain that you knew there were Super Soldiers, in that Rogers asked you.

“Did you actually know?” Barnes shook you, as you met the Captain’s eyes. “I did.” Before James finally kills, you continue. “I didn’t know they were stationed there.”

If this was a HYDRA facility, they would’ve shot you despite you telling the truth, Wanda nodded, a confirmation that you were telling the truth. Steve asked Bucky to let go of you, with an angered stare, he let go. As you try to catch your breath, you notice some of the bandage of Rogers came off. You reached your hand to help him but a metal hand covered your wrist.

“Stop pretending to be a good guy, we know you’re глупая игрушка of HYDRA.” He grabs your wrist tighter. “You’re not even part of the team.” That was the last straw, you pulled your wrist away, as you searched for someone to stand with you but all you saw was them looking away from you, even Vision. You nodded as you felt some tears sting. You never actually belonged in the team. Just like Barnes said, a глупая игрушка.

A stupid toy.

Stark spotted you, making tea in the middle of the night. “So, you’re the one that’s drinking tea.” His voice echoed in the empty kitchen. You nodded as you asked him if he wanted some, as he nodded. “Heard what happened.”

“Of course, you do.” Stark eyed you as you finally sat down and Stark rolled his eyes. “I forgave Terminator a while ago.” You looked at him.

“I know he took everything from me, but, I guess it’s just the way it is…Pepper is really good at convincing , I give her that, well, maybe because we–”

“Are pregnant…?” You asked, in which Stark immediately shook his head and chuckled. “Well, no, but, I just want peace, you know.”

“That’s a bit out of character.” You commented. “Ah, the secret service have their humor.” The billionaire chuckled. As he glanced at the stair towards the rooms. “You did not know about the soldiers but, the information you gave was really helpful. We can start with that.” As Stark stood up. He added.

“Oh, and next time, make sure you suit up. You can tag along in the mission if you want, secret service.” Stark walked away with a smug smirk. “You sure, they’ll allow me in the field, Mr. Stark?”

“Maybe not. But, we have a higher chance of winning if they don't know what they’re up against.” He said as he left. But, when the morning comes, there’s no trace of you—only the cup of tea you shared with Tony and a room filled with your stuff, as well as, a folder with all of HYDRA’s information and coordinates in sticky notes. As the team assembled, they wondered if you were stolen from them or you were actually planning to betray them a long time ago.

And there’s only one way to find out.

As the Avengers rode the quinjet, Stark drove peacefully as Romanoff shared her side. “Steve, if we do this and see her there, we can’t save them like we did back then.”

“We didn’t save her, Romanoff. We used her…” Steve added. “But, you guys cared for them too.” His eyes fall on Bucky. “Buck, I know this is—”

“It’s a mission. As long as we’re done. I don’t care what happens to them.” James added.

As they reach the base of HYDRA, with the coordinates in the folder, they immediately search for you, but to their mistake, they fall right into a trap. Not even their strongest and the witch was able to see the trap, as they sat and chained in chairs, Natasha cracked a joke.

“This is probably their revenge.” In which none of them find them funny. Especially the guy with a metal arm. As the time passes with the endless blabbering of the man on the computer, lights and warning signs alarmed the area: as the Avengers look for an escape. It was an unfamiliar site, even for Bucky, all of the soldiers on HYDRA are getting deployed, what could possibly be the reason? As the chain, holding the Avengers finally loose, they stood up immediately, they ran in the door meeting you.

“ROGERS?!” You asked breathlessly. They were all confused but much more concerned about the blood painting your entire body. “Oh, it’s not mine.” You said in a smile. “We have to run, quinjet is outside the building.” As the team sprinted outside, surprise to see the number of bodies you took down.

“You took them all down?” Natasha asked as the quinjet was finally visible. “Ah, yeah. I was raised by them so, nevermind, we have to go.”

It was going so well, but in the escape, a lot of missiles were aimed at the quinjet, as you, Sam, Tony, Wanda, and Sergeant Barnes fought the trailing jet in the back of quinjet, James rode a jet that is about to crash with another, he dodged the explosion but fell unconscious. Without thinking, you jumped out of the quinjet to save his unconscious body, hoping it’s water underneath all the chaos.

As the cold temperature of water hit you, you swam to get the sergeant’s body. People in quinjet knew what happened, but in the height of the situation, they had no choice but to continue to flee; hope to save the sergeant and you, tomorrow.

The sergeant woke up in a bed made of leaves and an open night-sky. As he familiarize with his surroundings, he saw the heat radiating from a bonfire and you sitting by the shore. It was as if you sensed him.

“You’re finally awake.” You said as you walked towards him; he immediately tensed up. “Oh, right.” you placed the sugarcane on the sand as you sat down. “Tony would probably search for us tomorrow, once the sky is cleared.” You added but he is still weary of your presence.

“What’re you playing at?” He asked, as you looked at him.

“What do you mean?”

“You being a goody-two-shoes, you know, none of us trust you.” He added finally, grabbing the sugar cane munching it. “And now, you leaving and suddenly appearing at the HYDRA facility, makes you more of a traitor than a help to us, so, what’s really your play?”

“...I want to help—”

“You have a funny way of showing it…” He grumbled as you replied. When you hear him grumble, you grab a swiss knife in your pocket, as you did when he was on guard but then, you place it on the sand and look at him. “I wasn’t there because I wish to betray anyone, I was there because…..”

You sighed and looked at him. “I wanted to apologize to you. What I did in those years is unforgivable, hell, even I would be angry if I was in your position. I wanted to apologize to you and your family, the one you grew up with. I want to see if HYDRA knows about them, in that way, I can apologize for manipulating Winnifred’s only son and Rebecca’s only brother.”

Bucky stared at you. “But who am I kidding, it is full of shit..I just really hoped because—I finally felt like I was part of a team. It’s a bit much, right? I was ahead of myself.” You chuckled. As you stare at the sea, you continue. “The swiss knife will be there, do whatever you want with it. Whether you used it for survival or against me, it’s up to you.” You smiled at Bucky.

“This probably will make you hate me even more but it truly means everything, I am really sorry, Bucky.”

That was the first time he heard you mutter his name. His first time seeing you smile. His first time hearing you say sorry; his first time seeing you. As the night grew deeper, you fell asleep, except for the guy with a metal arm, he fidgeted with the swiss knife and kept glancing at you. He has you, he can kill you, revenge. With a lot of contemplation; balancing his morals, he stood up, gripping the swiss knife tightly and went to your sleeping body.

He was really thankful that you were asleep.

You watch from upstairs as you see the God of Thunder, the White Wolf, and Captain America struggle with their new phone given by Stark.

“10 Bucks says Barnes will break it.” Sam told you as he stood watching the three as well. “20 Bucks says Odinson will be the one who will break it.” You added; to anyone’s surprise, it was Steve who made the screen crack.

“Dammit.” Sam muttered as you noticed his suit. “Got a date or something?” Sam just nodded and said something about meeting his sister in the bank, as he left, you called Barnes out. “Sergeant, we’re losing daylight, let’s go.” You said as he ran upstairs, leaving the compound as well, with you next to him.

He grips the swiss knife tightly, as he walks to your unconscious body as he shakes you awake. “Hey.” he muttered slowly: “Did you find them? Rebecca, I mean…” In your state, you would have said something random but as you met his eyes, he was just pleading as you nodded, he retracted the knife and handed it to you.

“Go say your apologies to them then. Bring me to them.” In that he awkwardly smiled but was sincere. “Okay.” As he went to his side on the sand, he then sighed, “It means everything, Thanks for saying that.” With a soft heart, you slept soundly and Barnes did too as the sand felt more like the best bed in town.

As you drive, Barnes asks how you find his family. “It was more of how HYDRA hid it, what surprised me is that—they don’t pick dead bodies up in the 40s?” In that, Bucky eyed you. “What do you mean? I fell of the—”

“If I was like one of the bosses, I would’ve.” Bucky sighed. “It was war back then, it was better to leave them, I guess.” You sighed and acknowledged his explanation. As you two reach Brooklyn, his eyes wander. “First time back in Brooklyn?” he nodded as he explained how different times were. He wasn’t talkative much, but you saw how his eyes lit up when the corners of Brooklyn hit him home. As we reach the cemetery, you glance at the grave.

“This is Rebecca’s and your Mom’s. I couldn’t find anything on your father, I’m sorry.” As Barnes walked out the car with flowers in his hand, you watched him but then he opened your door, “Aren’t you going to apologize to them too?” You smiled and got out of the car, “I did say that.”

We stayed there for a few minutes, as Bucky walked to get something in the car, he heard your voice talking to them as if they were still alive, it felt new to him, this side of you, it’s more warmer than before. He walks cautiously as he slowly hears a bit of your words. “Rebecca and Mrs. Barnes you have an amazing brother and a son.”

Despite everything and hate lurking in his chest towards you, his painful experience, he was willing to give this forgiveness a shot, because he was a human and not a machine.

As the two of you drove back to the compound, the silence was now replaced with a calmer one, which Bucky glanced at you. “Something wrong?” He asked you.

“No, it’s just, I don’t know what we should talk about, I’m still getting used to this too. Food that is warm, going to places that don't require guards, a bit warmer home, and bright home, and a house full of people, still getting used to it, I guess.” You explained.

“Well, me and you are on the same boat.” He added assuring you. The ride back was more of a relaxed one, as you heard Bucky’s stomach growl. “We should eat something.” Before he could protest, you parked the car and you two went inside a diner.

As you two sat, you kept glancing at the machine on the edge of the table, as you saw Bucky eyeing it as well. “What is it?” You asked him, as he cleared his throat. “A Jukebox.” but your lack of response made him look at you. “You don’t know what—”

You shook your head. “Well, with HYDRA raising me I only know the static radio.” You explained, looking away awkwardly. “Oh, it’s a music box, like a vinyl but you need a quarter to play a song.” He explained as you nodded. “I have a quarter.” As you give him the quarter, he signals you to press a button to play music. As you two eat a meal in the diner: the low volume of Chet Baker’s I Never Been In Love Before plays, it is safe to say that two people felt more human than before and a lingering warm feeling in their chest. Safe to say, they’ve never been in love before.

⚘ masterlist 1 | 2 | 3

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doremimosasol · 10 months ago

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𝐓𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 ☆

warnings: suggestive but nothing too much

word count: 1,5 k

summary: in the desperation of a better grade for potions you find the perfect solution: Theodore Nott

@thatdammchickennugget ‘s Hogmarch challenge prompt 1

Potions class — you dreaded that class for the whole week just for it to be the last class on Friday. It's not that you just hated it, you absolutely despised it. Never passing any assignment, constant ridiculous remarks of Snape, the chills of the cold dungeon… You even began to wonder whether Professor Snape was the problem and not you. Everyone passed this class except for you, while you were the one who tried your utmost best.

You were beyond frustration, right now there was only despair left. As someone who scored top in almost every single class, a fail for potions was heavy on the heart. There was no denying it, you spent sleepless nights in hopes of improvement. Nothing, all hard work once again for nothing.

The Slytherins always scored top-class. Was it because they were good, or were they just favored? Snape couldn't possibly fail his precious Slytherins, of course not.

It was a rough week, the middle of winter, and now to top it off some more freezing in the cold dungeons for goddamn potions. How you wish you could just speed up time during these moments, to watch the minutes on the clock pass by faster.

You sat bored behind your desk, resting your head on your palm as you listened to the constant rattling of the teacher. Something about a new assignment. Why even try when you knew he'd fail you again like always? "... and it will be performed as pairs. Choose your partner wisely, no switching after today.”

Pairs? At the sound of that, you instantly lifted your head to find the familiar face of none other than Theodore Nott. It seemed as if his friends had already formed pairs and he was left standing, alone. He didn't look all too offended, just waiting for someone to approach him.

This was your chance. Finally, a chance to up your grades. Theodore Nott was the solution to your failing mark.

Without even thinking, you sprang up from your seat and approached him. You gave him a small poke in the side of his arm, his eyes looking up at you. You never noticed how mesmerizing his eyes were until right at this moment, it caught you off guard slightly. "Mind if we work together?"

He slightly frowned at your question, you two never spoke so this was honestly surprising to him. He looked around to see everyone partnered up already "Seems I'm left with no choice but to choose you." His brows were playfully arched as he looked back up at you.

Polyjuice potion. It wasn't an easy assignment, something that'd take weeks to brew. Which also meant weeks of working together. Snape explained that they didn't need to be strong, just for a minute; changing into the other.

"Make polyjuice potion." It was the only instruction that you got. Forced to find the recipe yourself, the ingredients, and a place to brew too. It was far from easy but at least you were smart enough to find a talented partner.

Theo had everything planned out; he made a schedule and found a place to brew. It was his own dorm but it was perfect, it was a large room and surprisingly cozy.

To your surprise, he used a lot of candles in his room. A lot of books lay scattered around too, from all different kinds. You often tried to read the titles, something Italian, while he made fun of your pronunciation. He corrected you, little did he know that was your goal: to hear him speak that lovely Italian language.

It was late at night when both of you decided to go look for some Lacewing flies in the woods. You didn't add enough in the beginning, which could mess up the ultimate potion.

"You know y/n, you aren't that bad after all. I can't deny I dreaded working with you, wondering why the hell you chose me as your partner. But you surprised me, in a good way." He looked down at you while you were next to him, looking around for some flies.

"Well, to be honest, I just wanted a good grade. That's why I chose you. You could say..." You thought for a moment before softly chuckling "…I used you to my advantage?" When you looked back up at him, he didn't seem all surprised.

"Is it that, or is it because you're in love with me?"

Huh? What was he even saying? In love? With Theodore Nott? No way.

Looking back on the past few weeks, you looked back on the feeling you got around him. The feeling you're having right now.

Like you can't breathe but feel like you're breathing better than ever before.

Like there's a whole storm going on inside your stomach.

The soft touches he gave you these last few weeks; touching your wrist, the small of your back, patting your head when you were doing something right.

The way your heart made a little jump when he said your name or when he called you princess. The little praises he gave once in a while.

Reflecting on those weeks, your heart almost dropped. Could it be that you were in love? Was that love? Was he in love with you? Why did he even ask that? He must be in love with you, right? No...?

"Ah, I hit right bullseye. I knew it! You are in love with me, isn't that right?" It startled you when you suddenly hit his hard chest. He must've just spawned in front of you or something. It was when you looked up that you noticed the look in his eyes.

You saw something flicker in his eyes when you didn't respond to that question he asked. Just when you wanted to open your mouth to say something he already covered it with his. A kiss?

A kiss?!

No response from your side, just eyes wide open and stiff like a statue. He tried to get some sort of reaction out of you by cupping your face with both of his hands but nothing at all. No reaction, just a deer in headlights.

"Come on y/n, try that again. I like a bit of enthusiasm." He pouted in a joking manner.

He pulled your face closer, caressing your cheeks with both of his thumbs before moving lower until one of them reached your top lip. He caressed the cupid bow before moving to your lower lip, slowly dragging it downwards. "I want you to kiss me back with those precious lips, princess. Please?"

He moved his lips closer, his breath fanning yours like a soft breeze in summer. "For those good grades, I'll be giving you, mhmm?"

You pulled back and now it was your turn to mess with him. "Well I don't see those good grades yet, do I? Guess I'll have to wait for some proof to kiss you back." You noticed some Lacewing flies a few steps ahead and approached them. "Let's go catch those flies for those good grades, shall we?"

He was dumbfounded. How could you have been so flustered some seconds ago to turn into such a tease now? But he would get you good grades, just for that kiss...

...and for that smile that now covered your face when Professor Snape announced the top grades. "Theodore Nott and y/n y/l/n."

He bumped your shoulder slightly at the announcement and whispered in your ear. "Guess who's getting a kiss tonight? Can't wait to taste those sweet lips of yours, princess. Have been craving them all week.”

And man did you both kiss... Hands in your hair, pushed against the wall of his dorm while working on the buttons of his shirt. He pulled away with a grin on his face. "A little eager now, are we?"

It took you by surprise when your feet left the ground and your back hit the mattress less than a second later. There was no time to respond before he had already crawled on top of you, his tongue devouring your mouth. You didn't even notice him pulling off your shirt and unclipping your bra until you felt his warm lips touching the middle of your chest.

His lips inched lower, leaving a wet trail in the middle of your chest. The warm touch sent shivers down your spine, this was new and you liked it. You liked him.

It felt like heaven. Being touched like this, being worshipped like this, you felt beautiful underneath the touch of his hands. This man knew what he was doing and there was no stopping him... It’s not like you wanted him to stop either, you wanted this to never end.

He looked up through his eyelashes with those piercing eyes, while sucking on your lower belly. "Do I have permission to show you heaven?"

And to heaven and back he brought you...

#hogmarch challenge #hogmarch #harry potter #fiction #slytherin #slytherin boys #theodore nott #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction

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persephonesdreams21 · 1 month ago

Text

Sweet Tooth

A/N: Well let me say first and foremost. My bad guys. Lol I didn't mean to keep this rotting in my drafts for almost a year, but life got crazy. I hope you guys enjoy this

Warnings: Explicit. Oral(fem receiving) Body worship. Finger sucking. Squirting. Multiple orgasms. Willy being down bad.

Summary: You’re sweeter than any chocolate he could cook up, and Willy is all too eager to show you just how much he craves you. Your smiles, your attention…your taste.

The last few weeks of your life have been vibrant.

Filled with technicolor so unlike the dreary years you’ve spent in this town. Between the weather and the chipped cobblestone, England was so gray this time of year. Frigid and frozen over with winter winds and a constant flurry of snow.

It was on a particularly cold night that you’d found him.

Saved him, he’d argue whenever he told the story. Saved him from Bleacher and his mangy mutt.

“Don't you ever get tired of harassing people?” you'd sighed as you'd stumbled upon the scene. A familiar one- another poor soul about to get roped into Bleacher and Scrubbit’s barely concealed hoodwink. Everyone who’d grown up in this city knew better.

“Why don't you mind your business, Y/N. And leave us be. Both me and mister-” Bleacher looks to the man. The one with the sharp cheekbones and the ostentatious velvet trench coat.

“Wonka. Willy Wonka” And he’d said it with such innocence gleaming in those bright eyes that in that moment, you knew you couldn't let him fall victim to the cruel scam.

That’s how you’d ended up with an unexpected housemate.

The home you’d grown up in is nothing special and far from fancy, but you do happen to have a spare room. One with an old fold-out bed that’s more comfortable than it looks. It may have been stupid, but you couldn't help but trust him. Want to help him, feel this pull to him…

That was weeks ago. Almost a month now.

Willy living with you, under your roof, feels oddly natural. Like it had been years that the two of you had been co-existing, he fits into your space like he was destined to come to you. Like he belongs there; the two of you working together like a well oiled machine.

You cook dinner, he washes the dishes and wipes down the counters. The house has never been neater. Even though you try to deny them, every day when he returns from the Gallery Gourmet, he leaves silver shillings in the key bowl on the kitchen table.

“It’s not much…but I want to make sure I’m paying my way. I’m real appreciative of all you’ve done for me” he tells you so earnestly it makes you blush. You sneakily slip his sovereigns in the pockets of his trousers when you do his laundry.

He doesn't know it but he’s helped you too. And not just by scrubbing dishes.

You truly hadnt realized how lonely you were until he came along, and you were terrified of losing your found companion. You’d hold on to him for as long as he’d allow.

Your new favorite time of the day is the evenings; quiet ones. With a fire burning in the hearth and the radio playing softly. You and Willy curl up on the couch, warm in your respective quilts. And read. Well, you read to him. At his persistent insistence.

“Aren't you tired of me blabbing yet?” you tease as you pick up the dog eared copy of The Hobbit that the two of you had been working your way through.

Willy gives you a grin, all boyish and crooked “Never that. I adore the way you tell stories”

That makes your stomach swoop dangerously and you shake your head “You’re a flatter, Mr. Wonka”

“No, no. Your voice is more melodic than the bells of Notre Dame” and when he says things like that to you, how are you not supposed to swoon? From any other man it would make you scoff, but from Willy his compliments always feel different.

Like maybe he’s telling the truth…

You ignore it and change the subject to something that feels safer “One day i'm gonna put you in front of a map and make you show me all the places you’ve been”

“Honestly, It would probably be easier to mark off the few places I haven't been-”

“Oh ho ho ho. How modest of you, great explorer” You tease around a laugh and his ears redden a bit at your ribbing.

“It's not like that and you know it” Willy defends “It was a lot less glamorous than it sounds. I spent seven years under the deck scrubbing pots and then collecting ingredients for my chocolate whenever we made port”

“And wooing girls on every continent?” I ask and that blush on his ears spreads to the high apples of his cheeks.

He’s a pretty one and you know even though he pretends to be demure, might come off as innocent, he’s anything but.

You’d gotten a small taste of it, and hadn't thought of anything else since. But neither of you had quite mustered the bravery to talk about that yet.

The two of you settle in on the old worn couch with mugs of steaming hot chocolate, courtesy of Willy. He’d spoiled you rotten, made you develop a terrible sweet tooth. Any cavities you develop, you’re completely blaming on him.

“Willy” you whine.

“Just try it, please. I made this recipe especially for you”

You take a sip.

The first rush of flavor over your taste buds has your eyes fluttering.

“Mmm, oh my god” you can't help but moan. It’s the most complex thing you’ve ever tasted. Truly. He’s outdone himself- cinnamon and warmth.The kind that feels like a a lovers embrace. Sweet milk chocolate. Is that a hit of rose? “This is insane, what’s in this?”

At your praise Willy smiles like the cat that caught the canary “Cinnamon bark from Sri Lanka, Wild roses from China. Coconut milk”

You look over at him, appraising. Trying to figure out why his voice has taken on that husk. Why his eyes are boring into so intensely.

“What a peculiar combination of flavors” you whisper and Willy bites his lip.

“Its become my favorite combination lately” he admits “but I can't seem to get it quite right. You see, I was allowed to taste it only once, and its tormented me since”

Your breath hitches. Flashes of tangling tongues tongues and his lips pressed against yours. It had only been one kiss but it had wreaked havoc on you since.

You eyeball the mug in your hands. Maybe you weren't the only one suffering with the after effects after all.

“Is this chocolate supposed to taste like?...”

“You. Yes. Your kiss. Your tongue and your lips” Willy nods. “I don't know if anything can come close to the real thing, but I tried”

Your heart thunders behind your ribcage. The longing in his voice matches the one within your gut, the need that had been brewing.

“I’ve spent hours. Thinking of you, trying to imitate your taste so that I could have it one more time. Spicy, but not quite. More warm. Sweet…the floral note from your lipstick. I’ve been nearly everywhere and i’ve never sampled anything quite like it”

With his confession, the thin thread of control snaps.

You’d been trying, so hard. Trying not to scare him away. Trying to keep the intensity of your feelings at bay so that he’d stay, even after he secured his shop. That he wouldnt leave you when he found success-

You place the mug down on the old wood of the side table-

“Please” Willy’s pathetic as he grabs at your arm “Don't go, I understand if this was too much but I- I didn't know how else to show you”

You lean into his touch, not away and that seems to calm him if only just.

Of course this sweet silly man couldn't just tell you that he cared for you. That was not his style. He was bad with words, so much better with his hands. To him, he’d shown you the most sincere form of devotion, crafted your portrait with his most loved medium.

“I feel the same” you say, voice quivering just the tiniest bit. His eyes melt and he comes in close, forehead knocking against yours.

When you kiss him its hot from the start. It’s wet and electric, charged with emotion. With desperation. Willy’s sinewy hands are all over you, cupping your chin, squeezing your waist, so much more bold this time. The waiting had lowered any inhibitions he might have had.

It’s frantic, him unbuttoning your blouse and you tugging at his trousers.

You need more. Need to feel his dark silky hair between your fingers, his pale skin under your palms.

Nothing feels like enough. Not when he mouths at your garment covered breasts or when you wiggle out of your skirt.

You reach into his boxers, wanting to palm at the blood hot hardness you’ll find there-

He groans and pulls his mouth away from your neck, where he’d been suckling marks into the delicate skin. “Wait, don’t”

“Why?” you’re confused, you can feel him. Firm and needy under the cloth.

“Because I want to take care of you first. With my mouth. If you’ll let me”

And oh. Oh.

All you can do is nod. Lay back and let him take what he needs, you feel more vulnerable than ever before. When he blankets you with his body, you realize that you also feel safer. Adored by this man, by this odd beautiful man.

Willy is a tactile person. He wants to touch and taste. And so that is what he does.

There’s so much to feel. Your heavy breasts, peaked with hard little nipples that he swirls his tongue round. Your belly and wide hips, so soft, so much give, he watches his fingers dig in and indent. Your thighs, so plush.

He buries his head between them. And inhales, deeply.

“Willy!” you exclaim, scandalized, trying to close your legs, but he shoulders his way deeper.

“You smell so good” Willy reassures you, his nose pressed against the wet patch on your knickers. Groaning like it’s the best scent in the world.

He takes his time, savors the moment as he peels the damp fabric away. His eyes locked on how the strings of slick stretch and shine in the low fire light. You’re so wet, the puffy lips of your cunt sopping already. And when he takes his first tentative lap, he knows that he could do this for hours and there's no way he’d ever be able to replicate it.

Nectar from the gods. Earthy and sour sweet.

You whimper as he feasts, as he gorges greedily. The sight of his dark head bobbing between your thighs makes you shudder. It’s almost unreal. That he’s doing this, that he wants you. His arms are wrapped around the back of your thighs, holding them up, holding you open.

You come for the first time with your fingers buried in his hair, pressing his face deep into you. Riding his nose and tongue.

For the second time you’re arching away from the sharp pleasure.

“Willy” you choke on your whines as his fingers reach deep into you, hitting that sensitive place inside over and over. You’re shaking with overstimulation, but hes groaning like he’s the one being brought to orgasm over and over.

He pulls his wet mouth away every so often. To tell you how beautiful you are. How good you taste.

“I can’t” you whisper, warningly.

“Please” Willy insists, his breath against your clit “One more, one more for me”

You can't deny him anything, can you?

You arch right up from the couch cushions, squealing as you hit that peak again. But this time is different, this time something inside you bursts, pushing wetness out in a flood.

Willy lets out a gutted sound from where he’s smothered by your thighs, that have tightened vice like around his head during your orgasm.

Coming down from it is almost painful and you’ve never sobbed from pleasure but well. There’s a first time for everything. While you shake and shiver Willy’s gentle, petting your thighs and tummy in soothing circles. Pulling away from your over sensitive flesh.

He stares up at you, his gaze heavy and his tongue poking out every few seconds. Swiping at his wet lips. Like he can't stop tasting you. It’s debauched. Beautiful.

“You are the best thing i’ve ever tasted” Willy pants out the vow, raw with honesty. Drunk on the flavor of you.

Wryly, you wonder if he’ll try to manufacture it into a truffle. A fancy bon bon.

You smile as he climbs back fully on top of you, your arms wrapping around him and holding him close. You kiss the shell of his ear before whispering-

“My turn to taste you”

🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬

I never thought I’d be writing Willy Wonka smut but well. Here I am lol

#willy wonka x reader smut #willy wonka x reader #willy wonka smut #wonka x reader smut #wonka x reader #timothee chalamet smut

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kookslastbutton · 7 months ago

Text

Those Eyes Chico ༓ myg (m) | chapter two

✑ Summary: As the new marketing director for Min Yoongi’s upcoming D-Day album & tour, you’re expected to bring your expertise to the table. This shouldn’t be a problem—you’re the best in the business and you’re used to drawing a strict line between your professional and personal life. But what happens when the lines you’ve fought to keep as separate blur for the first time?

pairing: idol!yoongi x plus size!poc!reader

genre/AU: angst, fluff, smut, slowburn, coworkers2friends2lovers, winter setting, forbidden love

word count: 6.1k+

warnings: This chapter in particular is written from Yoongi's perspective, oc is 28, Yoon is 30, oc is not originally from South Korea, oc has light brown eyes, swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, smoking, mentions of body shaming by Hybe executive, bestie!tae is wonderful support 🥹, light fighting between members (literally crack), Namjoon has a little crush, Oc being a total boss at work bc she is amazing at her job, and cute & meaningful Yoon and OC interactions that make them finally start bonding (a little flirty too, hehe) 😉

now playing: Sweet Dreams by The Last Shadow Puppets

a/n: CHAPTR TWO IS HERE! GOD...the slow burn exists outside the series too with me not updating for two months. I'm sorry guys but TYSM for your patience! I'm VERY excited to release this chapter bc I think Yoon & Oc are super cute, hehe. Okay anyway, this series is dedicated to my wonderfully crazy friend and sorta beta, Gloom @theuselessdaydreamingidiot, and to all our fellow Yoon lovers bc we miss our sweet man SO MUCH 🥺 Enjoy! 🥰 Also huge thank you to @itaeewon for designing this beautiful series header! Love it!!

Series Masterlist | next chapter >>

Yoongi stands with his hands placed loosely on his hip, chest heaving as he attempts to catch his breath. The seven of them had been practicing choreography for their new RUN BTS song nonstop when Jimin called for a much-needed, fifteen-minute break. There’s a part of him that’s thanking the younger for it and another that’s wishing he hadn’t, as every moment left alone with his thoughts is spent decoding his last encounter with you at the cafeteria.

Why had you made such a beeline for the exit the moment he was waved over by his member?

You also completely ignored his attempts to greet you on your way out. He only stopped by the cafeteria to slip an orange in his pocket before returning to his studio. He didn’t mean to intrude or incite that you had to leave with his sudden presence.

Taehyung assured him that you merely left to tend to work matters, which he’d typically sum as hyper-fixation with one’s work as he’s prone to do the same, but this felt different at its core. Your behavior seemed more intentional than that. The last thing he wants to do is misread the whole situation, but he must’ve done or said something to cause your uneasiness.

“Hyung, how did the album meeting go this morning?” A clear voice comes from Yoongi's left as his fellow band member, Namjoon, strides next to him, water bottle clenched in his fist. Like himself, large droplets of sweat dots around the man’s brow. The minor interruption shakes Yoongi out of his slightly dazed state.

“Went well.” He takes a big swish of his own water before screwing the cap back on. “We reviewed everything in three hours and the album looks better than I anticipated. There are a couple of promotional strategies that still need finalizing, but I’m pretty confident about it overall.”

“That’s great, man. __-nim’s been doing good work with TXT for the last few years, so she’s definitely suited for the job. I thought about requesting her help to promote Indigo but the timing of it all didn’t work.” Namjoon’s voice drops an octave at the last part, as if remorseful for more than a missed professional opportunity.

“Ah, maybe your next album hyung,” Jimin suddenly chimes in, slapping the taller man on the shoulder from the side. “I have a feeling you and __-nim would work well together. Think about it, you’re both natural born leaders and you’re smart too. I bet __ -nim has as high of an IQ as you.”

Namjoon’s cheeks flush with the faintest tint of rose as Jimin flashes a knowingly cheeky grin. Yoongi, of course, witnesses the entire exchange, the slightest part of him feeling uprooted by the thought of his band member and new marketing manager suddenly hitting it off. He decides not to comment on the matter, choosing to remain in ignorance instead. This is all speculation, right?

Now that they’re all on the subject of his album though, it gets him thinking that maybe he’s been too narrow viewed regarding the reason for your off putting behavior at lunch.

D-Day’s release has become a consuming priority lately, with everyone involved worked to the bone. Aside from himself, you’ve been bearing the brunt of it. He’s appreciative of course, considering the album holds a deep sense of meaning to him, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want it to be perfect. A little pushback during the first proposal is natural, yet he did get more resistant toward ideas during this morning’s meeting than anticipated. Perhaps some of his nitpicking was unnecessary, adding to your already heavy load.

Yoongi’s head feels worse the longer he entertains the possibility. He doesn’t want to make the first time working together a complete whirlwind, especially this early. A strong, healthy partnership starts with trust, safety, and mutual respect. The same philosophy can be applied to relationships of varying natures. That reminds him—since when did Taehyung and you become so close? He’s been ruminating over it all afternoon, like a jigsaw puzzle he can’t solve.

It’s odd how little he knows.

“I heard someone mention __-nim over here. I want in.” A small grumble leaves Yoongi’s lips as Jungkook pushes next to him, displeased by how tiny his space bubble has gotten due to the huddle his members have formed around him. Just why the hell is everyone so interested in his new marketing director? That's what he wants to know.

“Can you introduce me to her sometime hyung?" Jungkook pleads. "I’m thinking about releasing an album in the next year and it’d be great if you could hook us up…yknow?”

Oh, Yoongi knows. He knows exactly what this young buck is insinuating, but it isn’t mating season yet and even if it were he will do no such thing as to “hook them up”. Besides, his conscience tells him that you wouldn't be interested in the company of a younger man anyway—not that your dating life is any of his business or anything.

“Get in line Jungkookie, behind Namjoon. He needs her for his album first.” Jimin squeezes down on Namjoon’s muscular shoulders with both hands, shaking him just enough to hype him up. His hands are removed seconds later when he’s told to knock it off.

“That’s enough about this, okay? I’m pretty sure Yoongi-hyung is the only one who actually needs __-nim right now because, in case you dumbasses have forgotten, D-Day is set to release in April,” Namjoon scolds the two with a commanding tone. Jungkook, per usual, remains persistent in his original request and keeps his full attention on Yoongi.

“Anyway hyung, as I was saying, I know your album takes priority so I’m in no hurry to meet her. I can be pretty patient as you know-“

“Heh, that’s a lie.”

“Shove it Jimin, no one’s talking to you.” Jungkook’s eyebrows scrunch together as Jimin snorts helplessly next to Namjoon.

“You shove it Kook,” Jimin counters. “And stop trying to date __-nim! Find your own woman!”

“I’m not trying to date her! She's my noona for gods sake! Do you think I’m oblivious to how the public reacts to idols dating? Also, __-nim is a Hybe employee, not an idol. I can only imagine the type of scandal the media would spin it as.”

“Right, we all know you actually just want to take her to your bed instead,” Jimin interrupts for the umpteenth time. “Our handsome leader, on the other hand, is interested in her professional abilities. We can learn a lot from him.”

“Why are you always trying to start a fight with me Jimin? Is it because I can take you, now that I've been building up more muscle?” Jungkook’s accusations earn him nothing more than a sea of eye-rolls until Jimin lunges himself towards him, puffing out his chest the best he can to size him up.

Namjoon rubs his face with a hand, a clear visual display of his exhaustion. He’s been moderating these stupid squabbles for nine years now. “Alright very mature, biggest boy band in the world and this is what it’s come to? Amazing, congrats to everyone for winning the award for most-”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Seokjin interjects, effortlessly shouting over everyone while waving his hands. “My brothers…why are we fighting over here like a couple of peacocks? We are all beautiful in our own, individual ways. Mine, for example, is my handsome face.”

“For the love of god hyung, we’re trying to settle something. Go take your inspirational pep talk elsewhere!” Jungkook bends his knees, swooping down to throw Jimin over his shoulder but he misses when the man starts tickling him ruthlessly.

“St-ah-stop it Jimin!"

“You stop it, you frickin’ brat! Trying to take advantage of our hyungs for your own selfish gain.” Jimin then slaps Jungkook on the ass which does not go unappreciated as Hoseok cackles from the other side of the room. Up until this point, he’s been scrolling on his phone, completely unbothered by the chaos. As Hoseok nears the action, Jungkook delivers a swift kick to Jimin’s rear end.

“Ow, what the fuck Kook?!” Jimin tries soothing the sting by massaging it with his hands. “You little prick!”

“Oh come on, I barely hit you. Gaining sympathy points won’t help this time, plus I see you trying to hide a grin. You think this shit is funny. You’re sick you know that?”

Jimin makes a move to return the kick to his youngest member but ends up hitting a far taller, and leaner subject instead. Taehyung, who just returned from the bathroom, throws a hand over his abdomen and grunts from the sudden impact.

“What is—shit Jimin that really hurt!” Taehyung’s baritone voice echoes off the walls as he winces from the pain. He takes a few deep breaths, then viciously eyes the two brawlers followed by the rest of the room. “What the hell is going on? I heard you all talking about __-nim from the hallway. Yoongi-hyung here is trying to kick off his album and tour, which we are supposed to be celebrating over drinks this Friday, but here you are arguing with each other and who has the biggest dick. Well, you can all put it away because as __-nim’s best friend, and number one wingman, only I’m allowed to set her up with someone and it won’t be with any of you! Sorry hyung…” he looks at Namjoon who appears to have brushed the comment off.

As soon as Taehyung ceases his mini-speech, eery silence sets in. Hoseok is the first to dare say a word.

“Uh, so what’s this about being her best friend Tae?”

“Yeah, I had no idea either.” Jimin quirks his head to the side, awaiting the details.

“Same,” Namjoon adds in a short breath.

“What happened to us, man?” Jungkook pouts at Taehyung, a total 180 from moments ago when he was in an unsolicited sparring match with Jimin. “You used to share everything with me. Now you’re holding out on me. Since when did you and __-nim start hanging out?”

Yoongi’s ears perk up for the first time since all the commotion began, curious to hear Taehyung’s response. He only recently discovered the blossoming friendship hours ago and even then, it was a brief inside look.

“I didn’t think to mention it but yeah, we started talking since her first day at Hybe. I bumped into her on the way into work, early morning for both of us. I expected her to be a bit on the reserved side, considering she was a new hire, but she was quite friendly. The more we talked, the more I felt like I knew her as if a childhood best friend I’d reconnected with.” Pausing, he wets his lips before continuing. “We share a lot of our meals together now, like our lunches during the weekday. Her food tastes amazing by the way. I think she missed her calling as a chef but it’s more than food— it’s a love language, a labor of love.”

“Wow, you two sure are connected,” Hoseok speaks first again, seeing the rest of his members working to process the new bit of info.

“Platonically, yes.”

“This’ll be good for Yoongi-hyung and his album then! No bad blood exists here!” Hoseok shifts his gaze between Taehyung and Yoongi, pleased with the outcome. The older of the two remains speechless, yet it’s far from a dazed expression. Yoongi is instead deep in thought, the wheels turning in his head.

So maybe it’s true that birds of a feather flock together, he hums to himself. The two of you seem to be social butterflies with a vase full of commonalities. He, on the other hand, prefers his solitude. That’s not to say he’s a hermit or anything though. Hybe hosts a company-wide New Year’s Eve party every single year and he’s made his best effort to attend them all. He mainly mingles with his members, but he still makes sure to small talk with other coworkers. Come to think of it, did he even see you at last year’s New Year’s Eve party?

He can’t remember much from the night except Seokjin scolding him for not wishing him a happy birthday the minute the clock struck midnight. He was a bit tipsy at that point. Taehyung disappeared soon after to make his usual rounds, stopping to chat with everyone in his path. Maybe he took off to talk to you during that time.

Okay, he really needs to stop thinking about you.

"Just to confirm, is everyone still on for Friday night to celebrate D-Day?" Jimin pipes. "I booked us a good place to have some food and drinks.

Taehyung nods, "I am, as long as it's not the same place we saw our CFO and his much younger date feeding each other. I couldn't eat for the rest of that night."

Jungkook fakes a gag before replying. "I'm sorry but does anyone know how is he still working here? Guy creeps me out."

"I swear, I couldn't agree more. Just yesterday he made an egregiously body-shaming comment toward __-nim to someone else on the board. She kept a brave front when she told me, but I'm damn tempted to get him removed from his position myself!" Taehyung's nostrils flare as he shares his frustration, fingers digging into his hips.

Yoongi takes a final chug of his water before abruptly tossing the bottle on the floor. A sharp crack resounds through the space, instantly commanding the authority of the room. “Fifteen minutes is over,” he gruffs. “It might be twenty minutes with all the bickering earlier. We don't have time to be talking about this anymore.”

“Come on now," Hoseok says. "Didn't you hear what Taehyung said? Our CFO really is a class-A jerk. I feel so bad that __-nim has to put up with his bullshit, she doesn't deserve it." His eyes frantically search the room, hoping to rally support.

"Don't worry about that asshole," Yoongi assures, "I'll handle it." He strides over to his choreographed position on the dance floor as if a leader in his own right, the rest of the members following in his steps.

"Just don't kill him, hyung," Namjoon says, resting a hand on the older's shoulder from behind. Yoongi merely snorts lightly in reply.

Yoongi is dead tired, his feet feeling heavier the minute he stands from his studio chair. He could have left hours ago, but here it is nearly 9:30 at night, and he's only just leaving the office.

As he shuffles down the hallway towards the elevator, he notices the eerie silence. It's thick, almost palpable. There's not a soul left in the building this late at night. When the elevator doors open, he leans casually against the metal rail, closes his eyes, and mentally retraces his day.

Overall, it was a decent day, he thinks, productive at best. Skipping dinner to work on his album tracks was an easy decision, but he might be paying for it now given the intense growling of his stomach. Despite his songs being considered perfect by his members, he can't help but tweak each one a final time. It's as if his gut tells him there's still a piece missing from the whole.

All at once, the elevator comes to a sudden stop. Yoongi's eyes shoot open, anticipation flooding his senses. Is someone still here? He listens intently, straining to hear any sound over the faint hum of the elevator. After a few moments that feel like an eternity, the elevator doors slide open to reveal an empty, dimly lit hallway. It's the 16th floor. He hesitates for a second, peering into the shadows, but there’s no sign of anyone. Strange.

Just as the elevator doors begin to close, Yoongi hears a distant, unmistakable voice. "Please hold the door!" you plead, your voice strained with urgency. He responds immediately, stretching out an arm to block the door. "Thank you so much," you say, slipping in beside him, your bag thrown over your shoulder.

Yoongi watches as you enter, curiosity in his eyes. It seems you were of like mind tonight, working late and likely burdened by the extra work he caused for you. The feeling of tension is as clear as it was yesterday, lingering as a reminder of the unspoken discomfort between you both.

But then again, there's that issue Taehyung mentioned, looming in his thoughts. He hadn't realized you overheard the horrendous comment his CFO made about you. No wonder you hurried away from him like a bat out of hell yesterday; you knew he knew. He wouldn't dare shine a light on the situation and risk embarrassing you further; no one needs to relive such a belittling experience. Yet, he's wrestling with the right words to say.

"Heading home, Min PD-nim?" You surprise him by speaking first, voice firm with a touch of gentleness.

Yoongi allows a faint smile to tug at the corners of his lips, hoping it'll relieve some tension. "I am, it's been quite a day. What about you?"

You nod, shifting the bag on your shoulder. "Same here. Just had to wrap up a few things before heading out."

He hesitates for a moment, noting how you speak as if it were only a few minutes past five or six in the evening. "I understand. I was working in my studio up until now. I should be back up there tomorrow too," he says, then chuckles lightly, "Sometimes I feel like I should just live up there."

You return the subtle laugh and smile softly at him, your light brown eyes catching his dark ones. It feels like the same prolonged gaze you shared upon first meeting, yet now, it's somehow become easier; perhaps a hint of familiarity.

"By the way," he continues, seizing the opportunity, "feel free to call me Yoongi-ssi. I'm not that formal in case you didn't know." He playfully gestures to his casual attire; tan cargo pants, grey plaid button-down, and sneakers.

You seem hesitant towards the request at first, evident from your delayed response. "Are you sure?" you choke. "I don't want to over step my boundaries."

"There's no need to worry about that," he assures. "We're on equal level aren't we? If we're going to be working side by side for the next eight months give or take, I want us to feel comfortable with each other. Please, call me Yoongi-ssi."

"Okay, I might need some time to get used to that," you say, head nodding, "I'll try calling you Yoongi-ssi from now on."

"There's one other thing too," he pauses, "since we'll be working on D-Day's promotion from start to finish, I'll have many of my own opinions. It's a natural instinct for me, but I don't want to be a hinderance. I don't want anyone else giving you issues either, so I'd like to hear your full thoughts on matters, especially when it comes to important decisions."

"That means a lot Yoongi-ssi, thank you. I'm very grateful that you'd allow me to be a part of this and I'd very much like us to have an equal partnership. This is your album though, so I want to make sure it gets the recognition it deserves in the way you'd prefer."

Yoongi glances at the floor numbers displayed to the right of the elevator doors. Any second now and you'll reach the lobby. He wouldn't mind talking longer, but letting you both get a decent night's sleep is the far better idea at this point.

"I trust that D-Day is in the right hands with you, __ssi," he replies. "It's why I recommended that we work together to promote it in the first place. Bang PD was also confident in the idea. We don't doubt your expertise for a second." He pauses when the elevator doors slide open and allows you to be the first to exit. "Have a good night, okay?"

For the first time, you reciprocate the wish with a full, illuminating smile. It's not a professional one, Yoongi notes, its a real one—as genuine and sincere as his words. He takes it as a sign that the tides may finally be turning for the better. "You too," he hears you say before you push through the large revolving doors and step into the cool night air.

In the evenings that follow, Yoongi finds himself back in his studio as promised, a glass of whiskey in hand. He ultimately decided that if he was going to be here until all hours of the night, he might as well have a cold beverage to keep him company.

As he leans back in his chair, swirling the dark amber liquor in his glass, his mind inadvertently wanders to you. Were you downstairs again? Were you here with him? It would seem that given your unexpected late-night encounter in the elevator, the validity of the idea wouldn't be all that wild or far-fetched.

With each passing minute, as the clock inches closer to the late hours, he finds himself circling back to the same thought. It's as if the possibility of running into you has become a highlight of his night.

Just then, a deep and familiar voice interrupts. "Burning the midnight oil again, hyung?"

Startled, Yoongi looks up to see Taehyung standing in the doorway, a sympathetic smile on his face. Despite it being almost 9 at night, his younger member is nothing short of flawless in appearance.

"Yeah, working on my tracks," Yoongi replies, offering a small smile in return. "What are you doing here?"

Taehyung steps further into the room, hand tucked in his pocket. "I wanted to stay late to keep __-nim company, but I'm not sure how much longer she plans on staying tonight. I was on my way out when I figured I'd stop by to see you too."

"Well, thanks for thinking of me. Want a drink?" He offers, nodding towards the nearby whiskey bottle.

"No, thanks," Taehyung declines politely, shaking his head. "I'll let you enjoy your whiskey in peace. Although, __-nim might take you up on that same offer one of these days. She has a strong taste for it, as you do. Anyway, I'm heading out. Don't overdo it with your music, hyung, they're already perfect."

Once Taehyung leaves the studio, Yoongi's previous string of thoughts return to him tenfold.

So you really are here, he muses, and you happen to like the same throat-burning alcohol. Should he venture downstairs and offer a drink? No, that would probably be too much, and he wouldn't want to interrupt you. Maybe if Taehyung were accompanying him, but not alone; he doesn't share enough rapport with you to merit such a spontaneous drop-in yet.

No, he takes another sip of his whiskey, he'll see you tomorrow morning instead; during your morning meeting. But that gets him thinking—he's still yet to decide on whether or not he'll make an appearance on Fallon's show. He’d done it with his members numerous times, but this would be the first time doing it alone. His album would indeed benefit from the exposure, though.

"Damn it," he curses, raising from his seat. "I work my ass off. I work my ass off for it all!" He then sits back down, finishing off the rest of his whiskey in one gulp, the burn soothing his frustration momentarily. With a resigned sigh, he turns his attention back to his music. "Damn it, I guess I'll do it."

If it weren't for his phone notification reminding him of his 10 am meeting on Friday, Yoongi would have missed it entirely. Normally, he never forgets important events, but several late nights in the studio had predictably caught up with him. He feels extremely sleep-deprived today, his memory more prone to blanking than usual. Waking up with a throbbing headache at 5 am, which hasn't dimmed in the slightest, doesn’t help either. Nonetheless, with only ten minutes to spare, Yoongi has no choice but to pull himself together and head downstairs to the conference room.

"Good morning, Min PD-nim," you greet him as he walks through the door. "We're about to start."

Yoongi drags out a chair and takes a seat. You look nice today, he notes quietly to himself. He makes sure to send a small smile your way before returning the warm greeting. "Good morning __-ssi," he says. "I told you we can speak informally didn't I?"

He waits for your response, easily tuning out the startled reactions from the rest of the team. Most high-ranking officials in the organization expected to be addressed formally by those in lower positions, but here he was, openly requesting you to speak as equals. It was almost unheard of during work hours. He was Min Yoongi, after all.

"Right, of course," you reply, "You'll have to excuse me, Yoongi-ssi. It slipped my mind for a moment."

Yoongi watches as you shuffle a few papers in your hand before continuing. "To get us started, I thought we'd discuss the decision to schedule a spot on The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon. Will we be proceeding with this?"

"After mauling it over I think it's a good idea for the album. Do we have an idea of when this would happen?"

"Ideally after the album releases and around the time the U.S. tour begins April 26th. I say we aim for early May. Given Fallon's show's high demand, we'll need to get a jump on this as soon as we can." You shift your attention to your digital marketing and promotions team. "So-hyun, can you reach out to the producers and see what strings we can pull?"

She nods, scribbling a quick note on her writing pad. "We'll reach out today. I'll let you know as soon as we get a response."

"Excellent, thank you. I'm glad to hear you're on board with this Yoongi-ssi. It'll be a great way to promote D-Day and attract a global audience. The more smartly we utilize our resources, the better your album will be positioned in the current market." You take a brief pause to flip through your notes again. "Speaking of resources, we'll need to start booking magazine shoots and interviews. I'm proposing we run cover pages with Marie Claire Korea and Vogue Japan."

Yoongi would be taken aback by the flood of ideas and schedules you're firing at him, all within the first fifteen minutes, if he weren't already aware of your level of competency. This is exactly why he chose you, he hums to himself, your preparedness is impressive, but not surprising.

"I presume this will take place next year?" he asks. "During their spring issues?"

"Absolutely. We'll submit inquiries soon to get the ball rolling, but having the shoots completed now would be premature. Plus, it'll take some time before there are any openings with the companies. I think we should be consistent with tour dates and have Marie Claire go out in May and Vogue ready in August of next year."

"Okay, I'm fine with all that but we'll need to have something exciting released now, don't we? I know I start my weekly lives tonight, but shouldn't there be something more we can do?"

"I agree," you reply. "That's why I wanted to propose a brand new idea that came to me a couple of nights ago while I was drafting promotional content. Anytime idols release a new album or music, it gets published on YouTube, right?"

He nods, curious on where you're heading. "Right."

"Why don't we start a talk show with you as the host Yoongi-ssi? It can allow your fans to see another side of you, as well as the general public. We can invite your BTS members as guests where you can discuss music or past challenges that you've had to overcome—the choice is yours. To make it more interesting for viewers, you can have these frank conversations over a glass of whiskey or soju."

"I like the idea," he says, weighing it in his mind. "What would the timeline look like for this?"

"If we move forward with the idea, I suggest December 5th and we continue it for a max of two months. I know that only leaves us with just under two weeks to get started, but creating the set shouldn't take more an a day or a day and a half. We can also easily shoot a 30 to 60-minute video in an afternoon and publish it on YouTube the following week. Of course, a preview of the show will need to go out beforehand."

"Would we be able to invite other guests to the show? Outside of my members, I mean."

"Yes, feel free to invite whoever you'd like. We can start with the member for the first several episodes but ultimately, welcoming a variety of guests from the same or differing industries would be the goal."

"If I may." A member of the social media team suddenly joins the discussion, "I think Kim Namjoon-nim might be a good person to feature first since Indigo releases December 2nd."

Yoongi nods in agreement. "I can ask him."

"That would be fantastic, actually. If his availability is limited, we could have him guest star for the second or third episode instead," you add. "Hoseok released Jack in the Box this summer so we could have him be the first guest as well."

"Do we have a name yet?"

"Suchwita," you answer without hesitation. "It's a play on words with Daechwita."

"Suchwita..." Yoongi repeats, "Time to get drunk." He chuckles at the last few words, amusing the room, but you remain contemplative.

"How about Suchwita...time to drink with Suga, instead? It's simple and has a slight whimsical nature."

"Sure, let's use that," he answers, noticing that you've already begun jotting down the idea. "Yours is better."

Despite the adrenaline from the productive meeting with you and your team, Yoongi still feels the weight of his sleepless nights bearing down on him. His headache remains relentless and he is in dire need of a moment to himself. Once the team disperses, he slips his phone into his pocket and makes his way outside. The crisp, early morning air should offer him some relief, along with the pack of cigarettes tucked in his pocket.

When he reaches the building's designated smoking area, Yoongi takes out a cigarette and lights it, taking a deep drag as he leans against the cool brick wall. As he exhales, watching the smoke dissipate into the clear sky, his thoughts drift back to the meeting. The idea of hosting a talk show, "Suchwita...time to drink with Suga," still lingers in his mind. It’s an intriguing concept, and he can already envision the relaxed, candid conversations that could come from it.

His thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the sound of footsteps crunching on the ground nearby.

"Oh, Yoongi-ssi," you say with alarm, obviously startled by his presence. "I didn't mean to interrupt you. I'll come back lat-"

"There's no need for that. Join me if you'd like." Yoongi watches as you hesitate to accept his offer, your feet already positioned to head back inside the building. "Seriously, there's plenty of room, and no matter what they'll tell you, I don't bite."

He allows himself to smirk as you carefully move beside him, only stopping when there is at least two feet of space between you both.

"Thanks," you say, pulling out your own pack of cigarettes and lighting one. "I needed a break too."

"Rough morning?"

"Just busy," you reply, leaning against the wall next to him. "But the meeting went well. We should be able to get the ball rolling now that we have a more finalized plan. I'm glad you liked the idea of starting Suchwita, by the way."

"I do," Yoongi says, nodding. "It has a lot of potential and I'm sure Namjoon will be more than happy to help us out. He's a natural at this kind of stuff. I guess it's why he's our band leader."

"You know you're good at all of this too, don't you, Yoongi-ssi?" You pause, taking a puff of your cigarette. "Even when you have a lot on your mind and a packed schedule, you have a knack for making people feel at ease. It's why I think producing Suchwita will be such a great way to connect with fans and other artists—you'll be the host."

He chuckles, appreciative of the remark. "You really think that? That I make people feel at ease? It's not what a lot of people assume."

"Nah," you reply, tilting your head up toward the clouds. "They're just on the outside looking in. Those who know you, who are around you and talk to you, will agree that you're a pretty calming presence."

"Well, I think we're not so different then." Yoongi shifts his eyes to your face, still looking up at the sky, and smiles softly. "So, what made you come to BigHit? Didn't you say you worked for Atlantic Records? That's a pretty good gig."

"Yeah, it was. I learned a lot there, and man, I was thrilled when I got offered the job as a brand manager. I've always loved music, ever since I was a kid. I could connect so intimately with the lyrics. Music is one of the few things that could soothe me during rough times, and it still does today. I'm sure you can understand."

Yoongi nods, intent on listening to your every word, intrigued by your story.

"Anyway, sorry about getting long-winded here" you chuckle. "I ultimately decided to move on when Bang PD reached out and offered me the marketing manager position for TXT. It gave me the chance to be a more integral part of bringing music to individuals who need it most. It's like we say, 'music for art and healing.' I'd never had the opportunity to manage a completely new set of musicians before either, let alone a group. Plus, being on the global marketing team? I couldn't turn it down."

"It makes sense why you joined us then, and I have to say, it's a blessing you did too. Music is a way of communication for me, a way I can best express my story. That includes my past, present, and hopefully future. After hearing all you shared, I don't think there's anyone else I'd trust with handling my album promos." Yoongi pauses a moment, unsure if he should ask the next thing on his mind. "How come we never met before? I mean really meet and talk?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure myself. But things have a way of falling into place when the time is right, I suppose." You're now looking at him, the intensity of your gaze mirrors his own. A gentle breeze tousles a few strands of your hair and for a split moment, Yoongi begins to understand what Taehyung meant earlier when he said it feels like he's known you his whole life, like a childhood friend he'd reconnected with. While it may not be to that extent for himself, there's a comforting warmth emanating from you that leaves him feeling strangely tranquil.

"Given the circumstances, I feel like we should have at least met through Taehyung by now," he slips out. "Or even at a company-sponsored event."

"Why, do you like me that much, Yoongi-ssi? After five days of working together?" Your playful tease catches him off guard, revealing a side of you he hadn't seen before. It's kind of cute-wait, what?

"I-"

"Sorry," you quickly interject, feeling the need to backtrack. "I shouldn't have said it like that."

"Don't worry, there's no need for apologies. And to answer your question, I like you enough." He hopes you can hear the tease in his own tone as he responds.

You both lapse into a comfortable silence for the next few minutes, the only sounds being the distant hum of traffic and the occasional chirp of a bird. He finds all of it soothing in a way he can't quite explain.

After a few minutes, you turn to him, your expression thoughtful. "You know, if you ever need to talk or just need a break, I'm here. We're teammates now."

Yoongi looks at you, his tired eyes softening with gratitude. "Thanks, __-ssi."

You give him a reassuring smile before pushing off the wall. "I'll let you finish your cigarette. See you later? And by later, I likely mean at 9 or 10 pm in our company elevator."

"Yeah, see you later," he laughs, watching as you walk back toward the building. He takes one last inhale, extinguishing the cigarette and letting the remaining smoke escape his lips slowly.

Yeah, he likes you just enough.

a/n: Hope you enjoyed it! Lmk what you think 🥰

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wafflefries13 · 3 months ago

Text

Rose With(out) Thorns (Riddle x Reader)

Summary: Riddle needs help putting off his mother's plans to set him up for an engagement, so what better way than to fake date NRC's favorite magicless prefect? Things can only go well. (No, they can't.)

AN: Fake dating, yay! Had the idea for this a long while back, finally got around to writing it. And, like most of my fics I'm finding out, it kind of got away from me. I hope at some point, probably some time in book 7 here, we finally get a confrontation with Riddle's mom. I hate Riddle's mom, all the cool bitches I know hate Riddle's mom.

Warnings: Depictions of a toxic family environment, AFAB reader with she/her pronouns.

When Riddle had pulled (Y/N) aside after classes, she didn’t expect to be sitting in one of Heartstabuyl’s tea rooms, a cooling cup of herbal tea placed in front of her. (Y/N) sipped the tea, observing Riddle. His mouth was pulled into a small frown, eyebrows furrowed in determined concentration. His hands were clasped behind him and he was pacing so much (Y/N) was worried about him wearing a hole in the rug. It had almost seemed like he had forgotten she was there.

“Riddle?” She prompted gently.

Riddle jumped, startled. (Y/N) really did think he had forgotten about her. His face turned pink, blushing up to his ears. He cleared his throat, promptly sitting down in the chair across from her.

“I have a favor to ask of you,” He said, swirling a spoonful of honey into his tea. She tried to not take it personally that he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Something going on with Ace and Deuce?” She asked, jumping to the most logical conclusion. “I don’t mind meditating.”

“No, thankfully, both of them have actually been rather pleasant as of late. This is of a more… personal nature.”

“Oh? Are you doing okay?” She set her cup down, leaning forward.

His blush went from gentle pink to strawberry red. “I - ahem, yes, no, I’m fine, it’s not that I don’t - what I mean to say is, ah, well…” Deciding there was no elegant way to put it, Riddle’s shoulders slumped as he stared dejectedly into his tea. “It’s my mother.”

(Y/N) immediately tensed. “Oh.”

The last time (Y/N) had thought about Riddle’s mother was when he was about to leave for winter break. She remembered how quiet he had been, not even bothering to reprimand the excited first years running around the mirror chamber like excited kids. (Y/N) had taken advantage of his momentary distraction to snatch his phone from his dazed hands and entered her number.

“In case you need anything,” She had said. “Or, you know, you just miss me too much and want to say hi.”

He really did blush way too easily.

Of course, any plans for talking on the phone were quickly eliminated by the events at Scarabia. When (Y/N) finally did get her phone back, she found a couple of missed calls and overly formal texts from Riddle’s number, buried in between the frantic messages from Ace and Deuce responding to her SOS.

Back in the tea room, (Y/N) set her cup down, leaning forward to meet Riddle’s eyes. “Hey,” She said gently. “You know if I can do anything for you I will.”

“It’s not that easy,” He said. “My mother asked me to come home for the long weekend coming up. And I highly suspect she wants me there to… try and arrange a match.”

“A match? Wait, like getting engaged? Aren’t you kind of young for that?”

Riddle shrugged. “It would definitely be a long engagement, but it’s not uncommon to have a match set up years in advance, especially between prominent families like mine.”

“How very Jane Austen.”

“Sorry?”

“An author from my world, she wrote romances. Anyway, sorry, keep going.”

“Well, I agree that it seems soon. To be fair, Mother was trying to set something up before I came to Night Raven College as well. Being accepted to such a prestigious magic school only elevated my prospects, as she put it. She wants to establish a solid match with another high ranking family, setting my future in stone. Especially after everything that happened at the beginning of the year.” They were both quiet for a moment, fighting off memories of Riddle’s Overblot. “I…” Riddle continued. “I don’t think anyone back home knows.”

“Oh. Well, it’s like personal medical information, right? Even if it’s magical or whatever it’s still your mental health. You don’t owe anyone that.”

“I don’t think that’s why she hasn’t told anyone. I know it might be hard for you to believe after everything that’s happened this year, but Overblots are still considered rare. Not many survive the process. And those that do, well, they aren’t looked upon as kindly as you’ve looked upon us.”

(Y/N) set her cup down hard. “That’s not fair! It’s not some moral failing. You and everyone else were - are - dealing with really tough emotions! It’s not right to just ignore trauma and your feelings, that’s what led to everything happening in the first place!”

“I’m glad you see it that way. And, if I’m being honest, public perception of the emotional stress that can lead to an Overblot and those who make it through the process are gradually being seen with more sympathy. Like you said, it’s a mental health issue at the core. But older communities like the one I grew up in are slower to accept new social views.”

(Y/N) sat back. “I’m sorry, Riddle. That sounds really hard.”

“Thank you,” Riddle breathed. He cleared his throat. “Well, that sort of awkwardly leads to what I was wanting to ask you in the first place.” He cleared his throat again, nervously looking around the room. Finally, steadying himself, he forced himself to meet (Y/N) eyes. “I would like you to come with me and act as my partner.”

(Y/N) felt her head go light and heart jump. “You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?”

Riddle’s confidence cracked as he looked away again. “In so many words, yes.”

“Wow. Forget Jane Austen, this is more Meg Ryan territory.” Riddle blinked. “Never mind, forget it. I mean, not what you’re talking about, just, it’s not what I was expecting you to say.”

“It’s not the most conventional request, to be fair. But I’ve turned this over in my head for days and I can’t see any way out of it. My plan is to show I’m taken, dissuade the marriage market. It will be one less thing for Mother to hold over my head. I’ll probably have to deal with it eventually when I graduate but I don’t even want to consider getting engaged right now, for economic, political, or whatever other reason. I’ve never been overly fond of the prospects my mother has introduced anyway. Not that I want to pressure you or anything! I completely understand if you wouldn’t feel comfortable for any reason and I completely respect your decision-”

“Well, hey, don’t answer for me, now.” (Y/N) reached forward and touched the back of Riddle’s hand, jolting him out of the spiral he was throwing himself in. He jumped at the contact. “It’s unorthodox, but since when has anything here been orthodox? Of course I’ll help, Riddle. I can’t guarantee I’ll be very good at it, but I’ll do my best.”

Riddle blinked at her for a moment, registering her words, then the tension practically floated off his shoulders. “That’s - that’s great, thank you.”

“Hey, what are friends for? Besides, this will make a great story to tell the guys later.”

Riddle scowled, blushing again. “Don’t.”

~~~

A few days later, (Y/N) and Riddle stood in the mirror chamber. They had come up with a cover to tell everyone while they were gone. Since (Y/N) technically didn’t exist in Twisted Wonderland, not having any government papers or even a birth certificate, Riddle suggested they visit Dinah, the capital city of the Queendom of Roses and his home city, to petition at an official government building for temporary citizenship. It was really only a half truth. If they had time between the deception, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to try.

Grim was staying at Heartstabuyl with Ace and Deuce, although it would be more accurate to say with Trey, since he was clearly the one in charge while the House Warden was away.

“And make sure to do that reading for History of Magic,” (Y/N) was saying, fiddling with Grim’s bow and magestone. “I marked the pages and put highlight tabs on the parts you need to take notes on. And don’t eat too many sweets, you’ll give yourself a stomach ache again. And don’t stay up too late or else you won’t have the energy to do anything during the day and you’ll throw off your whole sleep schedule. And-”

“Mrow!” Grim cried, batting her hands away. “I get it, I get it! I’m not a little kid, you know!”

(Y/N) smiled softly, scratching behind his ears. “Of course I know. You’re a big full grown dire beast who doesn't need anyone to take care of you. Why, I bet when I come back you won’t need me to cook for you anymore or make sure you wake up on time. You probably don’t even want a souvenir!”

“No, no! I like your cooking! And you better bring me something back, henchhuman!”

“Of course, Grim.”

Like a parent sending their child to school for the first time, (Y/N) and Grim detangled themselves from each other. Grim floated back with Ace and Deuce, who also required promises of souvenirs, and gave a final wave. (Y/N) waved back before stepping through the mirror portal after Riddle, luggage in hand.

There was always a strange feeling when going through the mirror, far spaces being squished together in a more convenient and transversable state. If (Y/N) hadn’t already been dragged underwater to swim through the depths unbothered, she would have compared it to being surrounded by water. Instead, she would more closely compare it the moments after a fall or jump, when totally suspended in the air with no tether. A slight jolt of the stomach at first, a feeling of weightlessness, a rush of cold along the spine, and then they were there.

(Y/N) still wasn’t completely sure how the mirror portal worked, or how it chose where to deposit someone, considering there wasn’t always a mirror on the other end. She knew it had something to do with the magestones NRC students wore on their armband, and that it helped to leave and come back from the same place, but other than that it was just another magic mystery she didn’t want to think too hard about.

(Y/N) shook her head as she stepped from the portal back on solid ground. Bright sunlight warmed her skin as she blinked and looked around. (Y/N)’s first impression of Dinah was a memory of a picturesque depiction of Victorian London. The street in front of them was wide, paved in even brick. There were store fronts painted in bright warm colors with big display windows, buildings stacked high with higher chimneys on top. Men and women strolled along the street, seemingly dressed to the nines for a perfectly ordinary outing, with top hats and long coats, bustled dresses in fanciful colors and feather hats.

A pair of horses pulled a dark blue omnibus carriage down the street, hooves making a pleasant ‘clip-clop’ sound as they meandered. It made (Y/N) wonder about the technological advancements of Twisted Wonderland, not for the first time. She had remembered how surprised she had been to see that cars existed in Sunrise City, when previously the only methods of transportation she had seen had been brooms, ghostly carriages, boats, and mirror portals. She frowned at the memory of Leona teasing her about her surprise.

“We have our own carriage,” Riddle told her, mistaking her expression as she watched the omnibus. “Mother sent it to collect us. It should be here - ah, there.” Riddle lifted his hand in greeting to the approaching carriage.

A white horse pulled a ruby carriage with a stenciled rose against a six-pointed starburst emblazoned on the doors. There were two men in stately red velvet livery on the carriage, one at the front, flicking the reins and lazily holding a horse whip, and the other holding on the back above the wheels. As they pulled along the sidewalk, the driver nodded and the footman jumped down to formally bow. He lugged their luggage atop the carriage, a barely noticeable judgmental sneer pulling at his mouth as he handled (Y/N)’s. While Riddle’s bag was neat and new, as beautiful as it was practical, (Y/N) had foraged hers from somewhere deep in the depths of Ramshackle dorm, among the abandoned rooms and chests and closets with all manner of ragged treasures. The carriage rocked as they climbed in, sitting on soft overstuffed bench seats facing each other. Riddle knocked against the roof when they were settled and the carriage rumbled forward.

(Y/N) stared out the window, marveling at everything they passed. “Hey, how far is Trey’s family bakery from here?” She asked.

“Hmm? Oh, not far, but I’m not sure we’ll have time to go by. I’m not sure Mother would approve of it.”

(Y/N) turned back to Riddle, noticing how he gazed out the window without really seeing anything. His hands were clasped tightly in his lap, knee jittering with nerves.

She reached a hand forward and touched his jumping knee, causing him to startle. “Hey,” She said softly. “It’s going to be okay. You got me here with you, right? And-” She rummaged through the pocket on her NRC uniform, the most formal attire she had for making a good impression. She pulled out a small Moleskine notebook, proudly displaying it. “I’ve been taking notes! I have a bunch of the Queen of Heart’s rules here. I don’t have nearly as many memorized as you do but I figured a cheat sheet wouldn’t hurt.”

Riddle looked at the notebook for a second before smiling in relief. “Thank you, (Y/N). I’m sorry, I haven’t been a very good host so far, have I? Especially considering what you’re doing for me.”

(Y/N) switched sides, landing heavily next to Riddle as the carriage went over a bump. She lightly knocked his arm with the back of her fist. “I told you it’s fine. I’m happy to help out. I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you so uptight before, and that’s saying something.”

Riddle frowned. “I’m not uptight.”

“Sure you’re not, teapot tyrant.” Riddle huffed and turned away. “Hey, I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Seriously, though, are you doing okay?”

Riddle fiddled with his fingers, choosing his words carefully. “The last time I came home, over winter break, my mother and I… well, it wasn’t a fight, exactly. An argument. That just so happened to lead to raised voices. And some harsh words. And maybe some things that are hard to take back.”

(Y/N) wasn’t really sure what to say to that. She sat back, focusing on the rumbling of the carriage beneath her. She noticed Riddle fiddling with his fingers again, picking at the skin around his nails. She slid her hand into his, holding it tight between them. She stared straight ahead, ignoring Riddle’s look of shock, no matter how cute his rising blush made him look. She squeezed his hand once, looking out her window. Riddle watched her face in profile, feeling the warmth of her hand in his, their shoulders occasionally bumping each other with the rocking of the carriage. He turned back to his own window, squeezing back.

A short while later, the carriage pulled in front of an elaborate townhouse. It had a beautiful red brick facade with white trimming around the windows and door. Ivy climbed elegantly up one side of the building There was a waist high black wrought iron fence around the perimeter, and the small yard in front was studded with blooming red rose bushes with butterflies elegantly flitting from flower to flower. And, while it was undoubtedly beautiful and picture perfect, (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel a little put off by the whole image. It seemed too perfect, not a blade of grass out of place or a bruised petal. Even the butterflies felt like they were on a preapproved flight path. Despite the fresh air outside, it was stifling.

As the footman on the carriage unloaded their bags, (Y/N) made a move to pick hers up, only for a valet to swoop in and effortlessly scoop up both bags. He turned and marched back through a door that seemed to shimmer out of nowhere, disappearing behind the ivy when he went through it.

“A servant’s entrance,” Riddle told her. “There are several through the house. It helps keep everyone separated.”

“I could have gotten my stuff,” She said. “It’s heavy.”

“You’re a guest. It would be impolite to expect you to carry your own things.”

A man in a crisp black suit with a gold pocket watch dangling from the front breast pocket opened the door, bowing low with a hand on his chest. “Welcome back, Master Riddle.” He said. The man looked up, sweeping a quick but appraising look over (Y/N). “And this is Miss (Y/N)?”

“Yes, hello!” (Y/N) greeted, smiling brightly. She walked forward, taking hold of the man’s hand and with both of hers and shaking it. She missed the choking gasp Riddle let out behind her. “Just (Y/N) is fine. It’s so nice to meet you! This is a lovely home. I’ve never been to Dinah before, everything is so beautiful! I’ve only been to the Queendom of Roses once before, in this place called Clocktown for a festival, but it’s so much different here.”

The butler nearly reared back at her greeting, going stiff as a board, but too polite to all together flinch and snatch his hand back. He merely retracted his hand, looked once at Riddle, then gazed straight ahead impassively. “Yes, well, welcome to the Rosehearts townhome. I hope you… enjoy your stay, Miss (Y/N).”

(Y/N), determined to push through the awkwardness she could sense building, replied chipperly, “Thanks!” And strode inside without looking back.

“Thank you, Edgar,” Riddle said as the butter closed the door behind them. “Do you know when Mother and Father will be home?”

“Dr. Rosehearts was called in for a last minute surgery and I believe Mr. Rosehearts is at his club. They both planned to be home for dinner to meet you and your… guest.”

The only way (Y/N) could think to describe the townhouse was grand. A grand sweeping staircase to the second floor, marble flooring of black and white checkered tile, two rooms on either side of the entrance hall stuffed with comfortable furniture with lace, one room farther to the back half-hidden behind the staircase, and decorative oil paintings.

“Wow,” She said. “This is where you grew up?”

“Partially, yes,” Riddle said. “We have a country estate as well, but the hospital is in town and Mother always wanted to be present for the social season.”

“Ooh, a country estate and the social season. Look at you, sounding all fancy.”

“Well, excuse me for being raised in polite society, unlike some people.”

“Hey!” (Y/N) laughed, playfully shoving him as he grinned back.

Riddle’s eyes cut back to Edgar the butler, watching the two of them with a critical eye and raised eyebrow. Riddle cleared his throat and schooled his face back to a serious expression. “I’ll show you your room, (Y/N). It’s upstairs.”

“Was it too much?” (Y/N) asked as they ascended the staircase, out of ear shot from Edgar. “I was trying to make a good impression.”

“People don’t tend to be as friendly with strangers here,” He said. “When you meet my parents it would be better to wait for them to act first.”

“So no big hug?” She laughed at Riddle’s glare. “Don’t worry, I’ll be picture perfect polite tonight. I know it’s important to you.”

“Thank you. To be honest I still feel awkward about all of this.” “I could say ‘what are friends for’ but I think we’re a little past that. It’s not like I’m getting nothing out of this. This place is like a fancy hotel!” She pushed open the door to her room, bright with the sunlight streaming in across a bed with a large fluffy white duvet across it. (Y/N) spun around, falling against the bed with a ‘poof’ of the down feather pillows. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything so soft,” She sighed. Suddenly she sat straight up. “Oh, oh! Show me your room!”

“What?”

She jumped up, taking his hand and pulling him back down the hall. “Come on, let me see your room! I want to see what you’re like when you're not at school.”

“Much the same, I promise.”

His eyes cut to a door down the hall and (Y/N) grinned wickedly. Ignoring Riddle’s sound of protest, she threw open his door.

She faltered a bit as she looked inside, stomach squeezing with that same unease she felt from outside. Spartan wouldn’t be the right way to describe Riddle’s childhood bedroom. Sure, there was plenty of stuff in it, a neatly made bed, an expensive looking desk with a glass hooded reading lamp, plenty of books filling shelves, and a polished wardrobe. But it felt so bare. It felt more like a catalog picture than someone’s own bedroom they had grown up in. (Y/N) looked back to Riddle, who was looking down as if ashamed, like his room was full of trash rather than uninspiringly neat.

(Y/N) forced a smile to her face, closing the door. “Well, show me around. Back in my world, houses like these would have a bunch of secret passages, maybe a couple of ghosts. But I guess ghosts aren’t all that unusual here.”

“I think your home has more ghosts than mine,” Riddle said. “As for secret passages…”

(Y/N) clapped her hands together. “Yeah?”

Riddle smiled slyly. “Sorry, none of those either. Unless you’re thinking of servant’s doors, but I don’t think they would appreciate us meddling.”

“Aw, boo.”

“No pun intended, I’m sure.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“How about the garden? It’s out back. I’ll have someone bring us tea. It’ll give us a chance to strategize.”

The garden was nestled in the backyard of the townhome, bordered by high fences separating it from the other townhomes. There were, unsurprisingly, rose bushes in raised wooden boxes. White gravel pathways cut through each of the boxes, strolling under a trellis wound with flowers. To the back of the garden was a small glass greenhouse, filled with different medical herbs and plants along with scientific equipment for study. There was a small table on the back porch underneath a pergola wrapped with ivy. After Riddle gave (Y/N) a tour of the gardens they sat down and a maid brought out a white China teapot, pouring tea into delicate blue and white tea cups. (Y/N) inhaled the steam, letting the warmth and sweet notes of the tea fill her lungs before taking a sip.

“Thanks!” (Y/N) said to the maid who blinked before bobbing a nod and rushing off. (Y/N) made a note to herself that the servants here had a habit of avoiding eye contact. “Okay,” She said, taking a blueberry scone from a plate the maid brought with the tea. “What’s our game plan?”

“Well, my mother is obviously the one to impress. I don’t believe Father will have much to say, he usually defers to her. That’s usually a good plan with anything, deferring to her, I mean. Safe topics of conversation include the weather, recent medical innovations, and the health and travel of neighbors. It’s best to avoid personal topics like parliament, gossip, or personal questions. It’s also best to avoid discussing novels, Mother says they fill one’s head with fanciful ideas and nonsense.”

“Okay, so when would be the best time to brag about you?”

Riddle’s teacup clattered against the saucer. “What?”

“Well, you’re my fake boyfriend and I’m trying to look good in front of your mom, so it makes sense if I talk you up, right? Like how you’re a great dorm leader, that dressage stuff you’ve been doing in the equestrian club, how you’ve been helping other students study. Cater told me about how you set up a Magicam account just to help him study, that was super cute.”

“I’m, ah, not actually supposed to have a Magicam account, educational or otherwise, so it’s probably best not to bring that up. Mother says social media rots your brain.”

“I mean, sometimes, yeah, but it can be fun too. And I know you still post sometimes. I follow you.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do! Those study tips didn’t just help Cater. Plus I like to see what’s going on with you. Not that you post stuff very often or anything, but I did like that picture from the last Unbirthday Party with those cupcakes you made.”

Riddle waved her praise off. “They weren’t anything special. Most of the frosting was smudged all together anyway.”

“Oh, don’t sell yourself so short. You don’t have to be perfect at everything, especially the first time around. And I thought they were cute.” She fished her phone out of her pocket, quickly swiping to the picture they were talking about on Magicam. It was a close up of Riddle, smiling, face smeared with red frosting. Trey was caught mid-laugh, handing him a napkin. Ace’s hand was blurred with movement in the lower right edge, having snagged a cupcake from the tray Riddle was holding, covered with cartoon rose dotting liners. It was obvious that the red and white frosting on top was meant to replicate delicate rose petals, and while some of them looked presentable, most had been piped with a shaky hand, leaving too much or too little frosting for the petals. “See? Cute.”

Riddle’s hand darted forward to push the phone down. “Yes, sure, fine, you made your point! I knew I should have taken that down.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Riddle sighed, accepting defeat. “Fine, yes, just don’t bring it up at dinner.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, it doesn't seem like there’s a lot of wiggle room for conversation here. What do you usually talk about when you come home?”

Riddle took another sip of tea. “My studies, mostly. Class rankings, the local social season, applying for medical colleges, that sort of thing.”

“What about your friends at NRC? Or all the weird and exciting stuff that happens? Like when we all went to the ghost realm at Halloween, or Fluer City at Halloween? Wow, a lot of crazy stuff happens around Halloween, huh?”

“That’s all superfluous. My grades and plans for the internship fourth year are more important.”

“Riddle.” (Y/N) reached across the table, taking Riddle’s hand. “That stuff is still important, you know. We’ve gone through a lot of crazy stuff, a lot of it dangerous and scary. It’s okay to talk about that. There’s life outside of classrooms.”

Riddle looked away but squeezed her hand. “I know. And I’m getting there, with priorities and understanding others. But this sort of thing is important to her. And I still want to impress her, to have her be proud of me. Despite everything.”

(Y/N) pressed her lips together. She wanted to say something supportive, something wise, something to make everything better. But nothing seemed right, nothing to encapsulate the pity and support (Y/N) felt all at once. In the movies or on TV, there was always some sort of all encompassing resolution, a final speech to make everything better. But she couldn’t find the words, couldn’t seem to express exactly how she felt. That Riddle didn’t need to constantly try so hard, to always make himself a perfect image for others to view. That he was allowed to like the things he liked, no matter how trivial or silly they seemed. Make bad frosted cupcakes, learn dressage, play games, be a teenager like everyone else for once. That she had such strong feelings for him, faults included. But nothing seems right. So she just squeezed his hand back.

“Master Riddle,” A voice said, startling them both. Edgar stood at the door, casting a permanently judging look at the two of them. “Doctor and Mr. Rosehearts have returned. They have requested your presence in the dining room.”

Riddle jumped up, smoothing his outfit even though it was spotless. “Right, well, (Y/N), I suppose it’s time you meet my parents.”

Now that the time was actually here, (Y/N) didn’t expect to feel so nervous. Well, maybe nervous wasn’t the right word. Sure, she was anxious, hoping to make a good impression and help Riddle with their plot, but there was something else mixed with it. A kind of dread at coming face to face with a woman she had only ever heard bad things about. This woman, whether intentional or not, set the ground for Riddle’s Overblot. She was not an insignificant part of his emotional distress, his stress, the walls he put up around himself. How were you supposed to feel about a person like that? Especially when the object of that stress still so strongly wanted her approval?

Edgar escorted them to the dining room where the table was already set and a maid and footman were starting to set out the first course. (Y/N) felt her heart jump unpleasantly in her chest as she came face to face with Dr. Rosehearts. The older woman’s steely gray eyes locked on to (Y/N)’s directly as she stepped in the room. She felt like her skin had been peeled back and every dark and unpleasant thought she had ever had had been thrown on the table for everyone to inspect. Dr. Rosehearts’ otherwise perfect cupid’s bow mouth was pulled into a tight frown. Her red hair, matching perfectly to her son’s, was pulled back in a tight bun clasped at her neck, a deadly looking sharp hairpin keeping it together. She looked elegant and flawless, more like an expensive bone China doll than an actual living breathing person in front of her. (Y/N) almost jumped in surprise when she finally noticed Riddle’s father. He was reading a newspaper, sharp cheekbones and tired, watery eyes under wavy mousy brown hair. Other than a brief flit of his eyes as the two of them entered, it was almost like he didn’t notice them at all.

“Riddle,” His mother said, standing and turning to her son. (Y/N) felt like a stone had been removed from her chest as Dr. Rosehearts’ eyes finally left hers. “Welcome home. Take a seat.”

Riddle marched over to his seat opposite his father, sitting with a ramrod straight back, looking straight ahead. (Y/N) faltered for a moment, wondering if she should sit next to Riddle or Mr. Rosehearts. The second of hesitation was noticed by Dr. Rosehearts, whose mouth ticked in annoyance. Riddle subtly nodded his head to the chair across from him, next to his father. (Y/N) scuttled over, pulling the chair out with an undignified squeak against the floor. Mr. Rosehearts looked up at her as she sat down, blinking like she had materialized out of thin air.

“Mother, Father,” Riddle said, voice stiff. “Allow me to introduce my partner, (Y/N) (L/N), Ramshackle Dorm Prefect at Night Raven College. (Y/N), this is my mother, Dr. Victoria Rosehearts, and my father, Mr. Albert Rosehearts.”

“Please to meet you,” (Y/N) said, giving what she hoped was a bright and welcoming smile. “Thank you for having me.”

“Yes, well,” Dr. Rosehearts said. “I must admit it was a surprise when Riddle told me he was bringing a guest home for the holiday.”

“Well, Riddle always talks so fondly about Dinah and I haven’t traveled too much, so I couldn’t help but impose. You have a lovely home, by the way.”

“I do wonder,” Dr. Rosehearts said, ignoring (Y/N)’s attempted start at conversation. “How a young girl such as yourself comes to attend an all boys school?”

“To be totally honest I’m not really sure myself,” (Y/N) said, laughing through the awkwardness of Dr. Rosehearts intense direct gaze. “We’ve been trying to figure that out since I first got here. It’s been kind of a struggle getting a hang of everything, considering I can’t even use magic, but I-”

(Y/N) was interrupted by the clatter of Dr. Rosehearts’ spoon clattering against her soup bowl. Even Mr. Rosehearts looked up, suddenly intrigued. “Did you say you can’t use magic?” Mr. Rosehearts said.

(Y/N) gulped, looking quickly at Riddle who was going pale. “Well, no, I can’t. I’m sorry, I thought you knew. I’m not even from this world. Dimension? Anyway, magic doesn't exist in my world. Somehow one of the black carriages swept me up and brought me here. No one can figure out how or why yet, not even our Magic Mirror. Our headmage has been trying to research it but I guess there’s not a lot of studies on interdimensional travel.” She tried to laugh off the heavy atmosphere. “But no, no magic. Can’t even ride a broom, which is a shame because that’s the one thing I would really love to do.”

Dr. Rosehearts cleared her throat, dabbing her mouth delicately with a napkin. A maid hastily rushed in to clear her soup. “Well, I suppose Night Raven College’s admission requirements have become quite lacks as of late, having common folk mingling with upper crust society and nobles, not to mention allowing fae folk. I suppose anything is possible at this rate.”

(Y/N) scowled, finding herself blurting out her next statement despite Riddle’s miniscule shake of the head. “Hey, everyone works really hard at NRC. Where they’re from or their family doesn't matter, they’re all great mages. Besies, it’s the Magic Mirror that chooses people. It’s able to see everyone’s potential. And with everything that’s been going on this year everyone’s only gotten better. It’s amazing some of the stuff I’ve seen them do.”

“Oh?” Mr. Rosehearts said, folding his paper closed and leaning forward. “Has it been an interesting year?”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, I don’t know what a typical year at a magic school is like, but to me it’s been insane! There was one time where one of our dorm heads got kidnapped by a ghost bride to marry him, and everyone got together to try to woo her away. She ended up slapping half of them and freezing them in place. Oh, Riddle was here, he had this amazing red velvet suit. Or one of our magestones got stolen by a fairy queen and we had to stage a whole heist to get it back. Our coach, Coach Vargas, had these camps to test people’s abilities and survival instinct when they couldn’t use magic. But then he dressed up as a monster and ‘kidnapped’ a bunch of students so everyone else had to come rescue them. The next camping trip he got one of our other professors in on it too. And every once and a while we’ll have this Culinary Crucible that they had to change the judging for because everyone kept cheating, but-”

“My!” Dr. Rosehearts suddenly exclaimed. “I don’t believe I remember the last time we had so much chatter at a mealtime.”

(Y/N) felt her face heat up, but she wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or anger.

Mr. Rosehearts, who had been nodding along to (Y/N) recollection of events with rapt attention, cleared his throat with a cough, leaning back in his chair and taking up his newspaper again. “Yes, well, youth these days,” He said, noncommittal.

Despite the fact that a maid had just brought out the next course, Dr. Rosehearts stood. “I find I’ve lost my appetite,” She announced. “I will be retiring early tonight. Riddle, we have an appointment at the Lorina Hotel tomorrow for high tea. Make sure you and your guest wear something presentable.” With that, she swept from the room without another word. The silence that followed was brittle, like ice on a lake right before someone plummets through it.

“Well,” (Y/N) said, breaking the quiet. She stood, walking over to Dr. Rosehearts abandoned plate and picking it up, dumping the roasted chicken and vegetable onto her own plate. “More for me then.”

~~~

Later that night, (Y/N) had apologized to Riddle no less than twelve times. She tried to defend herself, that she was taken by surprise that his parents didn’t know about her unique circumstances, that she was annoyed how dismissive Dr. Rosehearts had been, that she just started talking and couldn’t figure out how to stop. Not that any of it really excused her behavior, she knew. She felt like she had let Riddle down, ruining whatever chance, no matter how slim, of this being a peaceful visit home. And, while Riddle had repeated every time that it was fine, that she was okay, that he should have prepared her better, she still felt bad.

(Y/N) had never been to a high tea before. She wasn’t 100% sure what to wear, especially with Dr. Rosehearts’ comment from the night before. And it wasn’t like she had an extensive wardrobe to choose from in the first place. Thankfully, their alchemy teacher with a penchant for fashion design had somehow grown fond of her during the school year, providing her with a few outfits to help her fit in better outside of school. The next morning, she pulled a dusty blue sundress with little white buttons out of her luggage. She had a pair of sandals more suited to the beach than a hotel, but they fit the theme better than her school loafers. She slipped them on and hoped no one would look down.

Tea was scheduled for 11 so (Y/N) decided to find Riddle and try to get a better lay of the land before they headed out. He didn’t answer her knock, which she thought was strange as Riddle wasn’t the type to sleep in, even if he was home on break. She felt strange wandering through the house. Every once and a while she would see a maid or footman dart out of one of the hidden servant’s doors, but before she could start a conversation or ask where her hosts were they would duck their heads and disappear.

She eventually found Mr. Rosehearts in the breakfast room, which was the same as the dinning room but with a changed name for some reason. The thick curtains had been thrown open letting light pour in across the spread on the table. Despite the fact that there was enough food to feed at least ten people, Mr. Rosehearts was the only one present, absentmindedly nibbling on some jam slathered toast.

(Y/N) forced a smile to her face. She might have ruined her first impression with Dr. Rosehearts last night, but Mr. Rosehearts had at least seemed intrigued by what she had to say. “Good morning!”

Mr. Rosehearts jumped, dropping his toast jam side down on the spotless table cloth. “Oh! Good morning.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” The last thing she needed right now was to turn both of Riddle’s parents against her.

Mr. Rosehearts waved her off, gingerly picking up the toast and plopping it on his plate. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m just not used to company in the morning, is all. Not that I mind it. Please, sit.”

“Is everyone else still asleep?” (Y/N) asked, scooping up some chive studded scrambled eggs on her plate.

“Oh, no, Victoria doesn't believe in sleeping in. It disrupts the normal circadian rhythms, you know, especially for teenagers like you and Riddle. No, she and Riddle were speaking in her office.”

“Oh.” (Y/N) suddenly didn’t feel very hungry anymore. “I think I need to apologize.” Mr. Rosehearts looked up, blinking owlishly. “I was rambling last night, at dinner. I shouldn’t have been so argumentative, especially since I’m a guest in your home. I’ll be putting a better foot forward from now on, promise.”

“Oh. Oh! Oh, no, please, think nothing of it. Actually,” He leaned forward, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I was hoping you could expand on some of those stories you started last night. Just between you and me, I happen to have a penchant for gossip.” He patted the newspaper beside him. Now that (Y/N) got a closer look, she realized it was a society gossip column. She smiled, getting Bridgerton flashbacks.

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of stories. Do you want to start with Fleur City almost burning down or Magicam Monsters taking over NRC?”

Meanwhile, Riddle sat in an uncomfortable straight backed chair in his mother’s office. Various papers floated around the room, magically organizing themselves in various case files. A free-standing pen signed Dr. Rosehearts’ signature across multiple forms. Despite the warm morning light filling the room, Riddle felt chilled.

“I wonder,” Dr. Rosehearts said, sitting behind her large mahogany desk, hands clasped in front of her. “About the company you have chosen to keep while away at school.”

“(Y/N) is a respectable person,” Riddle said. “She was just thrown off last night. She’s still not used to many of our customs. She’s a fast learner, however, she’s acclimated remarkably quickly to life here. Given that she has no base of knowledge for many of the classes at Night Raven College she has good grades and-”

Dr. Rosehearts held up a hand, stopping Riddle with the words of praise in his throat. “The way the ones you associate with act reflects on you, Riddle. It also reflects upon me and the whole Rosehearts household. You should know better by now.”

Riddle felt his face flush, looking down. “Yes, Mother.”

“Really, Riddle, I didn’t think you’d be the type to fall for any pretty face. And how much do you actually know about her background, anyway? You said yourself she’s not from here. Who knows what kind of manipulation she might be playing at, using our good name against us?” Riddle bit his tongue, your defense springing into his mouth. “I’m just trying to look out for you.”

“Yes, Mother, I know.”

“Wonderful.” Dr. Rosehearts stood, Riddle following. “We’ll continue to house Miss (Y/N) here during the break, it would be bad form to throw her out at this point, but as soon as you return to school I expect you to end this frivolous excursion.”

Riddle felt his heart drop into his stomach. “But, Mother, I-”

“No buts, Riddle,” She said sternly. Riddle immediately looked down, avoiding her cold iron gaze. “I know best for you. You’ll do as I say. We have a plan for you, remember? There’s no use upending your future over some fleeting fancy. And besides, there are many wonderful eligible ladies here in town. We’ll be meeting a few of my top choices for you at the hotel. And we’ll be attending a ball tomorrow night. Your friend is not invited, by the way.”

Riddle drew in a sharp breath, a million things he wanted to say racing through his mind. His mother had arranged a meeting with bachelorettes when he had told her he already had a girlfriend? He realized with a sinking sensation that no plan he and (Y/N) would have come up with would have been good enough for his mother. She had her plan and nothing would be able to change it. He suddenly had the sensation of floating, no, falling, with no anchor or safety net. His stomach flipped and a rush of cold descended over his body.

“Yes, Mother,” He only said.

Dr. Rosehearts nodded definitively. She swept from the office, Riddle following close behind with downcast eyes. They both paused on the stairway, startled by the sound of laughter floating out from the breakfast room. Riddle pushed past his mother into the room. (Y/N) and his father sat at the table across from each other. His father’s head was thrown back, eyes closed and mouth open in a raucous laugh. Riddle couldn’t remember the last time he heard his father laugh like that, or even laugh at all. (Y/N) was in the middle of a story, hands animated.

“So of course the referee asked who he is, because their team didn’t have anyone signed up for an alternate, and Leona goes and uses my name! Like no one would recognize the second prince of the Sunset Savannah. And you know what, no one did!”

Mr. Rosehearts put his hand against his chest, trying to regain his composure. “And then? Did you at least win?”

“Oh, of course, yeah! And then we all had to run away in this jeep Leona was driving right when it started to rain. I’ve heard Checka still calls him ‘Unca (Y/N)’ sometimes.”

Mr. Rosehearts looked up, noticing Riddle and Dr. Rosehearts standing in the doorway. “Oh, Victoria! (Y/N) was just telling me the most wonderful story. Did you know she’s friends with Prince Leona of the Sunset Savannah? And the Asim heir, they donated at the last charity gala you attended, didn’t they? It’s amazing the adventures children can get up to now a days-”

“You’re very chatty this morning, Albert,” Dr. Rosehearts cut him off. “This much noise in the morning is quite unusual, don’t you agree?”

Mr. Rosehearts’ face dropped and he squirmed in his chair. He picked up his newspaper, flipping it so a person couldn’t see what he was reading.

(Y/N) frowned at the sudden change of mood, but gave Riddle a warm smile when she saw him. It was amazing how he almost immediately felt lighter. He really hoped he wasn’t blushing again. “Hi!” She chirped, standing. Riddle felt a rush of mixed emotions. Part fluff at (Y/N) smiling at him, beautiful in her sundress, part embarrassment knowing it was exactly the wrong thing to wear, and no doubt his mother had clocked that immediately.

Riddle reached for a cheese danish. His mother’s hand snapped out, swatting his hand away. “You’ll have sweets at the hotel,” She said, sniffing. “You don’t need the extra sugar, especially this early in the morning.”

‘Then why have it on the table?’ (Y/N) thought uncharitably. She went over to Riddle, linking her arm through his, pulling him away from Dr. Rosehearts. “You’re sweet enough already, Riddle. When do we head out?”

Later, as they were waiting for the carriages to head to the hotel, Riddle pulled out and quickly ate the danish (Y/N) had slipped in his pocket.

~~~

The Lorina Hotel stretched high above their heads. (Y/N) leaned back to take in the full scope of it. The facade was clean white bricks with dozens of windows glinting in the sunlight. Each story was capped by marble carvings of lions with wings, jumping fish, and flowers.

“No time for gawking,” Dr. Rosehearts said, straightening her gloves. “We have people waiting for us.”

“We do?” (Y/N) asked, purposefully ignoring Dr. Rosehearts thorny glare. “Are they your friends, Riddle?”

“Not in so many words,” He replied.

A finely dressed doorman opened the door to a lavish lobby. Before (Y/N) had a chance to ‘gawk’ again, Dr. Rosehearts swept them off to a side room. She gave their name to a waiter at a podium. The man skimmed the list of reservations in front of him, looking down his nose at (Y/N) and her uncovered shoulders. While (Y/N) was too enamored observing her surroundings, Riddle noticed. He quickly shrugged off his jacket and brought it around her shoulders. The man sniffed. He led them through the tea room to two tables situated against a large window. They sat by a large window opening onto a courtyard in the middle of the hotel. Guests strolled across the green lawn, admiring flowers. Dr. and Mr. Rosehearts sat at their own small table while Riddle and (Y/N) were directed to one that had three other residents already.

“Riddle!” One of them called, smiling up at him. “How lovely to see you again.”

(Y/N) felt Riddle stiffen beside her. “Hello, Lily, Rose, Violet. It’s nice to see you all as well.”

(Y/N) slipped her hand into Riddle’s, who jumped in surprise, before inserting herself in the girls’ line of sight. “Hi! I’m (Y/N), Riddle’s girlfriend. It’s nice to meet some of his friends from home!”

All three girls, in Victorian inspired puffed up dresses with more lace and tulle than (Y/N) had ever seen before and large elaborate sun hats to match, startled, blinking at her as if she had appeared out of thin air.

Almost in sync, the three of them whipped out decorated fans. “Oh, hello,” Violet said. “We weren’t aware Riddle was bringing a guest.”

“You’ll just have to put up with me then, I guess.” Riddle pulled out her chair and, with a surge of confidence and a sideways glance at the three girls, (Y/N) quickly kissed his cheek. (Y/N) smiled at the shocked gasp they let out as Riddle’s face turned red. She couldn’t help but reveal in Dr. Rosehearts’ glower as Mr. Rosehearts discreetly smiled into his tea. “So, how close is this to the unbirthday parties at school?”

“An unbirthday party?” Lily said with a chuckle. “Isn’t that a bit juvenile?”

“If by juvenile you mean really fun and a great excuse to dress up then yes, I suppose it is.” Under the table, Riddle squeezed (Y/N)’s hand, in warning or thankfulness she wasn’t sure. The three girls looked at eachother, flicking and fluttering their fans with precise motions.

A waiter brought a pot of tea to the table which he dutifully poured in everyone’s delicate tea cups. Another waiter brought a high stacked tower with tiny cakes and sandwiches. (Y/N) tried to cut down on her abrasiveness for the rest of the tea, not wanting to make Riddle uncomfortable. Although, to her it seemed the three other girls were doing a great job of that on their own. When they weren’t speaking to each other about him without his input, they chatted about things that had been happening in Dinah during the social season, then acted surprised when neither (Y/N) or Riddle could contribute to the conversation.

After a while, and two pots of tea, Riddle excused himself. A tense silence dropped over the table like a heavy curtain. The three girls continued casting knowing glances at each other, snapping and waving their fans.

(Y/N) spread her hands on the table. “Look, I know just enough about fan language to know you’re talking about me, but not enough to know what you’re saying. So if you have something you want to say you might as well come out and say it.”

“You’re rather blunt, aren’t you?” Rose said with a sniff.

“Among many other things.”

“We were just wondering,” Violet said smoothly. “About your pedigree. It’s unusual enough to have a girl attending an all boys school, so we surmised you must have a particular magical talent.”

“We all attend Lady Dormouse’s Finishing School, you see,” Lily said with a saccharine smile. “It’s a far more… elegant education.”

“Well, I don’t know about elegant,” (Y/N) said, pointedly ignoring Rose’s smirk when she said under her breath, “Clearly.” “But Night Raven College is a great place. Sure, it’s a minefield half the time and considering I can’t do any magic so half of the assignments are almost impossible, but I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. I’ve made amazing friends there, and, of course, I got to meet Riddle. That’s the best part.” (Y/N) smiled wistfully.

The girls across from her all dropped their jaws at once. “You can’t use magic?” Violet gasped.

“Surely you know a simple zephyr spell? Or can light a candle?” Lily asked.

“Nope, not a thing. Don’t have one drop of magic in my whole body.” At this point it almost felt like a mark of pride. And she was beginning to relish the shocked expressions people made.

Violet reached forward and gently touched the back of (Y/N)’s hand. “You poor thing,” She said, voice breaking. Rose had pushed herself as far back in her chair as she could, as if magiclessness was contagious. (Y/N) could practically see the gears turning in Lily’s head as she considered such a thing being possible.

(Y/N) looked out the window to the courtyard, trying to avoid Violet’s overly sympathetic gaze. She perked up when she saw a few uniformed staff members setting up small white arches in the grass. A flock of pink flamingos waddled on tall, thin legs around the fountain. One of the staff members gently cradled a small wooden box where a hedgehog poked its nose out.

“Hey, Riddle!” She called as Riddle walked back to their table. “Check it out, they’re setting up croquet! We should see if we can play.”

Riddle’s face lit up. “Really?” He asked, craning his neck to look out the window as the first round of players took their marks. He quickly looked back at his mother and schooled his face to a more serious expression. “That is, I mean, I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Oh, I’d love a good game of croquet!” Rose said, clapping her hands. She stood, going over to Riddle and touching his shoulder in a way that made (Y/N) grit her teeth in annoyance. “I was the undisputed champion at Dormouse. You will play with us, won’t you, Riddle?”

The group exited to the courtyard, Mr. Rosehearts quickly arranging for a game with the attendants. The girls had huddled around the green, watching the previous game. Riddle was looking down at his feet, fiddling with his fingers, pulling at the skin around his nails.

“Hey!” (Y/N) said, slinging her arm around Riddle’s shoulders. “I am here to make sure you have fun, fake relationship or not. So come on, let’s have fun! Plus, I have no idea how to play this game.”

“Well,” Riddle said. “The first thing is to choose your flamingo mallet.” He effortlessly snatched a flamingo by the neck, turning it so he held the legs. The flamingo immediately went ramrod straight.

“That doesn't bother them or anything, right?” (Y/N) asked, looking dubiously at the remaining flamingos.

“Not at all. They’re specifically trained for this. Go on, try one.”

“Okay…” (Y/N) tried to replicate the quick movements Riddle had made when grabbing his flamingo. The bird she was aiming for dodged her hand. She grabbed again. Another miss. She heard the girls tittering with laughter. (Y/N) huffed, trying to snatch at the flamingo with both hands this time. The large bird squealed, flapping its large wings as (Y/N) wrestled it. The flamingo squawked and (Y/N) squawked back in defiance. Riddle quickly came to her rescue, grabbing the flamingo and performing the same practiced motion. The flamingo immediately went rigged, but (Y/N) couldn’t help but notice the defiant glint in its eye.

“Thanks,” (Y/N) mumbled, plucking stray feathers out of her hair.

Riddle stifled a laugh behind his fist. “Not a problem. The rest of the game is pretty simple. You want to hit the hedgehog through the white pickets to the end of the lawn, then again on the way back. The fewest hits win.”

“Right, sure. Sounds easy enough.” When Riddle went to take his first hit, (Y/N) whispered harshly to her flamingo mallet, “Don’t mess this up for me.”

After the others had taken their turn, (Y/N) stepped up to the first hoop, her hedgehog rolled into a ball in front of her. She carefully angled her flamingo down, tapping the head against the small animal. ‘Just like mini-golf,’ She thought to herself and swung gently. She heard giggling from the spectators. She looked down, seeing her hedgehog in the exact same place. Only, no, it was about an inch to the left, away from where she had hit. She tapped her foot, swinging again, this time keeping her eye on the spiky ball. Yup, there, again, it rolled ever so slightly the other way.

“My ball is cheating,” (Y/N) said, pointing at the innocent-looking hedgehog.

“It’s a poor craftsman who blames their tools,” Dr. Rosehearts replied from the sidelines.

“I don’t think that applies here, but sure,” (Y/N) mumbled.

She squared her feet, tightening her grip on the flamingo’s legs. She tried a harder swing this time. It connected, sending the tiny hedgehog tumbling. Before (Y/N) could celebrate her victory, the animal swung out in a large arc away from the pickets, slowing to a stop right by Dr. Rosehearts’ feet. (Y/N) scowled, going over to stand by Riddle’s parents while the rest of the group took their turns for the second round.

“You know,” Dr. Rosehearts said softly to (Y/N) when Mr. Rosehearts walked off to get some tea. “Lily’s father is a minister in parliament. She’s an especially accomplished pianist and frequently has requests from the royal theater company to play.”

“MmHmm,” (Y/N) hummed.

“Violet recently won first place in a national equestrian show jumping competition. Her father is a colleague of mine, an orthopedic surgeon, and her mother is a most accomplished florist.”

“Neat.”

“Rose is an absolute gem, of course. Extremely high marks with practical magic, and her embroidery has been displayed as far as the Sunshine Lands. She’s also wonderfully organized and an exemplary hostess. I can see her managing a fine house one day.”

“Maybe, but Rose Rosehearts is kind of clunky, don’t you think? Or redundant? One of those.”

Dr. Roshearts sniffed. “She also has a firm grasp on language and elegance.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to say something she knew she would probably regret when the referee called for her turn. Dr. Rosehearts inclined her head and took a step back, giving (Y/N) room to swing.

“Alright,” (Y/N) said softly to the ball and mallet. “The arch this time.”

She aimed, taking in a deep breath as she swung. She looked around the green, not seeing her hedgehog rolling towards or away. It also wasn’t stuck in its place at her feet. Suddenly, the flamingo began to writhe in her hands, flapping its large wings to bat fiercely at her face. She coughed on feathers, trying to hold the distressed animal as far away as possible. Peaking out from one eye, she saw the hedgehog clinging to the flamingo’s neck, climbing up and down while the bird desperately tried to escape its tiny claws. (Y/N) shook the bird, reaching out to try and dislodge the hedgehog. That only seemed to make it worse as both animals began to panic. The flamingo kicked out causing (Y/N) to drop it. With an unholy squawk, it leapt out of her hands, flapping and dancing, colliding right into the gawking Dr. Rosehearts. The red-haired woman shrieked, several hotel attendants coming to her rescue, trying to grab the flamingo. (Y/N) couldn't help but notice Mr. Rosehearts watching the whole spectacle with fascination from the tea cart.

As the attendants apologized profusely to a fuming Dr. Rosehearts, (Y/N) made her way over to Riddle and the three gasping girls. “Well,” She said. “I don’t think I’m very good at this game.”

~~~

When they got back to the townhouse, (Y/N) had another round of apologizing to Riddle.

“I really didn’t mean for that to happen,” She said. She didn’t say she felt somewhat satisfied to see Dr. Rosehearts in distress, plucking stray feathers out of her hair and clothes the whole ride home. “I don’t know what I was doing wrong. I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much.”

“I know it’s not your fault,” Riddle said, pulling off his tie. (Y/N) was sitting on the bed in his room as he watched her in the mirror on his bureau. “The hotel should have vetted their animals better.”

(Y/N) bit her lip. She gave a mirthless laugh. “Our plan isn't going very well, is it?” Riddle faltered, dropping his tie. He turned around to look at (Y/N). Her mouth was screwed up in a tight frown, her eyes misty, and she clutched the duvet tightly. “Sorry. I really wanted to make you look good. I wanted to try and seem like the perfect girlfriend, but I just kind of made everything worse. I wanted to show you that I-” She suddenly cut herself off, looking up and meeting Riddle’s eyes. Her face grew hot and she looked away. “Sorry, don’t listen to me, I’m rambling.”

More than anything, Riddle wanted to ask her what she was going to say. More than anything, he wanted to say something back, something that had been stuck in his mind well before he asked for her help in their plot. Something that made his heart speed up with her every kind word and action, that made him feel pleasantly light-headed whenever they were close, that caused his chest to fill with pride as she worked tirelessly to defend him during the trip. But his tongue felt like lead in his mouth. He could still feel the iron-hot glare from his mother on the carriage ride back from the hotel. And, beneath it all, a simmering fear that their ploy was really just a ploy, that (Y/N) was just an exceptionally good actor, that there was no way she could feel the same way about him that he was realizing he felt about her.

He tapped his foot, coming over to sit next to (Y/N) on his bed. “There’s a ball tomorrow night,” He said, not looking at her. “Mother, Father, and I are invited. Mother… asked if you would be alright remaining at home.”

“Oh,” She said, and Riddle tried not to flinch back at her tone of voice. “No, yeah, I get it. Hey, I don’t even have anything to wear. So, yeah, it’s fine.”

“It’s not,” Riddle said, his harshness even startling himself. He cleared his throat, starting again. “It’s unfair to you. I shouldn’t have dragged you all the way out here. This whole thing was a bad idea to begin with.”

“Oh,” (Y/N) said again, another fractured syllable. She stood. “Well, yeah, fine. I guess the idea of us being together is a bad idea.”

Riddle felt a jolt in his chest. “No, wait, (Y/N), that’s not what I-”

“No, I get it. Why would someone like you want to be with someone like me in the first place? You’ve got a plan all figured out, right? NRC then internships then becoming a world famous doctor. And what do I have to offer you? I can’t do magic, I don’t have any family, I definitely don’t have any money, I have no idea what I’m even going to do over the summer break. And it’s not like I fit in with your world, anyway. Not just Twisted Wonderland, but the whole life you want for yourself. It’s fine, I get it.” She stood, pacing, hot and angry tears pricking her eyes. She took a deep, rattling breath to steady herself before turning to Riddle face to face. “I won’t get in your way anymore. But I do want to say that you deserve better than how you’ve been treated. You’re not your mother. You deserve someone who sees how amazing you are by yourself, not some mold other people try to put you in. You’ve worked so hard these past few months to be a better person and I- I just hope you find someone who recognizes that.” Without another word, (Y/N) rushed out of the room. She nearly collided with Dr. Rosehearts in the hall before muttering an “excuse me” before throwing herself in her room, locking the door.

Dr. Rosehearts lifted her chin, walking the few steps forward to Riddle’s room. She didn’t bother knocking and just stepped inside. Riddle was sitting on the edge of his bed, face buried in his hands.

“I’m glad you’ve come to see reason, Riddle,” She vaguely praised. Riddle looked up at her with red rimmed eyes, checks flushed. “We’ll leave for your suit fitting in the morning. Don’t be late.”

“Yes, Mother,” Riddle mumbled. The sound of his door clicking shut ricocheted around his ears.

~~~

“I messed up,” (Y/N) said. “I really messed this whole thing up.”

It was the next day. She’d barely slept the night before, not bothering to go down to dinner last night or breakfast this morning. Eventually, she heard the front door open and close, watching Riddle and Dr. Rosehearts board a carriage to go out. She lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, and called Cater.

“I mean,” He said. “It’s not the best, that’s for sure.”

(Y/N) had called Cater after a moment of desperation, eager for someone to talk to and express her frustrations. She trusted Cater enough to know he wouldn’t immediately run off and tell everyone about the plan and would be patient enough to listen to her vent. He had also lent a sympathetic ear in the past when she had gotten overwhelmed by the strangeness of her new world and missing her old one. She could practically see him twist a lock of hair around his finger as he talked to her. “But it’s not all your fault. Riddle could have stepped in to help, you know.”

“He’s just… under a lot of pressure here,” She said. “I guess I had this idea in my head of what it would be like. But, man, do I hate his mom.”

“We all do, sweetheart.”

“I feel like I kind of abandoned him, though. But he basically disinvited me from my last night here so how am I supposed to feel?”

“Hmm. Do you know where the party is supposed to be tonight?”

“At Rose’s place, bleh.”

“Well, you could always crash it.”

(Y/N) sat up. “Crash? I can’t do that, I’ve embarrassed him enough already.”

Cater huffed in frustration. “Honestly, you’re both so blind I don’t know how you stand it.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry, I thought you said the reason you went there in the first place was to help Riddle.”

“I did - I am - but-”

“And what? You’re just going to let one bad game of croquet take that from you?”

“It wasn’t just that game, I-”

“And we both know Riddle’s blind spots. Sure, he’s been better about all that rule stuff and chilling out here at school, but being back in the middle of all his trauma is different, you know?”

“I - You know what? You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right, I usually am.”

“Riddle acts like he’s in charge all the time, I forget that we’re practically the same age. And everyone needs help, even when they’re too stubborn to admit it.”

“Yes, exactly! Stubborn is practically Riddle’s middle name!”

“Which means,” (Y/N) stood. “I’ve got to be stubborn back! If Riddle can’t ask for help then I need to be a good girlfriend and recognize he needs it and do my part!”

(Y/N) could feel Cater’s smirk in his next words. “Ooh, his girlfriend, huh? I thought you were just pretending?”

“Oh, you know what I mean. Thanks, Cater. I’ve got to go get ready. I have a party to crash!”

“I’m going to need every detail when you get back!”

(Y/N) quickly hung up, dialing another number. “Hi, Vil? It’s (Y/N). I have a really big favor to ask.”

~~~

Riddle stared into his flute of sparkling wine, watching the few remaining bubbles rise and pop. It was flat by now and he hadn’t taken a single sip. The last rays of sunlight glowed gently against the surrounding townhouses that Riddle could see out the large bay windows of the ballroom. Couples twirled together along the floor to the elegant music from a string band. A long table was precisely set with way too much food, even given the substantial size of the party. His father mingled across the room with several other gentlemen from his club, doing his best to blend into the curtains. Riddle stood dutifully next to his mother who was speaking to Rose’s mother. Rose herself hovered next to him. He floated in and out of their conversation, only picking up about every fourth word. He wore a dark red velvet coat with a tight white starched collar that he kept tugging at to keep from strangling him.

“And then,” Rose was saying. “Betty walks in with a yellow checkered parasol! Can you imagine? For an autumn leaf viewing picnic? Honestly, I’m surprised she had the nerve to stay around for as long as she did with that sort of faux pa.”

“MmHm,” Riddle replied, swirling his glass causing a few errant bubbles to meander to the surface.

“Really, the only thing that might have been more embarrassing is if she brought a chestnut tart! Oh, are you alright, Riddle?”

Riddle coughed, clearing his throat as his face turned red. “Yes, fine, just remembering something unpleasant.”

“Well, I’m not sure how you could think of anything unpleasant with me around,” She said, clutching his arm to pull him closer to her, batting her eyes. Her eyelashes were so long Riddle had a single terrifying impression of spider legs.

Riddle cleared his throat again, more uncomfortable this time. “Yes, I can’t imagine.”

Rose pouted and opened her mouth to say something else only to be interrupted by the round of gasps and murmurs that swelled from around the room. At the top of the grand staircase leading down to the ballroom, a footman was taking a dark traveling cloak from a newcomer. The cloak fell away to reveal the elaborate dress underneath it. The bodice was a rich crimson red with puffed sleeves at the shoulders, leading down to illusion sheer sleeves with tiny intricate beading twinkling down to the tight clasps at the wrists. The skirt bloomed out from the waist, layers upon layers of fabric resembling a large upside down rose. The red from the top continued down the skirt in an almost dripping effect, the rose petals turning white at the bottom as if they were being painted. The rose parted just at the knees to allow the wearer more freedom of movement, revealing sheer stockings with the same bead work.

Riddle shoved his glass into Rose’s hands, ignoring her shocked look. He strode forward, cutting through the crowd. As the new figure descended the stairs, he met her, extending his hand to take hers.

“Hi,” (Y/N) said, smiling gently at him. “I’m not too late, am I?”

“No,” Riddle breathed. “You’re here just in time.”

“Excuse me!” They both turned to see Rose and her mother coming over, frustration on Rose’s face and confusion on her mother’s.

“I’m sorry,” Rose’s mother said, eyes darting to (Y/N)’s and Riddle’s held hand. “This is a closed party.”

“She’s with me,” Riddle quickly said. He saw his mother furrow her brow and press her lips together. He continued, meeting her gaze. “This is (Y/N), my girlfriend. She’s my guest.”

There was another small round of exclamations around the room. Rose crossed her arms while her mother blinked in confusion. “Oh, well, then please, by all means, welcome.”

(Y/N) bobbed a curtsy, “Thank you.”

“Would you like to dance?” Riddle asked.

(Y/N) smiled and Riddle felt like his heart would explode. “I’d love to.” He led her to the dance floor. The band, which had paused at her entrance, started up again with a waltz.“I should warn you,” (Y/N) whispered to him as they took their place. “I have no idea how to do any of this.”

“That’s alright. Just follow my lead.”

“Riddle, I’d follow you through the Land of Ghosts and back if you asked me to.” Riddle tripped over his own feet, (Y/N) catching him in a spin and laughing.

“I like your dress,” Riddle said, trying to regain his composure. “I didn’t see it before.”

“Thanks, it’s a loner. I have friends in high places. Vil, I mean Vil.”

Spectators watched the couple in a not at all elegant dance across the floor. “Oh, Victoria,” Another socialite's mother said, coming up to her. “You must be so proud. She seems like such a lovely girl. And Riddle looks so happy!”

“Indeed,” Dr. Rosehearts replied with a steely stare at the couple. She noticed the flush on Riddle’s cheeks, his eyes closed as he laughed at something (Y/N) had said. (Y/N) took a wrong step back, bumping into another couple dancing behind them. She watched them apologize, (Y/N) saying something to the other couple that made them laugh and wave a pleasant goodbye. Dr. Rosehearts ground her teeth, nose screwing up in frustration.

The song ended and Riddle and (Y/N) exited the dance floor. They’re faces were both flushed, glowing underneath the chandelier lights. (Y/N) felt her heart flutter pleasantly as she watched Riddle, a rare genuine smile across his face, eyes crinkling at the corners. She could always tell when it was a sincere smile whenever a tiny crease appeared between his eyebrows leaning to his left eye. She wondered what it meant that she had studied his face so intently to notice that.

Dr. Rosehearts interrupted the conversations happening around her by walking away, striding with her head held high to Riddle and (Y/N). (Y/N) noticed her first, taking a side step closer to Riddle and meeting the older woman’s stare with unabashed defiance. Dr. Rosehearts ground her teeth again.

“Riddle,” Dr. Rosehearts said. Riddle jumped, just now noticing his mother’s presence. His body immediately stiffened, shoulders going back to make a conscious effort to stand straighter. “Lewis and Carol were looking for you.” She waved her hand over to the other side of the ballroom. “I thought I might have a chat with (Y/N).”

Riddle started to stutter a response before (Y/N) laid a gentle hand on his arm. “It’s okay,” She said. “Go on, I’ll catch up with you later.” Riddle looked between the two women, eyes locked in a silent battle of wills, before nodding hesitantly and going over to see his old middle school classmates.

(Y/N) plucked a glass of cider from a passing waiter. She wondered briefly what the drinking laws were here.

“Well,” Dr. Rosehearts said, clasping her hands in front of her. “You certainly know how to make an entrance to an event you weren’t invited to.”

“Oh, didn’t you hear?” (Y/N) said, swirling her glass. “I’m Riddle’s plus one. He wanted me here.”

“Yes, I suppose it is very kind of him to humor you.”

“Well, someone in your family needs to have a sense of humor, right?”

“Hmph. Riddle has a plan, you know. He can’t be distracted by frivolities.”

“You have a plan, you mean. Riddle can do whatever he wants. He’s exceedingly capable, smart, and an amazing mage.”

“Thanks to my careful tutelage.”

“Despite your ‘careful tutelage’ I’d say.”

Dr. Rosehearts eyes flared. “You know nothing about my relationship with my son. My son.”

“Oh, I know plenty.”

“And I know my son. Believe me, your relationship, or whatever you want to call this, is just some passing fancy. He’ll get over it soon and come back to me with his senses intact.”

“At least my relationship with him didn’t lead to his Overblot.”

There was a snapping sound, a shatter of glass, and a gasp from across the ballroom. Riddle whirled around. His mother stood over (Y/N), her hand raised. (Y/N) clutched her cheek, already turning red from Dr. Rosehearts’ slap.

“How dare you?” She shouted, now drawing every eye around the room. “My Riddle was perfectly fine until the moment you showed up at that school. He was obedient until you started influencing him!”

“And that’s all that matters, right? That he is obedient to you. That he does whatever you say. He’s not your doll for you to play with, he’s a living breathing amazing person you just refuse to recognize has his own thoughts and life outside of you!”

“I won’t take criticism from some magicless interloper who cavorts with fae and meddles with every aspect of a world she doesn't understand!”

“Well, that’s just the beginning of your issues, isn’t it? You’re so stuck in your own head you refuse to recognize when you’re in the wrong and actively hurting the people around you!”

Dr. Rosehearts took in a sharp inhale, raising her hand again.

“Mother!” Both women turned to see Riddle rushing over to them.

(Y/N) immediately blanched. “Riddle, I’m sorry, I-”

“Riddle!” Dr. Rosehearts cut her off, jabbing a finger at (Y/N). “Control this wretched girl!”

“I will do no such thing,” Riddle said defiantly, putting himself between his mother and (Y/N). He turned to her, lowering his voice. “Are you alright?”

(Y/N) blinked at him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?”

He gave a decisive nod and turned back to Dr. Rosehearts. “Mother, you need to apologize.”

Dr. Rosehearts gaped at him. “Me? Apologize to her?”

“You’ve been nothing but hateful since (Y/N)’s arrived. She’s our guest and someone extremely important to me. You could at least have the common courtesy to be polite.”

Dr. Rosehearts’ face was cherry red. “How dare you speak to me like this! I’m your mother!”

“And nothing she said was untrue!” Dr. Rosehearts flinched back. “All my life, all I’ve wanted was to please you, to make you proud of me. I worked so, so hard. It crushed me, it destroyed me, that I couldn’t meet your impossible expectations! And I just thought that was how the world was, set in rigid rules, and anyone who couldn’t follow every last one was a bad person. I ruined friendships, I ruined myself, I almost ruined everything when I Overblot!” Another round of gasps rang from around the room. (Y/N) slipped her hand into his, squeezing in reassurance. He squeezed back, soldiering on. “I’m not a son to you, I’m a project! I’m some doll you parade around and pose however you want without any actual care for the damage you might do! (Y/N) has shown me I can be a better person, that I can be who I actually want to be! Except I have no idea who that person is because you’ve broken me into your specific mold for so long. She’s stayed by me, my friends have stayed by me, no matter what. For the first time in my life I feel content with myself, like I can actually breathe. And you act like that’s a bad thing.” Riddle was breathing hard, hot tears starting to spill from eyes. “Well, I’m done. I’m done trying to please you. I’ll never be good enough for you. And that’s fine. I don’t want to be. Now I just want to be good enough for myself. Let’s go, (Y/N).” Still holding hands, the two swept from the ballroom, the party goers parting for them like the Red Sea.

Dr. Rosehearts’ face was red with rage, eyes darting around the room from each pitying, concerned, and judging face of the attendants to her son’s retreating back. She was breathing hard, head fuzzy, vision going blurry around the edges. Stepping forward, she slid her hairpin from her perfectly maintained bun, a magestone embedded at one end. She took a solid step forward, pointing it at Riddle. “Riddle-!”

“Victoria!” She froze at the sudden exclamation. She turned, seeing Mr. Rosehearts staring steadfastly at her. “That’s enough.”

She stopped, looking down at her hand, at her wand, at what she was about to do. She gasped, dropping the wand so it clattered against the marble flooring. The sound echoed in her ears.

~~~

It was starting to rain outside. Riddle shrugged off his jacket, holding it above the two of them to huddle beneath it.

“I don’t think we would be able to take the carriage back,” He said. “To be honest, I’m not sure if I want to go back to the townhouse anyway.”

“No problem,” (Y/N) said, pulling her phone out of an invisible pocket. “Give me a second. Hi, Hornton? It’s (Y/N).” Minutes later, a private carriage from the Lorina Hotel was pulled alongside the cafe’s outside seating where Riddle and (Y/N) had taken up temporary shelter. “Friends in high places,” She said as they climbed inside.

The two were quiet as the carriage rumbled on. They sat next to each other on the bench seats. Riddle leaned his head on (Y/N)’s shoulder as she rubbed circles in the back of his hand. They exited soon after at the hotel, a doorman holding an umbrella over their heads as they rushed inside.

At the front desk, the concierge and manager were talking in animated whispers, jolting up to paste on bright smiles as the two approached the desk. “Hello!” The manager said, a little too enthusiastically. “Checking in under Draconia?”

“Yup, that’s us,” (Y/N) said, holding Riddle close. “Two rooms, please.”

“Ah, well, of course, you see,” The manager stuttered. (Y/N) suspected they didn’t often get calls from foreign royalty as it was throwing the poor man off this game. “Unfortunately, as I mentioned to his majesty on the phone, we only have one room left available.”

“Oh. Well, if it’s a double that will work fine, too.”

The manager cringed. “It’s a single bed, Miss.”

“Ah.” (Y/N) said, head starting to spin. She tried to quickly problem solve in her head. Could she call Horton back and ask him to make reservations somewhere else? Or would that be rude? Just the thought of going back to the Rosehearts townhome made her skin crawl.

“It’s fine,” Riddle said. “We’ll take it.” The manager looked relieved as he handed over the keys. “I’ll need to make a phone call as well, to have our things brought here in the morning. Do you have anything we could use for the night?”

“Of course, sir! Please, take it with our compliments.”

They handed over two sets of monogrammed gray pajamas. A bellhop led them to the elevator, pushing the button to their floor.

“I guess you’re right,” Riddle said. “It does pay to have friends in high places.”

For some reason, that comment, along with the building stress of the night, broke the tight bundle of nerves (Y/N) had lodged in her chest. She started giggling, not being able to stop or catch her breath. Riddle soon followed, both of them almost doubled over with impractical laughter. They continued to their room, a patron from next door sticking his head out at the noise. Their laughter died down when they came into the room, both setting eyes on the single bed at the center.

“I’m going to take a shower,” (Y/N) said, pointing to the adjoining bathroom. Riddle just nodded, tearing is eyes from the bed and trying very hard to look anywhere else.

In the bathroom, (Y/N) peeled off her dress, feeling kind of bad about haphazardly throwing it over the towel rack to hang. She turned the water on to almost scalding, letting it rush over her in an attempt to beat the chill that had settled in her bones, only partially from the rain. After her shower, she changed into the provided pajamas. They were warm and soft against her skin. She hesitated before exiting the bathroom.

Riddle jumped when she came out, and she wondered if she should have knocked first. She saw he had pulled the duvet and one of the massive pillows off the bed, laying them out on the floor. “You can take the bed tonight,” He said. “I’ll sleep here.” Without waiting for her protest, Riddle went into the bathroom locking it behind him. She soon heard the sound of rushing water from the shower.

‘Well, that’s not very fair,’ She thought. She drug off the remaining blanket from the bed and the other pillow, creating her own spot on the opposite side on the floor. Riddle was the one who just had his whole world tossed around. It was only fair if he got the bed for the night. A few minutes later, Riddle left the bathroom in a cloud of steam. He was rubbing his hair with a towel. He looked confused at (Y/N) on the floor on her side of the bed.

“I’d say you can take the bed,” (Y/N) said. “But I know you’re too stubborn and chivalrous for that. So I’ll stay down here too. That way we’re even.”

“You don’t need to do that for me,” Riddle said.

“I want to.”

Riddle stared at her. (Y/N) could almost see the thoughts turning in his head. He nodded once, going over to his side of the bed and laying down on the improv sleeping mat. (Y/N) reached up and switched off the light. A soft glow from the street lamps came in through the window, the rain softly padding against the glass. (Y/N) could see Riddle through the space under the bed. He was staring straight up, hands clasped tightly against his stomach.

“Riddle-,” She started.

“I’m glad I said it. I think I’ve been wanting to say all of that for a long time now. And I don’t think I would have been able to if you weren’t there, if I didn’t know I had your support. So thank you.”

(Y/N) thought hard, turning his words over in her head. ‘Screw it,’ She thought. She got up, dragging her blanket and pillow with her. She went over to Riddle’s side of the floor/bed, dropping her stuff next to him and laying back down. She turned on her side to look at him, meeting his wide confused eyes.

“Riddle, I think I’m in love with you.” Riddle sputtered, choking on air, but now that she had started, (Y/N) knew she had to power through. “I mean, I’ve never really been in love with someone before, but I’m pretty sure that’s what this is. My feelings for you, I mean. It started off with just really admiring you. I know the beginning of the year was really tough and I can’t imagine what it was like to go through all of that. But ever since you’ve been working so hard, and I can see that, everyone can see that. You’re smart and brave and stubborn as hell, which I got to admit I kind of like. I love how I can tell when you get genuinely excited about something or that smug grin you get when you’re right about something. You’re a great house warden and a good friend. Not to mention you’re really cute. So, yeah. I just needed to say that. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, I understand. Or you don’t want to give me an answer right now. I don’t mind waiting, if it’s for you.” She laid on her back, staring at the ceiling, heart thundering in her chest. The silence of the room was only broken by the soft pitter patter of the rain.

“(Y/N)?” Riddle said softly. (Y/N) turned on her side so the two of them were facing each other again. “You know I’m not good with talking about my feelings. I still have a hard time deciphering them myself, to be honest. But one thing I’m absolutely certain about is how I feel about you. I love you. I have to admit, I had ulterior motives when I asked you to come with me for this. I thought maybe it would be some sort of test run for an actual relationship, which now, saying it out loud, I realize how awful that sounds, and I’m sorry. I love how I feel around you, like I can be the greatest person in the world. I love how kind you are, how ready to jump into action, how ready you are to help no matter what. I love how steadfast and brave you are in what must be a terrifying situation, not knowing anything about your surroundings or having the same tools as all of us to combat it. And you’ve basically taken on raising Grim by yourself which I know can’t be easy with having that extra responsibility all of a sudden on top of everything else. I know I might not be the easiest person to be around. I’m stubborn, like you said, and I can get angry easily. Obviously my family is a complete mess. But, I hope, despite everything, you can still accept me for who I am and for who I want to be.”

“Riddle, I already said I love you. Of course I accept you. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Despite how flustered it made him, Riddle wouldn’t want to be pried out of each other’s arms as they fell asleep for anything in the world.

~~~

It was sunny the next morning, the rain from the night before lending a pleasant coolness to the air. Staff from the Rosehearts’ townhouse had dropped off Riddle and (Y/N)’s packed bags that morning and the newly formed couple was getting ready to head back to their starting point for the Magic Mirror to bring them back to school. (Y/N) tried to buy some fancy chocolates from the hotel for the boys back at NRC, but the manager and staff had shoved the boxes into her hands at no charge.

“Compliments to friends of the Draconia family!” He had said.

As they got ready to head out, they heard someone call from behind them, “Riddle!”

They turned around, seeing the Rosehearts’ carriage come down the street, Mr. Rosehearts leaning out of the window, waving. He jumped out as the carriage rolled to a stop, jogging over.

(Y/N) took a step in front of Riddle. “Do you want me to deal with it?” She asked.

“No, it’s fine,” He said. “I’ll only be a minute.” Riddle left his bags with (Y/N), who watched Mr. Rosehearts’ approach with a critical eye, and walked over to meet his father. “Father. I’ll be heading back to school soon. I don’t want to be late.”

“Right, of course, I won’t take up too much of your time.” He seemed nervous, not meeting his son’s eyes. Finally, he took a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize, Riddle.”

Riddle blinked. “Apologize?”

“Yes, and it’s a long time coming. I’m afraid I haven’t been a good father to you. I saw the kind of stress your mother put you under, how controlling it could be. And I ignored it. I should have been better for you, stood up for you more. You’re my son, Riddle, and I love you. But I haven’t acted like it for a long time. I hope, one day, we can start again and you can forgive me.”

“I-” Riddle was at a loss for words. “I can’t say it will be soon, but I appreciate you saying that. I hope you can understand.”

Mr. Rosehearts smiled wide and nodded. “Yes, of course. We’ll go on your time.”

Riddle looked back at the carriage. “Is Mother here?”

Mr. Rosehearts’ face dropped, looking away and rubbing the back of his head. “No, she’s still at home. We’re actually going to… spend some time apart for the foreseeable future.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s for the best. I’ll be out at the country estate if you need anything.” He winked and whispered conspiratorially. “To be honest, I’ve always wanted to get into ornithology. I hear there’s a rare variant of the jubjub bird in the area I’ve been dying to get a look at.”

The two separated, Mr. Rosehearts to his carriage and Riddle to (Y/N). “You okay?” She asked.

“Fine. I think things might be looking up, actually.”

She bumped him with her hip. “Well, you’ve got a super cool new girlfriend now, so I sure hope so.”

Riddle chuckled, linking their arms together. They stepped back through the portal to school, confident that no matter what trials and tribulations would come next, they would face them together.

#wafflefriesfics #riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #twisted wonderland #twst #fanfic #fake dating

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yeeterthek33per · 3 months ago

Text

Meet You Maybe Never (Chapter 2)

A/n Here we go, y'all. Enjoy 😘

Part 2 of this.

Content/Warning(s): Fluff. Also terribly translated German, feel free to telepathically forehead smack me if it's wrong. Time jumps a few times but I'm hoping it makes sense.

--------------------------

Early morning runs.

Specifically, Magda's early morning runs.

Despite Pernille's disgust at the woman's early morning energy levels, she'd gotten used to the ten years of waking up to an either empty bed or a very sweaty wake-up call from a freshly run-out Magda.

So, inevitably, when she woke up this morning, she suspected it was due to the front door shutting behind a returning girlfriend.

However, the loudness was more of a startle awake than her usual slow wake to hearing something shift in the room or her girlfriend kissing her awake.

The Swede wasn't one to slam doors, in fact, she usually would chastise anyone who had, a little too enthusiastically, slammed any doors in the house.

Pernille included.

"Pernille, I know you're asleep but you need to see this."

A soft grumble into the pillow.

"Not anymore."

"It happened again!"

Grunting, she sits up sleepily, although more alert than her previous state now.

"Magda wha-"

A phone shoved into her face the moment the Swede practically launches herself into the room and onto the bed, with much more enthusiasm than should be had at seven in the morning.

"Look."

As if she hadn't gotten the hint already.

Squinting, like only a freshly woken dead person can, at the phone screen, she sees a photo of a newly painted mural come into view.

"Okay...?"

The dirty blonde woman huffs.

"Did you actually look at it?"

The Dane cracks an unimpressed brow but looks back at the phone now.

It's a familiar piece.

Or at least the work is.

It's a mural of Magda this time.

Brightly painted like it just came out of the can.

"I could have caught the Straßengänger, that's how fresh it is."

"We should check it out later, can I go back to sleep now?"

Pouting softly but returning to a standing position from where she now realises is her girlfriends lap, Magda moves towards the en suite doorway.

"Or you could get up and come save water?"

The Swede makes a come hither gesture, but the older woman just shakes her head, tucking herself happily back under the covers.

"Shower and then come cuddle and I might think about getting up in an hour."

A soft chuckle and then the door shutting is the last thing she hears before she's back to sleep, followed by a shuffle in the bedding and a now clean and dry body wrapping around her frame a little while later.

It was news, but it could wait.

At least, it could for her, but it was something playing on the Swede's mind as she attempted to relax into her partners sleeping form.

--------------------------

Life in Munich had thankfully been less hectic than when they'd first arrived.

Mostly in part due to Pernille's previous history with Germany.

That was one Magda would happily let her partner take credit for, despite stubbornly struggling with the language, she was grateful for the Dane and her heavily doting teammates.

Said doting teammates had thankfully shown her enough spots and routes around town for jogs, places to avoid during certain times of day, the whole lot.

That was something she'd listed as a must-do.

Her morning runs were crucial in her routine, despite her partners protests early on to stay in bed for a while longer.

They eventually settled for a cuddle session after showering upon return, although, it only took them a year of living together to finally come to that agreement in London.

The cool morning air in Munich felt especially crisp but better than the late winter mornings had been.

Spring was on the way and that made it all the better to be running.

That was her excuse, anyway.

She was more interested in keeping an eye out for more information or sightings of a certain street artist.

And she had nothing to worry about, because within a month and a half, another appeared, this time much more of an invigorating find.

She was first to the scene here, and nothing had been touched in terms of how fresh the paint looked.

She was almost certain if she had shown earlier, she would have met with the artist themself, again.

It seems she'd have to try a bit harder, though, because there was no sign of the masked individual that morning.

Though, that wasn't much of a surprise.

They'd been especially careful to not be caught after having been plastered over the Munich forums with a single photo of them catching onto the media within hours.

That'd been before they arrived though, and it's been months since then.

Still, they were becoming more and more intriguing the more the artist left behind murals.

It'd be less intriguing if they were just doing murals for the club, but it seems like they've taken a focus on two players and two players only.

Everything else she had come across had been entirely different, usually just simple landscapes and dig as she might, nothing else.

She hadn't been keen on getting in on the investigations to do with the Straßengänger, at least until she realised how invested she was becoming along with her partner.

As she scanned over the mural, smaller details appeared.

Only, this time, the words seemed to be a bit more targeted towards her, much like Pernille's mural was towards her.

"Determined."

"Observant"

"Radiant."

"Competitive."

And one more word in German that she has to translate.

"Analytisch"

Analytical.

After that, she steps back, takes a photo and practically sprints the rest of the way back to the apartment.

By the time she's in the door, shouting up the stairs at her most likely asleep girlfriend, she's winded herself enough to forget to even consider what half of the wording meant.

And not just on the level of it being who she is as a person.

These were on purpose.

To specifically draw their attention.

Or at least hers.

In fact it doesn't occur to her that it's anything but another mural.

At least not until she's doing warm downs later that day and it clicks in her head.

She'd spent so much time analysing the artist and asking questions, she didn't even think about the part where said artist might have connections locally that would spread word about her asking about them.

--------------------------

It takes less than a day to hear about a certain Swede's line of questioning about a certain Straßengänger.

A little bit of sleuthing yourself leads you to how much she actually knows.

It's amusing you if anything.

Hence why you left the mural the way you did.

Gave her an incentive, let her know you know.

Or that the Straßengänger knows.

Also because you had an itch, and it needed to be scratched.

You'd done Pernille enough justice, then Magda.

Only you had to come up with something because that itch was starting to come back.

Regardless, you'd let your latest piece catch it's traction first.

Inspire more of an audience, you inspire attention and support to the women's game.

That's why you're doing this in the first place.

Isn't it?

It's also why you're stuck in several back to back meetings with several media lackeys right now.

You love your job but damn, sometimes you hate it.

Not to be ungrateful, nor ignorant of the knowledge of what you signed up for.

It's just another part of life and you'd have to scratch whatever itches that come from outside of it, later.

At some point, in the umpteenth meeting for the day, you spot a certain pair wander by the window, chatting animatedly with someone you were certain would be coming in for a meeting with you now.

Then, it seems, they enter the room.

You weren't aware they were joining you but who were you to complain.

"Ah, apologies for the interruption, Director, but they were just finishing up the last of their training before they could come down."

"That's quite alright, you ladies are free to take the table whenever you wish. I'm not in any hurry, trust me."

The pair smile and enter the room, taking seats in the remaining spots at the table, while the attending media manager introduced their presence in the meeting.

"So, we have been working on this partnership for a while. I understand the nature of this kind of deal would normally be dealt with by the players' personal managers or themselves but with everything happening all at once.."

The manager then gestures to the women to speak.

It's the Swede who speaks up first.

"We were hoping for a project management approval so we could get this under way quicker and easier. Estée Lauder have contacted Pernille and myself through our managers, and would like to partner with us to get a Women's health initiative started."

The older woman nods, turning to you directly.

"Director, if we could ask for someone on your team, or perhaps if you can grant the time, since we've seen the work you do."

A small brow in question at the woman across from you.

"As in, we've seen the women's projects you've started, completed, supported. We'd love for you to be involved directly, if you were willing to spare the time of course, the women's side of the club could directly benefit from the media attention of course, but also for the club as a whole. Or perhaps, if you can't maybe someone you'd be willing to trust with working with us on this? I know it's a lot to ask as two players who have only recently joined but-"

"Yes. I will assist in this project."

"And I think- yes?"

Amused with the surprise on the pairs' faces, you hold a hand up, explaining yourself further.

"You don't need to convince me anymore, it's the perfect time actually, this could be a great, and mind the terrible wording here, kick off to our season's campaigning plan. I would love to help this initiative get started personally. Contact me directly when you want to get started."

The wide smiles on the pairs faces make the extra work worth it as they both shake your hand, thanking you.

"We appreciate this so much."

"Of course, when it's for the support of women in the world, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

Of course, it's completely true, this isn't just extra work to you.

It's a very important project that you'd take over and over if it meant the growth, support and visibility for women's health.

Smiling and nodding as they leave, you turn to your assistant, Liana.

"Liana, can you please put the Estée Lauder project on priority?"

"Of course, would you like me to put their numbers direct through to you as well?"

"Yes, thank you."

And true to your word and theirs, they call within a day, organising the information both sides will need.

"Alright, so we need to organise the time and place for you both to actually meet and settle an agreement for media duties, targeting audience, public viewership accessibility, etcetera."

"Magdalena and myself were both discussing possible days and times, with the upcoming international, we were hoping to do it before then, maybe in two weeks time?"

"Sounds good, I'll contact them on your behalf, if that's okay of course, and arrange a day between say, the twenty-second and the eighth?"

"Perfect, is there anything else we should prep before then?"

"Just your lovely selves, I'll have everything ready by then."

Nodding to the camera, you wave a small goodbye over the video call, hanging up after receiving confirmation, noting down everything they'd told you about the deal.

As you'd promised, within the following forty-eight hours, you call the representative that Pernille had supplied the number for, letting her know you were calling on behalf of the pair.

"Yes, hello, I am calling on behalf of Pernille Harder and Magdalena Eriksson. As their representative and representative of the organisation that employs them, I've been asked to organise a time and place for the negotiations of the upcoming project I've been made aware you and your organisation have been planning?"

It goes as smoothly as it could, surprising you if anything at how cordial the rep was being.

Normally you'd often have to go to bat for the players and any compensation they'd be advised to be given but they were generous and if anything, Pernille and Magda had themselves specified there was not much if anything that they wanted from this except to boost this project publicly.

They're an actively public persona and set of footballers, so really, the only thing to gain here is more support for the women's game.

The rep has zero qualms about compensating the players, but they both refuse, instead encouraging that the money be spent towards the project.

Donating their own time, and any possible pay prospects towards the future of Women's health.

If you weren't falling for the pair little by little already, now you definitely were.

And you had something to say about it.

Or rather.

Paint it.

-------------------------

It takes weeks until the launch of the progress, and videos are released. It's smooth as anything with them, like you expected.

You were constantly hearing from your crew about how easy it was to work with the pair for media days, so anything like this wasn't any different in your eyes.

They were confident, well respected, and self respected, level headed during proceedings and incredibly smart about any decisions they had to make.

In fact, you'd say you weren't even needed ninety percent of the time, the only time you really needed to speak on behalf of them to do with larger legal matters and anything to do with your place in this.

Everything else went through them.

Thus, you had time to plan your next move.

It was a set out large wall, freshly painted white and you'd managed to even get it in a larger area so you had plenty of space to work.

Your only challenge was doing it during the night.

Taking inspiration from the company involved, and from the footballers, using the colours of the Estée Lauder logo, a deep blue and whites, almost like black and white portraits, monochrome but with a deep navy instead, you painted both of their images up on the wall.

This time, using entirely words for the fill in and not just certain parts.

You knew this one would take a while, but it could be done.

After the very slow process of mapping out everything, you began going over it with a layer of black paint, slowly carving each shadow, crease line, jawline, pupil shine, each piece a small word of description.

This time, the words in each of their respective native languages.

Thankfully, you had a little help with that.

Not intentional of course, getting them to create media profiles, talking about themselves in languages their fans would understand from the national team, not just English and German.

Picking up bits and pieces, and a thankfully very helpful closed captioner sitting by your side who wrote and translated everything for the videos, and yourself, for Creative Director purposes, obviously.

Words like

"Empowered"

"Luminous"

"Inspired"

"Protective" For Magda

"Phenomenal" For Pernille.

And everything in between that you can put in.

But mostly one word that's resonated with you since they first got announced as a part of your club.

"Captivating"

That was the least you could describe them as.

As much you are an artist, you felt as close to a writer as you ever would be just creating this mural.

It was a lot of work for something that would surely stir up something amongst the community.

Inspiration?

Support?

A new sense of endearment from the locals as they fall back in love with their home team again?

Well, it's not like they ever fell out of love with them, more just needed incentive to return regular appearances at games again.

If it took hold internationally, well that's just a bonus.

It sounds like a lot of optimism coming from someone who's essentially graffiti-ing every blank white wall in the city with the faces of some people who a lot of Munich society may not even recognise, but when you've been doing this as long as you have.

Every single time one of your murals make the internet, and if you have a bit of hope that this one will make it big?

That's nobodies business but yours.

By the time you're done with the first lot of paint, you're sweating. It's a big damn wall and you aren't the most fit person you know. Hell, nearly everyone you know are either office workers or athletes.

Sure, you scale buildings, walls and nearly impossible to climb scaffolding but you damn aren't an endurance athlete.

Your grip strength may be in the high numbers but fuck being able to hang on to the same pole for a solid two hours.

That being said, the mural just needs the final touch up paint layers, little things like reinstating white shines and some shadows into the portraits.

Both faces have smiling expressions, examples of pure happiness and joy as they celebrate another win.

The best bit about working in a club like this is getting to see the players in form, on the pitch and outside of it, too.

Every moment you've gotten to witness all of the players in.

It's all come back to inspiration for your work.

You do it all for the players, for the one's who've worked as hard, if not harder than you have to get to where they are.

That's inspiration.

That's why you do what you do.

To get to witness that inspiration come to life.

So painting that into a mural is nothing if not a mere chip away at what can be shared with the world about the pure elation at seeing all of your dreams and hard work come to life.

And doing it with some of the community's most loved players also helps.

The final touch up layers come in quite nicely, taking a small break to let the other half of the paint dry before trying to paint over it.

As an artist, you don't really get to see a reveal like other people do.

Instead, the end result isn't so much of a surprise as seeing it for the first time.

You know how you want it to turn out, it's just getting it there in the first place.

You add and change little bits here and there.

Sometimes, you don't even know how its going to turn out but you still start somewhere with a general idea of where it's going.

With murals like these, there's always a game plan.

It's just easier that way.

Setting out a trace line and then going over it with the style and paint you want is how you do it.

So seeing it complete doesn't amaze you necessarily.

However, taking a step back, clearing your head and gazing over this complete mural allows you to just breathe and take it in.

It's beautiful.

And you hope the subjects take it that way, too.

Hearing a few shuffles, you tuck your mask back in a bit better, hoping no one saw you, and shove everything back into your bag hastily.

A group of adults walking by chatting and laughing makes you jump around the corner.

They don't spot you, and in the pitch dark, they don't see the mural either, only chatting away with each other.

It's in the early hours of the day that you finally make it home, again.

On your walk home, you think you spot a familiar jogging blonde across the road but don't stick around or follow to find out.

By then, you'd switched out your mask for a cap and turned inside out jacket and hiding hands in your pockets for the little flecks of paint the gloves didn't catch.

There's always some.

Your apartment isn't much farther from where you saw the blonde jogging, so when it's confirmed when all of sudden, on your way out the door for work, you see her practically sprinting home, it doesn't surprise you.

What does is the pace she's keeping.

Did she see the mural?

You didn't get much sleep if any, so you think you must be a little delusional to think she'd have found it so quickly, and then having had sprinted the whole way back again?

She's an athlete and all, but come on.

That'd be some determination.

You knew she'd been keeping an eye on the Straßengänger's next moves, but to catch on that quickly, there was no way.

But then you thought about it.

She's always been vocal about keeping a tight schedule.

Maybe they live closer than you think, and she's just on a morning run.

If that's the case, you've hit closer to home than you expected to, but it doesn't bother you so much as it does surprise you.

You'd just have to be more careful or you risk being caught, again.

Maybe being caught wouldn't be so bad if it was them.

You'd have to find out.

--------------------------

Pernille's eyes catch yours across the table, watching you listen intently as her girlfriend beside her rattles off lists of things that need doing for the campaign.

She'd spent so much time talking herself, that it took a little nudge from the Swede with a small knowing smile to let her take over for a bit.

The Dane was nothing if not determined, so taking charge of the campaign was more accidental that intentional.

Hell, they'd both been captains, they were both leaders.

That's why they worked so well together.

They both knew when to step in and when to step back and let the other do what they needed to do.

But something about this made her want to step in constantly.

So instead of interrupting Magda with possible interjections until she was sure her girlfriend wasn't already getting to those, she distracted herself minorly with just listening and observing.

Something drew her to you, though.

It was the passion with which you worked, the easy going but fiery steadfastness of your work, your ability, your personality.

The focus in you, the ability to talk your way around legalities and make it such a smooth process as you had.

At the moment, there was tactics of media advertisement that were being thrown around, things like videos and conferences.

Things like possible logos and sponsorship for the youth women's teams.

Those were something you would be handling with the clubs people as well, setting up possible sponsorships for the academy players and up and coming new players in the area looking to get into the game.

As well as charity donations, supporting women's shelters, donating to children's hospitals.

Everything under the sun thrown on to the table as an option.

And you took it all in stride, listening and giving small feedback but affirmations and assurances that you'd look into the options, see what you can negotiate with the business and what you could give as an option of advertisement for Estée Lauder themselves.

And they trusted you would do everything you could available to make those things happen for it.

She had no idea why she trusted you so much.

Especially when you were a business person.

They'd spent so much time being burned and run around by business people.

Not everyone was bad, but it didn't help that they were approached by people just looking for boosts for their company without doing anything in return.

The pair were never after money but god forbid they give something to something they choose.

So to finally have a company they trust on their side, and to have someone in their corner fighting with them.

It's the best feeling.

Especially when that person knows how to get it.

But there's something about you in particular.

There's a look behind your eyes.

One of genuine idolisation and passion for those with genuine belief and want to help build a better community and world of football for those who can't or need a little help themselves.

But also something else she recognises, she can't quite figure it out, but it's familiar and she almost feels safer knowing it's there.

It was a slow recognition that came to her mind over the past weeks working with you.

You weren't with them every minute of the work day, obviously, but once every couple of days was enough for her to find that familiarity.

One thing she notices is how much you fidget with your hands while working, while thinking.

It's a nervous habit, she slowly realises.

Picking at the skin of your cuticles.

Then she sees a small fleck of something, marker or ink or something.

And then it flecks off as you pick at it.

Ink wouldn't do that.

Paint would, though.

Before she can question it much further than necessary, though, Magda nudges her softly.

"All good?"

She looks up, realising the Swede had long finished talking and she'd just zoned out watching you fidget.

"Of course, right, just zoning a bit."

She says it in a small joking tone, both of them knowing well that she doesn't so well sitting still for so long.

You hum softly.

"That's completely understandable, as much as I am an office worker, I don't sit still too well, myself. Shall we take a small break? It's been a couple hours as is."

Magda nods in agreement.

"C'mon, we can head down to the campus cafeteria for some coffee?"

"Sure, I just have to head to the bathroom, I'll meet you down there?"

Nodding, the swede watches as the Dane exits before gesturing to the door.

"Join us?"

You smile.

"Sure."

Taking the opportunity to stretch her muscles well, the both of you wander down to the coffee stand, Magda ordering for her and Pernille, and then gestures for you to order as well.

"I'll pay for my own, it's all good."

You try to wave away the Swede but she insists.

"We've been talking your ears off all morning, the least we could do is pay for your caffeine intake to deal with it."

It's meant as a joke, but you chuckle and interject with.

"Please, I'd rather listen to you both talk all day than the work I do on a daily basis anyway."

"Oh, really, what could possibly be less interesting than us talking your ears off then?"

She nudges you, shoulder to shoulder, watching you flush a little.

"Office work, sitting all day in meetings, phone calls and constant paperwork. I've always hated sitting around like that. But that's just the half of it. I usually spend the extra time I get making promotional material and organising events for the club. As much as I'd like to focus just on the women's side of things, the board wanted me for the whole club. Creative Director and all."

You snort at the last bit.

"Not a fan of the position?"

"It's where I want to be in terms of what I can do for the club and how much I get to influence the parts I've always dreamed of being a part of but it just comes with all the bits I've always hated, too, so yes and no."

Your coffees are made and ready and by the time you've found seats, Pernille makes her way into the room, sitting in the spot on either side of you.

"Ah, babe, here."

Magda nudges the coffee towards the lighter blonde, her girlfriend thanking her, taking a sip of the coffee with a grateful sigh.

"What about the good parts, what else do you get to do for the club, I know we've read a lot, but surely there's stuff that the rest of us aren't told, am I correct?"

Sipping your coffee, you set it down again, nodding.

"It's a lot of work behind the scenes more than anything. Despite watching over a lot of the media parts, I don't see much of it myself. Only being shown the results at the end and obviously, any major parts of plans and announcements. Major brand deals, sponsorships and I get asked to do a lot of the men's organisational parts of their promotional as well, apparently they couldn't get anybody else to do it one persons job. It's a lot. But it's what I do best."

"Tell us about your favourite parts."

Pernille's the one to speak up.

"Actually, working with you, the players is my favourite part, I don't get to do it a lot, but when I do, you guys are the best people I get to work with, most of the time because you guys act like you're all human, not like the others. Not saying they aren't or that I don't get on well with them, because I do, especially my assistant and anyone I work closely with but they're just too professional, like they don't have too much of their own input to put in. I know I'm their boss, but I like hearing people talk about their own passions."

Pausing for a moment, you scratch at the back of your hand, something Pernille notes immediately.

"Actually, you guys are probably the best I've worked with so far."

"Really?"

You hum, nodding.

"You are both passionate, easy to talk with, understand what's going on and how to navigate situations like this. Dealing with legalities ninety percent of the time is left up to me and me alone, which is fair enough, not everyone has the patience, time or want to deal with it, but it's refreshing seeing both of you be able to keep up with all of this. You're both incredibly intelligent, analytical and passionate and it's a relief to work with more than anything. That's why I was so eager to accept your proposal for the project."

They both grin.

"We're glad to have made this process smoother, then."

"More than anything, you guys have made my job easier than it's ever been."

Chuckling you clink your coffee with the others and take another sip in cheers.

"What about you both?"

They both look at you confused.

"Well, since we're getting our answers from the sources, I wanna know, what drives you both, why this? I've heard it through so many third parties, I want to know why you're both so involved."

"Well considering we've both loved football our entire lives, grew up playing it, found clubs we love. The whole nine yards."

"You make it sound like you haven't done what ninety-nine percent of others have never done themselves."

"That's exactly why we do what we do, to help others who can't but deserve it more than anything to do the same, achieve their dreams, show the world what they're made of."

"Yeah, Magda's pretty much said it all, there. We do what we do because we want other's to know how much they can achieve and also helping them get there. Women most of all. In more than half the world, women were banned for fifty years from playing, which I'm sure you know, and Women's Football needs the boost."

"I love that."

You take another sip of your coffee.

"It's amazing what you both have done in and out for women as a community and for growing stars in the game, not only that but everything you both do for World Crisis', support of the people suffering from war, hunger, major issues. Especially those who struggle with sexuality and not being able to be who they are."

"We just want to help, that's something we especially love hearing back about it all, is that people are finally comfortable in their own skin."

"You're doing a damn good job, then."

You continue talking like that for a good long while, letting them both talk about everything they've done over the years.

Eventually, it quietens, and you check the time.

Glancing down at your watch, you urge them back up to the conference office once again.

"Shall we get back to work, ladies?"

--------------------------

In all of a few hours, you manage to set up a gameplan for the next two weeks of work before they have to head off to internationals, leaving you with something to do in the meantime.

A few times throughout those couple of hours, you catch Pernille watching you fidget with your hands.

You aren't totally sure why for a few minutes but then you notice it's only when you start picking at the impossible to keep off you flecks of spray paint.

It seems luck was not on your side in that moment because the moment Magda steps out of the room to go to the bathroom, she points it out.

"Much of painter?"

Freezing, you look up at the woman from your notebook.

"Pardon?"

She points to where you're yet again scratching at your hand.

"Just the paint you're picking off, you paint a lot?"

"Ah, a little, just getting into it actually. It's just something I do in my free time but damn is it messy."

"Oh, you should show us some of the stuff you do sometime."

Nodding, you take a sip of the water beside you.

You know the paint will get you caught one day, but spray paint is the glitter of the paint world.

It's impossible to keep off places you don't want it to be.

Then Magda enters the room and the conversation is over.

Thankfully, it feels like she's backed off you a bit, but you aren't confident it won't come back to bite you later.

Towards the end of it, Magda is scrolling on her phone as you type out some of the final pieces of information, ready to be sent off to the project managers on the partners end.

Noting the way she suddenly zones in on one particular post, you see with a glance her way, her liking and sharing a post about your newest work.

She doesn't seem surprised to see it, though, like it isn't new to her, the way she doesn't attempt to show Pernille even.

She definitely already saw it, as to whether she'd caught it this morning was another question.

You don't bring it up, though.

Instead, you continue typing and eventually, finish it with some wording changes at the request of the girls, and send it off.

"Annnnd we're done for the day, is there anything else we want done before you both head off to internationals? If you do have something come up later on, you're both welcome to call or message me directly and I can put it down to be done?"

They both shake their heads.

"Excellent, then I'll let you both head off, I can't imagine you aren't both sick of sitting for so long, rest up, and we'll talk later when the rep gets back to us."

Shaking both of their hands, they thank you profusely again and exit together.

Taking the moment to breathe finally, you look down at your hands, still little bits and pieces of flecked white and black paint, you groan to yourself, head falling into your hands.

"That was too fucking close, L/n. Get it together."

Luckily, they wouldn't be around to catch you any time in the next couple of weeks, you'd have plenty of time to do other stuff.

They weren't the ones you worry about catching you though, in fact, if it weren't for the face to face implications of it, you'd almost want them to know, but you can't let that happen yet.

It's the media, who'd have a field day at finding out the club's leading Creative Director is secretly a graffiti artist and the cause of the city's whispers, that you're worried about most.

You can only keep a low profile.

You've been getting cocky the past few weeks.

Now's the time to lay low.

Maybe put out a few smaller, less football focused art pieces, too.

Draw the attention away.

As much as you'd praised the attention, bring in too much of it and all of it collapses in on you.

Maybe one more mural before they go, though.

-------------------------

#woso x reader #woso imagines #woso imagine #magdalena eriksson imagines #magdalena eriksson imagine #magdalena eriksson x reader #magda eriksson imagine #magda eriksson imagines #magda eriksson x reader #fc bayern frauen x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder imagine #pernille harder imagines #magdalena eriksson x pernille harder x reader

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trueangel420 · 5 months ago

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dealer!kai ୨ৎ, fem reader, (srry) degradation, p in v , rough kai era (omg i cant with this guysforgive me) , wc 1702

You had no business being in Kai's home. You knew better, and Winter had warned you to stay away from her brother. Part of you knew not to go near him—he was a drug dealer, older than you, and surrounded by too many taboos. It made your brain hurt. You didn't want to betray Winter, so you promised. You promised not to get involved with Winter's brother.

And now, here you were sitting stiffly on his living room couch. Winter was gone for a few days, off with her girlfriend, so you thought you'd just get a free joint or two from Kai. That was it. Nothing more, nothing less. Just a smoke sesh, and then straight home.

Kai glanced at you as he grabbed what he needed, placing everything on the tray on his lap. “Relax,” he said, his eyes tracing the outline of your figure. “I don't bite.” You wished you could believe that, but you shrugged, trying not to seem so uptight. It was hard with Kai. He had an intensity about him, even when he wasn't doing anything—it drove you crazy. His thick veiny fingers began filling the cones with weed, stuffing it in gently.

You cocked your head, watching him. Lewd thoughts crossed your mind, but you pushed them away. you wish he would bite—you were actually dizzy at the thought imagine him, latching his mouth on you like it was his last meal? like…you shook your head a bit straightening up in the seat trying to shift further away from him.

This was Winter's brother, and you promised. Your eyes traced the shape of his nose as he continued, licking the wrapping paper and folding it together. Was he doing that on purpose? He had to be. “You're staring,” he pointed out, breaking your trance. You quickly avoided his eye contact—had he been watching you the whole time?

“Sorry,” you murmured shyly. God, this was pitiful. You could feel your underwear dampening, and he hadn't done anything except make you a pre-roll. Yet here you were, practically drooling over him in your mind.

“Here,” he said, lighting it for you. He brought it to his own lips first, taking a long, slow drag from the joint. The smoke swirled around him. “You don't talk much, do you?” he asked, passing the joint to you. His voice was low and smooth, sending shivers down your spine. You struggled to control yourself, feeling like a rabid dog every time you stared at him too long. Clearing your throat, you brought the joint to your lips and inhaled. “I do, it's just... I don't know, I'm uptight right now.”

He nodded, his intense gaze never leaving yours. “I can tell,” he said, his voice low. His presence was overwhelming, and you could feel the heat radiating off him as if he was reading your every thought. He moved closer, turning his body facing you. “Let me guess,” he said, his eyes narrowing as if peering into your soul. Oh no, you didn't like where this was going. You just wanted to smoke, go home, and maybe daydream about him, not have him unravel your thoughts right here.

“Be honest with me”

You looked at him for a moment, bringing the joint to your lips again. A calm, fuzzy feeling was starting to kick in, relaxing your tense muscles. “About what? I have nothing to hide…” you stammered, trying to keep your voice steady, but it faltered. You'd already said too much. He noted the way you smoked nervously, the way you coughed out the words quickly, he was savoring it like a predator savoring the fear of its prey.

“I know Winter told you to stay away from me. She told me the same thing,” he said casually, moving closer as he spoke. “And to be honest, I don't listen to Winter,” he added, now putting his arm behind your shoulders.

“You... you don't?” Your eyes were wide as he smiled at you.

“I don't, baby,” he replied, grabbing the joint back and bringing it to his lips, inhaling slowly. A smirk tugged at his lips as he watched you gawk at him, looking like a deer in headlights.

“So what does that mean?” you whispered.

He exhaled the smoke in your face, his eyes never leaving yours. “It means I want you, and I'm gonna ask if you want me too. It's a yes or no question, but if you say yes, you might like what I've been thinking about doing all night.”

You blinked slowly, processing his words. Did he mean what you thought he did? He couldn't have.

“Yes,” that simple word made him smile wider.. He was prepared for this; he put out the joint between his lips on the ashtray as he shifted up off of the couch, looking down at your wide-eyed appearance. “Shorts off,” he demanded, unbuckling his belt, waiting for you to follow his demand. Of course, you obliged, maybe faster than he expected, but you managed to shuffle them off and stand in front of him. “I always thought you were desperate for me. Guess I was right?” He cooed, and you felt your cheeks burn as he finally tugged his belt off. “was i? Answer me,” you nodded, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth. God, this was embarrassing.

“Floor, ass up, face down,” he demanded, pulling you into his chest as he slid off his sweats. “do it”

The floor was cold and hard; you could feel his fingers running down the slit of your underwear—he was savoring every moment of this. “Soaked,” he mumbled, his fingers swiping back and forth on your clothed clit. “You’ve been like this for a while, huh?” You didn’t reply; your head was fuzzy and your body was aching. “Slut,” he whispered, taking his cock out of his boxers, pressing his pink tip against you, and rubbing it up and down your sticky folds.

You were so brain dead by now; you’d let him do anything he wanted, and he planned on it. He could tell by that glazed-over look in your eyes that he could get away with as much as he wanted. “Pull them to the side for me,” he said, tugging on your underwear. You nodded frantically, pulling it to the side as your body sank further onto the floor, your face flushing and your skin tingling as he pressed his cock between the folds again, this time the warmth of it making you arch back further for him. Kai thought you never looked more beautiful; he’d never seen you so relaxed and so thoughtless. He wasn’t even in you, and you couldn’t help but whine, but he didn’t have that much restraint; he didn’t need to.

His hands snaked around your body, feeling you up, squeezing you, and playing around with your tits for a moment. He could hear you panting; the position was almost humiliating; you were on the ground, back arched with his chest pressed against you. He was so close now, his breath hitting your ear as he grunted out a sentence. “I’m not going to be gentle.”

“Wha-” You tried to get out, but he interrupted you, plunging his cock into you and not letting you adjust to his size. You practically hissed at the size of him, the feeling of him forcing your lower stomach to poke out slightly, his bulge, and he knew it; he knew how well endowed he was—that’s why he chose this position so you wouldn’t know how much you had to take, so you wouldn’t be scared. Your brain was foggy; he kept one hand gripping the fat of your ass as he pounded into you and the other tightly holding a fist full of your hair, pulling you towards him. His breaths were heavy, and he couldn’t help but stare down at you—at your body. Some days he would pray to have you like this, all disheveled—sweaty—loud. When he figured out you wanted the same, all restraint was gone.

Your eyes were closed tightly; you were too foggy, too fuzzy, and all he could do was bury himself inside of you roughly. His eyes were focused; he’d let out grunts and strangled moans. He didn’t need you to know the effect or the desperation he held for you.

“So,” He thrust harder into you, his breath deep and low. “Messy.” he continued, his bicep now resting under your neck. He had you in a headlock, still moving against you. You shuddered at the fact that you were actually letting him do anything to you; you forgot all about your promise. He was slamming into you, and you were squealing, the sensation was all too much, you started to squirm. He tightened his arm around your neck.

The sounds of your pussy squeezing around him filled the living room. “You’ll have a limp,” he groaned into your ear, speeding up, shutting his eyes momentarily—he was so close. You can only whimper at his words, the lack of oxygen making you clench around him. “You like that? the idea of limping because of me?” He tightened his bicep around your neck, silencing you completely, and your face flushed a deep shade of red. “Slut.” You felt your eyes rolling back as he spoke, still grinding deep inside you. He watched as you neared fainting, then released you, pressing your face against the cold floor. Gasping for breath, you struggled to steady yourself.

“C’mon, breathe, breathe baby,” he teased, laughing at you as he maintained his pace. He grabbed your hips, his voice dripping with faux concern. “Did I make you stupid? You look so fucked out right now,” he said, his grip tightening. you clench around him more, Letting out a pant as your body tensed, you found yourself suddenly finishing around him. The shock was so intense you couldn't even choke out a response, feeling a tingling sensation spread through your brain and stomach. “Look at my slut—fuck” his stomach tightened as he pumped into you spilling his cum inside of you letting your body collapse weakly, he stayed inside you plugging you up in hopes—you’d get pregnant.

#when ur plug a little weird but it’s okay #evan peters #kai anderson #ahs cult #kai anderson smut #kai anderson x you #kai anderson x reader #kai anderson imagine #tate langdon #james patrick march #dealer!kai #evan peters smut #smut #austin sommers #kit walker #jimmy darling #i had a dream about it last night

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littleplantfreak · 6 months ago

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Down to my level

Headcanons Ft. Umemiya Hajime, and Togame Jo

These guys are 6'2 and I think 6'1 respectively so have some writing about being shorter than them cause I'm 5'7ish and wanna climb them like a tree literally. Some ended up not being about height because i got off track thinking about Ume's arms //shrugs

Umemiya Hajime

Loves ruffling hair and he thinks it's endearing when you try to do it yourself to him. Catch him while hes squatting in the garden for perfect ruffling opportunities. (maybe a smooch or two as well)

He will seat you on things when he's kissing you so he doesn't get a cramp in his neck, or better yet just wrap your legs around his waist and he'll hold you up. Give those big arms of his a workout, he'll be more than happy to hold you.

Can't help but grab things for you if they're too high. If you have a problem with that he makes sure to have a step stool. (Just stop putting things so high? Nah he thinks it's cute when you're on your tip toes)

King of carrying - once again he is a big guy so he can do princess carries, piggybacks, fireman's carry, you name it. He's even tried carrying you under his arm like a football though it's not the cutest carry to be in.

He's easy to pick out in a crowd even if he didn't have white hair so you don't really have to worry about losing him.

Blocks out the sun really well or if you're hiding from someone you can basically disappear behind him.

His height also helps in games of chicken fights when you're in the pool or at the beach. Sturdy af AND tall? Y'all are unstoppable no matter how short you are.

"How's the weather up there?"

"Oh! Wanna find out?" Before you can answer he's wiping his hands off and scooping you up effortlessly, arms looped around your waist. Hands resting on his shoulders, you're a few inches taller than him like this. "What do you think?"

"Crystal clear skies...approximately 76 degrees fahrenheit and," you lick the tip of your pointer finger, sticking it out, "wind is blowing from the west. Not to mention the scenery up here is so much prettier than down there." He puffs out a laugh when you gaze at him a little lovestruck as you say the last part.

"You think I'm pretty?" he whispers, looking up at you for once.

"Illegally so." Your answer is so serious it's got his heartbeat taking off and he couldn't fight the smile if he tried.

"Y'know my normal weather man told me the exact same thing this morning!"

"So he's my competition?" You huff and giving him a pat on the arm signalling for him to put you down. Instead, he lowers you just enough so you're eye level with him, noses brushing lightly. Being this close you can smell the dirt from his gardening and the lingering of his minty shampoo from earlier this morning.

"You win every time sweetheart."

Togame Jo

Uses his height for good - usually. Kisses the top of you're head when you aren't paying attention to him.

If you're a brat he'll hold something you want just high enough for you to start jumping for it (thats the evil). He's impossible to knock down or and weighing his arm down to grab it doesnt work either. If Choji's around you can enlist his help in getting it since his jumps are always impressive. He accepts payment in candy though.

Also a carrier. He likes piggybacking you places the best. Especially in the winter cause you're extra toasty.

He's good at typing hair up and can help whenever you have a bad hair day. He's got a full view so he'll fix it as soon as its messed up.

loves being dragged down by his shirt to be kissed. He wears that gi sometimes though I don't know if thats the correct name for what he wears. In jiu jitsu its really solid and tough near the neck areas so you can pull and maneuver you're partner around? In any case when I see him wearing it I just wanna cross collar grip it and drag him on the floor (lovingly I swear) (I think its a gi?? I know he wears monks clothes so they might just be really similar)

You are not in a good mood. Togame's holding the last strawberry ramune over your head with a small frown and refuses to give it back. If anything you should be the one frowning. Sure you snapped at him because you were a bit grumpy, and it wasn't even his fault but you're tired, it's raining, and thats the last strawberry ramune.

"All ya gotta say is 'sorry' doll. I'll even open it for you if you want." he drawls slow as ever.

"I can get it," the words are punctuated by small hops and desperate grabs at air. You're even more winded than before and Togame's just deciding whether he should give in when Choji rounds the corner. A small gasp as a light bulb goes off in your head seeing Shishitoren's leader. "Choji I CHOOSE YOU!" You yell, pointing straight at the drink being held hostage. He moves before any thought can cross his mind as he makes a high jump between the you and Togame, successfully grabbing your prize. As he's handing you the ramune, you root around your hoodie pocket for the last few candies and trade him.

"Nice doing business with you! That wasn't very nice though Kame-chan" Choji chirps and waves before being lured away by the sounds of the other members laughing and talking about going out for karaoke.

There's a moment of quiet before you peek to the side to stare at your boyfriend. You realize you haven't been nice either and bite the bullet. Roll the ramune over in your hands, you look down at your feet.

"I'm sorry I've been grumpy at you. Think I'm just tired. 's no excuse but-" The drink is gone, being popped open by deft hands before Togame gives it back with a silent nod.

"There's a couch in one of the rooms down the hall. Want me to carry you?"

"You gonna lay with me?"

"That's the plan, yeah." Whether it's from the weather or from fighting with you, you can tell he's tired too.

"Good. And yes please." Your voice is soft as you reach up, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

"There's my sweet girl," he grunts, hoisting you up in a princess carry and making his way to one of the back rooms further from the noise of the other boys in the theater.

#wind breaker #wind breaker headcanons #umemiya hajime x reader #togame jo x reader #still not great at writing for togame but i try #im just a sucker for being carried

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hungermakesmonsters · 22 days ago

Text

Devotion & Desire

Chapter Eight

Plot summary : When you, a lone omega, move in across the hall from alpha Bucky Barnes, he knows that his life is about to get a lot more complicated, but he has no idea just how much you’re going to turn his life upside down. You’re both devoted to fixing your past mistakes, but will desire for something more get the better of you?

Pairing : Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Story Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Angst and smut (but it's not angsty smut). All chapters will contain the usual omegaverse and A/B/O tropes, and explicit smut. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 7.9k

A/N : 😭😭 This is the last chapter which is why it's so freaking long (I probably should have turned it into two chapters but nevermind). I hope you love it.

MASTER LIST

Chapter Eight

You didn’t sleep.

Despite knowing that, for the first time in years, you were finally safe, you didn’t sleep.

Every time you closed your eyes you saw him, you felt his teeth on your neck and his hands on your body.

Every time you closed your eyes you felt helpless and alone.

So, instead of sleeping, you dug out your sketch pad and started to draw. It was a mindless task to begin with, your hand seeming to move of its own accord, drawing the same thing you’d drawn countless times before; the Winter Soldier.

It had started as a way to remember, a way to get the violent images of your brother’s murder out of your head but, now, the man you were sketching wasn’t the cold, mechanical assassin who tortured your brother without blinking. He was Bucky. With soft blue eyes, filled with care and sadness. And, now, you needed to get him out of your head for very different reasons.

The hours blurred until, finally, you fell asleep at the table, pencil dropping from your hand.

A few hours later you were woken by the sound of a door closing and you crept to your peephole just in time to see Bucky leaving his apartment.

Your heart almost stopped as he paused and stared directly at your door as if he knew you were there. Then you saw him inhale through his nose like he was trying to find your scent. Only it wasn't there, with your gland gone, your scent was too weak to linger, and that thought made your chest hurt.

A moment later, he was gone.

For the first day you remained hidden away in your apartment but you knew you couldn't survive like that. You were still owed a fortnight's worth of wages from Gracie’s and you knew that you would need the money if you were going to find a new place to live.

The second day, you managed to slip out of the building unnoticed and get to Gracie’s without being recognised, and lingered outside in the cold for five long minutes, working up the nerve to step inside.

The moment Gracie saw you, her arms were around you and she was babbling about how worried she'd been and how the handsome alpha who used to walk you to work had told her you'd been hurt. Bucky. Bucky had been in to tell her that you were hurt - who else had he told?

You kept your hood up, covering your neck and most of the bandaging. She barely let you get a word in edgeways and, even though you knew it should have been heart-warming that she cared so much, all you felt was numbness knowing that you'd deceived her.

“I just need my last paycheck,” you finally managed to tell her.

“I'll get it for you and don't you worry you can come back to work whenever you're feeling up to it.”

“Back? No, I - I'm not coming back,” you said, confused and feeling worse than ever.

“I know it probably feels like that now, but you'll start to feel like yourself again in no time.”

You stood dumbfounded, not wanting to argue, not wanting to tell her that this was you and there was no going back to the person you'd been pretending to be. Gracie had always been so sweet and kind to you that you didn’t have the heart to ruin things between you.

With your paycheck she gave you an apple pie, commenting on how you looked like you hadn't been eating. You tried to refuse, then tried to offer to pay, but Gracie wouldn’t have it. She ushered you out the door, telling you to head home before the weather turned.

Unfortunately, you could have done with that warning sooner, as the skies seemed to open the moment you were halfway home. Cold rain quickly soaked through your clothes and threatened to soak through the pie box too.

And that wasn’t even close to the end of your bad luck.

“Mouse!”

You heard the call just as the elevator doors were closing and, for a brief and wonderful moment, you thought that you’d get away, but a hand slipped between the doors before they could close.

Nikki stepped into the elevator and you found yourself shrinking back.

“Didn’t you hear me?” She asked.

“I -” you didn’t know what to say so you stopped talking and just let out a sigh.

There was a moment of silence and you didn’t even notice that Nikki didn’t hit the button for her floor.

“Bucky told us what happened,” she said.

“Okay,” was all you could think to answer with.

Again, you felt like you had at Gracie’s; like the moment was happening to someone else and you were just watching it unfold, knowing that there was nothing you could really do to change the predetermined outcome.

“You lied to us.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” She asked.

The elevator dinged, the doors slid open and you started to move towards your door, completely on autopilot. Nikki followed after, not saying another word. And, as you stepped into your apartment, you left the door open so she could follow.

Kicking off your wet shoes, you made your way to the kitchen to put the pie box down before shrugging out of your wet hoodie, letting it drop to the floor. You didn’t realise your mistake until you heard Nikki inhale sharply at the bandaging around your neck.

“What happened?” She asked.

“I thought Bucky told you.”

“He said you’d been hurt, but he didn’t know how bad it was.”

You almost shrank back as she closed the distance to look at you, and you saw her face drop as she took in the sight of you.

“It's fine,” you muttered, shivering.

“Nothing about any of this is fine,” she said, ducking her head a little as she tried to get a better look at the bandaging.

You sighed knowing that she was right, but also knowing that it didn't matter anymore.

“What do you want, Nikki?”

“I wanted to see if you were alright, which clearly you're not.”

For the first time since you’d met her, you heard anger in her voice; anger that was directed at you. Your stomach knotted as you were, once again, stuck confronting the life you could have had if you hadn’t gone after Bucky.

“Does it matter anymore?” You asked, not bothering to hold back a tired, resigned sigh.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Bucky told you that I lied about everything, so why do you even care if I'm alright?”

“Because you're my friend.” She said friend, but the tone of her voice didn’t exactly carry the warmth of friendship.

“I'm not though, am I? You don’t even know me.”

“So you’re telling me that it was all lies? Every single second?”

Were you? Some part of you wanted to say yes, to act like you hadn’t enjoyed her and Jade’s company, that you’d just used the pair of them. But you couldn’t. It wasn’t true. It hadn’t all been an act, you did like them, and you regretted ever lying to them.

“No, but -” you took an awkward, shuddered breath, trembling from the cold of your damp clothes, “- I’m not that person. I’m not just some weak, dumb omega.”

“I never thought you were weak or dumb,” she countered, sounding genuinely offended. “None of us ever thought that.”

You could have had this, they would have accepted you. The thought comes to you unbidden and unwanted, and it’s enough to have you turning away from her, bracing yourself on the kitchen counter.

“Is that really what you thought?” Nikki continued. “That we only wanted you around because we thought you were some silly little omega who couldn’t look after herself?”

“That’s all anyone ever sees,” you answered back, tone turning sharp. “Poor little omega who needs to be protected because she can’t take care of herself, silly little omega who just needs an alpha, dumb little omega who -”

“Shut up. You’re the only one here who thinks any of that shit.”

“No, I’m not. Bucky thinks it,” you said softly, keeping your back to her. “He only sees me as an omega.”

“You’re wrong,” Nikki said, continuing when you let out a huff of disbelief. “You haven’t even seen him since you got back, have you?”

“No, why would I?”

“He’s a mess because of you, because of what happened to you. He cares about you.”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t matter anymore either.”

“How can you say that, after everything he’s done to try and help you?”

The anger had been slowly building, but now it seemed like it had reached a boiling point. Nikki was pissed and some part of you felt like maybe you’d been deliberately trying to rile her so she’d lose her temper and leave. But instead of leaving, she was standing her ground, trying to convince you that you were wrong.

“Because it doesn’t matter anymore,” you said again, finally turning back to face her, letting her get a good look at you, at how broken you were. “Even if I wanted to be what he wants me to be, I can’t. The man who took me, he...” tears seemed to come from nowhere, your voice breaking despite your best efforts to stay in control. “They had to remove my gland, I - I can’t even... I can’t...”

You started to turn away again, not wanting to face her until you had your emotions in check again, but before you could, Nikki’s arms were around you, pulling you into a tight hug.

“It’s okay,” she said softly.

“It’s not - it’s not. He broke me and I - I fucked everything up. Bucky just wanted an omega and I can’t even be that any more. I’m... I’m nothing now,” you sobbed.

It all started to come out, the upset and the trauma, the part of you that couldn’t come to terms with what had been done to you.

“You’re not nothing,” Nikki told you firmly. “You’re my friend.”

It didn’t matter, the words barely even sank in. You were lost to your spiralling thoughts but, after a few minutes, you managed to pull away from her.

“I’m - I’m fine,” you said, awkwardly scrubbing at your cheeks with your sleeve, doing your best to pretend your little outburst hadn’t just happened. “You should... you should go.”

“No,” was Nikki’s answer. Straight to the point. “I’m not leaving until I’ve gotten some answers.”

For a few seconds you just stared at her, wanting to argue but too exhausted to even get the first word out.

“Go sit down before you fall down,” Nikki ordered. “I’ll make a pot of coffee.”

You did as you were told, going along with it simply because it seemed easier than arguing. From your seat, you watched her moving around your kitchen as she had done so many times before. You were so tired that you didn’t even think to clear the table as she sat down and pushed a mug towards you.

“What’s this?” She asked, reaching for the stack of sketches you’d left on the table before you could stop her.

You felt your cheeks start to warm as she looked over the first few pages; some newer ones of Bucky, and some older of the Winter Soldier the night he killed your brother. For a few seconds you felt frozen before awkwardly trying to claw the sketches back.

“It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” Nikki countered, her expression somewhere between a smirk and worry.

“You said Bucky told you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m starting to think maybe he didn’t tell me everything. So, why don’t you start from the start?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re adamant that I shouldn’t think of you as my friend anymore, and I want to know exactly why,” she answered with a shrug.

For a moment you looked down at the drink she’d placed in front of you, your cold hands wrapping around the mug as you let out a heavy sigh.

“Fifteen years ago, the Winter Soldier killed my brother...”

You started from the start, telling her about your brother’s murder and how your quest for revenge had landed you with Rumlow, before explaining how you’d tracked Bucky down after the blip and concocted a plan to get close enough to kill him.

Then, in less detail, you explained the last couple of weeks, and how Bucky had cared for you during your heat. Nikki stayed silent, letting you explain it, right up to the hospital, then you just trailed off into a shrug.

“You didn’t let him see you?” She asked.

You shook your head and, instead of answering, you lifted your mug and took a drink. You’d been speaking for so long that your coffee was almost cold.

“Why not?” She asked.

“I don’t want him to see me like this, I don’t -” you hesitated for a second as you voice broke and your eyes threatened fresh tears, “- it’s just too much. Everything’s changed and there’s no way to fix it.”

“You’re not the only one who’s hurting,” Nikki said softly. “No matter what you think it’s pretty fucking obvious that he cares about you. And you -” she waved at the stack of sketches, “- you’ve clearly got unfinished business with him.”

And then, without warning, before you could even think to say anything, she was getting to her feet.

“Nothing you told me has changed anything,” she said decidedly, “we’re still friends.”

Speechless, you could only watch as she started to head towards the door. You didn’t know if she had somewhere to be or if she’d realised you desperately wanted to be alone - whatever it was, you were glad she was leaving.

“But,” she started again as she reached the door, glancing back at you over her shoulder, “as your friend, I think you owe it to yourself to talk to Bucky.”

She left before you could protest, before you could even tell her that you were planning on leaving and that it really didn’t matter anymore. You were left more confused than ever, not understanding how she could just shrug off everything that you’d done and declare that you were still her friend.

Didn’t you get a say? Didn’t you get to decide how she - how anyone - saw you?

(No. No, of course you didn’t. All this time you’d been trying so hard to control other people’s perception of you, but you were starting to realise that it was impossible.)

You spent the rest of the day in your apartment, looking for new places to live that you could actually afford (there was nothing). You ate some of the pie that Gracie had given you and, in the evening, you ended up at the table again with a pencil in hand.

You just wanted him out of your head; you wanted to forget the softness in his eyes before he’d kissed you that last time, and you wanted to forget how that softness had been replaced by fear and worry the last time you’d seen him as he’d been handing you off to paramedics. You’d always felt empty, but never like this before.

Again, you woke up slumped over a half-finished sketch, a half-hearted attempt to capture his smile on paper. Looking at it in the cold light of day, you weren’t happy with it. It seemed flat and dull, and it didn’t fill your stomach with butterflies the way his rare, happy smiles did.

A hot shower and a change of clothes had you feeling... well, not entirely human but functional at least. Washing around the bandages was a nightmare that had you choking back tears. It was almost funny how you could force away the thoughts of what had been done to you, only to find yourself retraumatised the moment you saw the bandages or moved your neck in such a way that it caused you pain.

The next issue to overcome was your kitchen. You’d never been one for stocking up and, what little you had had in the fridge had gone bad in the weeks that you’d been away, leaving you with nothing but the last of the apple pie to eat and, as much as you liked Gracie’s apple pie, even you knew that you couldn’t survive on it

So, again, you decided that you’d brave the outside world.

You pulled your hood up and slipped out into the hallway but, as you went to lock the door, the keys slipped from your fingers. As you leaned down to pick them up, you heard Bucky’s door open and you froze, caught between thoughts of diving back into your apartment and fleeing down the hallway.

Indecision saw you doing neither and, instead, you picked up your keys and remained awkwardly frozen. You didn’t turn to look or lift your head, you just stood there.

“They let you out of the hospital,” he said, though there was an unspoken question behind his words; why didn’t you tell me?

You let out a soft sigh. “No, I - I checked myself out.”

“You checked yourself out?” He repeated, almost sounding worried. “Are you - are you okay?”

The shrug you gave was lost somewhere beneath the oversized hoodie. It was pointless to get into it and you were certain he wouldn’t understand. You’d never be alright again,

“Can we just -” he started again, an awkwardness filling his tone, “- can we talk?”

What was there to talk about? What was left? Still, you didn’t look at him.

Oh.

“I’m not going to try to kill you again if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Of course that was it. Of course that was all he cared about.

Not waiting for his answer, for his relief, you started to walk away from him, feeling like you’d said all that needed to be said to him.

“Wait, that’s not -” he sighed, following after you, his hand finding your wrist and stopping you in your tracks, “- that’s not what this is about. You know that’s not what this is about, don’t you?”

His hand gave a tug on your wrist and, before you could think better of it, you obliged him and turned back towards him, still keeping your head down and your face obscured by the hood.

“Then what, Bucky?” You asked, not sure you wanted him to answer. “What happened was - you said it yourself, it was just biology. I’m an omega, you’re an alpha. Neither of us were thinking straight.”

“I was. And I think you were too, at least for the moments that count.”

You shook your head and took a step back, pulling away from his grasp.

You knew what he was talking about, all those little moments when you’d let your guard down; the night you’d slept in his arms on the floor, the time you’d fallen asleep with your head on his lap as he talked you through the pain, and the way you’d fucked him that final time, offering yourself to him.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” you answered back bitterly, knowing he wouldn’t want you if he knew about your injuries.

What alpha in their right mind would want an omega that couldn’t be claimed or mated?

“What are you talking about? Of course it still matters, it’s -”

“He ruined me, Bucky,” you interrupted. “They had to remove my mating gland. Now, I - I can’t even...”

Your voice broke and you forced yourself to stop, unwilling to cry in front of him, unwilling to show any more weakness.

While you’d never liked being an omega, never liked feeling like your only purpose in life was to be mated to some alpha, now you felt like only half a person. You weren’t even an omega anymore, you were something less than that. If you couldn’t be mated, you’d never be loved.

Three weeks ago that wouldn’t have bothered you but, since coming to terms with your brother’s death, you suddenly felt like your life was empty and there was nothing left for you.

“Let me see,” he asked softly.

You shook your head but made no effort to stop him as he stepped closer, and you didn’t pull away as his hand slowly pushed your hood down. You looked off to the side, refusing to make eye contact as his fingers ghosted over the bandaging. When you still refused to look at him, his hand cupped your cheek and he silently urged you to face him.

“This doesn’t change anything,” he told you with a certainty you hadn’t expected.

“Of course it does,” you said, taking a step back, out of his grasp again, acutely feeling the warm touch of his hand on your cheek. “I can’t even pretend to be a good little omega for you like this.”

Realisation hit him like a ton of bricks, almost flooring him. Those three little words that he’d let slip in the heat of the moment, exposing what he wanted, what he wanted you to be for him - not you as you were, but a good little omega.

His mouth opened but, for a few seconds, no words came out.

“That’s why you ran? Because I said that?”

It didn’t matter how he meant for it to sound, you only heard it the way you wanted to hear it; he thought you were stupid, he thought it was your fault for running off and getting yourself caught by Rumlow. You only had yourself to blame for not wanting to be a good little omega.

You turned and started walking away, feeling sick to your stomach.

“Stop, c’mon, just talk to me. Please,” he pleaded, following after you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve said it. I didn’t mean it like -”

“I’m not what you want, Bucky,” you said as you hit the elevator call button. “I wouldn’t play the good little omega for you even if I could.”

“Good,” he said, moving to stand in front of you, between you and the elevator doors, desperately trying to get you to look at him. “I don’t want an omega, I want you. The rest doesn’t matter.”

“What about biology?”

After all, that was what had started all of this, wasn’t it? If it hadn’t been for your heat the two of you would never have started getting close. And, now, you couldn’t satisfy his biological desires to mate and claim.

“Fuck biology. I’m not exactly a regular alpha, am I?” He answered back before repeating; “this doesn’t change anything.”

“It changes everything for me, Bucky,” you tried to explain. “I’ll never belong, I’ll never be loved, I’ll -”

“I love you,” he admitted clumsily and, suddenly, you felt like you were suffocating.

You took a step back, shaking your head, the emptiness inside you feeling like it was growing bigger, turning into a gaping chasm beneath your ribs.

“Don’t say that! Don’t lie to me!” You said, your voice cracking and breaking under the strain of it all.

“I don’t need to put a mark on your neck to know that I love you,” he carried on. “I don’t need you to belong to me, I want you to want to be with me.”

“Stop it! Stop saying that. You don’t love me. You can’t.”

Before he could answer, the elevator doors slid open and you quickly pushed past him, trying to get away. But Bucky followed after you, not willing to let you walk away.

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” he said, almost snapping. There was an anger in his tone that you hadn’t really heard before. “I’ve spent enough of my life being told how to think and feel, and I’ll be damned if I go back to that.”

“You don’t love me, Bucky. How could you? You don’t even know me,” you replied, hitting the button for the ground floor, far harder than necessary. “It’s not love, it’s some dumb alpha urge to claim an omega, and you can’t. No one can. Brock saw to that.”

“Will you just fucking listen to me? I don’t care about claiming you. I care about you,” he answered back without hesitation. “What are you so afraid of that you won’t even hear me out?”

Something inside of you snapped at those words and, before you could think about what you were doing, you were shoving him, your open hands slamming against his chest, barely moving him. Again and again, as hard as you could and, when he still didn’t move, you balled your fists and started to bring them down against him.

You weren’t afraid.

You weren’t weak.

You weren’t that scared little omega who hid away while her brother was being murdered.

You weren’t the pathetic little omega that Brock Rumlow had kept for all those years.

You weren’t the weak and tired little omega who couldn’t stop him from tearing your gland.

And you weren’t the sad little omega who’d cried because Bucky had left her to get breakfast.

You weren’t those things anymore. You couldn’t be that person anymore.

“I’m not afraid! I’m not afraid of anything!” You screamed as you hit him. “I’m not some scared little omega who needs protecting. I’m not -”

His arms closed around you, pulling you close, stopping your assault on him.

A sob clawed its way from your throat as you tried to escape his hold, but Bucky just held you tighter. Everything started to come out. You just couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“I know,” he said softly, “I know you’re not. You’re the bravest person I know, and I’m so sorry that I fucked up. You’ve always been so much more than an omega to me. I only said it because I thought that was what you wanted; I thought you just wanted an alpha. When you asked me if it was just about biology, I should have been honest. It was never about biology for me.”

And, just like that, he managed to turn everything you’d believed on its head.

You had thought that you were nothing more than an omega to him and, all the while, he’d thought he was nothing more than an alpha being used to help you through your heat. How had you both gotten it so wrong? You managed to look up, at him, at the pained look on his face and all you wanted was to understand.

But it was too late.

You knew that you couldn’t handle the pain of almost having him and losing him again, not now, not after everything that you’d been through.

“Mouse, I -”

He didn’t get a chance to finish.

The elevator doors slid open and you squirmed from his grasp, heading for the door and out onto the street, pulling your hood up as you went. You didn’t even stop as almost knocked over Nikki and Jade on their way into the building, and you certainly didn’t stop when you heard voices calling after you.

You lost yourself for hours, wandering through New York, ducking into the busy crowds of the city, losing yourself in the noise and the bustle - anything not to think about what had happened and what Bucky had told you.

It felt cruel. It felt needlessly nasty for him to tell you that he loved you now that you couldn’t ever really be with him.

But, on the other hand, there was something else, something hopefully that you didn’t dare think about.

What if he really could love you as you were; unclaimable, unmateable?

It was dark when you returned home, exhausted and without the food that you’d originally left to get. You slipped into your apartment and wanted nothing more than to fall into your warm bed and sleep until all of your problems went away.

So, of course, you should have known that wasn’t how the evening was going to go.

The knock on the door came about fifteen minutes after you got in. At first you tried to ignore it but whoever it was wouldn’t stop.

Finally, you checked the peephole and saw Nikki and Jade standing in the hallway, not looking like they were planning on leaving before seeing you.

“Go away,” you muttered loud enough for them to hear.

“Not happening,” Jade answered. “Open up, we’ve got Thai food.”

“I don’t want -” you started only to find yourself interrupted by Nikki.

“You can either open up, or we can spend the rest of the night out here banging on the door, mouse.”

You knew that they would. You knew that you wouldn’t get a moment of peace until the pair of them got what they wanted.

With a sigh, you unlocked the door and slowly started to open it. That little gesture was more than enough to have the pair of them barging into your apartment before you could even think about reconsidering.

The moment you were hit by the smell of Thai food, your stomach let out an uncomfortable grumble.

As you closed the door, they made their way to your kitchen, grabbing plates and cutlery, before moving to the table and starting to set out the food. And you just watched, knowing there was nothing you could possibly say or do to stop them. You didn’t even flinch when Jade started to stack your sketches, taking a moment to look at them.

“You were right, these are really good,” she said to Nikki, and your cheeks instantly started to warm. “Have you shown them to Bucky?”

Your head shook and your gaze dropped, not wanting to think about the alpha across the hall or his declarations of love.

You were beckoned to the table and you took a seat as your favourite Thai dish was placed in front of you, along with a glass of wine.

“Not that this doesn’t look great but... why are you doing this?” You finally asked.

“Because you’re our friend and I saw how empty your cupboards were yesterday,” Nikki shrugged, tucking into her own meal. “You’ve been through a lot and we wanted to make sure you’re looking after yourself.”

“And you looked upset earlier,” Jade added softly.

“And that,” Nikki agreed. “So, are you gonna tell us what happened, or should we ask Bucky?”

With a sigh, you slumped back on your chair, not even managing to take a single bite of food before the conversation shifted to that awkward place. They were Bucky’s friends, you had to remind yourself, of course they were worried about him.

(But, clearly they were your friends too, otherwise they wouldn’t have brought you your favourite food, right? Could it really be possible that they wanted the best for you and Bucky?)

“He told me he loves me,” you confessed, voice quiet, feeling uncertain about saying it aloud as if you were scared it would sound completely ridiculous coming from your mouth.

“And what did you say?” Nikki prompted.

You stalled by reaching for your wine glass and taking a long drink, but they waited, neither of them saying a thing.

“I told him that he couldn’t love me, I’m not -”

“That is such bullshit.”

“Nikki,” Jade said, chastising her girlfriend for her tone, but Nikki didn’t seem to care.

“Of course he loves you. Look at everything he’s been through for you,” Nikki said. “If you don’t love him, that’s fine, that’s your choice, but you don’t get to dictate how he feels about you.”

She was right.

You hated that she was right, hated that it reminded you of what he’d said about people telling him how to think and feel. You were no better than the people who’d hurt him.

“I can’t be what he wants me to be,” you tried again, not really sure who you were trying to convince anymore.

“What does he want you to be?” Jade asked.

“What did he ask you to be?” Nikki added, almost as if she could sense you were going to answer with what you thought rather than what Bucky had told you himself.

“Me,” you answered, your voice turning quieter still. “He said he just wanted me to be me.”

Your stomach hurt and it wasn’t the hunger pangs causing it.

Bucky wanted you.

He was the first person to ever want you.

He wanted you even now with your gland gone.

He wanted you, even though you had nothing to offer him.

It was never about you being an omega or him being an alpha. He saw you as a person and he’d let you see him as one too. And, for that, you’d tried to push him away.

A tear rolled down your cheek and, instead of continuing the conversation, you reached for your fork and started to eat.

Nikki and Jade stayed silent, letting you process everything, letting you reach your own conclusions in your own time. You didn’t look at them, but you could feel their gazes wandering to you every now and then as they ate. There wasn’t much to say after that though, for the rest of the meal, you found yourself thinking over every little moment you’d shared with Bucky, re-examining it under a new lens.

He’d brought you your favourite cereal.

He’d held you under the freezing cold water of the shower to help with your fever.

He’d always let you decide what you wanted from him, he’d never once tried to push or tried to convince you, and he’d only ever kissed you when you let him.

He’d trusted you enough to tell you about his time with Hydra.

If he’d wanted an omega, he could have claimed you the last time you’d had sex. You’d offered him your neck, your gland, and if he hadn’t said those three little words, you would have let him claim you.

When the conversation started up again, it was muted and you only half listened as Jade and Nikki spoke, clearing up the mess before letting themselves out. Nikki lingered in the doorway, telling you she’d be back tomorrow and all you could offer in response was a nod.

Already, you were starting to understand that there was no getting rid of her and, now you’d had a chance to think about it, you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to be alone anymore.

You were left with your thoughts and you kept circling back to the same thing. Bucky.

A few hours had passed since Nikki and Jade left when you found yourself slipping out of your apartment and into the hallway, eyes fixed on Bucky’s front door.

His scent lingered outside his door, stronger than you remembered it ever being. You found yourself closing your eyes and breathing it in, remembering what it was like to be wrapped up in his arms, face pressed against his neck, basking in his scent.

Before you could second guess or change your mind, you stepped forwards, knocking on his door.

Ten seconds passed - long enough for you to take a step back, to start to think you might be making a mistake. But then the door opened.

Your eyes went wide when you saw him, wearing nothing but his boxers, his skin flush. He took one look at you and, suddenly, you felt breathless, smothered by his scent and inexorably drawn to him. Shit, you realised entirely too late, his rut had hit.

“What?” He asked.

You could see his knuckles turning white where he gripped the door, anchoring himself in place, like he didn’t trust himself not to reach for you.

“I just - I -” you started and stopped, struggling to find the words. “I wanted to say I was sorry.”

“For what?”

And that was the million dollar question, wasn’t it?

“Everything. What I said earlier, how I’ve been acting, I -” you shook your head. A moment later, you noticed the way his chest was rising and falling and you knew that it was a stupid time to try and have a heartfelt conversation. “A-are you okay?”

“Fine, just -”

“Your rut?”

Bucky nodded.

Part of you wanted to shrink back, to retreat to your apartment, but another part of you was sick of running.

Instead of stepping back, you stepped forward, pushing against the door and into his apartment. Bucky moved out of the way, a confused expression on his face. But, despite his uncertainty, you could tell he was still in control of himself. You could tell that you’d always be safe with him.

He let the door fall shut as he turned to face you, not moving towards you, letting you decide what you wanted - if you wanted anything at all.

And that was precisely why you took a step towards him, closing the distance so you could place a hand on his bare chest, right above his racing heart. His skin was hot to the touch, clammy, but it was nowhere near as bad as you had been expecting. His rut must have only just started in the last couple of hours.

“Did you mean it?” You asked softly.

“Every word. I love you.”

You leaned closer, wrapping your arm around his waist and resting your head on his chest. Bucky pressed his nose into your hair and inhaled deeply, as if you were his and your scent alone would see him through this. But the second he realised what he was doing, he pulled back a little.

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

“You helped me...”

“Help? Is that all it is?” His voice betrayed his pain at the thought and had your stomach tying itself in knots.

“I - I don’t know what it is, Bucky,” you confessed, lifting your head to look him in the eyes again. “I want to be here. I want to be with you, but I can’t be yours...”

“I don’t need you to belong to me. I just want you to let me love you.”

“What if I can’t?” You asked, giving away your insecurities. “I don’t know how. What if I fuck it up?”

“You won’t,” he answered. “Can we just try?”

Despite your fears, you managed a nod, and it was all the sign that Bucky needed.

His hands framed your face and he kissed you. He kissed you like it was the first time all over again, he kissed you like a man starved of affection, like a man who really did love you. You pressed closer to him, both arms wrapping around his waist as you finally surrendered to what you wanted.

“Tell me this is okay?” He muttered against your lips. “I don’t want to rush you or hurt you.”

Your heart bled at his compassion, the way he was putting you first even though he was going through his rut, and you knew that he’d stop if you asked him to. But you didn’t. You didn’t want it to stop. No, you wanted something good to finally come from all the bad.

“It’s okay,” you said. “Please, don’t stop.”

He lifted you off your legs quickly wrapped around him as he carried you into the bedroom.

It felt like that first night all over again, only this time you weren’t going to ruin it.

He sat with you on his lap and, already, you could feel the press of his erection between your thighs and it was enough to cause you to squirm, your hips eagerly rocking against his. Little moans and whimpers quickly started to spill from your lips and into his, but it wasn’t enough.

(When it came to Bucky, nothing would ever be enough.)

Pulling back a little, you sank to your knees between his legs, tugging his boxers down. You were sure to keep your hands where he could see them, your fingers gripping his thighs as you bowed your head and parted your lips. Bucky’s fingers tangled in your hair, but he didn’t try to move you, he let you go at your own pace.

A low and breathy groan spilled from him as the tip of his cock slipped between your lips and you started to lightly suck, running your tongue over his slit and lapping up everything that leaked from him.

Looking up at him, you felt yourself wanting to submit, wanting to give yourself to him in whatever way that you could. His heavy scent already had slick pooling between your thighs, eager to feel him inside you again.

One of your hands moved to grip the base of his cock as your lips sunk down it and you felt him twitch in your mouth, the thick vein on the underside of his shaft throbbing with every little move you made.

You started slowly, bobbing your head and dragging your lips up and down him, letting out the sweetest little moans for him, while Bucky panted and groaned like he was already on the brink. Your eyes watered as he nudged the back of your throat, but you didn’t let that stop you, you just blinked and carried on.

His mouth went slack and you could see him fight against himself, desperately trying to hold back. That was when you doubled down. Hollowing your cheeks against him, you moved faster, chasing your lips with your hand, making sure no inch of his cock went untouched.

“Fuck, mouse, I’m -” he tried to warn you but it was too late.

Bucky groaned your name as his cock started to pulse, his hip bucking upwards as he started to fill your mouth. You stayed where you were, lips wrapped tight around him, your eyes fixed on his.

(Fuck. How were you only just noticing how beautiful he was when he came?)

Finally, you sat back on your heels, wiping your lips with the back of your hand as you looked up at him.

“So that’s what that feels like when you don’t try to stab me,” Bucky joked breathlessly, a ridiculous grin tugging at his lips.

You tried your best to suppress a laugh, but it managed to escape you. And it reminded you why him, why you wanted this (whatever this ended up being).

He reached for you, helping pull you back onto his lap so he could kiss you again, groaning as he tasted himself on your lips. Almost immediately, he was hard again, and you were quickly tugging off your shirt and bra.

“Mouse, are you sure?” He asked again, barely able to pull himself from your lips.

“Yes, Bucky,” you told him just as desperately. “I want you.”

He turned, dropping you onto your back on the bed and pulling off your leggings and panties, leaving you completely bared to him. Without thinking or waiting for him to say anything, you got on all four, presenting yourself to him, but you quickly found yourself flipped onto your back again.

“I want to see your face, mouse. I want to see all of you,” Bucky told you.

You watched as he crawled onto the bed and over you, his hands and lips skimming up your stomach and over your chest until he was above you.

As you pulled him down into another eager kiss, he slipped a hand between your legs. You gasped against his lips as two fingers slid into your slick pussy and started to grind yourself against his hand, desperate to show him that you wanted this.

You were already so worked up from sucking his cock that you easily fell apart for him, and you knew that was precisely what Bucky wanted from you. He wanted you to be ready for his cock and, while he was doing everything he could to try and make this about your pleasure as much as his own, you could tell his rut was taking its toll on his patience.

You moaned his name when you felt the press of his cock at your entrance and arched your back at the all too familiar feeling of him slowly filling you. Your arms wrapped tight around him and your thigh hitched on his hip. It was perfect, amazing. It was all you’d ever need.

He stilled inside you once you’d taken every inch, staring down at you, checking for any signs of discomfort.

“It’s okay,” you said in a low whine. “I’m okay. Bucky, please -”

Bucky didn’t make you beg (though you were sure you would have). His hips started to move, slowly at first, but the gentle pace didn’t last for long. You eyes rolled back and your back bowed, pressing your body against his as he finally gave in to his base instincts and let his rut control him.

It didn’t take much for you to come again, crying out beneath him as he fucked you through your orgasm, letting out the filthiest sounds you’d ever heard from him as he did. Every drive of his hips forced a moan from you, and every sound was in worship of him and what he was doing to you.

“Fuck, Bucky!” You almost screamed, not even caring to think about how half the building might be able to hear you.

He kissed you to stifle some of the noise that you were both making and it wasn’t long before you were coming again for him, your body seeming to want to completely submit to him and everything he was doing.

After an unspecified amount of time, his thrusts started to become shorter, more desperate.

“Mouse...” he warned, his voice an awkward gasp, not stopping or slowing.

Rationally, you knew what letting him come inside you meant during his rut, but you didn’t want to think rationally. You wanted this. You wanted Bucky. You wanted to submit to him and take his knot.

“Don’t pull out,” you finally gasped, your fingers pressing into his back, holding him tight against you.

There was no telling if it was your words or just the fact that he’d been close, but the moment you finished speaking, you felt him start to pulse inside you. The sensation alone was enough to push you into another orgasm, your walls fluttering and trembling as you felt his knot start to swell inside you, trapping you together.

Your eyes rolled back and a series of desperate moans spilled from you.

“Alpha,” you groaned, giving yourself over to him completely, your eyes closing.

Your head moved, presenting your bandaged neck, even though you knew he couldn’t mark you or claim you. His hand gripped your chin, turning your face towards him as he leaned in and kissed your lips.

“I love you,” he groaned into your mouth before kissing you again.

When he finally came up for air, he pressed his forehead to yours, still panting, still completely overwhelmed. You reached up, fingers running through his sweat-damp hair, just as overcome by the moment as he was. You’d never experienced a moment like this and you quickly understood why.

“I - I love you too, Bucky,” you confessed.

Your arms gripped tight around him, letting him know that you didn’t want him to move, that you were happy with the weight of him on top of you while his knot locked into place and he came inside you, his cock twitching as it pumped you full. You nuzzled against his neck, intoxicated by his scent, completely overwhelmed in a new and amazing way.

“Stay with me,” he asked breathlessly. “Not as my omega, but as the person I love.”

“Yes,” you answered without a second of hesitation.

End Note : And that's the end😭 I've had a blast writing this. I never thought I'd enjoy writing omegaverse this much so that's been an interesting discovery. I might come back to this and write an epilogue but I'm actually pretty happy with where this ended; it's open enough that I can come back to it for a second fic but it's also sweet enough that I don't think (or at least I hope) no one is disappointed??

Thanks so much for sticking with this, I really hope you've enjoyed it. I know I'm not great with comments and reblogs but I promise I do read every response that I get even if I don't get around to replying and it's really meant so much to read everything you've all had to say about this one! (also same goes for comments on Ao3)

I do have a potential idea for another Bucky fic in future, so feel free to stick around for that (it won't be until the new year because working retail over the holidays is draining enough without starting a new fic).

As always, reblogs/comments/likes/asks are always appreciated. Thanks so much for reading, hope you have a great day!

Tag List : @greatenthusiasttidalwave @bighappypiels @maddiedrmr @dreadfulxives18 @scott-loki-barnes

@thecraziestcrayon @silas-aeiou @danzer8705 @notpotatocap @prttylight

@skittslackoffilter @mcira @chimchoom @highwaytomichelle

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #alpha!bucky barnes #marvel omegaverse #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #tfatws #devotion ff

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