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oftenderweapons · 4 months ago

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Bourbon Bossa Nova | MYG | Pt.1

This story is part of the Blue Crush Collab

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (nicknamed Sunny)

Wordcount: 7k

Rating: 18+ (This part is pretty innocent, but Part 2 will feature mature content)

Genre: strangers to friends to lovers, composer!Yoongi x lifeguard!YN

Content warning: swearing, alcohol, allusions to sexual thoughts. Allusions to death, child abandonment and family loss.

Synopsis: when you start your summer at Honeycomb Cove, you're only expecting sunshine, waves and annoying teenage bravado as you work as a lifeguard. What you don't expect is Min Yoongi. He wasn't expecting you either. Soon your morning walks are your favourite part of the day, until you realise it's not really the walks, maybe it's always been him you are, after all, waiting for.

Shoutout to the incredible folks who helped me find courage to keep believing in this fic - and finally posting it. To Mars (@joheunsaram), To Bells (@youtifulhobi) to Yannie (@ressjeon), my power squad who believed in this fic (and in my writing skills) more than I did. Here's to me finally breaking my dry spell!!! And to some of my old and new supporters and cheerleaders @lelegzem0, @aanncchhuu, @blushingatyou and @percheee (other people are most definitely in this list but Tumblr is limiting my access to previous notes so I can't find you all) You folks are part of the reason I'm still rolling in the dust here on Tumblr

Part two out now!

Here's my masterlist, just in case you're new

Also: disclaimer! (very important, I should have put this first) I'm not Brazilian, and I have very little familiarity with Brazilian culture, but I really wanted to do a shoutout to this incredible country, its people, its art and its music. If you have any notes you would like to leave regarding Antonio's characters and Yoongi's attachment to Brazilian culture, you are the most welcome, both here in the comments and in my blog. I'd love to learn more 💜

Enjoy the fic!!!

May is a great thing. Flowers everywhere, the smell of sunscreen starting to spread in the air, orange dawns, hair getting frizzy with salty air and too much time in the water. Sand under your toes, loose linen garments, wearing a sports bra and a pair of shorts all the time, throwing an oversized sweater on when the night gets too cold, the smell of citrus and geranium to keep mosquitoes away.

Early summer is great. Way better than midsummer and August. May and mid-September had always been your favourite times of the year: the beginning felt like sparks starting to burst, and the end felt like the natural conclusion of things, that languid nostalgia sweeping in gently, like the soft wind ready to carry in autumn days and blow the leaves away.

The smell of rosemary and lavender and juniper accompanied you to the beach as you walked down one of the side alleys.

“Good morn’ Earl!”

The old man turned to greet you as he kept watering the hibiscus bushes before the sun became too blinding, burning the poor flowers. “Morning Sunny!”

“Remember your heart pill!”

“Sure! Already took it!” Earl shouted back, his voice bubbly and bright.

You waved at him as you kept walking, ready to meet your next friend. “Hello Rosa!”

“Hi Sunny!”

The old lady already had her cocker spaniel on a leash, ready for her morning walk. “When’s Mindy coming around this year?”

“Mid-July. And she’s taking her children too!” The woman looked ecstatic about her daughter visiting.

“That sounds amazing! I really have to rush, bye Rosa! And bye Lemon!”

“Lemon say bye!” Rosa told her dog, making her bark just in time before you started your jog.

Being a lifeguard was great. It was the life you had always dreamed of. You had always worked out to fit in the lifeguard guidelines requirements, and a good ninety percent of your decisions had been oriented to making sure that you could be a lifeguard from the second week of May to the first week of October — that is the entirety of tourist season. Once autumn arrived, you would resume working at the retirement home: it was only your second year with that working arrangement, and you weren’t sure it would work at first, but your grandmother being the godmother of the director of the elderly institute guaranteed you would always find a spot working there; plus, they were also constantly in need of an extra set of hands, especially if those hands came with a degree in nursing.

You’ve always known you wanted to work in elderly care just as much as you’ve always known you were made to be a lifeguard. Your parents were worried over the sort of sacrifices and strains that such an occupation would entail: all the caregiving, and the cleaning and the affection you spend on people you’re inevitably going to lose; yet it felt natural to you. Sure, some people can be antagonistic and diffident, in some cases you end up being more of a nanny than a nurse, but most of the time, it’s worth it. After two years in this field, the ups are definitely brighter than the darkest lows, and you’re under the strong impression that it will keep being so.

Back to the glorious morning in front of you, you took off your flip-flops as you reached the best place in the world: the golden beach of Honeycomb Cove. Smiling, you fixed your cap on top of your head and walked to your tower, depositing your stuff in the cabin before going for your morning run. As you were opening the umbrella, taking in the blue infinity of the ocean before you, you spotted an unfamiliar figure below, a big fisher hat on its head, a long-sleeved white shirt covering its arms, a stick in one hand while the other was pressed to his lower back in a fist.

“Hi, hello there!” you greeted, a wide smile for the small, old man walking on the shore before your tower. The bizarre figure lifted his head up, eyes squinted, his button nose curiously pointing about as he looked for the voice.

“Over here! Good morning, sir!” You waved energetically at him, the man frowning — not that you could notice that, because of the distance and the hat.

“Morning?” he greeted back in confusion before continuing his walk.

Yoongi was extremely confused when he heard the voice. His night had been too long for him not to suppose he was hearing voices. Maybe his time had finally come and that was the call of some deity summoning him to whatever comes after the struggles of the living.

What he didn’t expect was for the voice to call again, this time the source clearly identifiable. He squinted at the lifeguard tower and offered a small wave in greeting.

She — that had to be a she — seemed to be set alight in sunlight, the early morning light making her glow in something brighter than gold.

He had a precise image in his mind for a second, something his grandmother had told him when he was a child. Something like mythology, like Achilles’ halo of hair, or Helios who carries the chariot of the Sun.

He shook his head and continued walking, turning around only once he was several feet ahead and her long legs had carried her in the opposite direction, her wide strides amazing Yoongi, who could just stare at her golden, looped locks bouncing as she played with the back-and-forth of the tide, running along it.

For a second, Yoongi thought of The Girl from Ipanema, shortly before remembering all the controversies behind it, and how much his grandmother hated the song because of “the male gaze”. With chastised pupils, he let his gaze fall back to the fragments of seashells at his feet, the distant fall of her feet meeting the sound of the tide calling to his ears in a hypnotizing beat.

All the way back to his home, Yoongi let it ring and echo through all the empty halls of his brain, until he could finally — although artificially — recreate it in the calm of his home, and let it resonate through its corridors.

Yoongi would define himself quite a reserved man. He had his home — an old Victorian-style house in the more quiet and deserted part of the bay, too inhospitable for tourists, still linked to the naval history of the cove. He had renovated the house after his grandmother had left it to him, replacing the old wooden axes with new, not rotten ones, repainting the walls and repolishing the floors, installing soundproof panels on the room he had decided to turn into his studio.

It had only been a short while since he’d moved into the beach house; his college in San Francisco and his scholarship and research in New Orleans had sent him spiralling between opposites, diving deep into sounds he wasn’t entirely familiar with, and in a bout of homesickness and confusion, he’d decided to return to his true roots, to his true north.

Here he could daydream of green hills and golden beaches of a faraway place that he could only imagine through the saudade of an old immigrant. He could feel the beat of that city that was nothing but an overgrown village, the roaring of cars on dirt roads, and that open-armed man that seemed to be every man, every woman, every human being in that open-armed city — that all-forgiving man that seemed to welcome strangers, with their weary feet and guilty souls.

He knew the place that inhabited his wildest dreams, his most romanticised visions, no longer existed. It had been erased by decades of progress and politics and human greed. That place where all his bedtime stories took place was no longer, and maybe it had never been. Yet Yoongi longed to reach that all-forgiving stone man and feel, just feel how the rolling waves carried all the nostalgia and the sins and the tears of those lost souls that reached a new land hoping for fortune and maybe a brand new start.

He too was something in between worlds. Son of a woman adopted by a foreigner and a man lost in time, somewhere. And there was nothing more foreign to him than the woman who had raised him, the same woman who had given him the house he was living in. He had always been drifting in something somewhat estranged. His mother had been a nobody, abandoned before an orphanage, the only known facts were her name — Moonbae — and that she had been abandoned as the last of sixth children, her family too poor to afford her. As a twist of fate, she had then been adopted by an American anthropologist — Yoongi’s grandma — who had always respected her will to stay away from her past. Still, loss persecuted her, her loving, if a little taciturn adoptive father passing due to a mysterious disease somewhere in Guatemala.

It took several years for Beatrice and Moonbae to settle in the old colonial house in Honeycomb Cove; Trice had returned to her great-grandmother to assist the incredibly old lady to her last breath. Needless to say, she then inherited the house. The women lived sheltered, quiet lives until Moonbae got pregnant. A summer fling, that was all it was, the man a fleeting tourist who took a risk too many, fathering a son he would never take care of.

His absence was filled by someone who looked the exact opposite of the little moonbeam of a child, laying pale and tranquil in his cradle, lulled by strange, exotic songs that his grandmother had perfected for him.

Beatrice fell in love with a man who became everything to Yoongi — someone Moonbae never approved of, so much so that she decided to leave town when her son was maybe four years old. She never returned. Beatrice never looked for her either.

Antonio was eighteen years younger than Beatrice, his skin a rich cinnamon shade, his accent so thick that it took a while for Yoongi to decipher the heavy Brazilian cadence in the man’s English.

Yoongi preferred when Antonio spoke Brazilian Portuguese, anyways. By the time the boy was fourteen, he and his acquired grandfather easily conversed on the wooden patio, drinking lemonade, a guitar in the man’s arms. Antonio taught Yoongi everything, the boy so taciturn, so eager to listen, that the nationless musician let all his woes and nostalgia pour out. And maybe the man was no citizen, something in between an exile and a fugitive, but in that old house, he found a home, with Trice constantly refusing to marry him and loving him like a madwoman at the same time.

Yoongi doubted love like that could exist anymore. A love so strong that when she had passed, Antonio had magically drifted away together with her a few months after, disregarding his significantly younger age. What the not-so-old man would never say was that he passed in tranquillity, knowing that he had taught his spiritual child all he had to offer.

And just so, Yoongi won a scholarship, all because of the easy, wordless afternoons when Antonio taught him to play three instruments and speak that language that reminded Yoongi of his old cat, Sweeper, and the way he lazily rolled around in the sun.

Now he was just a young man graduated from a prestigious music academy in San Francisco, two of his compositions had been featured as soundtrack in a couple movies, and he was already producing for a small recording studio specialised in chamber music. He didn’t make much money out of it, to be true, but sometimes he managed to have an extra income with royalties, and he was currently composing his first mixtape — for which a studio had already contacted him, and the fact that Antonio had introduced him to some of the most influential artists in the San Francisco scene had quite definitely jump-started his career.

He was living a cool life, the kind of life he had always seen himself living. He worked at night and finished his day at seven am; then he would head out for a walk, when the sun was still gentle in summer and when it would be barely up in winter. And next, he would sleep. Wake up around five pm. Get some food ready and start all over again. He’d returned to Honeycomb Cove only six months prior, so he hadn’t yet entirely reconnected with his local social circle, plus most of his friends were still in college, which meant that it wasn’t that easy to arrange a get together. But to be true he was quite excited about Seokjin being back in town and spring break approaching. By summer come, they would all be a great team again and he would feel like he had all the time in the world.

His musings were interrupted by the doorbell. That had to be his pizza. It was almost eleven and Gerry, the old Italian man who owned the pizza place at the end of the street, always knew that Tuesday night meant late night pizza for Yoongi.

He grabbed the money — already perfectly calculated so he could pay for the pizza and leave a tip for the delivery boy, Pippo. But tonight it wasn't the delivery boy knocking at his door. As he opened it, he found a wondrous mass of blond curls right in front of his eyes. “Oh, hi!”

“Hey!” The voice sounded chirpy, familiar.

A sudden breeze pushed the stranger’s perfume past the doorway, the scent crashing over Yoongi like the surf. God she smells good, Yoongi thought, lips agape as he stared at the woman in his doorway. It was a mix of coconut and papaya, the scent overpowering the tasty smell of his pizza.

You put on your friendliest, warmest, brightest smile, then said: “We met on the beach right? You must be Min Yoongi. I'm _____. Gerry said you always dine alone and told me you could use some company.”

“I'm not a charity case,” Yoongi replied before realising how rude he'd just been.

“Well, that's a funny introduction, Not A Charity Case. Is that the name you chose to go by? Like Jenny From The Block?” You shook your head and looked away. “What told you it's not me who could use a friend. May I?” You asked, pointing at the door, asking if you could enter. “You can ask Gerry. He sent me. I've just arrived for the season and I could really use a friend. He told me you're a good person and you're always alone too.”

Yoongi was almost outraged by your insolence. Were you always so blunt? He was also confused: what kind of setup was this?!

You passed him the pizza and he lifted the lid, checking that it was actually his and that you weren't an imposter, or a serial killer.

'Take the golden retriever girl. She needs a smart friend. -G,’ read a note left inside the box.

“Yeah, I’m Yoongi,” he said, almost defeated. “Come on in, then.” If he found his house entirely stripped of anything worth money, he would sue Gerry.

“Oh. Thank you.” You flashed him a grin.

Yoongi's knees almost caved. What a smile. It was like… like staring at the sun. But in a good way. It was like a blue sky. Soothing. Serene. Cloudless, pacific.

You placed your own pizza box next to his on the counter while at the same time you looked around. “Wow, your house is so pretty. Your family lives here?”

Yoongi opened his pizza and grabbed a beer from the fridge. “I don't have a family anymore.”

You froze. “I'm sorry.” You were already failing at this. That's why your friends all had fake teeth and a medical record thicker than your cookbook. Not to mention the average age.

“It's okay. I got used to that. You should be the lifeguard, right? Wait, would you like some beer?”

You shook your head. “I'd like some water please.”

Of course you would, he realised. You had to be one of those health freaks. He could already anticipate how easily he could make you run from him with his suicidal diet.

He placed a glass beside your pizza box before sitting down and getting ready to dig in. “I still owe you the money. From the pizza.”

“I already paid for both. I thought that since I wasn't bringing you a housewarming present, I could at least buy you some food.” You took a slice and started eating up, humming and nodding at the taste. “I get why he works so much. This pizza is heaven.”

“Yeah. All the kids here grew up on sunshine and Gerry's pizza,” Yoongi mentioned casually. He liked that you talked with your mouth full. He did, too. Beatrice had never liked that.

“Are you from the neighbourhood?” He asked before wolfing down another slice.

“Kinda. I live a bit farther into the mainland. I used to come here on holiday when I was little. With my parents.” You took a sip of water as Yoongi learned one more thing about you.

“I thought so. I don’t really remember you from growing up, and me and my friends know all of the locals.” Yoongi studied your face, trying to dissect any detail that could make you familiar.

“I see. You’ve been raised here, I assume?”

“Yup.” The silence is heavy, but at least you can distract yourself with food. “So, lifeguard? That your dream job?” He said it sarcastically, almost evilly before he realised you were nodding eagerly and happily.

“My great-grandpa was a sailor. I've always wanted to live by the sea.” You munched on the crunchy crust, Yoongi blinking rapidly.

Making fun of you felt like shooting a dead body. There was no use — and no mercy — in doing that. “Shouldn't you be in college or something?”

“I took nursing school. And I'm old enough to be out of college.” Yoongi’s tone had really made that sound like an insult, but you tried your best not to assume the worst.

Yoongi tried to get on his better behaviour. You were a new person, you wouldn’t understand his sardonic tone. “I'm sorry,” he said, contrite.

“For what? Me being a certified nurse and a person in charge of other people's lives? I know I look stupid, no need to rub it in.” You arched an eyebrow, rather fed up with the weirdness of this exchange, of the man sitting before you. You stood up and closed the box of your pizza, still half uneaten. “Sorry I disturbed your night. Enjoy your meal—”

“Wait, no! Don't go, please.” He didn't know what suddenly convinced him to make you stay. “I was a dick, I'm sorry, let's start over.”

You hesitated for at least three seconds and then, despite your better judgement, you sat back. “I'm ____. But my friends call me Sunny. It's my middle name. Really. My parents thought it funny.”

It suited you so damn bad. Yoongi wanted to bask in your aura in a hammock with a slight breeze and a samba playing in the distance. “It's a really nice name. It really suits your appearance. And I mean that as a compliment.”

You breathed out the tiniest laugh.

“I'm Yoongi and that's the only name I have. We don't use middle names.” He relaxed once you opened your box once more.

“Where is it from?” You asked, recognising the name being foreign.

“My mom's name is Korean. She picked a Korean one for me too. Just to remind me we're not entirely American.” He was vaguely bitter about that. Maybe just indifferent, you told yourself. That must have been tough.

“That's interesting,” you mused, drinking some water. “How old are you?”

Your question was naive. Childlike. “I'm twenty-three. And you're…?”

“Twenty-four. Twenty-five in a couple weeks.” You smiled and he was once more lost in how radiant you looked.

Once you were finished eating, you rinsed your hands at the sink, helping him get rid of the boxes before shyly following him as he moved to the living room.

“Wow.”

“It's a bit overwhelming, I know.” He looked around, analysing the room through a stranger's eyes. “My grandma was an anthropologist, my grandpa too, though I never met him. She travelled a lot and always brought back fancy things.”

“What's this?” you asked, watching a strange fork of sorts.

Yoongi sat down and grabbed a bizarre little stick, no bigger than a pen, with a large ball at the end. He hit the fork, a soothing, metallic sound coming out of it and the box at its base, amplifying the cold dong. “It's a diapason. It gives a specific note. This one sounds like la. Or A, whatever notation you prefer. We use it to tune instruments like guitars.”

You nodded. “That's interesting. I like it.”

Yoongi chuckled. “It's very soothing, right? It resonates at a frequency that has positive effects on humans. My grandma used to play it when I needed to calm down as a baby.”

Thinking that the coarse man before you had been a baby felt baffling. “And it still relaxes you?”

“It does. But I think it's more of a reflex. I think they trained me. Like Pavlov's dog… Wait, was that Pavlov?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a giggle.

“Sometimes I think I was a strange experiment. That's what happens when you have two scientists in your home.” He shrugged with a funny grin on his face, his cheeks going puffy as he did so.

“It's okay. You lived through that. You're not doing bad for a lab rat. You could be having bald spots by now,” you joked, almost expecting him to get confused or disgusted. Instead he laughed.

His laugh was so soft. He actually looked soft, with his gums out, his cheeks puffed up, his nose curled up cutely. Yoongi was cute. Very much so.

“So, what do you do for a living?”

He blushed to his ears. “I'm a musician. And a producer.”

“Wow. That sounds cool! How does that work?” Your voice was filled with wonder, making Yoongi understand that after all it wasn't like you were dumb. You were just unashamed of not knowing things.

“I make songs. Spend too much time on the computer fixing songs for other people. And then spend a little bit of time with my instruments, going through riffs and melodies, finding little things that inspire me for longer songs or pieces.” Yoongi stopped himself from dumping all of his artistic worries over you.

“You studied at UCLA?” you asked, knowing that was the best place for a person like him.

“Actually, no. My grandfather got me into an academy in the city. I mean, my granny's boyfriend,” he corrected himself. Considering Antonio his grandpa had always come natural to him, but he'd never substituted himself for Trice's husband.

“It's so cute that she found a boyfriend. You mentioned your grandpa passed so I guess she met the guy after?” You posed the question gently, wording it accurately.

Yoongi nodded. “Yup. I was a toddler when they met.”

You hummed. “With all respect to your grandpa, I like when old people find a partner — or at least, someone meaningful to them. It brings a lot of joy and newness in their lives. Partnered old folks have a way less lonely life. And it seems they live longer too! I read a paper for a course back in college.”

Yoongi was pleased to receive confirmation of you being an old people's person. Hopefully you also hated kids so he could actually deem himself safe. “So you actually liked nursing school.”

You bobbed your head enthusiastically. “I’ve always liked the idea of working in a retirement home. Old people have so many stories and so little audience. I like staying with them, helping them write memories they can pass to their overly busy children and grandchildren. And they learn about technology, they play cards. They crochet! Isn't that amazing?!” you exclaimed with a radiant look on your face.

Yoongi realised you were a genuinely generous person. You reaching out to him wasn't just Gerry forcing you to Yoongi's place, but hopefully you needing a friend. It really seemed you could use a pal your age. “And how does that pair up with your lifeguard position?”

You shrugged. “I've always loved the beach. And splitting it with caregiving helps me from taking nursing too seriously. It helps me worry less about people… passing, you know.”

Yoongi nodded. He hadn’t thought about what it means taking care of someone day after day after day, and then suddenly they’re gone. He also thought about the different weights of a job: probably that was the same reason why it had taken him so long to work on his music while delivering piece after piece for commission. He had lost the passionate side of it.

“So, your granny's boyfriend got you into a music academy and then?”

Yoongi smiled, then he started telling you everything about that.

The two of you talked way deep in the night, the initial strangeness turning into easy chit-chat about school, life, family and work… It was almost one in the morning when you realised it was time for you to go. Once Yoongi noticed how long he’d been talking to you, he blushed and understood it was time to say goodnight, no matter how warm and welcome he felt at your side.

He accompanied you to the door, then stood on the porch, waving at you before wondering whether he should accompany you home. “You’re staying here in town, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah, don’t worry. I’m just five minutes away from here. I have my bike.”

“You don’t want me to drive you?” He rubbed the back of his neck as he waited for your reply.

You shook your head. “I’m okay, don’t worry. I’ll be okay.”

Yoongi realised the reason why he felt sad about you refusing was exclusively because he wouldn’t be able to spend more time with you. He was struggling to let go, after only a couple hours of chatting, and at least half of that being awkward acquainting with someone new.

And to further increase his struggles, he could almost hear Antonio scolding him for letting go of someone that made him feel good. “Will I see you tomorrow morning at the beach?”

You were ready to leave when you heard Yoongi’s question. It sounded vaguely insecure, as if he was testing the waters. “Come meet me at seven. I’ll be there.”

Yoongi nodded to himself. He should have asked for your number. Stupid social anxiety.

“Goodnight Yoongi!” You waved from the gate before leaving.

He stood there, arms crossed, shrinking inside his striped polo shirt, its long sleeve doing very little in keeping him warm. So unexpectedly his night had changed. He thought about the percussion riff he’d jotted down that morning around nine, laying in bed, sleepless. For all he knew, you could have possibly changed his life.

He would remember tonight forever.

The following day, Yoongi left his house at six forty-five. You had given him a when, but not an exact where. He was nervous. And he was somehow hoping that seeing you in broad daylight would somehow lessen your magic.

How wrong he was.

He waited for you at the feet of your tower, leaning against it nonchalantly while he almost ran to get there in time. Watching you arrive in sunglasses and a white sundress was definitely something. You looked like the kind of girl that could have starred in Dirty Dancing.

“Good morning, sir!” you greeted, waving.

“Stop treating me like an old man,” he complained, however you heard some irony in his voice.

“Not my fault you behave like one!” you bit back, amused and maybe a little cheeky. “Hello Yoongi,” you tried again, more calmly now that you were standing before him. “I’ll go get changed quickly so we can go on a walk.”

He nodded and looked at the horizon before him, his ears blushing at the thought that you were half naked just a few steps away. You looked so lean and fit and tall and he was… He was struggling not to let his mind run wild. After all you were just a prettily shaped woman. No more, and no less.

All the months that had passed since he’d last slept with someone weren’t a valid reason for him to think of you half naked.

“Let’s go!” you exclaimed, basically throwing yourself down the stairs and taking a few small jumps on your spot — like a golden retriever too excited about going out. You started with a jog, only to watch Yoongi’s panicked look.

You exploded with laughter. “See, I told you! You’re an old man!”

Yoongi hid his smile with a pout before catching up with a few quick steps. “Do you need to run or can you just walk?”

“I’ll walk in the water. Helps me burn more energy and work on my stamina,” you replied, entering the water to the point it reached your knees. “You can walk on the shore. Did you sleep well?”

He looked away.

“Oh, right. You work at night. So— Did you… produce?” You looked down, careful about not splashing him.

“Oh, yeah. The conversation with you was very inspirational,” he conceded. He hadn’t worked half as much in the last four weeks. Listening to the little riffs and chords hidden in your voice was like experimenting with a new genre. It was as if he was building a new theme for you. Something that signified your presence, but at the same time conveyed the fits and starts of meeting someone new, and getting to know them, and discovering something new about oneself from all the analogies and differences they could see with the other person. As much as he was composing about you, about the little bits he’d learned about you, he was in some way also composing about himself.

The process had been thrilling and once he’d finished the first, roughest draft, at dawn, the music felt so vibrant that it could properly and proudly accompany the rise of the sun. It was of course still only a draft, but the way you’d talked deep into the night, the way you’d circled around things until they’d come out right, had inspired him to give it all a try. It didn’t need to be perfect, it only needed to work. And work, in the end, it did. He only wished he had sampled a piece of your conversation — that joke about him being a lab rat… the laughs that followed. It would have been great for a skit.

“You know, I really wish I could listen to your music. I'm kind of curious about what such a quiet person considers noise worth listening to.” You looked at him. “After all, music is just very tidy noise right?”

He smiled. “Yeah, I would agree to that.” He looked at the seashells on the shore. “I'll make you a playlist. I'll include random stuff I like listening to.”

“Oh, I'd love that!” you replied enthusiastically. “We can make a playlist for our walks!”

Yoongi’s ears perked up at that: “walks”, plural, which meant you would do this again, soon. He was pleased at the way you had so casually hinted at creating a routine. He had someone to share music recommendations with. Someone who would maybe recommend pieces to him in return. He realised he was excited about this. So many new sensations, and none of that as unpleasant as he’d thought. He could get used tho this.

Once the two of you said goodbye, he realised he couldn't go to sleep. He was too excited about making a playlist and sharing it with you. Walking with you in the gentle morning sun. Hearing you laugh.

Yoongi understood: he was making a new friend.

Having walks with Yoongi became extraordinary. You started associating him with the tender colours of the shyest sunshine, and the sweet cotton scent of his shirts in the gentle morning breeze. The way his soft locks danced in the ocean air, tangling together, the way his cheeks turned into little ice cream scoops when he smiled at you as you greeted him good morning.

Likewise, Yoongi started adoring sunshine. You ended each of his nights, bringing him into the reign of soft morning light, introducing him to a brightness he'd always much preferred doing without. Truth was that his ears had become acquainted with your vintage summer bops, with the way your steps would automatically sync up with the beat of Pumped Up Kicks when the song started playing, and your little blonde baby curls would end up bouncing by the time the first chorus came around. Sometimes you looked like one of those strange horses trained to match the rhythm of music. Dressage, wasn't that?

And then, you loved his calm acoustic ballads, the relaxing guitar riffs that accompanied the rise of the sun.

Once your shared routine of morning walks was sufficiently cemented, you trained him, like a stray cat, to stick around some more after your walk, convincing him to join you for a morning snack. You always brought him iced coffee and a peach jam sandwich while you drank your aloe and matcha drink before indulging in an avocado toast. He liked your mornings as much as you did. You also probably liked each other too.

Your perfect sunny streak was tainted only by a mildly cloudy morning, during which Yoongi showed up at your tower anyway, an extra sweater on top of his long sleeved shirt. He knew you'd probably be cold.

The striped black number seemed to be big enough for you to fill it up comfortably. After all, you were half a head taller than him, and your arms were significantly longer. At least by three or four inches, he had to admit.

When you showed up, you looked drowsy, your hair was half low and you were carrying a different bag from usual. “Morning old man,” you called, placing your bag at the feet of the stairs.

“Morning, Sunny. Wait. Are those actually knitting devices in your bag? Wonder Woman ____ knits?”

“Shut up. Linda taught me. It's just something to share with the ladies at The Orchard,” you justified yourself. “We'll see if you still joke about that once you get your soft, handmade cosy sweater this winter.”

Yoongi blinked, suddenly realising his expression had been shifting to a pout. “Are you still going to be around this winter?”

You invited him upstairs, avoiding the question for now. Could you wait from September to May to see him again? Could you go so long without him?

As you picked up a half knitted torso from your bag, pressing it to his face, you realised you couldn't. You also realised you had made a naive mistake. You had thought you were domesticating a stray but in the meanwhile you had opened him your home, your heart. You had invested your time in him and that made him much more than a stray. You were giving him a forever home.

“Is this for me?” he asked innocently, gently, rubbing his face against the soft, airy fabric.

“It’s alpaca wool,” you commented drily. You already knew you would give up on your long-term dream sweater only to see him all fluffed up in the pastel mesh of colours. You smiled as he pressed it closer to his face.

“So soft,” he murmured, nuzzling up against the small piece of knitwork. The moment he opened his eyes, you realised his nose was just a tiny bit red from the chilly breeze coming from the sea, carrying a storm in its wake. His cheeks were rosy and puffy, his eyes big and dark. And his eyelashes, so dainty and insanely… flirtatious? He looked like he was seducing you for the slowest of seconds.

You looked away, cheeks aflame. “Let’s go. Before the rain comes.”

Yoongi startled at your tone, cloudy for the first time since that night when you’d known each other too little, and he’d been unforgivably too sarcastic. He followed you like a confused pet down the stairs, then grabbed his earpods and passed one to you.

You were especially thankful for the music now that your thoughts were too scattered for you to form sentences and make some conversation.

“It will rain in a bunch of minutes,” Yoongi commented. “There’s no use walking today.”

You ignored him. Would he leave if you agreed with his statement? Would he think walking was pointless, and therefore there was no reason for the two of you to spend any time together today? Too lost in trying to find a meaning to how sad you felt at the thought of being apart, you didn’t realise a raindrop had hit your nose.

The storm was coming.

An angry guitar riff came on, The Neighbourhood blaring from the earphone as Yoongi grabbed your hand. One drop followed the other, his hand around your wrist as he tugged at your arm, running fast, faster, to a speed that felt ridiculous considering how lazy he always was.

‘I’m going back to 505, if it’s a seven-hour flight or a forty-five-minute drive. In my imagination you’re waiting lying on your side, with your hands between your thighs, and a smile…’

You ran, faster, short of breath, the music carrying you across the sand. You didn’t even realise you were trusting Yoongi completely, even as he led you past your tower, even as he kept running while the downpour broke loose, even as The Beatles came on, singing about jars by the door and lonely people, even as the morning got so dark, the sky like a purple shiner after a rowdy pub fight.

You kept running, Yoongi panting as the two of you finally recognised the fence of his house, the tower barely visible behind the thick cover of rain and mist. “Come on!” he gasped out.

You kept running until you were under his porch. “What the hell, Yoongi! Why didn’t we stop at the tower!?” you scolded him, barely alive, barely breathing — how had he worn you out like this? He was way less trained than you, and yet he’d managed to run by your side, keeping your pace, ending up winded, sure, but in way better a state than you’d thought he would be.

He shook his head, bent in two, his hands gripping his knees. “I was distracted! I wasn’t thinking!”

You shook your head, too busy pulling oxygen into your lungs to fight him back. After a few breathless minutes, you sat down on the first step of the staircase. “You knew it would rain. Why did you come?”

Yoongi felt called out all of a sudden. “I— I thought you were expecting me to come. I don’t have your number so I couldn’t text you. Or call you.” He sat down beside you, his hands pressed in between his knees. “I didn’t want you to worry or think I had forgotten.” He took in a large breath. Somehow the little effort of a confession required way more air than the makeshift marathon under the storm — it was definitely shorter than a marathon. Probably not even a tenth of it. He just knew that was the longest and the fastest he’d ever run, but you were running, and you were so majestic and he just wanted to be part of it.

Yoongi paused, gathered his courage, then murmured, “I didn’t want you to feel lonely.”

You recognised the guitar strums immediately, the song changing once more. You looked at Yoongi, Hozier’s soft voice crooning at your ear. “What about you? Were you feeling lonely?”

He looked away, too shy, too old, too used-to-it to admit it. He had no right to feel lonely when you weren’t around. He had been alone for so long, but loneliness? It had been a stranger to him until he’d learnt your name. “I don’t—”

You pushed his hair off his face, your index finger casually following the handsome curve of his jawline. “Yoongi?”

He finally turned to look at you, once more innocent in the way he seemed to seduce you. He looked so pure and for the first time you felt so desperate to taint him. You needed him to look normal and mundane and you prayed for your crush to fade, for his sinless charms to be washed away so he would show his true colours, because no man should be allowed to be perfect the way he felt perfect to you.

“Yoongi,” you whispered, your heart tied up with pining.

‘Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips, we should just kiss like real people do.’

You hadn’t realised your eyes were closed until it was too late, the lyrics making you open them only to notice Yoongi leaning towards you, his lips protruding in the most imploring pout you had ever seen.

You were ruined.

You tugged the earpod off, almost throwing it to the ground before hollering a ‘see you ‘round’ and running off in the cold rain.

Yoongi, confused, afraid, sat on his porch as he watched you disappear.

Part 2 will be out now!!

#bourbon bossa nova #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #min yoongi fanfiction #bts blog #min yoongi scenario #min yoongi imagine

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bullet-prooflove · 9 months ago

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Valentine's Day Bingo: Pink - Connor Rhodes x Reader

Tagging: @lapricot @stxrryswvrld @cosmic-psychickitty @rosaliedepp @mrspeacem1nusone @sowrongitslottie @crazy4chickennuggets @shepgurl @upsteadlogic @cixrosie @burningpeachpuppy @i-spaced-sorry @handsupforamiracle @slytherqueen14 @queenslandlover-93 @thebejeweledwatercat @voidsteffy @shakespeareanwannabe @cerealreblogger @aaronhtchnrs @mysoulisasunflower @vermillionwinter @thebaileybugle @kotlclover2021 @neapolitantoebeans @joyfulfxckery @wnbweasley @evee87 @celilice1 @one-sweet-gubler @wooshwastaken @anime-weeb-4-life @99-reasons-to-live @legit9thlunaticwarrior @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @witches-unruly-heart @infinity-mars @telepathay @iworldlywriter @nu1freakshow @nothinbtannika @whovianwholikesgirls @@angelicbxtch @altsvu @olymosity @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @district447 @sarahedwards16 @stelacole @abby-splace @kabloswrld @rawremodino

Hitting the Wearing Pink Bingo Square

When Connor first meets you, it’s in the Emergency Room on Valentine’s Day. You’re wearing a pink mini dress that barely covers your assets and fuck me heels. The left side of your face is smeared with blood, the vessels in your left eye an eruption of tiny starbursts. His heart sinks because there’s been a spate of attacks on working girls recently and he thinks he’s looking at a fresh victim.

He’s both right and wrong.

“Look after her alright?” Antonio Dawson tells him as you’re escorted into the medical bay. “She’s my partner.”

A cop then.

It doesn’t take a genius to work out that you were part of a sting to catch the guy whose been beating the hell out of those women.

“Did you get him?” Connor asks, pulling on a fresh set of latex gloves as you sit on the edge of the hospital bed.

Now that he’s up close, he realises it’s not as bad as he once thought. The blood seems to be coming from a cut above your eyebrow, it’s starting to slow at this point. It’s a big gash, he’ll have to have to stitch it. His work is neat, careful but you’re still going to have a scar, he thinks.

“He was in the ambulance behind me.” You inform him as he tilts your head up towards the light and begins to clean the crimson from your skin. “Trust me, he’s worse off than I am.”

He believes you. He can see the grazes across your knuckles as you flex and unflex your hand. Once he’s finished with the mop up he continues with the rest of his examination. He’s as gentle as he can be, his fingers poking and prodding the bones under and around your eye.

“Nothing’s broken.” He tells you as he draws away and busies himself removing the stitch kit from one of the stainless steel drawers in the corner of the bay. “ I’ll get you stitched up and then grab you something else to get changed into.”

It’s a professional courtesy and a human one. He knows that your night doesn’t end when you leave the hospital, you’ll be heading back to the precinct in order to complete your reports on the assault. He assumes you’d rather not do it in a blood stained mini dress.

“I’d appreciate that.” You tell him softly, looking down at the burgundy stains soaked into the fabric. “Antonio’s probably already waiting with the evidence bags.”

“I’m guessing this all came from the perp.” Connor says gesturing at your clothing.

“I had a push knife.” You say by way of explanation, your gaze straying to the gap in the curtain. There’s a flurry of activity on the opposite side of the glass, you can see Choi barking orders as they angle the stretcher into the bay beside yours. “I don’t think he’s coming back from that.”

“It depends where you got him.” Connor remarks as he begins the process of stitching your wound together.

“Neck.” You say quietly. “More than once.”

Connor doesn’t speak, his dark eyebrows furrow in concentration. You both know the guy in the next room probably isn’t going to make it.

“You must think I’m cold, the way I’m talking about killing a man.” You say softly, your gaze lowering to the cuts across your knuckles.

“No.” He says honestly as he finishes up his work, snipping the thread carefully. “I treated some of the other girls he hurt...”

He trails off, his mouth fixing into a grim line. You’re not the only one haunted by those girls, you can tell. You’ve seen the pictures, read the reports. He’s been up close with their pain, endured their suffering, their agony.

“I think you’re incredibly brave putting yourself out there like that, not a lot of people would.” He tells you, stripping off the gloves before tossing them into the medical waste bin.

You can read between the lines, you know what he’s not saying. These victims, they’re on the fringes of society, the people that others don’t give a shit about. He’ll be the first to admit he’s jaded, he didn’t expect the police to actually do anything about the problem, a waste of resources he had overheard one cop saying when he was working on the last girl.

“These women.” You say, shaking your head. “They’re just trying to put food on the table, support their families. They don’t deserve what happened to them.”

When he looks back he realises it’s your compassion that he fell in love with, your ability to see the person underneath all the noise. He sees it over and over again throughout the course of your relationship.

He isn’t sure why he’s replaying the day he met you, he thinks it’s because the fleece pyjamas you’re wearing are the same colour as the dress you were clad in that night. The two of you are tucked up in bed together, your body draped across his like a weighted blanket. His palms smooth over your clothing as he holds you close, breathing in the scent of your shampoo. He had never envisioned that it would end up like this, that the woman he met that night would become the one that devoted himself to, the one that he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

Love Connor Rhodes? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#connor rhodes #connor rhodes x reader #connor rhodes x you

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the-heaminator · 25 days ago

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Dude trust me there is something wrong with that green-eyed bastard

@hetaween-event

day 1: Witches, i had fun writing this an wrote this in about an hour and a half so idk what goes on in it but its fun, ps, search up what a brexit tackle is.

Alfred had always found Arthur strange, he never knew why; he was just wrong.

Wrong as in half a degree off a right angle. Alfred could feel him staring sometimes, eyes too green, too large, too bright boring into his skull like he was drilling holes. No one really understood why he was unnerved, because for all intents and purposes Arthur was a model student, deputy head boy, got some of the highest grades in the year, and never really got into trouble.

He wasn’t someone anyone would consider dangerous, he wasn’t one of those lads who carried knives or sold vapes, even tucked in his shirt and was unlikely to show up with skid marks on his trousers after brexit-tackling someone in the muddy fucking field.

But to Alfred, there was something wrong, and he had the sinking, deeply sinking feeling that Arthur knew about his fears. Why else would he stare at him like that? Otherwise, he was almost mild-mannered, not the type to stare, and most definitely not the type to stare like that.

Not that Alfred could tell you what that meant, kind of like he was undressing you, but not peeling you of your clothes, noo, that would be too normal, Alfred swore he was being stared at like he was planning on removing his skin. Alfred very much did not enjoy that.

He told Matt, his brother, his confidant, his idiot in arms while walking back from school, of his suspicions, and Matt just laughed him off, come on, no way was he scared of Arthur fucking Kirkland, Matt was in his maths set and genuinely there was no need to be afraid of him.

“Those eyes dude!”

“They’re just green, it's not that deep bro, chill out.”

“Nah, nah, Antonio’s eyes are green, this fucker is staring into my soul like he wants to peel my skin off.”

“Look at you, being all dramatic, you really should have taken drama.” Matt had such a shit-eating grin on his face that Alfred really wanted to tackle him right then and there.

“Oh for the love of god Matt stop being an asshole” He knew damn well that asking Matt not be an asshole to him was asking the sun to rise in the west and for fish to climb trees, but god fucking dammit why didn’t Matt believe him!

“Oh come on, I believed you when you said you saw Natalya skinning a crow behind the English block, trust me here, there is something wrong with that man.”

“Natalya was a special case, tell me you don’t think her ass would do that. She barks at dogs dude, you’d be insane not to believe me. But Arthur has done absolutely jackshit to you, or anyone else, so what gives.”

“What gives is that I swear that man is trying to peel my skin off with his eyes and I Do Not Fucking Like That.”

“Alfred.”

“Matt.”

No one said anything for a while, mostly because they were staring at each other, Alfred having to crane his neck up just a little to meet Matt’s eyes, neither willing the other to say anything, and also they were blocking the pavement so they had to get a move on.

“Fine, but I swear if nothing happens I will steal all your lunch for a week.”

“Come on, that's a bit much!”

“Put it this way, if you really think there's something up with that bastard then you’d be happy to take this.”

“You bastard. ” but they shook on it anyway. Matt probably wouldn’t steal his lunch. Probably. Hopefully. Besides, Arthur definitely had something up with him, Matt would see it, just watch. Perceive him. Really perceive him, and he will reveal his true fucked up colours. Just you wait.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“That bloody fatass is perceiving me.” Why the fuck had Alfred of all people decided to perceive hi, that man wa sa blabbermouth if he’d ever met one and he’d already probably blabbed to half the school that something was off about him.

Lukas raised his eyebrows, right, what had gotten into Arthur this time. He never really got perceived, it was Vlad’s job to get accidentally perceived, but he was used to it and could always play it off as a joke to the point that him being slightly off-putting was part of his entire vibe.

But Arthur? Arthur hadn't been perceived properly since the Great war??? The fuck??? He was practically a model student too. Damn the whole dying of whatever the fuck (causes of death had grown far more boring in the past decades) and having to grow up again and again and again. The fact that they always had to die on the same day was stupid too. But who were they to question a fucked up spell.

Lukas for one was enjoying this, Arthur had broken his streak of not being perceived, Lukas was last properly seen in the late 90s. Matthias. Wonder what he was doing now. Anyways, spill the fucking tea.

What tea was there to spill! Alfred was looking at him like he knew something was wrong, he'd flinched when Arthur looked at him like it burned him, meant he wasn't being purely perceived but Alfred had an idea. And the boy had an overactive imagination, this was both good and bad.

For one, being known for an overactive imagination meant that no one would believe him, so him being a blabbermouth wouldn't be much of a problem there, but that also meant it was easier for him to perceive the lot of them.

Right. What should they do about it.

“Flirt with him.”

“Lukas no.”

“Why not, have fun with him, fuck him up.”.

“You're a bastard, you know that Lukas.”

“Renowned in 4 countries for it. Yes”

“I am not going to flirt with him.”

“I dunno. Kill him.”

Vlad just burst in, covered in mud. What the fuck had he been doing “Who are we killing!” He sounded far too bright given the subject content.

“We are not killing anyone, Vlad.”

It was rare for Lukas to smile, let alone snigger, “The fuck happened why is the snow prince giggling?”

“I am not the snow prince, if I was I wouldn’t be dealing with you dinguses.” He was laid down on Arthur’s bed, hanging off it upside down, “But anyways, Artie over here is being perceived.”

“Oooh, broke his streak did he?”

“Oh shut up Vlad, you are constantly perceived.”

“Hey, not like I try to hide it anyway! But you, Mr Kirkland, have been perceived.”

“I still vote to kill him. Or fuck him.”

Vlad stared at him “Why is that your answer to everything Lukas.”

“It works.”

“RIGHT, Lukas, shut up, Vlad, why are you covered in mud, Bess, get your fluffy ass here right now.” Bess, short for Elizabeth, was Arthur’s little familiar, wasn’t a sleek black cat, noooo, it was a dumb idiot ginger who was far too fat for her own good and could probably wake satan with her screams if he even dared to shit without her present.

He tied a note to her foot, and told her, his fucking idiot cat, staring at her in the eye “Give this to Alfred F Jones, make him respond, then come back. Okay.” Bess went out the window and Arthur mildly hoped that she wouldn't do something stupid, a wasted thought, she would anyways, but it was good to dream no?

“I still vote on killing him.”

“ SHUT UP LUKAS!”

#hetaween 2024 #hetalia #hws england #hws canada #hws america #hws romania #hws norway #maybe usuk #hetalia fanfiction #the heam writes

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escapingrealtiylovinginsanity · 3 months ago

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Rewind, Remix, & Replay Jay & Kim 6x5

You can read the rest of the series here

This one is pretty short but it should hold you over. I’m so excited to write the next four chapters. I have big ideas! That being said it might just be one chapter next week.

The team had all gotten together for brunch. Trudy was celebrating her twenty-five years as a cop. Playing two truths and a lie was always fun and competitive when it was a table full of cops. “And go,” Trudy sat back in her seat waiting to see what the tables consensus was.

“Okay, Dickin’s don’t do Karaoke so that’s the lie.” Kevin is confident and Hailey points at him agreeing with his words. But Kim shakes her head dismissively thinking she knows her mentor better than that.

“No definitely not. It’s soccer. The woman hates moving.” Trudy scoffs at the comment crossing her arms over her chest. Her sharp eyes watched the way that Kim leaned into Jay. Their chairs were pulled close together and his hand was resting on her thigh with her hand on his forearm absently caressing it with her thumb. The familiarity spoke of a long relationship in its natural movements and shared looks.

Jay laughed, “Yeah, there is no way you play varsity soccer in high school.” The table continued their roasting. The team was in high spirits and the last week had been running smoothly. The tension between Jay and Adam had faded along with his impressive shiner. They all lingered even after they finished eating, enjoying the company and teasing of one another.

Jay got up to order another mimosa for Kim at the bar. It was a Saturday and they may have another round if they were going to be there for a while. A shadow fell over him. “You want another drink Sarg?” When Trudy didn’t respond he turned to look at her. Her gaze is still on the table the team is sitting at.

“I haven’t seen her that happy in a while.” Jay’s blue eyes followed her gaze to Kim. She had a huge smile, and Antonio said something that made her throw her head back and laugh. The sound brings warmth to his chest. It’s infectious and makes him smile too. “Don’t screw this up, Halstead. That is my girl, you better take care of her. I promise you, you won’t find better.”

Jay turned to fully face her. Her eyes held a seriousness that he matched. “I know. I have every intention of keeping that smile on her face.” Life was finally settling down. Work was back to normal. Everyone was getting along and had fallen back into a seamless understanding and camaraderie.

Kim’s sister had spent two weeks in rehab. Zoey had been staying with Kim and in turn with him. The pair didn’t sleep apart well anymore. Nicole had gotten out and was more like herself. Zoey had gone home. A peace in Kim that had been missing for too long had returned. She seemed lighter. Less worry furrowing in between her eyebrows. “She is my girl too.” Trudy gave him a short curt nod of acceptance. If Jay didn’t know any better, he might have thought she had teared up a little.

“Good because I like you, Halstead. I would hate to have to kick your ass.” Jay couldn’t contain his bark of laughter. “I mean it Chuckles. You hurt her and you’ll pay the price.” It wasn’t the first hurt her and I’ll kill you spiel he had gotten but he did not doubt that it was the most dangerous. And that was saying something considering he had gotten it in various degrees from Kevin, Antonio, and Voight. Kim was well loved in the team and the men within were protective of the females. Apparently, that protection was limited to outside the group. Jay didn’t mind it though. Honestly, he was happy there were so many people who cared about Kim. If that meant he had to deal with a little more third-degree he would take the tradeoff.

“I do not doubt it. And if I do- I'll let you.” A silent understanding passed between the two. It was broken by the bartender setting a bright orange drink on the bar. Jay pulls out his wallet fishing out a few bills before handing them to the server. “Thanks, man. Her next drink is on me too.”

“A Bloody Mary,” Trudy told the man who nodded and pulled a short thick glass. Jay laughed as he shoved his wallet back into his pocket.

“I should have guessed.” He tapped the bar top before grabbing the drink and heading back over to the table. Trudy kept facing the bar but watched in the mirror. She watched as Kim turned in her seat as Jay approached her, their fingers grazing as she took the glass from him. She watched Kim’s chair slide closer after Jay sat down closing the distance between the two of them. Her hand went to his thigh as he threw his arm over the back of her chair.

The bartender set her handsomely garnished drink on the bar as he spoke, “Ah, to be young and in love again.”

#chicago pd #jay halstead #kim burgess #kim burgess x jay halstead #jay halstead x kim burgess #jay halstead and kim burgess #jaykim #jake x kate #jake and kate #burgstead

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angryschnauzer · 2 years ago

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As Sweet As Honey - Chapter 7

Summary: Finding a new life in a new town, you stumble upon a Honey farmer at the town market. You both have pasts that have shaped the way you now live your lives, but can you find a way of putting them behind you to find happiness?

Pairing: ‘Lucas’ Syverson x Female Reader

Fandom: Henry Cavill, Sandcastle (Movie).

Ongoing Genre: Fluff, Angst, and Smut

Story Warnings: Slight Angst, Talk of a car accident in the past, Anxious Sy, Mild Embarrassment, First Date Nerves, Kissing, NSFW, 18+, Smut, Fingering, Grinding, Hot Tub Frolics, Handjob, Titty Sucking, Nudity, Blowjob, Oral Sex.

Chapter 7 Warnings: Graphic descriptions of an abusive relationship, descriptions of domestic violence, description of murder attempt. NSFW, 18+, Smut, Blowjob

Wordcount: 3114

Here is my masterlist and AO3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6,

As Sweet As Honey - Chapter 7

Sy's truck crunched over the gravel of his driveway as he pulled into the covered parking spot at the side of his cabin. As he shut the engine off you could hear Akia barking when she recognised the sound of the engine, Sy gently patting your leg;

"She's going to be so excited to see you"

He smiled, but you could see the concern in his eyes. Back at your cottage Tamara had arrived in a tornado of hugs and reassurances, but it'd done little to calm your nerves over the fact your abuser had not only finished his parole and was allowed to leave the state, was hundreds of miles off route for what he said his destination was, and you knew how he'd always insisted on taking the most direct route anywhere he went, even if it meant dangerous roads in bad weather.

The first few spots of rain started to hit the ground and you felt Sy squeeze your thigh;

"As much as i'd like to see that pretty little dress of yours go see through in the rain lets not hang around, once Akia gets wet she stinks the cabin out with wet mutt scent"

Smiling you hopped out, Sy grabbing the bag you'd hastily packed with some clothes and your laptop, the pair of you running quickly to the front door, Sy darting out to the yard to release Akia from her leash before the pair of them ran back under the cover of the porch. The big dog was all wriggles when she saw you, a now familiar face in her life. You petted her and gave her fuss as Sy moved around his cabin, switching lamps on and getting you settled in. He lifted your bag and pointed hooked his thumb to his bedroom;

“I’m gonna put this in here, i’ve cleared a drawer for you to keep your stuff in”

You could feel a lump form in your throat at his gesture, the casual thoughtfulness something you weren't used to in a relationship.

Once he'd dropped your bag he pulled you into his arms, enveloping you in his strength and warmth. You felt like the worries of the world slipped away whilst you were in that cocoon of his arms, that the big wide world was just a bad dream. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and pulled back, waiting for you to meet his gaze;

"Dinner and a movie? Or dinner and talk?"

"Dinner and talk"

Your meal had been quick and easy, but no less delicious. Sy had made garlic bread from a loaf he'd baked that morning, combined with what Antonio had gifted him from the restaurant; fresh burrata cheese which had been drizzled with delicate honey and sprinkled with chopped pistachio nuts.

With the dishes cleaned away the two of you had curled up together on the couch, your time to explain your past had finally arrived;

"We met in college, James was a Senior when I was a Freshman. I didn't have that much experience with boys so I was flattered that he was interested… turns out he wanted someone he could control. We got married over the Summer between my Junior and Senior years, and when it came to returning for the Fall semester James started to change. He would have my timetable synced with his phone, and if I was more than 2 minutes late getting out of class he would start the mind games and accuse me of cheating. So many times Tamara walked me to his car and wouldn't leave until James accepted that class ran over. That worked fine until she had to have her workplace assignments in the Summer semester and wasn't around campus… that's when the hitting started."

You heard Sy exhale through his nose but didn't look to his face, you weren't ready and still had more to tell;

"James would never hit me when we were in public, he would just act like the perfect husband, but the second the front door to our apartment shut…" you paused, the memory of it causing you to tense; "He would hit me, just the once each time, but he'd use his fist and hit me in my back. The pain was excruciating. He knew exactly where to hit to cause the most prolonged pain, but to make it look like an accidental injury, that i'd fallen on something. There was one time…" your voice started to waiver but you paused and took a deep breath; "I'd gotten a ride home with Tamara as he'd had to work late, but because i'd invited her in for a coffee he was furious as hadn't 'checked' with him in advance. Tam was in the bathroom whilst i was rinsing some dishes in the kitchen, i heard footsteps but thought it was her, only for him to just come up behind me and land a punch in the center of my back. That was the beginning of the end if i'm being honest as Tam walked in whilst my legs were buckling. I'd learnt not to cry, i just compartmentalised and disassociated when it happened by that point"

You finally looked up at Sy and it almost broke your heart. He was blinking away the tears, you hadn't even considered that what you were saying would be difficult for someone who cared about you to hear;

"Sy, it's ok. It's over now"

He let out a very shaky sigh, nodding;

"I know Honey, but I just… I mean, we all have our emotional scars, but you're just so strong now. I'm sorry you went through that"

You reached out for him and he pulled you onto his lap, pressing his forehead to yours and laying a light kiss to the end of your nose to which you looked up at him;

"Do you need a break?"

"A break?"

"Before i tell you the rest"

He paused, before shaking his head;

"No, it's good that we get this all done in one go"

"Tam at that point pulled me aside at school one day, and with the help of our student support made me realise that what was happening wasn't my fault. Her husband was a cop and on his day off, he explained plainly what kind of evidence would be needed for an arrest and conviction, and at that point they helped me set up Nanny cameras"

"So you took that to the cops?"

"Not quite. It was around Thanksgiving and we'd travelled upstate to see his parents. The roads were icy and even after his Dad had said he shouldn't drive after drinking, he still insisted we head home. On a narrow road we spun out going over a bridge and the car ended up in the river below. The car was half submerged and when the cops arrived they found James first and pulled him out, but as they did the car got caught in the current and was washed over a waterfall. James had said there was no-one else in the car…"

"Fuck" Sy's voice was quiet; "How did you…"

"How did they realise I was still in the car? James was still drunk so when he was in the back of the ambulance he let slip that he hadn't been alone. The EMT's radioed back to the cops that were still on scene and they went into the water and pulled me out. They rushed me to the ER in their cruiser as by that point hypothermia had set in"

"You're not angry that they missed you the first time?"

Thinking about Sy's question you considered your thoughts before shaking your head;

"No, it wasn't their fault. It was dark and they'd had verbal confirmation from the driver that no one else was in the vehicle. If anything it increases my anger and hatred for my abuser" you paused; "but that doesn't diminish the feelings of fear i get of him being anywhere near me"

"How did you get away from him in the end?"

"The cops arrested him for driving under the influence whilst he was in hospital. When the statements of the First Responders came in about how he'd lied about me not being in the vehicle they added attempted manslaughter. My emergency contact was Tam so when the hospital called her she brought the evidence from the Nanny cams too. It was enough to get him locked up until trial as no-one posted bail"

Sy was silent for a long time, thinking over what you’d told him and he was absolutely positive that you had held back on a lot of the details, but that didn’t matter to him. All that mattered was that you were safe with him and he’d do everything in his power to keep you safe;

“So you haven’t seen him since that night?”

You shook your head;

“I testified via videolink. The city had a great public defender that made sure domestic violence survivors didn’t have to face their abusers in person. Tam testified in person and said that James tried to stare her down the entire time, but she just ignored him. He was sentenced to 4 years but got out after 3 for ‘good behaviour’, however throughout the whole time he sent threatening letters to my old address. The second he was released he was served with the restraining order. He’s not allowed to come within 200ft of me or my property”

“Does he know where you live?”

“I don’t think so, but the fact that he has entered the state has enough to make sure i don’t turn my back to a room at the moment, at least not until i know he’s heading in the opposite direction.”

There was a moment of silence before he pulled you to his chest and you instinctively hooked your nose beneath his chin. Warm hands smoothed over your back, comforting you. You felt like you were in a cocoon, safe and secure where nothing could threaten you or all you’d worked so hard for. With the brush of Sy’s beard on your face you relaxed to the point of slumber, drifting off into a calm and peaceful sleep.

When you woke it was dark, the warm embrace of Sy’s arms still around you, but this time you could tell you were in his bed. Twisting onto your side you smiled wearily and fell back into a deep safe sleep.

The sound of a shower woke you a second time, soft pale daylight of the early morning hinted at the windows of the cabin. Turning you realised you were alone in the bed, slipping silently out from beneath the covers you had a thought and a smile spread over your face. Quickly locating your bag you pulled a shower cap from your wash bag and pulled it on, before shedding your clothing and stepping into the steamy bathroom.

You could see the outline of Sy’s tall body where the window on the other side of the bath cast a silhouette through the shower curtain. He turned towards the shower and you could tell he had raised his face into the water, so now was your time to strike. Crossing the small room you carefully pulled the far end of the shower curtain and carefully stepped into the old enamel tub. As you pulled the curtain back in place one of the metal rings clinked against the rail, making you freeze, your eyes darting to Sy who still stood with his back to you, his face in the jets of water, and he let out a little chuckle;

“Honey, if you think you can sneak up on me you’ve got another thing comin’”

He turned and grinned at you, watching you watch him as the soapy bubbles trailed down his body. You couldn’t help but to gratuitously look at Sy in all his naked glory. You missed the smirk tug at the corner of his mouth as he watched you watching him, instead your gaze was transfixed upon the slow creep of his hands as he started to softly tug at his dick, watching it start to swell and grow from its already impressive state. Taking a single step forwards closed the space between you, tilting your head as your mouths met for a brutal kiss, whilst your hand moved to join his, wrapping around his hot girth.

When you pulled away from his lips, Sy let out a small whimper of loss, before watching as you got to your knees, never breaking eye contact. He was hot and heavy in your hand, filling your grasp as you moved your fist up and down. Tentatively you leaned forwards, taking just the tip into your mouth and letting your tongue lave against the smooth red tip.

Sy let out a strangled groan and his knees trembled a little, his hand shooting out to rest against the windowsill whilst the other settled atop your head;

“Baby… please…” he begged quietly.

Staring into those ice blue eyes you opened your mouth and took him as deep as you could, relishing the feel of marble beneath silk, his hardness growing until your cheeks were filled and your throat was cut off from precious air. With what little room you had left in your mouth you worked your tongue softly against the underside, the thick ridge of muscle that ran the length pulsing under your ministrations.

You wrapped your hand around the base of his shaft, grasping him tightly as you moved your head back and forth, letting saliva pool in your mouth and escape from the corners of your lips.

“Oh fuck…” Sy cursed; “That’s so good, get me nice and sloppy, such a good girl”

Sy cupped your cheek, his hand moving back to the top of your head, unsure where to put his hands. Reaching up you grabbed both and pulled them down until they were resting on the back of your head, nodding slightly so he got the message that it was ok.

“Oh god… you’re fucking perfect” he muttered as he started to rock his hips back and forth just a little, fucking your mouth as you relaxed your jaw a little more; “So fucking perfect… look at you with my dick in your mouth, feels so good, that’s it girl, take it deeper”

On a couple of thrusts he got just a fraction too deep and you could feel your eyes start to water, but thankfully your gag reflex behaved itself. You rested your hands on the tops of Sy’s thighs, the muscles tense beneath your touch, and you could tell he was getting close. Slipping one hand between his legs you softly cupped his balls and was rewarded with a guttural groan from above;

“Fuck… do that again and i’m gonna cum down your pretty throat”

Maintaining eye contact you did exactly that, softly cupping and cradling his balls in your palm. You heard him groan as they pulled tight to his body, then the tell tale tremble of cum travelling through his shaft before that salty splash as it hit your tongue. Quickly swallowing he finished on your tongue, pulling free of your mouth as his hand flew to the windowsill and his knees wobbled. His other hand hooked under your arm, helping you to your feet until he could pull you flush to his chest, kissing you fiercely before you pushed him away;

“Sy! I haven’t even brushed my teeth, you’ll be tasting yourself!”

“Nothin’ wrong with that Honey, just a reminder that you were kind enough to do that for me” he let out a contented sigh, before his demeanor immediately changed and he let out a string of ‘OH’s. Quickly spinning around he shut the water off before turning back to you;

“Hot water just ran out… it’s gonna be a while before the tank refills i’m afraid. I know you don’t like cold water…”

With a smile you were thankful for his actions, even in the post orgasmic haze he was probably in;

“No problem”

At that moment a series out loud woof’s and barking came from the other side of the door;

“Uh-oh, need to let Akia out, she only gets like that when she’s gotta ‘go’ go”

It didn’t take long until you had dried off what parts of you had gotten wet and dressed in yoga pants and loose t-shirt loaned from Sy, assuring him that you were fine by yourself for the half hour it would take him to walk Akia across the meadow as he did the morning check on the beehives. Setting your laptop up on the small desk in the back of Sy’s bedroom, you plugged your headphones in so you could listen to the morning zoom meeting.

It was 45 minutes later when you glanced at the time in the corner of your screen and you realised that Sy wasn’t back, your stomach grumbled so you decided to seek out some coffee. Switching your wireless headphones to connect to your playlist, you were in your own little world as you wandered into the kitchen, turning the corner only to be greeted by a stranger leaning into the fridge. Shocked blue eyes stared at you from behind floppy dark hair, a youthful attempt at stubble dusted over the stranger’s face. You let out a scream, stumbling back until your hip touched the table as you scrambled for something to protect yourself with, your fingers curling around the handle of the iron skillet Sy had seasoned on the stove the previous night. Holding it up like a baseball bat you yelled;

“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!”

The young man dropped the slice of cooked bacon he had been about to eat, holding his hands up in surrender;

“Okay crazy lady, i could say the same about you”

“I asked first!” you demanded, shaking the pan a little, before suddenly the back door of the cabin opened, Akia running in and making a beeline for the dropped bacon, Sy standing in the doorway as both you and the startled young man faced off in his kitchen.

Crossing the room to you in just a few strides, Sy pulled the skillet from your grasp, trying but failing to contain his amusement;

“Darlin’, i want you to meet Mike, Walter’s kid”

Your eyes went wide;

“This is Walter’s son?”

You looked to the man by the fridge who had now shut the door and was giving Akia ear scratches as she leant against his leg;

“Sure am Sweetcheeks”

Chapter 8 >>>

#as sweet as honey #syverson x reader #syverson smut #henry cavill

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nicola-fiore · 3 months ago

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"Are you comfortable, my treasure?"

Nicola looked up to see her husband, Giovanni, waiting, always ready to see if there was any more he could do to ease her position. After all, she was pushing onto her 39th week of pregnancy. A small, sleepy smile crossed Nicola's face, softening her features. She nodded, reaching a hand out to delicately caress his handsome, rugged face.

"Yes, my love, I'm as comfortable as I can be," she reassured him. "Come to bed..."

"I will," Giovanni told her, "but I need to take a shower first." Kissing the back of her hand, he added: "After that, I'll be right in, I promise." Sealing his words with a kiss on her lips, he soon disappeared into their en suite bathroom to shower.

Alone in their bedroom, Nicola looked around, her mind coursing with a million different thoughts. Then, her gaze fell upon her an old photograph that her dear husband had put in a simple but beautiful picture frame, sitting on her bedside table. It was Nicola's most prized possession. Reaching for it, her other hand absentmindedly ran over her swollen belly, gentle but protective.

Nicola has looked at this very picture for what must've been the billionth time since it had been taken, and a deep, unhealed ache stabbed at her chest. Forcibly swallowing the rock that had formed in her throat, choking her from the inside, she closed her eyes and was again transported back to that night.

Even years later, she could remember it as vividly as if it happened just the night before.

***

"What do you mean he's gone?!" Nicola remembered her father bellowing at the nurse who'd come to deliver the news. "Gone where?!!"

"Y-Your...Your s-son," the nurse stuttered, trying his best to explain whilst shaking like a leaf under the thunderous rage of the Antonio Zanetta. The man shrank even smaller upon realising his mistake, eyes wide with fear. "I mean, your son..."

And for a moment, Nicola's gaze locked with that of the male nurse.

"I don't understand!" Antonio barked, his fury clear as day. He spoke for the family, with words Nicola couldn't produce on her own. "He was here just a minute ago! Then that-.. that woman, that nurse said she was going to take him for some routine tests! That it won't be long! And now you're telling me he's dead?!"

"Papa!" Nicola finally found her voice as it cracked against the blinding, suffocating, paralysing agony brought on by the nurse's news. "Enough! Please!" Crumbling beneath its weight, she weakened, pleading through silent, angry tears. "Please, I beg you... don't... don't say that. That word... Not to me. Never to me."

Antonio had no choice but to bite his tongue. Though evidently still seething, even he knew the importance of heeding his daughter's plea, especially at a time like this. Anything to ease her suffering somehow.

Silence fell as the clock perched on the far side of the wall, behind her father's head, caught Nicola's attention.

It had been two o'clock in the morning when Antonio and Lorenzo had to rush a very pregnant eighteen-year-old Nicola to the hospital. Labour was intense — a big, blurry ball of mind-numbing pain that felt like it would go on forever. But some way, some how, relief had come at 3:16AM as a newborn's cry filled the room, and Nicola was handed her darling baby boy.

He was perfect. And despite all the unspeakable difficulties she had to go through to get him earthside, it was easily the best day of her life.

That is, until she was plunged headfirst into her reality-turned-nightmare when this nurse had come in, very apprehensively, to deliver every parent's worst nightmare.

"He can't be..." Nicola managed to say, her voice as weak as she looked and felt.

The freshly developed polaroid she had in her hands was one that her older brother, Lorenzo, had taken just moments ago. It showed Nicola, tired but happy, with her newborn son in her arms. It had been mere minutes since she'd been looking at it fondly. Now, it was but a painful reminder of love lost.

"Gio." Nicola murmured so quietly at first that only Lorenzo, who'd been by her side, had caught it.

"What?" he asked, confused.

Then, silence. All eyes were on Nicola as she, in turn, looked wretchedly, longingly at the photograph.

"Giovanni," Nicola repeated, a little louder this time. Clearer. But even then, Lorenzo chose to stay tightlipped. It was a name that had been fought over time and time again, almost tearing father and daughter apart before it was definitively banned from the Zanetta household. Now, though visibly shattered and weakened by her current predicament, Nicola stood her ground. "My son is going to be named after his father."

* All conversations are in Italian.

#[ nicola fiore || narrative 04 ]#[ ⚠️warning! child loss ]

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sharkyy599 · 7 months ago

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Scene from Mi Tercera Amante:

So Valentin found out that Beltran has been seeing his wife, so now he’s gonna kill him

And of course there’s Antonio and Tomás barking at their characters

(Beltrán doesn’t die btw, because otherwise the show would end and we can’t have that!)

#Tomás #Antonio Dante Dominguez #ocs #oc art #digital drawing #sharkees official by bi lobster

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volklana · 2 years ago

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Gimme More

Title comes from this song:

Request: Heyyy I'm way too shy to ask this off anon but have you ever thought about writing a fic where reader has to go undercover as a stripper and she gets paired on the mission with Bucky who acts like he hates her but it's because he's secretly obsessed with her and this is the thing that drives him over the edge? I don't know just think you would do wonders with a prompt like this.

Words: 4,392

Warnings: Stripping, unwanted sexual advances, mild torture. Shower sex.

A lot of the visuals and reader’s final outfit is based on this music video:

Masterlist can be found here:

“Louisiana, Steve?” Bucky barked.

“I really think, this is the key Bucky, we know the deal is happening, we just need this final push of information.”

“Y/n, is already down there, has been the last two months, she’s making fantastic leads but I really think this could be the final step.”

Bucky sighed, and ran his hands through his hair.

“I know you’ve got some problems with y/n, but I really need you to do this.”

Whenever Steve said those words Bucky never felt like he could refuse, because it was Steve and everything he had done for him, so he relented.

Bucky dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, it was more than problems he had with you, he could barely stand to be in the same room as you, let alone have to live with you, he put off packing for as long as possible trying to prolong the inevitable.

Bucky let himself into the safe house, you had texted him the coordinates earlier, telling him you didn’t finish work until after 2am, he showered and climbed into bed.

Your headlights pulling into the driveway woke him and he was rising to let you in.

“I managed to get you work, you’re needed as a heavy hand, security, protection, that kind of thing.”

“How’d you manage that so quickly?” he mused.

“I’ve managed to get quite close to him, I’m his favourite girl at the moment. He trusts me.”

Bucky scoffed and you rolled your eyes, “I’m going to shower, just turn up on time and don’t fuck this up for me.”

Vincent was the club owner, despite never having been a member he had profited greatly from dealings with Hydra. Now he was running a money laundering campaign using the club as cover. He was good to his girls and for the most part ensured no one harmed any of them.

Your second week on the job you had purposely instigated a situation that had a man carried out of the club on a stretcher while you cried on Vincent’s lap, he was a sucker for a pair of sad eyes, you had the saddest eyes of all and you knew how to play him like a violin.

But Bucky didn’t need to know the ins and outs of what you had done to make this mission work.

And so Bucky went to work early the next day, and he didn’t think any more about you until you turned up for your shift the next evening.

“Hey Antonio,” you greeted running your hand along his chest as he moved the rope to let you in “James,” you acknowledged with a nod.

“Man tell me how you’ve known her this long and you aint tapping that,” Antonio sighed following you with his eyes.

“Watch how you speak,” Bucky snapped and he regained his composure sharply, surprising even himself with the outburst.

The dance music spilled out into the night drowning out the sound of crickets and Bucky and Antonio were moved from outside to run security inside. It wasn’t Bucky’s first time inside a strip club, but he didn’t particularly enjoy time in them.

Antonio tapped him and pointed his head in the direction of the stage, Bucky hadn’t even seen you make your way up to the stage, but he was mesmerised as soon as you began to sway your hips, your legs accentuated by the six inch heels you had on, hair tied up in a long ponytail that you swished and swirled effortlessly. You worked the pole in ways Bucky had no idea your body could move, he genuinely felt his mouth go dry as you dropped to the floor, crawling on all fours stopping in front of Vincent to run your hands up your body and swirl your hair, as you unhooked your bra.

Bucky looked away only then because he didn’t want to invade your privacy. The irony of that not being lost on him.

He may have been trust into the modern world against his will, but he still had certain beliefs and the only time he wanted to view your body was with permission and when it was squirming underneath his.

When he chanced a look in your direction again you were sitting on some guys lap while he spilled champagne over your chest and into your mouth.

Bucky made a mental note to make sure you were really were doing okay when you got back to base that night.

You were quiet when you slipped in, Bucky was still awake tapping on his laptop as you slipped your shoes off.

“Does this guy look familiar to you?” you asked simply throwing an ID at Bucky, the name read Andrew Beck, Bucky instantly clocked him as the guy’s lap you had been sitting on earlier.

“How did you get this?” Bucky was seriously impressed, “He paid for a private dance after you left,” you offered simply.

“Y/n,” Bucky sighed “Are you sure you’re okay with this, if Steve knew-”

“-Steve knew what he was sending me to do, I’m fine Buck. But you cannot be so uptight, Beck thought you were my boyfriend the way you kept watching like you wanted to pull the head off anyone who touched me, if Vincent sees you-��

-”No you’re right, I’m sorry.” Bucky interjected and you nodded.

“I’ve put a lot into this and we’re so close I can’t afford to slip up now.”

“We won’t,” Bucky promised, but you knew better than to rely on one of those. You eyed him warily and hmmed in response.

You excused yourself to bed after a shower.

To tell the truth Bucky was putting off going to bed, he had tried to sleep earlier but the thought of you on that stage had his mind going to all sorts of terrible places, and he’d had to readjust himself a few times to try to get comfortable. He didn’t want to cross that boundary but the way your body had wrapped around the pole earlier made that incredibly hard.

Bucky didn’t like you. He made it abundantly clear when you were both living back at the compound. He rolled his eyes at things you suggested, he berated you for mistakes you made on missions and that last one had been so bad Steve had to step in. When Steve had informed you he was sending Bucky down you had begged him for a solid week to send anyone else but him, but he never gave in. If you hadn’t invested so much of yourself into this mission you would have simply told Steve to stick it but you were almost certain you were within arms reach of finding out who Vincent was laundering for and if that meant sucking it up with Bucky for a few weeks then so be it.

Weeks went by of alternating shifts between you and Bucky, he was less and less on security work lately and more on the heavy handed side of things, collecting debts and rolling out punishments, while you continued to work the stage, collecting IDs and bringing them home for Bucky to run through the data base. One particular night he came home fist bloody and headed straight for the bottle of whiskey you kept on the counter. You were applying the finishing touches to your makeup in the bathroom mirror and getting ready to head in when you saw Bucky’s reflection behind you, “Y/n, be careful okay, you don’t hear the way the other guys talk about you and the things they want to do,” before you could even respond he was retreating into his room and slamming the door.

Bucky was the first to find out that Vincent was throwing a private party when he was booked to do security that night. He rushed home to tell you just as you were getting off the phone, “I know when the exchange is happening!” he rushed but his face fell when he saw yours, “What is it?”

“I’ve been booked to work that night,” you said simply, “None of the other girls, just me.”

“You think he’s on to us?” Bucky asked panicked.

“No Bucky, that’s not it. Private parties for Vincent normally mean more than just dancing,” you sighed rubbing your hand across your face.

“Well then it’s non negotiable you’re not going.”

“Bucky we have him, we have him in the palm of our hands now is not the time to back out. Let Steve know to be here, I’ll work out the rest.”

The bile rose in Bucky’s stomach at the thought of it but he had no choice but to trust you.

Bucky stood by the pool, arms folded watching like a hawk, for any sign of the buyer. He hoped Steve and the others were in place because he couldn’t risk using comms tonight.

He heard your laugh from across the lawn, you were in a pink silk and shimmery bra with a matching short shimmery skirt with a slit all the way up to your hip on one side, you looked like a goddess to Bucky with the gold glitter around your eyes and gold bangles adorning your arms.

There was a stage with a singular pole in the middle of the grounds, leather couches and small firepits surrounding it. Some men had already taken their seats in anticipation of your performance. When Vincent stood up to announce your arrival Bucky felt his throat go dry. The music started and you began to sway, there was no denying it, you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, you let your hair loose, letting your fingers run through it and swirled your fingers around, dropping to a splits you eased onto your back, long legs extending into the air as you spun around onto your stomach, slowly crawling your way back up the pole.

Bucky wanted to march up on stage, grab you and drag you off into a corner and fuck you senseless, him and every other man watching you, he suddenly felt an immense pang of jealousy over that.

You weren’t his to want or have.

And then he locked eyes with you, as you bent down to touch your toes, butt pressed firmly to the pole, looking up at him through your lashes he nearly came on the spot as you smiled coyly his way.

His concentration was broken however when he heard Vincent’s voice in front of him.

“I’ll want to be compensated, she’s my best earner at the moment,” Bucky honed in on the conversation.

“I will expect to try before I buy,” the man to his right said simply, eyeing you and you slid your bra off effortlessly, Bucky knew that voice, he began wracking his brains to place just where he knew that voice.

“I’ve had only the briefest taste myself but you are in for a treat.”

Bucky didn’t know if he wanted to be sick or kill the men in front of him or both but he hoped Steve would swarm the place soon so it didn’t get to that.

As you finished your set you pulled your bra back on and climbed down from the stage, to the thunderous sound of applause.

Bucky watched you wind your way through the crowd to get to him.

“Enjoy the show?” you teased and he groaned, “I saw you Barnes, you couldn’t look away.”

Bucky lunged forward to reach for you, grasping your arm in his, swallowing thickly, his eyes glanced down to your lips.

“What the fuck did you do?” Vincent shouted, grabbing you by the arm forcing you out of Bucky’s arm to face him.

“Vincent you’re hurting me,” you cried trying to wrangle out of his touch.

Bucky barely even had time to react when he felt the jab in his neck and suddenly he was losing consciousness, your terrified eyes the last thing he saw before he hit the ground.

__________________________________

Bucky blinked his eyes open to a blinding pain in his head, his hands were secured high above his head and no amount of pulling could set him free, even with his metal arm. The dull ache in his shoulders told him he had been in that position for a while. He tried to do a quick survey of his surroundings, he was definitely in a bunke. He whipped his head around trying to spot you and his heart fell out of his chest when his eyes landed on your unconscious form, tied to a chair, head hanging forward and blood drying on your lips.

“Y/n,” he hissed, “Y/n, you need to wake up. Please,” he begged.

“She’s a tough one,” the same voice that he had been trying to remember earlier mused stepping out of the shadows, “Took down two of my men trying to get to you earlier, she’s got fight in her,” he cupped your face lifting it up to inspect your features, “She’s beautiful huh? Can see why the Cap chose her for this line of business.”

Bucky shook the chains in pure anger trying in vain to free himself, “Get the fuck away from her,” he roared.

It was only when he turned around that Bucky realised it was Jack Rollins, second hand to Brock Rumlow who had participated in disciplining him during his time as the Winter Soldier. He wished his stomach didn’t twist the way it did when he locked eyes with Rollins.

He let out a dry laugh, “So you’re who Vincent has been dealing with?”

“Surprised to see me?” he smirked making his way over to stand in front of Bucky, “Everyone assumed I went down with Triskelion so I let them believe it. But I’ve just been here biding my time, waiting for the day you would show up. I knew Cap couldn’t let his Hydra vendetta go. I was counting on it.”

“And you assumed he would send me?” Bucky spat.

“I knew he would,” he smirked, “Her on the other hand she’s a bonus!”

Bucky again fought with his restraints, “If you fucking touch her-”

-”You won’t be here to see it,” Rollins grinned, “The other guy, the soldier will however, he may even join in.”

Now it was Bucky’s turn to smirk, “He’s gone, the words don’t work anymore, there’s nothing you can do to torture him out of me anymore.”

“Oh I know,” Rollins smirked “You’ve been trained to withstand torture we saw to that,” he turned his attention back to you, “She however, hasn’t. In fact shall we wake her up?”

Bucky saw red and pulled so hard he nearly pulled his arms out of their sockets, but his arms would not come free. He had to simply watch in horror as Rollins threw a bucket of water over you and you gasped back to life, pulling on your own restraints, eyes widening in horror when you saw Bucky, suspended in front of you, before Rollins' face came into view.

“Nice of you to join the party sweetheart,” he smirked and you kicked your leg out in an attempt to connect with him.

Rollins laughed dryly “You see?” he turned to Bucky smirking “Feisty!”

“Fuck you,” you spat “Untie me and I’ll show you feisty.”

Rollins fisted his hand in your hair, forcing your head back, Bucky could see the goosebumps on your skin from the cold water Rollins had thrown on you, he was furious, you were still in the attire you had worn to the party, pink bra and barely there skirt, you had to be freezing, they didn’t even have the decency to cover you.

“You’re going to do something for me,” Rollins commanded.

You tried to yank your face away “I will do nothing for you,” you spat launching forward to plant a headbutt to his face, within seconds he had his hands around your throat, the chair swung back, and the two back legs were the only thing keeping it on the ground.

Bucky watched your legs kick out as you gasped for breath, but what he wasn’t prepared for was the scream that left your mouth to knock all the air out of his lungs, Rollins was holding against your bare torso a device that Bucky knew all too well, it had been used on him one too many times, the volts of electricity that were currently running through your body had been enough to bring him to his knees more than once.

As soon as the four legs hit the ground, you slumped forward, only the restraints kept you from falling forward entirely.

“Submit,” Rollins ordered and you shook your head weakly, “Submit,” he ordered again and you wearily pulled yourself back into place, “No.”

“You want to see her dance again?” he smirked and stuck the rod into your side again reveling in your screams as your body thrashed with the pain.

“Stop! Stop!” Bucky screamed, but Rollins simply drove the rod deeper into your side, your screams like a knife to Bucky’s chest, “Stop, please I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll yield. Just stop.”

He pulled the rod away from you, with a sick smirk and you slumped to the side. Bucky watched your chest rising and falling, a sheen of sweat covering your face and chest.

“Good,” he simply said “Now that I see you can be reasoned with, get some rest. I will be back to talk business soon. Lets give our girl a little chance to recover huh? I have great plans for the two of you- might have to break this one in a little more through,” he winked.

Bucky didn’t respond, his only interest was getting Rollins as far away from you as possible.

“Are you okay?” he tried after a while.

You simply nodded weakly, “Please y/n I need to hear you say it, I need you to talk to me.”

“I’m okay Buck.”

Buck, you had never called him that before.

“But if you for one second think I’m allowing you to give yourself to that creep, you have another thing coming.”

“Y/n-”

“- I can take it Bucky, whatever he does to me I can take, do you hear me? Do not offer yourself like that again. Do. You. Hear. Me?”

He nodded but he knew full well the second he had heard your scream he would rather die than watch you go through that again.

The aches in Bucky’s shoulder was turning to pain and the discomfort was evident on his face, you were assessing the situation. If you could just get out of your binds you could make it up to the chains holding him in place and free him too.

You tried standing a few times, you were shaky on your feet the first few times but you were determined.

“What are you doing?” Bucky tried but you ignored him.

When you felt like you could confidently stand, you took a deep breath, this was going to hurt like a bitch. Natasha had taught you this move on your second week of training, you had never managed to do it without immense pain, but if that meant freeing yourself to give you and Bucky a fighting chance, you were going to do it.

You sprung into action, running as fast as you could and propelling yourself into a summersault you landed down on your back, the chair collapsed in pieces and you lay winded for a few seconds before you could manage to wrangle free from the ropes that had bound your arms in place. Bucky couldn’t even process what he had just seen, he watched you push your left shoulder back into place, wincing slightly and he almost backed away when you made your way towards him.

“Are you okay?” you asked examining him carefully.

“Am I…Am I okay? Y/n are you? What the hell was that?” you huffed out a laugh and switched your attention to the chains over his head, “I need to get up there,” you motioned and he glanced up, he didn’t even get to respond before you were essentially climbing him like a tree, you felt his torso muscles tense when you came face to face, almost like he was holding his breath. You couldn’t help chance a look into his eyes, those worried cobalt eyes were boring back into yours and you swallowed thickly, arms locked around his neck and legs wrapped around his torso.

“You should have escaped,” he said, voice raspy.

“I’m not leaving without you,” you reassured “We’re both getting out of here.”

Bucky nodded and you continued your ascent upwards, the chains were clamped in an industrial clamp, it was locked and no matter how much you tried to pry it open it would not release, it was very clearly made to withstand Bucky’s strength. You slipped one of the heavy bangles off your wrist and unscrewed one of the ends Bucky watched in awe as a tiny blade appeared and you fidgeted with the lock a few seconds before you managed to pick it. The clamp opened and Bucky felt some relief as the pull loosened on his arms.

You plopped back down to the ground, and asked Bucky to pull as hard as he could and he cried out in relief when the chains pulled free from the ceiling.

Without a moments hesitation Bucky strode over to you clasped your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours and you returned his kiss greedily, leaning your weight into him, as he snaked his arms around your waist.

“Do you think you can kick the door down?” you asked almost in a haze and he hummed with a nod of his head.

“We’ll have to fight our way out doll.”

“Ready when you are,” you nodded and he made quick work of busting down the door.

It was immediate hand to hand combat and Bucky managed to wrestle a gun from a guard and take out a few more along the way. You were in your bare feet trying to avoid getting your toes trampled on as you fought tooth and nail with a foot soldier who refused to go down, a shot to his shoulder from Bucky had him collapsing and allowed you to pass by.

“Where’s Rollins?” you shot to Bucky as the two of you escaped down a winding corridor, it almost seemed too easy.

Bucky took your hand in his and pulled you along beside him, ready to pounce at any second and finally he was kicking a door out into the fresh night air, and you were both running faster than you had ever run before.

You couldn’t risk going back to the safe house now that your cover was blown, and you didn’t stop running until you were fit to collapse, your body had been through significantly more than Bucky’s tonight.

He managed to hotwire a car and only once you had been driving for over an hour did you feel safe.

Bucky stopped at a gas station to fill up the tank and returned with a sweatshirt that said Louisiana on it, “I thought you’d be cold,” he said simply when your eyes softened at him.

“I spoke to Steve,” he added after a moment, “I used the phone in the store to call him, they’re going after Rollins, Nat got a hit on him, I have the coordinates for a safe house an hour an a half away so they’re going to meet us there tomorrow.”

You relaxed back into your seat, pulling the sweatshirt on.

Bucky collapsed onto the sofa in the safehouse and you rummaged for some food, in the cabinets, finding a box of mac n cheese and opting to make that for both of you, you both ate in silence. The shift in yours and Bucky’s relationship was thick in the air and you didn’t know how to broach it.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Bucky’s voice broke your trail of thoughts and you nodded with a small smile. You bit the inside of your cheek as you heard the water begin to run, before you could overthink it you followed him into the bathroom.

He was standing with his back turned to you, water dripping down his muscled back, and your mouth went dry, you slipped the Louisiana sweatshirt off and his deep voice commanded from nowhere, “Leave the outfit on,” you smirked and slipped into the shower in your shimmery costume, gasping when he pushed you up against the cool tiles of the shower wall.

“You have no idea what you do to me in those tight little outfits,” he groaned sliding his hand up under the skirt, “Watching your body move on stage, watching every man in the room want you, was driving me crazy.”

You panted head thrown back as his fingers continued to work their magic, and just as you were about to reach your release he pulled his fingers away, “All of them wanted you, but who did you want?”

“You Buck. Wanted you,” was just about all you could muster.

Suddenly, without warning he flipped you around and you had to put your hands against the tiles to brace yourself, his pace was ferocious, pounding into you, hands fisted into your hair, your palms against the tiles the only thing protecting your face from making contact with the wall. You cried out as he pounded, the sound echoing through the steamy room and he grunted as he came, releasing his hold on your hair and slowing his pace, and you winced as he pulled out.

He spun you around much more gently this time, removing your outfit gingerly and easing you under the water, he lathered his hands with soap and gently massaged your body.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he mused and you sighed contentedly, wrapping your arms around his neck, and leaning in for a kiss.

“Next time will be more gentle,” he mused running his hands tenderly up and down your waist.

“I’m ready when you are,” you smirked pecking his swollen lips.

Tagging:

@spookyparadisesheep @jbbarnesgirl @salvatoreitmeanssaviour@princesscornbread @loki-laufeyson-1054 @firstcashheroathlete @missvelvetsstuff nana1000night sapphire-rogers @sarahrogersevans @steverogerssimpp @spudinthemud @mrsragnarlodbrok @buckgasms @miss-patriciah-maximoff @hellomissmabel @knittingknerdy @shamvictoria11 @buckysberrie @assembletheimagines @dearthofequanimity @wellthatsrandomkek @mitra-k-w @nikkitia7 @fantasticimpaladoctor @feelmyroarrrr @sebseyesandbuckysthighs @andhiseyesweregreen @frickin-bats @buckyywiththegoodhair @iiharu-kunii @bellenuit45-blog @james-bionic-barnes @avengerofyourheart @jaegers-and-kaijus princess76179 brasspistol thelittleredrobinhood

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky smut #captain america x reader #bucky/reader #MCU fanfiction #mcu prompt #volklana writes

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beikonsims · 23 hours ago

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Benedick had a hard time explaining to his family why he decided not to return to Veronaville with his sister. He didn't want to worry his father with Altos or blame Hal for keeping the distance from their hometown. Whenever Antonio asked him about it, he just explained they wanted to try something new away from old family drama.

Hal couldn't help blaming himself, thinking Benny would've loved to be with his family in Veronaville. He didn't want to bring this up, worried Benny might actually agree and leave him.

Hal didn't realize how clingy he's become over the years and Benedick found it weirdly charming. He remembered how that edgy, hot-headed boy would bark at everyone around and turns out he just really needed someone to hold him close.

#beikon plays the sims #the sims 2 #beikon uberhood 2.0 #haldick round #hal capp #benedick monty

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grahamcracklewho · 3 months ago

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02. RED ROGUE

a Carmen Sandiego (2019) rewrite.

tw (for the entire series): murder, death, mild gore, angst, obsession, ableism. i will add onto this as i go on. this series is DEEPLY redcrackle but includes ocs and reworked versions of characters, canon events, and etc.

this is ch2. ask/comment to be tagged for ch3 and more.

YOU DON’T NEED TO KNOW CARMEN SANDIEGO TO READ THIS.

(I made this as understandable as possible to newcomers).

prev. current (ch3). next.

Soft chatter emanated through the auditorium as VILE’s newest batch of students got themselves seated, waiting for orientation to begin. It didn’t take long for Coach Brunt to stroll onto the stage, approaching the podium that sat in the middle. She fiddled with the microphone attached to it, frowning slightly before rolling her eyes.

“Ahem!” Coach Brunt glanced around expectantly, waiting for the students to quiet down. “…Welcome to VILE’s school for thieves,” she said. “That’s V-I-L-E. Valuable imports, lavish exports. We ship goods to the four corners of the world.” The coach grinned down at the auditorium full of students. “You’ve all been hand-picked for our one-year program, thanks to your unique talents and exponential potential, so we’re expecting big results from all of you. But, that aside—my name is Coach Brunt, and I’m one of the head honchos around here, so you gotta play by my house rules.”

She held up a cell phone, the familiar object drawing the attention of the students. “Rule one: no communication devices.” She suddenly crushed it, bits of glass and metal crumbling to the ground, getting shocked gasps and concerned glances from everyone but Black Sheep. “And, rule two: first names only, until y’all get your code names.” Coach Brunt’s gaze slid over, meeting Black Sheep’s amongst the crowd. “Ain’t that right, lambkins?”

Black Sheep blinked in surprise before managing a nervous smile and shrinking back slightly, feeling the gazes of all the other students on her. Directly in front of her, someone barked out a laugh, making her flinch.

“Lambkins?” The person snorted. “Who knew VILE had a mascot?”

She was suddenly faced with a decision: allow herself to be made fun of on orientation day, of all things, or fight back.

Well, she never was one to back down.

Without a second to give room for hesitation, she grabbed the shirt collar of the person that had just laughed and yanked on it, hard, pulling their head back so that she could stare them down, ignoring the startled yelp they let out as she did so. It was a brunet male, his expression strewn with surprise. She bit back the urge to shake the wits out of him and instead managed a forced smile.

“The name’s Black Sheep,” she gritted out. “Only my friends call me lambkins.” Her grip on his collar tightened, giving it a slight tug. “Do you understand? Nod if you understand.”

He nodded hurriedly. “Uh-huh.”

Reluctantly, she released him, and didn’t hear another peep from him for the rest of the orientation. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the last of him that she saw. After orientation, students were directed to their respective dorms, with a handful of people in each one.

Black Sheep was the first one to arrive and settle into her dorm room (aside from that freaky quiet kid), only having to move a few maps and the set of Russian nesting dolls from her room to feel homely. She looked around the area and eventually decided on a bed by a window, so she could look out into the island, but still close by the doorway so she could watch as her new roommates filed in.

The first two that entered followed each other closely; a tall, lean man and his friend, who was much shorter and broader in comparison.

“Jean Paul,” the tall man said, nodding at her in greeting.

“And I’m Antonio,” the shorter man added.

Black Sheep smiled at them both. They seemed friendly enough.

Trailing behind them was a platinum blond woman. For a moment, Black Sheep’s mind flashed to Zicron and how she didn’t see him at orientation, but pushed the thought away, instead watching as said blond woman brushed her hair back and barely spared Black Sheep a glance as she entered. “I’m Sheena,” the woman said, sounding bored. Black Sheep already didn’t like her, but didn’t have very long to stew in hatred because the next person that came in was the brunet from earlier. Black Sheep’s eyes narrowed at him, and when his gaze met hers, he managed a sheepish smile.

“You,” she scowled, standing up. He glanced off to the side, rubbing his neck.

“Er… Black Sheep, right?” He asked, a hint of an accent in his voice. It didn’t take her long to identify it as Australian. “The name’s Graham.” He extended a hand out for her to shake. “Sorry about earlier.”

Black Sheep quirked a brow, scanning his face for any sign of deception. When she found none, she accepted his offer and gave his hand a firm shake. “Nice to meet you, Graham,” she said carefully. As much as she would’ve liked to acknowledge his apology, she wasn’t quite sure she was ready to let go of it yet.

Graham seemed to pick up on what she was thinking and a look of faint guilt appeared on his face. He started to say something else, but the shrill voice of one of her new roommates cut through it.

“These your toys, little girl?” Sheena had wandered over to Black Sheep’s bed without her noticing, and she took the opportunity to poke at the Russian nesting dolls sitting by the windowsill.

Immediately, Black Sheep scowled. “Hands off,” she warned as she walked over to her with brisk strides.

Sheena laughed and moved to stand in front of the nesting dolls. “Ooh, protective, are you?” She sneered. “I wonder what you’re keeping in these dolls. I guess I could find out.” Her hand inched closer to the dolls. Red filled Black Sheep’s vision, and she dove at Sheena, trying to get in a punch or two when Graham suddenly grabbed her, locking his arms underneath her.

“Whoa!” He shouted. “Let’s play nice, ladies.” He dragged Black Sheep away from Sheena, though not without some difficulties since she wouldn’t stop flailing.

“Taking sides with the little girl, Graham?” Sheena shot him an unimpressed look.

Graham only rolled his eyes. “What’d Black Sheep even do to you? Just don’t touch people’s things without permission.”

Sheena looked offended by the scolding, but only managed to let out a splutter before turning on her heel and sauntering off. “Probably cheap costume jewelry, anyways,” she muttered. Graham chuckled before helping Black Sheep back up to her feet.

“You okay?” He asked, glancing at her. She looked at him, surprised, before managing a small smile and nod.

“Yeah,” she said, looking down at the floor. That went better than she had expected it to. Usually, her shuffles ended up with her winning, but just barely, and with a heap of injuries to go along with it. “Thanks.“

He grinned. “No problem.”

Black Sheep was already making friends—and enemies.

The next day, classes started.

Black Sheep got up earlier than everyone else, with the exception of Graham, who was playing chess with himself on the coffee table in the dormitory. She hadn’t been able to sleep very well last night, but woke up feeling more energized than ever, practically bouncing with excitement. This was it—what she had been waiting for, all her life. She had even gotten new clothes, commemorating her officially becoming a student. It was a sleek black stealth suit, with VILE’s signature green V in the front.

“You’re really raring to go, aren’t you, Black Sheep?” Graham smiled at her from where he sat cross-legged on the floor. He, too, was dressed in new clothes: a dark blue jacket, over a black shirt. “You’ve been up for the past hour or so, just sitting there grinning.”

“Honestly? I can’t wait.” She managed a sheepish smile. As much as she didn’t want to come across as overeager (and remind a certain someone how “immature” she was) she couldn’t exactly hide it. Besides, Graham probably wouldn’t judge her. “How’re you so calm?”

“Trade secret.” He grinned before gesturing to the chess board he had set up. “Wanna play a round?”

Black Sheep glanced at it. “Sure, but no promises that I won’t win.” She took a seat across from him. “I’ve played chess with Coach Brunt a million times.”

“Fond of her, are you?” He hummed. “Well, I’m sorry to say that I am definitively better at chess than Coach Brunt is. Prepare to lose.” He paused. “You sure you want black? You can take white if you want.”

She shot him a look. “White is fine. I’ll destroy you either way.”

“Hey, hey, the match hasn’t even started yet. Let’s remain civil for just one more second.” His grin widened. “But game on.”

“I can’t believe you won!” Black Sheep groaned as she clutched her head. “I was so sure…”

Graham shrugged, hiding his smile. “What can I say? I play a lot of chess.”

“Ugh, unfair.” She punched his arm jokingly. “Whatever. At least it’s time for classes now.” He nodded, following her out of the dormitory.

“So, what’s your story, Graham?” Black Sheep glanced at her new classmate as they walked side-by-side down a corridor, heading to their first class: Stealth 101, with Shadowsan. She was trying to distract herself from the thought of having to take a class with the faculty member that hated her, all year long. That, and she knew the halls of V.I.L.E. academy much better than Graham did, so she thought she could spare him some time.

Graham grinned at her, folding his arms behind his neck. “I worked as a junior electrician in the Sydney opera house,” he began.

“Australia! I knew it.” She fist-pumped, making him chuckle. “Have you ever seen a koala there? Or sharks? Or, ooh, Ayers Rock?”

He cast her an amused glance. “I’ll, uh, get back to you on that,” he grinned. “Anyways, one day, a light went out. I realized I could make a far better living turning off the lights than I could keeping them on.”

Her brows rose, secretly impressed. “Cool. So now you’re here, huh?”

“Yeah. What about you, Black Sheep?”

Black Sheep looked down at the floor, thinking. “I was found as a baby on the side of a road in Bueno Aires, Argentina,” she said. “VILE’s faculty took me in and their own and raised me here, on the island. Being a professional thief is what my entire life has been leading up to.”

“Dedicated, huh? Respectable.” He nodded. “Growing up with a tropical paradise as a home must’ve been nice.”

“I guess.” She sometimes forgot that, to others, the isle of VILE was desirable. She couldn’t see it. It was empty and lonely; cold and stark, and her supposed family was too busy to ever spend time with her. “I’m just glad that VILE academy is a thing. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have met you, or anyone else.” She smiled up at him, and he gave her an easy smile in return.

“I agree,” Graham said. “VILE’s more welcoming than the real world, anyways. When you grow up alone, it’s hard to make others part of your life. VILE helps people like us have a home.”

Her smile widened. “Exactly.” They walked for a little longer before she added, “are you really going to go by Graham while you’re here?”

He looked at her curiously. “I mean, I wasn’t planning to go by anything else. Why?”

Black Sheep made a face. “I just…” she shrugged. “It’s not very cool, you know. Or threatening.”

“What would you suggest, then, Miss Genius?”

She rolled her eyes, smiling. “Gray,” she said pointedly. “I think that’s much better than Graham, at least until you get your code name.”

He considered that, brows rising. “That’s not bad,” he admitted. “Alright, then. Gray it is, courtesy of you.” He paused, and a grin touched his lips. “Still not better than lambkins, though.”

She laughed. “As it should.”

They eventually came to a stop in front of the doors to Shadowsan’s classroom. The two exchanged a glance before Gray gestured politely for her to go first, pushing the door open for her.

She grinned. “Thanks,” she whispered as they walked inside. Gray winked, trailing closely behind her.

The room was decorated minimally, with thin, transparent, Japanese-styled windows—which, Black Sheep knew were known as shoji—concealing the room, and a large bonsai plant growing from a pot in the corner. Straw mats were placed on the wooden floor, one for each student. She and Gray took a seat near the front, next to each other.

When Shadowsan strolled to the front of the classroom and looked her way, she met his gaze, refusing to back down. She wasn’t going to let him bully her into submission. She knew her worth.

Once all of the students filed in and settled down, Shadowsan sat down, crossing his legs, and held up a square piece of paper for the class to see. “Origami is the Japanese art of paper folding,” he said. In a flurry of motions, the simple sheet of paper was transformed into an elegant swan. “There is no better way to practice having the delicate touch of a thief than origami.”

Black Sheep and Gray exchanged an unimpressed glance, which quickly turned into matching expressions of dismay when they were handed some paper and were told to fold them into animals.

Despite Shadowsan watching her like a hawk, she actually was able to enjoy the activity. She made sure that each fold was neat and precise, and eventually ended up with an impressive unicorn. She held it up, admiring how cleanly done it was. For her first time, it was actually pretty good.

Shadowsan walked around the room, examining different creations. When he complimented the sheep Tigress had made, she raised up her unicorn, hoping he’d admit that she had done well, but he barely cast her a glance before strolling away, arms folded behind his back. Black Sheep’s brows drew together and she grumbled to herself, though Gray patting her shoulder comfortingly helped soothe her.

Once they were done, they showed each other what they had made.

“Nice rhino.” Gray squinted at her unicorn. She laughed.

“Hello? It’s a unicorn?” She waved it in his face, making him arch a brow.

“Unicorns aren’t real, you know,” he said. “Shadowsan said to make an animal.”

Black Sheep snorted. “Unicorns are fictional animals. Still an animal. And what’s yours supposed even to be?” She gave his creation an odd glance. It was scrunched up and creased all over, to the point it was indiscernible. “An… amoeba?” She joked.

This time, Gray was the one giving her an odd glance. “No, it’s a kangaroo.”

She gave the supposed kangaroo a few more looks. “Oh…” she said slowly. “I… see it now. I think.”

Gray sighed, setting his disfigured kangaroo off to the side. “Well, origami may not be my calling, but at least I gave it a shot.”

“Eh… yeah, honestly, you tried your best.” She gave him a fist bump. “Not too shabby for a pair of first-timers.”

“No kidding.” He grinned. “I didn’t come here to learn origami, but at least I can cross it off my bucket list now.” His eyes wandered around the classroom, eventually landing on a sword kept in a glass case in the front of the classroom. “Crikey! Look at that sword. It’s huge.”

She followed his gaze. “Geez, yeah. Kinda seems like overkill,” she mumbled. “I mean, I’m a thief. I don’t know why I’d need to lug around a gigantic sword like that.”

“Heh. Think Instructor Shadowsan ever uses it?” He raised a brow. “No, right? He probably cleans it three times a day.”

“Sounds like him,” she said. “Hopefully, in our next class we can actually do something exciting.”

Just as she said that, she felt a shadow loom over her, the silence suffocating. She froze, a chill crawling up her spine.

“My class is not entertaining enough for you, is it, Black Sheep?” Shadowsan glared down at her, and all she could do was manage a sheepish smile.

“I—I’m sorry, Instructor Shadowsan, I was just saying that because I expected—“

“It does not matter what you expect,” he interrupted. “Regardless of it, you should be grateful. I am sorry I could not live to your expectations, Black Sheep. Perhaps you could teach yourself some discipline helping Vlad and Boris scrub down the academy walls. Does that sound enjoyable?”

Her eyes widened. “N…no, Instructor.”

“Then do not let me catch you being so disrespectful again.” He turned his back to her, and the class started to snicker quietly, the loudest of all being Sheena.

Black Sheep’s face flushed with shame, and she looked down at her lap, biting her lip. This… wasn’t how she wanted her first class to go.

Far from it.

a/n:

is black sheep suffering rn? yeah! do i care? ehh…

more importantly, we finally have gray’s introduction !! i don’t ship black sheep n gray (they give bro n sis) but stay w me y’all 😔 lmk ur thoughts :)

#carmen sandeigo 2019 #carmen sandiego #graham calloway #gray calloway #carmen sandeigo netflix #carmen x gray #graham crackle #red crackle #redcrackle #oc x canon #writeblr #writing #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #writerscommunity #creative writing

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