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after-witch · 4 years ago

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Act of Contrition [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Title: Act of Contrition [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: A shimmering blue evening gown was not the last thing you expected to see draped over the sitting chair that was tucked into the corner. What you didn’t expect, however, was his suggestion for you to try it on

Word Count: 3646

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader

A shimmering blue evening gown was not the last thing you expected to see draped over the sitting chair that was tucked into the corner. It would certainly not be the first time that Chrollo had brought back something ostentatious, something glittering and expensive; something that you (if you were to psychoanalyze him, which you did, out of anxiety first and boredom second) would guess he wanted you to admire before it disappeared into the ether like so many other things he’d pilfered over the past few months.

What you didn’t expect, however, was his suggestion for you to try it on.

At first you thought you’d misheard, your brain still pulling itself out of a dull, listless sleep. You had argued with him the night before, and the space between you on the bed was thick and heavy with tension until you had finally slid headlong into sleep. Surely he wouldn’t try to give you a gift after you spend most of the evening reminding him that you’ll never love him, or even like him, much less feel one iota of happiness in his presence.

But then he repeated the suggestion.

“Why?” Your tone is borderline acidic, and you don’t feel the need to hide your suspicion of his intentions.

Your captor had no doubt become well-acquainted with your nastiness over the months, though he rarely reacted to it with more than a tight expression, if he even gave you that. Sometimes he simply ignored you, as if you were a child having a tantrum, not his kidnapped victim.

In some ways, it was a surprising relief. In some ways, you could consider yourself lucky. Considering his abilities, considering his past, considering what he did when he left you alone in the condo or hotel or wherever he had you situated--he might well be the type to slap the attitude off your face, gentlemanly facade be damned. He could do worse than a slap, too; far worse.

But the months had gone on with only pointed sighs and looks; and despite his rationally stated insistence that you would give in to his attentions in time, you held onto your bitterness as tightly as you could. You prized yourself on it, the way you figure that he prizes his most precious steals.

He sometimes comes back with glittering jewels worth calculable fortunes, laying them out to see the way they look when the moonlight filters in through the open curtains. He doesn’t keep them for long, doesn’t display them, just memorizes their magnificence and then whisks them off.

You can relate to the gloating. But you don’t give your greatest treasures away. You, on the other hand, wear your bitterness 24/7 like an old woman clinging to her last precious mink coat, a remnant of an era gone-by. Draped over your shoulder, haughty and visible, daring him to say something when you give him a sarcastic jab in response to perfectly-polite-inquiries about this and that. The worst (but best, you think, to you) is when you feign interest in a conversation, feign some sort of acceptance of your situation, willing your hands to get closer to his as you sit on the sofa and read; only to snap back at the last moment, baring your teeth.

You hope it hurts him, to think he’s getting an inch forward with you only to have it pulled away. He deserves it for keeping you here.

Sometimes, you almost hope he would say something, do something, only because it might be a sort of reprieve. If he gets mad or slaps you, even, maybe the solid, sticky bitterness surrounding your heart might abate just a bit.

Then again, you know this saying very well: be careful what you wish for.

“I need to see if it fits.” His expression and tone haven’t changed. Polite, cordial, matter-of-fact. You hate it.

You force yourself out of bed and give the gown a glance before heading into the bathroom. He follows, picking up his own morning routine as you wash and brush side-by-side. You think he does it to seem domestic, in his own fucked-up way. You pointed this out, once, and he’d merely given you a small smile and asked: “Do you want to this to be domestic?”

Chrollo had a habit of turning your impulsive snark around on you, so you tried to plan your barbs out more carefully in the future.

“Why do you need to see if it fits?” You finally ask, words a bit muffled by the toothbrush hanging out of your mouth. You force yourself to glance at him in the mirror. He’s finished, already drying off his face, pinning a wrap around his forehead.

He catches your gaze in the mirror, and you feel too caught to look away.

“For tonight. We’re going to the theater.”

The toothbrush drops from your mouth and lands next to the sink, splattering lathered toothpaste on the counter. You wipe your mouth with a washcloth, missing a bit and not caring, and physically turn away from the mirror so you’re face-to-face.

“Are you serious?”

For the moment, your bitterness slides off, forgotten on the floor. He’s never offered to do something like this before. Sure, he’s mentioned that you might go out--”it depends on your behavior”--but the thought of “being good” for Chrollo made you sick to your stomach every time you were tempted. So you hadn’t been outside for months, not really--the brief gaps when he’d whisk you into a car, always by his side, then pull you into a new hotel or luxury condo didn’t really count.

He nods.

“Yes. Please do hurry and try it on, I’ll need time to find another if it isn’t suitable.”

You glance out of the bathroom door and back into the bedroom, where the gown sits, draped, shimmering softly in the morning light. It’s something you never would have been able to afford before--and the thought of wearing it now makes your skin tingle. What is his plan? Why is he doing this?

“But I haven’t been good,” you say, almost spitting out the last word. Last night, in fact, you’d been almost beastly--you recall the words “go fuck yourself” and “I hate you” being thrown out before you twisted in the knife by bringing up an ex-fling.

He laughs, quick and harsh. It seems like a real laugh, for once, and something in your chest twists. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard anything truly authentic from him. Or yourself.

“Maybe it’s a reward for me, to have you by my side. You want to go, don’t you?”

The thought makes your stomach clench. But… you did want to go. Really. To get out of here, even for a night? To get sucked into some type of show, whatever it was? You didn’t entertain the idea of trying to escape or draw attention to yourself for help--you knew Chrollo would never suggest taking you if it was a viable option. He was just as likely to slaughter the entire theater if you whispered to an usher that you were being held captive.

No, no escape in the cards… at least not physically.

You shrug your shoulders and try to seem nonchalant about it, though you’re sure he can feel the way your skin is buzzing.

“Sure, whatever. Don’t expect me to hold your hand or anything.”

He laughs, again. It’s blatantly false this time.

***

It has been… a while since you’ve done your makeup. The pile of messy makeup wipes on the counter can attest to that--this is now your third try at a full face without messing something up. Thankfully, the third time has been the charm, and you’re satisfied with the reflection in the mirror. Chrollo had turned up your old makeup bag, and sliding on the eyeliner you used to wear to work, out with friends, in your old life felt surreal and comforting at the same time.

You’ve even done your hair, though it could be nicer. You haven’t bothered with anything but hasty brushing in the past few months, and sometimes you’re too lethargic and frustrated to even bother with that. But it’s styled, a bit elegant--if you do say so yourself.

You glance down at the trio of lipsticks he set on the counter earlier. They’re not a brand you ever wore--they’re expensive, something out of reach for anyone used to pulling cheap store lipsticks out of a bin. The center lipstick is a bold red, and your hand reaches for it. Brief memories of your mother gushing about red lipstick come to mind; she always associated red lipstick with elegance, the fanciest of events, and you’re inclined to agree. It feels smooth, impossibly so; praise be to expensive formulas.

After blotting it with toilet paper--old habits--you step back to stare at yourself in the mirror. The dress fits you beautifully. The fabric is soft, refined, showing you off in all the right places. You’ve taken your time with your hair, your makeup, and you really do look nice. You bring your wrist up to your nose and sniff--the perfume Chrollo had picked out for you was elegant, subtle. Rose petals and apples and white musk.

You feel a wave of nostalgia come over you that you push down. It’s too bad you’re going to the theater with your captor and not with your friends. Or your mom.

“Are you finished?” His voice calls from the bedroom.

The thought of Chrollo seeing you like this makes you feel uncomfortably anxious for reasons you can’t quite pinpoint. The gown is not exactly risque, but it’s designed to highlight your features--and while he has never crossed the hardest line in regards to your personal autonomy, he wasn’t beyond stealing kisses from your unwilling lips when the mood struck him. He said it was to help you adjust to the relationship, as if kissing you against your will would make you love him.

You don’t answer him and instead give your hair a final touch up before heading out the open bathroom door.

Chrollo is standing next to the vanity, wearing an elegant suit, primped and polished--and handsome. You can’t help but freeze in place when he gives you a once-over, slow and deliberate.

“You look beautiful,” he says, finally, a slight breathiness to his voice. There’s an authentic tone to his voice again, and it makes you feel queasy.

You try to ignore the way your skin feels heated and shrug, crossing your arms over your chest as you approach him.

“Are we going now?”

He gives a soft smile. “Almost. One more thing.”

You watch curiously as he pulls out a jewelry box from his pocket, then opens it to reveal two glittering sapphire earrings. You can’t hold back a little gasp, but when you reach for them, Chrollo holds the box out of reach.

“I’ll do the honors.”

You want to say no. But you’re so close to leaving, so you simply stare to the side as he steps behind you. He touches your ear--and you flinch. He chuckles quietly and you ignore the blossoming heat across your cheeks, both from his closeness and your reaction, while he fixes the earrings into your ears.

When he’s finished, you look up. The visage in the mirror seems like a familiar stranger. The feeling you get at seeing yourself so dressed up is familiar in some way. You think back to going to shows with your friends, or going to the ballet with your mom; your little ring-clad hand gripping hers as she hurried you past alleys on the way to the theater, your sparkling white party dress shedding glitter onto the streets. You can practically feel the way the theater always hums with anticipation, the unusual heaviness of feeling alone in a crowded room as your friends left you with the tickets while they grabbed a drink or two.

The sight of Chrollo behind you in the mirror, watching you with clear intent, breaks you away.

“We’re leaving now.”

***

“I… actually really like The Sleeping Beauty ballet.”

You feel awkward. It’s certainly not the first time you’ve been in a car with Chrollo, whether your forcibly pressed against him in the back seat or in the front, blasting the radio in an attempt to prevent him from striking up a conversation as he drives you to some new destination.

But it’s the first time you’ve been in the car for reasons other than transporting you to a new ‘home.’ The first time that you’ve both been dressed up; Chrollo’s cologne wafts gently over to you, and you can’t deny that he knows how to pick a good scent.

It’s also the first time you’ve felt conversation to be a necessity, if only to find out where you were going (the opera house) and what you were seeing (a ballet).

In fact, the news of the performance makes you sit up straighter in your seat. You feel a ping of excitement, and without thinking you share it out loud.

“That’s actually the first ballet I ever saw with my mom. Do you know what company it is?”

He tells you, and you bite your lip anxiously, squaring your shoulders against the back of the seat as you start to imagine the night ahead. Then you remember the smooth red lipstick and force your mouth to relax.

You talk, instead, to keep yourself from ruining your lipstick with your nervous habit. “I’ve heard about this company’s version. Well,” you continue, “I wanted to see them perform this a few years ago, but tickets sold out so fast. I couldn’t afford the scalper prices.”

“How nice that I have tickets for this performance, then.”

“Right!” Your pitch is higher and you internally cringe. You shouldn’t sound so excited. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, but he seems focused on the road.

As the drive continues, you keep talking. Without realizing it, your voice becomes lighter, easier, and even you don’t know why you’re speaking so freely. You talk more to him on this stretch of road than you have within months, sarcastic replies and bitter responses notwithstanding.

You talk about ballet. You talk about the history of the show. You talk about this company’s costumes--you saw them displayed in a store window and wow, were they gorgeous--and as the words come out, you feel lighter. Less bogged down by your protective anger, less heavy and hateful.

Happiness.

It’s something that you haven’t felt in a long time. It’s a feeling that your stomach rebels against, not welcoming the sudden intrusion of lightness and lift while you’re sitting in a car next to your captor. But you push your stomach’s rebellious nature down and force yourself to remember that tonight, you get to escape onto the stage; for a little while, you can be somewhere else.

Even being in the car tonight is doing wonders for you, you think. You must be getting close--the lights of the city are brighter and there’s throngs of nicely dressed people walking down the street towards what you realize is the theater. You see a little girl holding a woman’s hand and your stomach clenches in bitter nostalgia, but the thought is pushed aside quickly enough when Chrollo pulls into a valet circle.

You don’t have time to open the door before he opens it for you, extending his arm like a gentlemen.

“Ready?”

You’re buzzing on the way home. Not just from the champagne--three glasses, Chrollo having subtly waved away the usher approaching your opera box with your requested fourth. Not just from the show, which was magical and lush and everything you hoped it would be. Not just from the fact that you had a night out, away from the stuffiness of whatever luxury suite you were trapped in.

But from the thrill of feeling something, anything, other than your own deep despair and bitterness. You laughed in delight at the sillier moments, the bright-yellow Canary fairy and her trills; you cried at Aurora’s pleading vision to be set free, the first time you’ve cried at something other than your own situation in ages; you clapped and even, in the end, let yourself shout out a cheery “Brava!”

Even Chrollo seemed different during the evening. No forcible hand-holding or other niceties that had given you anxiety earlier in the evening. No unbearable condescension, only the hint of a smirk during the intermission when you--instinctively, you insisted to yourself, not because you liked his company--began an excited conversation about the events of the first Act. Did he like this part? What about the orchestra? And oh, this variation, didn’t he think it was a bit too overdone on the part of the dancer, but she more than recovered by the end?

When Chrollo helps you out of the car into the private parking garage, the air is cool and crackling; everything still feels electric, the way it always does when you come home from an event. Though as the doorman opens the private elevator leading to the condominium above, you dimly remind yourself you’re not coming home, exactly.

The swift ride up the elevator leaves you feeling dizzy. Your mind feels like it’s crashing, suddenly. From the champagne, maybe--but something else, too.

The elevator doors open into the condo suite you share with Chrollo and it hits you as you take the first step inside: you’re back to where you started the night. Trapped. The transporting, glittering events of the evening fall off your shoulders like a worn coat; you’re left once again only with yourself, with your present situation--and with Chrollo.

Your cheeks feel hot and you know the tears are coming before you feel them prickle at your eyes. The urge to wipe them away is masked only by the remembrance that you’re wearing makeup, but that doesn’t stop it from running as they begin to flow down your cheeks.

It burns, and you start for the bathroom, intent on scrubbing your face and ripping off the dress--but your entire body jerks back as Chrollo grabs your arm and prevents you from taking another step.

“Let go,” you say, voice empty of anything but the desperate need to be in the bathroom, to clean your face, to be alone with your returning misery.

He doesn’t. Instead, he pulls you back, forcing you to stand up straight as you fruitlessly fight against his grip.

“You’re crying.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that,” you murmur, voice edged not with bitterness this time, but sorrow. You don’t want to look at him. He’s seen you cry countless times, but you hate the way he looks at you when you do.

“Tell me why.”

You finally force yourself to look up at him, eyes blinking away the stinging tears, and you’re not surprised by his intensive gaze. He’s studying you. Analyzing. Like you’re some sort of book he can read and discover.

Maybe the champagne has loosened your tongue; maybe the night itself has loosened the tight-lipped hold your bitterness has on you. Whatever it is, you confess.

“I was happy,” you say, voice wobbling with tears. “I was--happy on the way there. I was happy at the theater. I was happy on the way home. I--I haven’t…” you rub at your eyes, smearing eyeshadow onto your fingertips. “I haven’t felt that way in months. And now we’re back and I don’t feel it anymore.” Your voice finally cracks with your last words, and you cover your eyes with one hand as crushing feelings of sadness sweep over you.

He pulls you closer to him, and you can’t fight away from his physical strength.

“Let go,” you plead. “I just want to be alone.”

You jerk your face away when he strokes your cheek with his free hand.

“Alone? Whatever for? My hypothesis for tonight was correct.”

His words make you stop pulling. Hypothesis? You sniffle and try to get your bearings, try to brace yourself. But you’re tired, and sad, and your head is swimming.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He places his free hand on the back of your head and leans in closer. The heat of his skin and the pressure of his grip makes a flushed warmth bloom across your skin.

“You see,” he whispers, his lips ghosting against the side of your ear. “You can be happy with me, after all.”

#yandere chrollo #yandere hunter x hunter #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer #yandere #afterwitch writes

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helloalycia · 4 years ago

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my patient’s neighbour [two] // wanda maximoff

summary: as you spend more time with your patient's neighbour, you come to realise that your crush may be getting too much

warning/s: none, just fluff tbh

author's note: i’m so glad you guys enjoyed the first part! here’s the next bit :)

When Sunday rolled around, I did everything in my power to make it the perfect day for Anna. We went out for breakfast at a café around the corner, a stroll around the park, then I made her lunch before she conked out afterwards, napping in her bedroom. I took that as my chance to decorate the living-area with birthday decorations. Nothing too much as I knew she'd kill me if I went overboard, but little things like a banner, some balloons and streamers.

I told Wanda to come at this time, too, and she showed up with a bag of groceries and a pretty smile on her face.

"Here, let me help," I said, already moving to take the bag off her. "How are you?"

"I'm good," she said, closing the door behind her and following me into the kitchen. Her smile widened when she saw the decorations. "Y/N, this is lovely! Anna is going to love it!"

"You think?" I asked, spinning around and doing a once over of the living-area. "It's not too much? I know she'll hate if I do too much."

"It's just the right amount," Wanda reassured, glancing at me. "How has she been today?"

We both began to unpack the groceries as we talked.

"Really good actually," I said with a nod. "I treated her to breakfast at that café she likes. We went to the park, fed the ducks, had a nice stroll. Then I made her some lunch and she's napping which leaves us the perfect time to crack on with dinner."

Wanda chuckled. "Great." She paused, making me look to her to see her smile fading. Nervously, she asked, "Did her granddaughter call?"

I sighed quietly and Wanda seemed to know what that meant without me saying anything further.

"It's okay, we'll just have to make this the best meal ever," she said, not letting it get to her.

"We will," I agreed, before looking to the food on the table. "So, chef. Where do we start?"

Wanda and I spent the next hour prepping dinner, a beef stew called Solyanka, as it would require two hours to cook on the stove so we were starting early to make sure it would be ready in time.

I was chopping some onions as she prepared the beef, but I couldn't help myself from glancing at her every two seconds, still filled with concern because of her cast and minor injuries.

"You should take a picture, it'll last longer," she said teasingly, making me look up to see her watching me with a stifled smile.

"Sorry," I mumbled, shaking my head and looking back to my chopping board.

"What's wrong?" she asked gently.

I chewed on my lip as I glanced at her wrist again, before meeting her gaze. "How did it happen?"

"I already told you," she reminded me playfully, trying to lighten the mood, but I was still fretful. "It happened on a mission."

"Yeah, but how?" I asked again, hoping she understood what I meant.

She seemed reluctant to share, face scrunching up with thought, before looking down to her own chopping board. I thought she wouldn't tell me, but then she spoke.

"I can't tell you too much," she started, shrugging, "since it was a confidential mission. But basically, I was undercover when my target recognised me and we got into a fight."

Watching her with the utmost attention, I nodded, imagining it in my head.

"It wasn't difficult or anything, but it surprised me, y'know?" She looked to me with a smile, as if trying to make it sound less scarier than it was. "The guy, the target, he managed to get in few good hits. And he sprained my wrist. But it's alright."

I wasn't as amused as she was, wincing at the thought of her being in a fight. "Are you sure you're alright?"

She tilted her head knowingly. "I'm sure, Y/N. It's my job."

Shaking my head, I looked back down to my chopping board and continued chopping the onion. "I don't know how you can do that as a job..."

"Well, it's rewarding," she said like it was obvious. "Why do you spend most of your week caring for the elderly?"

"It's rewarding," I said without hesitation, before realising what she'd done and looking her way.

She was smiling cockily, making me roll my eyes and laugh.

"Okay, I see your point," I gave in. "But still. It's a dangerous job what you do. Just be careful, yeah?"

"Always am," she promised. And I wanted to believe her, but the cast on her wrist said otherwise.

—

"It smells like home, devochki, spasibo (girls, thank you)," Anna said from her place at the table. "Are you sure you don't want me to help?"

"We're sure, Anna," Wanda called back to her. "I'm just putting the food into a serving bowl and Y/N is grabbing some glasses. You sit and wait like the patient woman I know you are."

Anna mumbled something in Russian which I didn't understand, but it seemed to make Wanda chuckle as she rolled her eyes.

It was finally time for dinner and the stew had turned out beautifully, not that I had doubts since Wanda didn't seem like one to kid around with cooking.

As she was readying it for the table, I was setting everything up and all that was left were the glasses. But, of course (and oddly enough, since Anna was shorter than I), they were stored on the top shelf of the kitchen cupboard and just out of my reach.

In hindsight, I probably could have grabbed a stool and stood on it, but I was too lazy, so I went on my tip-toes and stretched with all my might. The tips of my fingers brushed against a glass and I attempted to move it towards me, unable to see if I was actually doing anything since it was too high. After a couple of tries, I managed to bring it forward, but my stupid self flicked it too hard and it came tumbling off the shelf and towards the counter.

I braced myself for the sound of glass smashing, but instead, a wondrous red energy wrapped itself around the glass and kept it suspended mid-fall.

"Very clever," Wanda said sarcastically, appearing directly beside me. Her accent was daringly teasing.

I looked up and saw her smirking at me with amusement, right hand raised and aimed at the glass. Red tendrils of energy glowed around her hand and the glass; I widened my eyes a little, amazed at how easy she made it look. Though I knew she had powers, I'd never actually seen her use them up close and personal. It was stunning.

"I totally knew you were going to do that," I played it cool, cheeks flushing as she set the glass on the counter.

"Mhm, sure you did," she played along with a melodious laugh, before pressing her front to my back without warning and reaching to grab two more glasses. "Here, I got it."

My body tensed at the feeling of her unexpectedly so close to me. My mouth went dry, her warmth emanating from her and washing over me with the scent of her perfume. Did she always smell so good?

When she grabbed all three glasses, she didn't seem to notice the effect she had on me (unless she did and kept quiet for her own amusement).

"Think you can grab the food without dropping it?" she asked, quirking an entertained brow.

Still distracted by her perfume, I nodded and cleared my throat. "Food. Right. Yeah."

As I stirred the stew to mix everything thoroughly, I felt my heart rate return to its normal pace and told myself to chill out. Wanda just happened to be an extremely pretty individual who was kind and thoughtful and funny. It wasn't a big deal.

When I was sure I wouldn't make a fool of myself, I returned to the dining table with a pot of stew and set it down on the placemat.

"Priyatnogo appetita (enjoy your meal)," I said, trying not to stumble over my pronunciation.

Both Anna and Wanda raised their brows with matching surprised smiles on their faces.

"You said that perfectly, Y/N!" Wanda said encouragingly, as I took a seat to the right of Anna at the head of the table.

"I see you've been practicing," Anna added, looking to me with an endearing gaze. "A present in itself. Thank you, milaya (sweetie)."

I smiled bashfully. "I have to keep up with you both somehow, right?"

Anna chuckled as Wanda gave me a brilliant smile. Something in my chest stirred as she did, and I was forced to look away, though my own smile didn't fade.

"So, Y/N and I put this together for you and I'm sure you'll know what it is," Wanda said, before serving up a bowl for Anna.

"Solyanka," Anna exclaimed with delight. "Devushki (girls), this looks and smells amazing." She paused, glancing between us both with a grateful smile. "Since you've both been here, this place... it's beginning to feel alive again."

To my surprise, she teared up and began to laugh, using her napkin to pat the corner of her eyes. I rested my hand on hers, squeezing it gently and giving her a small smile.

"I appreciate this very much," she continued, before squeezing my hand and letting go to grab her spoon. "I can't wait to try it."

The three of us dug into our stew and Anna loved it, talking about the first time she ever had it as a kid and how it was one of her favourite dishes. The rest of the meal went by wonderfully, with Anna looking as happy as ever and Wanda listening to her intently. I was listening, too, but my gaze did end up wandering to Wanda as she sat there animatedly, nodding along and smiling to Anna.

For some reason, she was ethereal tonight, though she looked like she always did. Her long brown hair was tied up in a ponytail and she wore a loose tee shirt over some jeans. Nothing fancy, but she pulled it off so well. Rings adorned her fingers as she played with them thoughtlessly, and it caught my eye before I got distracted by her cast on her left wrist.

She'd said she was okay, but it still worried me. It wasn't my right to worry, but she was my friend. I was concerned. She could take care of herself, but that wouldn't put the ache in my heart at ease.

As if she could hear my concerns, her eyes flickered to mine, a kaleidoscope of blue, green and gold. She sent me a reassuring glance before looking back to Anna with focus. I chewed on my lower lip, trying not to let my worry get the best of me, before looking back to Anna.

Towards the end of the meal, after we'd eaten and were merely conversing, Anna's landline rang in the apartment.

"I'll get it," Wanda said, already standing up to grab the phone from its cradle.

Anna and I watched as she answered the phone with a friendly 'hello', before a surprised expression appeared on her face.

"Sure, I'll pass it on now," Wanda was saying before approaching the table and stopping by Anna. Her expression softened as she said to Anna, "It's Sasha."

Anna's expression fell at the mention of her granddaughter. She nodded slightly, before standing up and grabbing her cane to balance. Accepting the phone, she began to walk away into her bedroom. Wanda and I heard her say a faint 'hello' before she closed the door behind her.

"Her granddaughter rang?" I asked with mild disbelief.

"It is her birthday," Wanda pointed out, returning to her seat.

"Bit late into the day though, isn't it?" I retorted, pulling a face. "Almost like the day is over, in fact."

"Sounding a little judgemental there, Y/N," Wanda teased, leaning forward into the palm of her hands and watching me.

"I'm not," I said with an eye roll. "I just think she should show her grandmother some respect. Who does she think she is?"

I paused as Wanda gave me a knowing look, then winced.

"Okay, I heard it that time," I admitted, making her laugh.

"I get it," she said, nodding slightly. "Maybe she's finally starting to realise though."

I sighed, leaning back in my seat. "I guess... For Anna's sake, I hope so."

Wanda and I talked amongst ourselves until Anna returned silently, hushing our conversation. She returned the phone to its cradle before taking a seat at the head of the table. Wanda and I exchanged looks before I decided to speak, noticing Anna wouldn't.

"Is Sasha doing okay?" I asked gently.

Anna was staring ahead, barely listening, before she glanced at me then looked down to her empty bowl. Sentences left her lips in Russian, mumbled and incoherent, at least to me. Wanda leaned forward, holding her hand and frowning with sympathy as she listened to her words. I felt horrible, sensing something was wrong, but unable to do anything to help.

"I'm sorry, Anna, I didn't mean to upset you," I said, shaking my head.

Wanda met my gaze. "It's not your fault... Anna just misses Sasha."

I frowned. "Oh."

"But I'm glad I have you both," Anna finally spoke, accent thick with emotion, as she looked between us before settling her eyes to me. "Even if you're paid to be here."

She cracked a smile, making my shoulders relax. I returned her expression, glad she still had a sense of humour.

Anna didn't mention Sasha's name for the rest of the evening. We cleaned up, had some tea, played a quick board game before I made sure she was okay for the night.

"She alright?" Wanda asked when I closed Anna's bedroom door and stepped into the hall.

"Yeah, she's tired from all of today's excitement," I said with a smile.

"So are you by the sounds of it," she joked, but stepped forward to rest a hand on my arm. "I think we should call it a night."

"I think we should," I said in agreement.

After grabbing my stuff, Wanda and I left the flat before walking to her apartment and stopping outside.

"Thanks for helping me out today," I told her with a tired smile. "I really appreciated it."

"Well, you asked so nicely... how could I resist?" she said, staring up at me through her eyelashes. I rolled my eyes playfully, making her smile. "I had fun. Thanks for inviting me."

I was going to respond, but a yawn escaped my lips, prompting me to cover my mouth as I did.

"Sorry," I said, trying to blink the fatigue away momentarily.

She chuckled, tilting her head and watching me carefully. "You're cute."

I breathed out through my nose, unsure what to say to her words, but I definitely felt my heart rate speed up a little.

"I'll let you go," she said, clearly entertained by my silence. "Get home safe, yeah?"

"And you look after yourself when saving the world, yeah?" I replied with a quirked brow, eyes glancing at her wrist.

"I promise." She grinned before moving forward to hug me.

I returned the hug, the smell of her perfume permanent in my nose by now, before pulling away with a final smile. Of course, I probably shouldn't have stared at her lips so intensely, wanting nothing more than to kiss them.

"See you tomorrow," I said, snapping back into reality and taking a step back. "Goodnight, Wanda."

"Goodnight," she said sweetly.

I turned to leave and was suddenly wide awake. Did I just think about kissing Wanda?

—

It was a few visits later when I was caring for Anna and she decided to have a dance around the living room. One minute we were flicking through different radio stations, and the next she was putting on some old records on her record player. She settled on an upbeat, 50s dance song, the music filling the apartment with joy.

"Egor and I danced to this very song when we first met," she told me, talking about her late husband with a twinkling passion in her eyes. "It was a party and he had been staring at me all night, and I him. Then finally, when this song came on, he approached me and said, 'dorogaya, okazyvayesh' mne chest' tantsevat' so mnoy?'"

I suppressed a smile as I watched her reminisce. "And that means...?"

"'Darling, would you do me the honour of dancing with me'?" she repeated in English for my benefit.

My heart melted. "Anna, that's adorable. He sounds like such a gentlemen."

"He was," she said with a sigh of agreement, smiling to herself.

Whenever she talked about her husband, I'd never seen her look more content. The mere mention of his name was enough to put a smile on her face. I could only hope to have a love like theirs some day.

I stepped forward, putting out my hand. "I'm no Egor, but I'd love to dance with you if you'd let me."

"Oh, I can't do that," she said, waving my hand away. "I can barely walk, milaya (sweetie)."

"Hey, as your carer, I am insisting that you dance with me," I said, feigning sternness.

She hesitated, before resting her hand in mine and smiling with gratitude. The two of us danced together, myself being careful to keep her upright and make sure she didn't overexert herself. She was smiling and laughing as I spun her around, dancing her all around the living room, and it warmed my heart to see her so cheery.

A knock on the door caused me to excuse myself from Anna, only to find Wanda on the other end.

"Someone's in a good mood," she said instantly, taking note of my smile.

I stepped to the side to let her in. "Yeah, well, Anna is doing good today. It's contagious, what can I say?"

Before Wanda could respond, Anna called from the living-area with excitement.

"Wanda, idi syuda i potantsuy so mnoy!" she exclaimed, already grabbing Wanda's hand and pulling her in.

It didn't take a genius to know that Anna had basically asked Wanda to dance with her. I chuckled as I followed after them, enjoying the sight of Anna and Wanda dancing together.

"What's the occasion?" Wanda asked, glancing over the short woman and to me with a helpless smile.

"No occasion," I quipped, crossing my arms and trying to hold in my laughter at Anna's speed and perseverance with a reluctant Wanda. "Just having a good time."

Wanda looked like she wanted to retort with a comment, but Anna spun her around before she could, making me laugh aloud.

"Prikhodi odin, milaya (come on, sweetie)!" Anna said, holding out a hand. "Dance!"

Unable to resist, I joined in with the two Sokovian women, appreciating how happy Anna looked and how awkward Wanda felt in the situation. She wasn't much of a dancer, but she was trying and God was that adorable.

We danced for a little while longer until Anna's back began to hurt and she took a seat. Though, she insisted that Wanda and I resume with our dancing.

Just on time, like a sign from the universe or a higher being or whatever you wanted to believe in, a slow song came on next, filling the apartment soothingly.

To my surprise, the awkward dancer that was Wanda was oddly confident as she held out her hand to me.

"Would you do me the honour of dancing with me?" she asked softly, a small smile playing on her lips.

At the familiarity of her words, I glanced to Anna, who seemed to pick up on it, too. She said nothing as she watched us with a smile of her own.

"I'd love to," I said, looking back to Wanda's eyes.

They looked blue in the light, a beautiful sky blue that put me at ease as soon as I stared into them. I slipped my hand into hers, letting her pull us closer together as she rested her other hand on my waist, the touch sending shivers up my spine. I put mine on her shoulder, allowing her to take the lead.

It was the most intimate we'd been, and as she maintained eye contact, I wondered if she could feel my hands trembling slightly, or my heart hammering loudly, or my palms turning a little sweaty. She made me nervous in the best way possible, her smile dazzling without realising and her eyes piercing without meaning to be.

She must have felt it, too, that tug in the pit of her stomach that I was feeling now. Otherwise there was something seriously wrong and I was already too deep into a crush on my patient's neighbour.

When the song ended, it feeling like mere seconds in total, she let go of me and I missed the contact and the smell of her perfume and the way she was looking at me.

"Couldn't have done it better myself," Anna spoke, forcing me to tear my gaze from Wanda's lips. She smiled at me knowingly. "You ladies definitely know how to dance."

I felt a heat creeping up my neck as I smiled to myself, distracting myself with the laces on my shoes. When I finally brought myself to look up, I saw Wanda already looking my way, a calm expression on her face.

As she did most times she visited, Wanda stayed with me and Anna until I tucked Anna into bed and bid her a goodnight. We left the apartment and Wanda decided to walk me to the lift that evening, a distracted look on her face.

It was silent between us, a comfortable one, until the doors slid open and I looked to her with kind eyes.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow," I told her, making her look to me. "Have a nice evening, Wanda."

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. I watched with amusement, wondering what was going on in that pretty head of hers. The lift doors began to shut, so I put my foot between them to keep them open.

"I should go," I said with an awkward laugh, before grabbing her hand and squeezing it gently since she wouldn't speak. "Goodnight."

When I turned to leave, I got, maybe, a step into the lift before I felt her fingers wrap around my wrist and tug me backwards, spinning me around. I didn't get chance to ask what was up as she stepped forward, pressing her lips to mine in an instant.

Startled, I froze at the contact, but then her hand rested on the back of my neck as her thumb caressed my jaw, and I found myself melting into her, closing my eyes at the blissful feeling.

Her other hand fell to my waist as she deepened the kiss, sending me into the lift and the wall hitting my back. I moved my lips in time with hers, revelling at how soft and delicate and gentle she was being. Kissing Wanda Maximoff wasn't something I had realised would be this good, but now that I was, I never wanted to stop.

Unfortunately, the sound of the lift doors shutting pulled us apart. I was breathless, my heart racing and my lips swollen from her spectacular kiss.

"I've wanted to do that for such a long time," she revealed, stepping back a little. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks were flushed as she watched me with mild concern. "I completely should have asked though. I'm sorry that I overstepped."

She pursed her lips, forefinger and thumb pinching her bottom lip regretfully and gaze falling to the floor.

"You didn't overstep," I said, already missing the sensation of her lips against mine. "You stepped just the right amount."

She looked back up, eyes softening as her lips curved into a radiant smile.

"You wanna, maybe, do that again?" I asked without thinking, my mind a haze as Wanda still remained so close to me.

She laughed melodiously before raising her hand and cupping my cheek. Her eyes looked between mine before falling to my lips affectionately.

"I'd love to, dorogoy (darling)."

I smiled toothlessly before closing the gap between us, secretly wishing this lift ride would go on forever if it meant I could kiss Wanda like this.

—

After making out with Wanda in the lift, she asked me out on a date and it was the best date I'd ever been on. Nothing over the top but very thoughtful as she took me for a picnic in the park before getting ice cream for dessert.

We went on a few more dates after that, taking turns to take the lead with them, and she ended up asking me to be her girlfriend which of course I said yes to.

All whilst this was going on, I still cared for Anna and Wanda paid her visits when she could, though we tried to remain as normal as possible. We didn't think it was best to tell Anna that we were together since we didn't want to startle her or make her feel uncomfortable in our presence. Of course, keeping a secret from Anna is as good as nothing when she had eyes like a hawk.

Wanda and I were putting a plate of tea and biscuits together for Anna one day, myself lining up the biscuits neatly as Wanda lingered beside me. She was about to grab a biscuit from the plate when I smacked her hand away.

"Just one," she pleaded, but I shook my head before nodding to the packet on the side.

"Help yourself to those," I told her condescendingly. "These are for Anna."

"Just get her another," she said simply, before reaching over again.

I smacked her hand away again, giving her a knowing look.

"Y/N!"

"Wanda!" I mirrored her childish smile.

She narrowed her eyes petulantly. "Are you seriously doing this right now?"

"Are you?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

She pouted and I so badly wanted to lean forward and kiss it away, but Anna was sat on her recliner behind us. Wanda seemed to know this as a mischievous smile fell on her lips, eyes watching me carefully.

"You're not cute," I mumbled, before grabbing the tray and turning to leave. As I was walking to Anna, a biscuit began to float off the plate, red wisps of energy wrapped around it and bringing it to– "Wanda!"

She laughed, eyes glowing red with magic, before grabbing the biscuit from mid-air and taking a bite.

"Such a child," I said under my breath before setting the tray on the coffee table before Anna. Smiling at her, I said, "Here you go, Anna. Do you want anything else?"

As I straightened up, flipping Wanda off behind my back and encouraging her laughter further, I noticed the way Anna looked between us both curiously.

"Everything okay?" I asked, eyebrows knitting together as she continued to study us both.

"Something happened," she decided. "Between you both."

"What do you mean?" I asked, taking a seat on the couch. "Nothing happened."

"Something definitely did," she said knowingly. "I may be old, milaya (sweetie), but I have very good eyes."

"Anna, what are you talking about?" Wanda played dumb, taking a seat beside me, biscuit in hand.

"Don't think I haven't seen the way you two steal glances when you think I'm not looking," she said, pointing between us. "Or the way you," her finger settled on Wanda, "have been helping Y/N out more often than usual."

Wanda and I flushed, embarrassed that we'd been caught out. I was so certain that we'd successfully hid it from her, but clearly we were mistaken.

"We wanted to tell you," Wanda began, cheeks still pink as she leaned forward.

Anna silenced her with a wave of her hand. "Save it. I knew I was right. You two are together."

Pursing my lips, I waited for her to say something because I wasn't really sure what to say myself. Suddenly, a smile appeared on her lips.

"I'm very happy for you both," she said to us. "Wanda here always needed somebody in her life who wasn't me. And you, Y/N, are the perfect match for her."

I chuckled, looking to the girl in question, whose face was as red as her powers that she used to torment me with. I grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently, and nudged her in the shoulder.

"You hear that? Perfect match," I teased, making her roll her eyes to distract from her flustered self.

Anna said something to her in Russian, way too fast and incomprehensible for me to understand, even with the extra effort I was making to learn it. Whatever it was, it made Wanda get even more embarrassed, her green eyes darting around the room in an effort to overcome it.

"What did you say?" I asked Anna with amusement.

"Oh, nothing Wanda hasn't heard before," she said dismissively. "It's all okay. Isn't it, Wanda?"

"Yeah," Wanda mumbled.

"I don't know what's happening here, but I'm all for someone putting Wanda in her place," I said, looking between them both with an entertained smile.

Anna chuckled as Wanda shoved me in the arm gently before pulling me close again. I smiled at how cute she looked, pink blush creeping up her neck and teeth chewing on her lower lip to contain her smile.

I'd never get sick of the sight.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #scarlet witch #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen imagine #wanda maximoff #marvel imagine #marvel #mcu imagine

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freddie-weaselbee · 3 years ago

Text

Real//F.W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex, I think that’s it ?

Summary: One small favor. A trade. That was all it was. Mutually beneficial! Until things between Fred and Y/N and their new relationship get a little more complicated and cause too many prying eyes.

Prompts: Fake Dating with dialogue prompts “we could have prevented this!” and “did you know you talk in your sleep?”

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: Day 3 of @theweasleyslut‘s 2k writing challenge

“I’ve made my list of rules which you will abide by and under no circumstances will be broken. Number 1: this ruse does not leave the shop. I don’t want random people on the street questioning me because you couldn’t keep your huge mouth shut. Number 2: I will allow you to kiss me on the cheek and forehead as often as you like, within reason of course, and you can give me a peck on the lips 3 times in total. I will keep track. And Number 3: Don’t take up the entire bed any more or I will be forced to push you onto the floor. Sound good?”

“Bloody hell, you are crazy aren’t you?”

“Just a little bit.”

Fred was starting to regret his previous decision of making this arrangement with you, but a jingle of his shop bell and glance at who was walking in quickly made those feelings disappear.

“Deal,” he said, eyes not leaving the woman who had just entered. “But we start right now and I want one of those kisses.”

You looked up at your friend, confused at his sudden nerves before you followed his line of sight and understood immediately. You sighed and ruffled your hair a bit, looking for a mirror to fix your makeup. “I’m on it, give me a few minutes.”

Fred nodded, still watching his target walk slowly through the aisles of his store. As she turned a corner you ducked into the back office, waiting for a good time to reemerge.

“Freddie!” A high pitched voice pierced through the ear, equal parts flirtatious and absolutely unbearable. Fred glanced up, pretending not to have noticed the girl before. Putting on a fake smile, he set down the product he was pretending to tinker with and placed his hands on the counter table.

“Brooklyn, hi! How are you?” he asked, hoping his fake politeness would pass as genuine.

“Ugh I am so good. So SO good actually,” she said, twisting a finger through her hair. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen you! I’m so glad you received my letter, I was hoping we could catch up, maybe over dinner sometime? I’ve had so many fine young men ask me out over the last few months, but none of them seemed to compare to you, my little Freddie Bear.”

He winced at the nickname, it bringing an onslaught of unwanted memories that he had desperately tried to forget. Brooklyn bit her lip and placed a hand on top of Fred’s, leaning in to accentuate her breasts and make sure Fred got a good whiff of her new perfume.

Very calmly, Fred placed his other hand on top of hers, now sandwiched in between his strong grip. “Brooklyn,” he said, faking sympathy, “you’re a lovely girl, and I’m sure any guy would be lucky to have you, but--”

“Hey, love!”

A voice interrupted Fred’s rejection, making a very surprised Brooklyn become absolutely enraged as she witnessed you come up and place a chaste kiss on Fred’s lips, smiling into him. Fred pulled his hands from Brooklyn’s grip and placed it instead on your hip, pulling you into him and placing another peck on your forehead. You both stared lovingly into each other’s eyes before a harsh cough stole your attention.

“And who is this?” Brooklyn asked, arms crossed angrily. She was glaring daggers at you, not even trying to fake sweetness for Fred’s sake.

Keeping his hand on your waist, Fred turned back to the girl who seemed as though she was about to explode. “That’s what I was trying to tell you Brooklyn,” he said, trying to keep his smile as pitiful as he could without it drawing suspicion. “This is Y/N, we’ve been seeing each other for a while now.”

You nuzzled into Fred’s chest for half a second before reaching a hand out to Brooklyn. “It’s so nice to meet you! Brooklyn, was it? I don’t think Fred’s ever mentioned you before, are you one of his childhood friends. Cousin, maybe?”

That had done it and you and Fred both knew it. He subtly fist bumped you under the counter as you watched the girl’s face become redder than Fred’s hair.

She opened her mouth before taking a huge breath and stepping back. “No, actually,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’m his ex-girlfriend. I left him to move on to much better things. Speaking of which--” she flipped her hair and smoothed out her skirt, straightening her posture to try to keep what little dignity she had left, “--I actually have a date. With a dragon trainer no less, and a very renowned one.”

“Oh really?” Fred asked. “That’s amazing. My brother, Charlie, is a dragon trainer as well, and he’s very well known in the community. May I ask the name of the lucky young man? Maybe Charlie knows him.”

Caught very off guard, Brooklyn rolled her eyes and turned to face the door. “That’s none of your business. I better be going, before we’re late to dinner at a very nice place, somewhere the likes of you most likely couldn’t afford.”

You felt Fred stiffen next to you and you squeezed his hand gently. “Have a nice time! It was lovely to meet you Bridget.”

“It’s Brooklyn,” she seethed.

“Oh right, silly me,” you said, shaking your head. “Bye!”

As Brooklyn sauntered out of the store, you turned to Fred and whispered seductively, just loud enough for the exiting girl to hear. “How about we have a nice night in tonight? I got something the other day that I’d love for you to see. Maybe after seeing it you’ll make me scream even louder than last night.” Fred’s face began to grow red and he had to discreetly adjust his pants, hoping you didn’t notice exactly what your words were doing to him.

Brooklyn slammed the door and practically ran down the cobbled streets, only screaming when she thought she was far enough away to not be heard. You and Fred both waited a few seconds before cheering and hugging each other, him patting you on the back for a great performance.

“Y/N! That was incredible! I knew I could count on you.”

“Yeah yeah,” you said, “I’m amazing, I know.” You smiled up at him completing the high five he was waiting on. “When you told me you needed help with a crazy ex I didn’t know you meant like actually crazy. She’s insane! How did you put up with her for so long?”

Fred shrugged, jumping up onto the counter. “She was hot and I was horny. Not much else to it.”

You rolled your eyes, jumping up to join him. A few days ago you wouldn’t have been nearly comfortable enough to lounge out on the shop’s counters like you were now, but that was before you were a permanent resident of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Before you and Fred had made the deal.

“You want me to do what?”

“Please, Y/N, it would only be for a little while until this all dies down, I swear!”

You groaned and rubbed your temple, wondering how in the world a friendly visit to your friend’s shop would turn into something with much more commitment.

“You’re telling me that you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend? Why on earth would you need that?”

You were pacing around the shop, trying to avoid customers as to not involve them in this very personal conversation. Fred followed you, pleading for you to help him like the great friend you were.

“I told you,” he said, “after The Daily Prophet did that expo on the shop and made me and George out to be rich sexy businessmen, and I mean where’s the lie, all of my crazy exes have been sending me letters and trying to get back with me. I can’t stand it, there’s so many!”

“Yeah, you were never one for long-term relationships, were you?”

Fred hmphed but quickly picked up with his pleading once again. “You don’t understand, Y/N, it’s absolutely unbearable. It’s common knowledge that George and Angie have been going steady for years now, so he’s got pretty much no one after him. But me? I can’t handle it.”

He dramatically threw himself on one of the empty product tables, causing a couple kids to glance in your direction before quickly becoming distracted by one of the exploding jokes across the shop.

“Oh, woe is me, I have too many beautiful women throwing themselves at me, whatever am I to do?” you mocked, earning a nasty glare from your friend.

“I wouldn’t ask this of you if it wasn’t of upmost importance,” he said, straightening his tie and assuming a more business-like manner. “Those girls are crazy. Hot, yes, but crazy. And all you have to do is pretend to be dating me for a few weeks, a month at best! What do you say?”

“And what do I get out of this?” you asked. Usually, you’d never say no to helping a friend, especially Fred, but pretending to date him and having him practically use you to make other girls mad? You didn’t like the idea in the slightest. Well, maybe seeing the mad girls would be a bonus. You never cared much for most of the girls Fred went out with.

Fred’s face turned into an upward grin as he rolled his sleeves up and leaned forward. “I was hoping you’d say that. I hear that you’re looking for a place to stay, is that right?”

You nodded hesitantly, having an idea of where he was going.

“Well,” he said, pacing back and forth, “to keep up this charade we’ll need to convince everyone, including George and Angelina. You see, Angie’s friends with Alicia, one of the girls who’s been constantly OWLing me, and if she knew this was fake then she’d blow our cover for sure. Which means…”

You gulped.

“You’d have the pleasure of sharing the loft with me. You’d get a room, shared with me, and a nice living space all rent-free, and all you have to do is act all lovey-dovey and occasionally snog me. That sounds like an offer you can’t refuse.”

Unfortunately, he was right. You were tight on money at the moment and really had no other options. It was a deal you had to make if you wanted to stay afloat, no matter how much annoyance and embarrassment it would cost you.

Sighing, you let your shoulders slump, a sign of defeat. “You do know how to negotiate, don’t you?”

“Well I am a businessman.” Fred stuck out his hand, and with a slow, drawn out motion, you shook it.

It was the 4th night of living with the Weasley twins, or maybe 5th? The nights all seemed to blend together as you’d been having more fun than you had since Hogwarts. George and Angelina didn’t seem surprised at all when you and Fred told them your made up story about how you and Fred started seeing each other. In fact, they both said they always knew it would happen. You and Fred shared a laugh about that in bed that night, before he decided to take up all of the space on the small piece of furniture, prompting you to write your third rule.

Overall, it had been a great experience. Couples game night, movie marathons, gossip sessions with Angelina about you and Fred’s sex life (which you didn’t have to fabricate too much, you already knew too much from the incredible amounts of detail he used to provide about his dates with other girls). It was like being thrown back into a dorm room, and your old teenage self was starting to shine through again.

You stared at yourself in Fred’s bathroom mirror, very proud of how you handled Brooklyn earlier that day. She was one of the few girlfriends of Fred’s you never got to meet, probably because they only dated for a short period of time before she left him for the first rich snob to bat an eye at her. Out of everyone you could think of that he dated, she was by far the worst, which meant the next few days would probably be more difficult. It was easy making that bitch angry with smoke coming from her ears, but you didn’t know how good you’d feel about lying to someone a lot nicer than she was.

After brushing your teeth and donning your pajamas, your Hogwarts house colors of course, you crawled into bed and joined Fred, who was reading one of the novels you had recommended to him. “You like it so far?” you asked.

Fred took off his reading glasses and nodded, setting a bookmark in the book before placing it on his nightstand. “Surprisingly, yes. I didn’t think it would be my thing, but so far it’s actually really good.”

“Told ya,” you said as you laid down beside him. You and Fred were comfortable enough to share a bed with few problems except for his stupid long legs. You’d been friends for years and had grown way too comfortable with each other, so squeezing together each night wasn’t too out of the ordinary.

As you snuggled into the covers, Fred following suit, you mentally went over the schedule for the week.

“How many girls are there again?”

Fred paused for a moment, trying to remember what he had sent to each girl. “A few I was able to ward off via letter, the more sane ones, but there are still two more girls who insisted they pay me a visit. Addison’s coming tomorrow and Alicia the day after that.”

You nodded, although you ducted Fred could see it from his position. “Got it. Addison’s sweet, I liked her.”

Fred scoffed, wrapping an arm around your waist as he had started doing while you two slept. It was nothing more than platonic, Fred was just a touchy person. You told yourself he would do this with any semi-attractive girl laying in his bed.

“Yeah, sweet girl all right, until you come home to your entire apartment torn apart cuz she thought you were cheating on her because apparently you ‘took an extra 12 minutes of lunch break and it seemed awfully suspicious.’”

Your body reverberated with a small giggle, remembering how Fred had to crash with you at your old place while he was trying to replace all the furniture she had literally torn up. “That’s right, she’s almost as crazy as I am.”

“Almost.”

You wouldn’t have a hard time lying to Addison, you decided. It was actually kind of fun when you did it with Brooklyn. You could get really creative with this one.

You released a deep breath and closed your eyes, nestling back into Fred as he spooned you, claiming it was the only way he wouldn’t sprawl out and kick you in your sleep, which you knew was a lie. He’d find a way to kick you somehow. The git always did.

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

“That was surprisingly better than expected!”

You nodded gleefully, handing Fred a scone and coffee that you had picked up from a nearby bakery. Scaring off Addison had been even more fun than Brooklyn, you and Fred really getting into character and being as lovey dovey as possible. She seemed to take it well, but you wouldn’t be surprised if she triggered the security system tonight trying to break in and destroy the shop.

“And if I’m being honest it was actually kind of fun,” you told him, settling in behind the counter.

You raised your muffin to your mouth to take a bite but Fred’s huge mouth snagged a taste before you could, bending down and taking a chunk out before you could have any. “That’s disgusting,” but you had no disgust lingering in your tone.

“I agree,” he said through mouthfuls of muffin. “It was an excellent way to spend the morning. Bloody hell she would not leave!”

“At least she was nice about it.”

Fred reluctantly agreed before making another move to your muffin, one that this time you anticipated and you swatted his nose with a nearby newspaper. “You have your own, you greedy pig.”

He yanked the paper from your hand, using it as a napkin before the front page caught his eye. He quickly crumpled up the paper and tossed it into a nearby waste bin, something you wouldn’t have been suspicious of had he not done it so nervously.

“Fred, what’s in the paper today?”

He shifted to put himself in between you and the wastebin, his tall figure looming over you. “Not important, just more junk that no one cares about.”

You didn’t believe him for a second. “Frederick Weasley you move this instant.” You tried pushing him out of the way but it was like moving an annoying ginger stone wall. Trying another approach, you darted to the left before doubling back and running right, but before you made it two steps he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. “Fred!”

You wiggled with all your might and finally made it out of his grasp, snatching the paper and unfolding it to read the headline.

Diagon Alley Playboy Finally Settling Down? Or Is Y/N L/N Just Another of Fred Weasley’s One Night Stands?

The color drained from your face and you slowly lowered the paper, reading the front page again and again. Attached was a blurry picture of you and Fred from the day before with you tucked into the side. The buggers at The Daily Prophet must’ve caught it through the store window.

“I’m sorry,” Fred said softly, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I tried to keep things quiet, but I guess the press always finds a way in.”

You rubbed your temple slowly, trying to ignore the dread in your stomach. After seeing Harry Potter be brutally torn apart by the press for years, the last thing you wanted was rumors about you going around.

"We could have prevented this!” you exclaimed, slamming the paper onto the desk. “This is complete bullshit. We’re not even dating! I swear I’m going to march straight to their office and--”

“Don’t bother,” Fred said, completely exasperated by the constant coverage of his family. “It does absolutely nothing, trust me. As a close relative to a professional Quidditch player, The Chosen One himself, and his two best friends who literally saved the world, we’ve learned that nothing will keep them away. Especially since they pinned me as the player of the Weasley family.”

“But you’re not!” you said, getting angrier by the second. “So your relationships don’t last long, so what? You’re not some womanizing piece of shit that the papers say you are!”

Chuckling, Fred replied. “I know that, and you know that. But the rest of the world wants drama, so if they want to think I have a new girl in my bed every night I’ll let them.” He shrugged. “You get used to it after a while.”

“Well you shouldn’t have to,” you grumbled. “You’re one of the best people I know, and the world should know it too.”

Catching you off guard, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your torso and a head lay on your shoulder. “It’s ok, love, just one more day and then you can stay out of the papers forever, I promise.”

Sighing, you turned to face him and let a small smile shine through. “Thanks. But I still think it’s absolute rubbish what they’re doing to your character.”

“Me too, but at least you know what a charming and caring gentleman I am and that’s all that matters to me.”

“Aww,” you coed, “you love me don’t you?”

“Shh, don’t let the press hear! It’ll ruin the image they worked so hard to create.”

You hit your head against Fred’s chest. “Only one more day of this. One more to go.”

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

“Do you know you talk in your sleep?”

“What?” You were so busy trying to find something to wear that you had barely heard what Fred said.

“Last night, when you fell asleep. You said something funny.” He was sitting on the bed, adjusting his work tie and pulling on his socks and shoes. He looked...confused. Like he was trying to solve a complicated problem and he just couldn’t git the pieces together.

“Oh?” you said, growing nervous. Had you dreamt last night? You were racking your brain, hoping you hadn’t said something embarrassing.

You definitely had a dream, and Fred was there. You were at the shop...and Alicia came in! And…

“You were saying ‘Alicia, no, Fred’s mine not yours, I love Fred,” and umm, other stuff like that.” His face was heating up by the second, as was yours.

“Really?” you said through awkward laughs. “Must’ve been preparing for today, huh?”

Fred said nothing, instead choosing to focus on retying his shoes.

“Well,” you said, finally picking out your outfit, “I’m going to change, I’ll meet you down there later, ok?”

He nodded, still confused, and you rushed to use his bathroom before things could get more awkward.

You decided to take a nice, long shower to cool down, hoping that you could somehow wash away the embarrassment. So maybe you had a slight crush on Fred. Who could blame you? You’d been spending the last week cuddled up with him and spending so much time at the shop, not to mention acting like a couple in front of everyone. Who wouldn’t develop feelings?

But for some weird reason you had a feeling that this wasn’t a recent crush, rather something that’s been lurking right beneath the surface for a while. You groaned, hitting your head against the shower wall. This was not the time for this. You had a job to do, and Alicia would be here in 30 minutes so you had to hurry up.

Scampering down the steps 15 minutes later after using a drying spell and getting dressed, you stopped in your tracks when you saw what was happening across the shop. Alicia was here early.

From the looks of it, she had already made herself comfortable, leaning in to talk to Fred, who wasn’t doing anything to discourage the behavior. Instead, he was leaning in as well, laughing at a joke she just made.

Fury burned inside you as you watched the scene unfold. You knew from the beginning that Alicia would be the hardest ex to deal with. Not only had she been Fred’s longest and most intimate relationship to date, but she was also a really nice person, meaning you had no reason to hate her. But at this moment you did.

Alicia leaned closer, her nose almost touching Fred. What should you do? Did he want your help getting rid of her? Was he still harboring feelings and actually looking to reconnect? You saw him slowly lean in toward her, which you took as a sign to continue with your plan.

You were almost running when you reached Fred, who turned and seemed happy to see you. “Just in time,” he said the Alicia, “Alicia, you remember--”

You cut him off with a kiss, the third kiss you’d promised him. Except this one wasn’t one of the pecks you described on your terms and conditions. You pulled Fred down into one of if not the most passionate kiss you’d ever had, wrapping your arms around his neck and drawing him closer to you.

Almost immediately he pulled off of you, looking more bewildered than you had ever seen him. “I…”

“Well that was quite the spectacle.”

You looked over to where Alicia was standing, smirking at the two of you. Contrary to what you had expected, she actually seemed rather calm and actually amused at what she had just seen.

“S-sorry,” you said. Fred tried to say something but he was too dumbstruck to even get a word out. He just stood there, eyes wide and mouth twitching.

“Is this a bad time?” she asked. “I’m supposed to be meeting my fiancé for breakfast later so I can just come back another time if that works for you.”

“Your...fiancé?”

“Yeah!” Alicia beamed as she showed you her left hand, her ring finger adorned with the most beautiful engagement ring you’d ever seen. “Actually, the reason I’m here is because I just asked Fred if he wanted to be in the wedding as a groomsman. Or bridesmaid. Whatever works for him. Thankfully the big oaf said yes before you laid that on him, or else I think I’d be waiting a lot longer for an answer.”

Fred was still as frozen as ever, making you and Alicia chuckle. “Hey, it’s been forever since we’ve caught up, how about you and Fred go on a double date with me and Lee sometime?”

It took you a second to understand why Lee would be there, until it dawned on you. “You’re marrying Lee Jordan?!”

She couldn’t hold back her laughter at this, loving to see your reaction. “That I am! You’re obviously invited, I’m sending invitations out soon. I’ll hope to see you there, and don’t be afraid to reach out, alright?”

“Y-yeah, will do,” you said. Alicia looked up at Fred and then to you and winked, before waving goodbye and leaving the shop.

You refused to make eye contact with Fred, too embarrassed to even begin to talk to him. Maybe you’d just take 5 and take a walk down the street? That would help distract your brain from whatever just happened.

“Real?”

You turned around to the source of the voice, a now more interactive Fred. “What?”

“Real,” he repeated. He shook his head a few times, blinking rapidly. “Sorry, I just mean, that kiss was umm, it was real.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. The fact that you had kissed Fred, and an actual kiss at that, was finally hitting you. “Yeah, it was real, I guess.”

He took a step closer, his face assuming the puzzled look from the bedroom earlier. “Was...was what you said real too? From the dream, I mean?”

Now it was you who was frozen, feet stuck to the ground with no way out. What should you say? Confess your feelings and hope for the best? Or deny everything and try to work your way around this mess? You didn’t have time to think nor ration. Just act.

“Yeah. It was real.”

Fred nodded, pursing his lips and shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Cool.” He hesitated. “Would it be super crazy out of the blue if I asked you to maybe go out with me sometime. For real?”

A smile rose to your face, hoping that this wasn’t a joke. Slowly, almost shyly, you nodded. “Yeah, it would be a little crazy. But I’d say yes.”

Fred smiled too, a big toothy grin that only made you smile wider, before pulling you into a side hug. “Good, because you’re a little crazy too, so we’ll match on our date.”

“You’re a big dork,” you said, returning the hug. “What will the paper say when they see you with the same girl? They’ll probably explode!”

“I hope so,” he replied as he gave you a loving squeeze. “What I’m worried about is how we’re supposed to explain to George and Angelina that we’ve been faking this whole time and it’s only now getting real.”

“Eh, that’s a problem for another time. Right now, we’ve got some more pressing matters.” You gestured to the front window where a reporter was holding a huge camera, trying to snap a good picture of the two of you.

“I’ll handle it, grab me the dungbombs.”

“Yes, sir!”

You ran to assist Fred, head rushing with thoughts of first dates and future ones down the road. Of attending Lee and Alicia’s wedding together and getting completely wasted with each other. Of sleeping together each night, holding each other in an embrace that was now true and deep and caring. In a relationship that was now real.

Tag List:

@famdomhideout @amourtentiaa

#theweasleyslut's 2k writing challenge #fredweasleyimagine #fredweasley #fred #fred x reader #fred weasley x reader #fake dating #fake dating au #freddie

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diosmio76 · 3 years ago

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What I Deserve | Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Bucky couldn’t believe his luck when he found you. So innocent, so alone, and so naive. He had been following you throughout the week, hell- he wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore and you never noticed him once.

Pairing: Reader x Dark!Bucky

WARNINGS: kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, gun mention (???), stalking, eventual dub-con, eventual non-con (maybe, I'll update when I know), 18+

Word Count: 1,235

A/N: Yes, a kidnapping story! A weak genre for me but let’s see. Also, idk assassin/military jargon there's only a little bit at the beginning I promise

Bucky pulled away from the scope and widened his eyes, chancing a look away from the building that he’d been watching all night. He looked down at the street noticing the occasional person walk by, no one was out at this time- let alone this late during the week. They’d been observing this target for the past month, he didn’t know the specifics of why they wanted him taken out and he didn’t really care. He’s good at what he does and he enjoys the solitude of the job for the most part.

He heard static and then Sams’s voice, an annoyed look painting his face as he heard him talk. It wasn’t that he hated the guy but he wasn’t used to checking in with a partner.

“You see any movement yet?”

He rolled his shoulders and neck before returning his position, shutting his left eye and pressing his right eye against the scope.

“No, haven’t seen anything for a while now- you sure this is the right time?” Bucky asked as he unsuccessfully tried to hide the boredom in his voice.

“Yeah, I checked a few times before we came, this is the only chance we’ll get this week. We saw the guy walk into the building and I hear movement in there. The fuck are you doing over there, sleeping?” Sam asked before continuing. “Look man, the sooner we kill him the sooner we can move on. Then you can go ba-”

Bucky stopped listening to his partner’s rant as he noticed the blinds open to the left of him. At first, he thought it was their target but remembered the floor plans of the room, he then noticed the silhouette of a woman in the window. She cracked the window open slightly before turning around. Before getting the chance to continue his observation he heard Sam in his ear.

“Alright, you should be getting a clear shot soon.”

“Roger” Bucky replied as he refocused his attention to his target. Readjusting his right finger on the trigger, using his left as a stabilizer. He followed his target, making sure he had a clear shot, before exhaling and taking the shot. He waited a few moments after and noticed no movement inside.

“Shot was taken, no movement detected on my end” Bucky radioed as his gaze moved towards the apartment with the open window as he waited for a response.

“Roger, All clear on my end. I’ll see you in the car”

Bucky began packing up, eyes zoned out in the direction of the apartment. He began wondering to himself if this mission was so boring to him that it turned him into a peeping tom, he didn’t even get a clear view of who was in there so why was it of so much interest to him? He let out a breath as he considered asking for a case that would let him travel somewhere else. Before he knew it he was placing his duffle in the trunk and got into the passenger side, shooting a quick look at Sam.

“I hate when you drive, makes me nauseous” Bucky replied in response to the face Sam was making towards him. He turned his head to look out the window.

“I get us there quicker than you do old man. Plus, you’re an assassin, I’m sure you can handle a little motion sickness” he quipped before speeding out of the parking lot.

Bucky scoffed before his mind drifted back to the woman in the window. He decided that he would return alone.

~~~

That next night he returned to his spot, this time focusing his attention on the woman’s apartment. He had free time after their mission, so he found himself sat here almost every day. When he wasn’t watching her from the roof, he was carefully following her.

On his first night he was able to get a clearer view of her, and while a part of him worried that he was peeping at an old lady at first, he was pleasantly surprised that that wasn’t the case. He noticed a few things about her these past few weeks, writing his observations in a small notebook as he did with most of his targets. But for her the notes were different. He wrote down everything she did and stuff that he imagined her doing- mainly stuff she could do to him.

He never thought of himself as someone with a partner, sure he used to imagine a domestic life and going home to the same lady every night but he never thought of that anymore. If he really wanted to he would call Ruby, she never asked questions and always knew to take her money and leave afterward. But the more he watched her, the more he considered his options.

Her routine rarely deviated. She woke up at 6 am and did some half-assed stretches. After that she would go to the bathroom, rarely shutting her door. He kind of liked that- he wanted to remember that when he took her. Then she would sit at her vanity and do her make-up. This was his favorite part, that concentrated look on her face as she did her routine. Mostly he liked that zoned out look in her eyes. That was a look he often referred to when he was alone. Then she would get dressed and leave for work, some corporate job that made a person feel empty. She would finish up a little after 5 and go straight home. Always the same route. As soon as she got home she would change, he noticed that she never wore pants. That would work fine for him, fewer clothes to get her- not that she’d be given that luxury anyway. For dinner she would eat as she cooked, looking uninterested at the finished product while she watched tv or scrolled on her phone. By 11 she would be in bed, but wouldn’t go to sleep till 3 or 4. It surprised him the first time he watched her at night, face lit up by the screen and one hand under the comforter but then he noticed the movement. Her comforter slowly moving up and down as her eyes screwed shut. Sometimes he would join her, imagining that it was him making her eyebrows furrow instead of her hand. She did that a lot, it made him chuckle. After that, she would toss and turn around the bed. He made a note in his journal to buy some sleeping pills for her. But she would be perfect because she was alone. On weekends, if she went out, it would only be to buy groceries or go to a store. She never stopped and only went where she needed to go. She never had anyone over and rarely went out with friends. It would be easier for her to acclimate to isolation.

Bucky decided he had all the information he needed about her. He went as far as following her, not that she’d noticed. He even allowed himself to be less careful. Once he even got close enough to smell her perfume- vanilla, flowers, and a hint of coffee. He assumed on his observation but up close confirmed that her personality was mousey- shy, awkward, and rarely noticed by anyone. He found himself grinning when he realized this. It was perfect, you were perfect.

#bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #winter solider x reader #stalker!bucky #stalker!bucky x reader #winter soldier x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x reader #bean writes

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sylverstorms · 4 years ago

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Lady Dimitrescu x Maiden ----Chivalry

It is late.

It is late, dammit! you repeat to yourself as you struggle to run through the healthy inches of white frost that cover the roads. The sky is grey, a clear indication it will snow again, but that is precisely what caused you to lose track of time so badly. And in this particular village, it is rumored staying out after sunfall is a fatal mistake.

Normally, you are not one to believe in such superstitions.

But nothing in this place you chose to call home is normal.

Though, to be fair to yourself, it isn’t much of a choice if it’s the only option left. Your family’s debts threatened to choke the life out of you after you lost your father –and you had to escape to the distant village of his birth. The same one he adamantly refused to talk about every time you asked, since childhood. Now you see why. You definitely see why.

The winter is ice cold. The summer –well, from what you’ve heard, that doesn’t really exist. Peerless, thick forests separate you completely from the outside world. The villagers range from highly superstitious to downright batshit crazy, which you guess –and hope— is from the isolation. That and the ‘incidents’. You choose to call them that so you don’t think of corpses and lose sleep at night.

The truth is… there are quite a lot of disappearances. An unsettling amount, if you’re honest. Still, there is a logical explanation besides the ‘werewolves and vampires and blood-witches’ nonsense you keep hearing about.

It baffles you why the villagers refuse to accept that it’s just the wolves. You’re surrounded by woods, for God’s sake and you hear them howling above the wind almost every night. They literally keep you awake sometimes. At the end of the day, though, they are just animals. Not supernatural monsters. Just good ol’ mother nature at her most brutal.

And in the off chance it isn’t, you don’t want to stay out long enough to find out.

Your steps hasten. It is a great relief when the sign of the shop near your house comes into view. Yes, almost made it! You cannot wait to have some warm soup and then curl into a ball underneath your heavy blankets.

Just as you are about to take the turn home, however, something catches your eye. Someone. Their presence is so jarring it makes you literally freeze in place and stare.

A woman you’ve never seen before –you’d know if you had, nothing about her is forgettable— ducks out of the store. Yes, she ducks, because she’s so incredibly tall there is no other way for her to fit through. Her height isn’t even the most stunning thing about her. Actually, you can’t decide what is.

It may be her spotless white dress and the way it hugs her luscious curves just right. It may be the wide-brimmed hat she wears, or the pearls that glimmer at her neck and ears, screaming of wealth. It may be her perfectly styled waves of dark hair and how stark they stand against the paleness of her skin. Or perhaps the ancient Greek, goddess-like beauty that is her profile.

You stand there breathless as she turns the other way, having spared you not a single glance. And why would she, when you’re a commoner and she looks like she has and is everything?

What is a woman like that doing here?

She belongs in a palace guarded by knights, is your first thought. Then it clicks. She does, in fact, live in a palace. She must be the lady you hear the whole village whispering about, the one who owns the castle at the top of the mountain.

That… is such a hike from the village. How did she manage that in a dress and heels? And… wait. How isn’t she freezing to death? Even past your two layers of coats, you are shaking. The frost is biting. It’s biting hard.

You want to ask her if she’ll be alright on her own, but the first lesson you learned in the village is to mind your own business. People do not react well to kindness here.

So you make to follow your own path— only to halt again when a tiny shooting star of a shine slips down her back and falls into the snow. The lady doesn’t seem to notice. Curiosity killed the cat, they say, yet you walk forward to take a closer look.

An earring that looks more expensive than your entire wardrobe –and probably is— lies on the cold ground, lost and alone. You must be an idiot because it doesn’t even occur to you to sell it for a month’s worth of any meal you desire, until much, much later.

“Um— my lady!” you call out, before you can think twice about it. You don’t remember her name. What is the castle called? Oh, come on… Dimitrescu or something?

Thankfully, she stops and you don’t have to embarrass yourself further. When she turns, a cold breeze carries a wondrous, expensive perfume to your nostrils. Sandalwood, Chantilly musk. You are pinned in place by a pair of amber eyes that seem to positively glow from within. She’s terribly intimidating, even while she looks more amused than bothered by your delay.

You try not to stammer or stumble. “S-sorry to stall you. Your earring fell off.” you say over the pounding of your heart and the merciless chill. Your fingers are numb when you present the object to her like a tribute.

A gloved hand reaches up to her ear, slow, as if she’s in no hurry at all. “Ah.” she breathes. She even sounds as good as she looks. “How nice of you to return it, dear.”

That ‘dear’ shouldn’t make your mind glitch like a faulty machine so easily. You lament the fact your palm is so cold you can’t even feel the whisper of her glove against it as she takes her earring back. You stand so frozen underneath her towering height, her classy smell and studying, golden gaze for a moment you have all but forgotten the time.

A distant howl is quick to remind you.

Oh no!

Your instincts give an instant flight reaction, you want to make a dash for your house, but your blue eyes meet hers once more. The stunning lady either has a mean poker face or the sound doesn’t faze her at all. She seems to disregard it as blatantly as the cold.

“That— that’s not good.” So much for not stammering in front of the beautiful woman.

“Better hurry indoors, now.” she says it lightly, as if there’s an underlying joke in there somewhere. “Who knows what scary monsters a pretty dear like you may attract.”

A pretty— your brain shuts down and reboots on the spot. If the urge to run to safety wasn’t swelling so fast you’d have trouble speaking at all, after that. It is a small mercy your blood is too frozen in your veins to make your cheeks redden.

“But you… you’re not going back to your castle alone, right?” you ask. Surely, she’s not that crazy to trudge through the damn woods at this time. “S-shall I escort you to safety?”

The Lady blinks.

Then, she throws her head back in a brief, hearty laugh that tickles your ears in the best way.

“And they say chivalry is dead!” her voice sounds like whiskey. “You are too good for this village, darling, you really are.” as she says it, the very tip of her glove brushes over your cheek. A touch ghostly; quick to fade, though not from your skin. “Don’t you worry about me. Get indoors.” The last part sounds like an order.

You don’t have to be told twice.

You’re hesitant –why are you so worried about her?— but you step back with a nod. “Stay safe.” you say and dash towards your home without looking over your shoulder again.

The breath you’ve been keeping leaves you only after you’re safely inside with the doors and windows locked. The howling is getting closer. Louder. You can’t stop thinking about the woman –Lady Dimitrescu?— and hoping she sees the sunrise safe and sound.

Weirdly enough, nothing pads or scratches or makes noise around your house that night.

You fall into a deep sleep, dreaming of golden eyes and lips crimson like blood.

Ko-Fi

#lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x oc #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #fanfiction #Lady D #lady dimitrescu x reader #tall vampire lady #help im in love #after she yeeted that vanity I had to write about her or i'd go mad

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keysmashingfantasies · 4 years ago

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An Old Fashioned Meet Cute

A/N: hi! this is my first fic here and i hope you like it. comments and constructive criticism is very much appreciated just please be nice and i tried not to describe nor reader nor the Hilda character too much apart from the fact that they are plus size so it can cater to more people (altough the Hilda character is a white woman originally, I left that out because I wanted everyone to be able to read it) :D. and a huge thank you to @divine-mistake for encouraging me to make this blog and post my fics. ily Tay <3, this one's for you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!plus size Reader

Word count: 2.1k

Summary: Bucky didn’t remember much of his life before the war. Not as much as he would like, anyway. But he was content to at least have remembered something. The memories of his teenage shenanigans with Steve always made him laugh. But there was a memory that he didn’t even know it was on his mind until that day when he accompanied Steve to the thrift shop. And until an Avengers party, where he met you.

“Steve, come on… Shouldn’t you be showing me the wonders of the modern world?”, he mocked. He knew Steve was doing his best, he did. But he knew that this wasn’t just a friends’ afternoon. And Bucky didn’t need a babysitter.

“I will! I just thought it would be nice to see something less overwhelming first and Sam told me a thrift store would be a nice place to start. Most of this stuff is new to us anyway”, Steve said, picking up a CD of a shelf.

“Yeah, ok”, he mumbled. The things he did for Steve. He mindlessly wandered through the little cluttered store, browsing the shelves full of knick knacks. He saw vinyls, old books, a great variety of toys, some paintings and an old fashioned vanity, with an old mirror, a few vintage perfume bottles, and… Oh.

“Steve?”, he said, picking up the old calendar that was propped up against the stained mirror. Carefully, he lifted the calendar up, looking at his friend. He had seen it before, he knew he did. He flipped through it as he waited for Steve to make his way across the store, careful to not bump in any of the tables containing delicate porcelain tea pots. His eyes scanned through the cover, a delicately painted picture of a curvy woman and with the saying “HILDA, 1940’s calendar” in bold red letters above it.

“Oh wow”, Steve let out a belly laugh. “You remember when we stole some of these? Man, we even took these to war”, he said. He started to remember. Him and Steve running, each one with a calendar in hand, flipping through the pages, Steve whining that he would never find a girl like that. He didn’t even think twice before taking it to the counter, with Steve giggling like a school girl behind him.

“For the memories, punk”, he said in a stern voice and a frown, but with pink dusted cheeks.

“Of course”, Steve said in a mocking voice.

“So, Tony’s throwing a party next weekend”, Steve said as he entered the training room.

“I prefer the thrift store”, Bucky mumbled, without tearing his eyes from the punching bag.

“Come on, Buck. I think it will be good for you to go”, Steve said. “It will be something small, Tony will introduce the new team assistant, so no eyes will be on you”, that got Bucky’s attention.

“Small?”, he said, pushing his hair from his face.

“Very”, Steve assured, but he had that look that Bucky knew very well from his young years; the look he would get when he was about to pick a fight. He was up to no good. But he didn’t want another trip to a dusty thrift store.

“Yeah, sure”, he mumbled.

You were shaking in your boots. Yeah, you knew that you would work for them, which meant that you inevitably would have to attend this kind of things. But this wasn’t like your former office jobs, no. You work for the Avengers now.

“You can do this. You have to. Do it for the paycheck”, you said, trying to reassure yourself as you shakily applied mascara. As you browsed through your wardrobe, you let out a sigh. You remembered shyly asking for advice on what to wear from Natasha, but you took it with a grain of salt. She could wear a potato sack and still look gorgeous, and you were… Well, a potato. You knew this was another test. If you couldn’t handle all eyes on you and the eventual bickering that was about to happen, you were not fit for the job. But damn, you at least expected a few weeks of taking care of documents and serving coffee before a party. In a room. With the, quoting the tabloid you read that very morning “super team that saves the world and looks hot doing it!”. You were a pretty confident person. But this… Anyone would be nervous.

“You can do this”, you told yourself one more time before heading out.

When you got to the party, not everyone was there. You politely greeted everyone with a nod, and gave your name to the ones you didn’t have the pleasure to meet yet.

“You, pick your poison”, Tony Stark pointed at you while walking to the bar.

“No, thank you, Mr. Stark, I won’t be drinking tonight”, you managed to say, silently thanking all the gods above (even the one that was sitting not too far from you) that you managed to hold back the quiver in your voice.

“She doesn’t want to be vulnerable around us. Smart, I like her”, said Natasha. Sometimes you wonder if she was a telepath like Wanda.

“Is there anything wrong, Y/N? I sense that you are uneasy”, asked Vision, with those glassy unblinking eyes. You wondered if he was in your mind that very moment.

“Gee, I wonder why”, said Rhodes, before taking a sip of his drink.

“I’m okay, just… A bit nervous, that’s all”, you said.

“Well, then you definitely need a drink”, said Tony, handing you a glass of champagne that no doubt cost the same as your previous paycheck.

Soon enough, the awkwardness made way to pleasant conversation. You laughed as you listened to their banter. It wasn’t like any business party you ever attended. No, it was more like a family gathering than anything.

The sounds of the elevator doors opening caught you attention as three men wide as refrigerators walked in, followed closely by a pretty young woman. Of course you knew them. You read all about them. Especially The Winter Soldier, the little devil on your shoulder taunting you by remembering you of every single time you talked to your friend about your crush on him.

“Sorry we’re late guys, Steve went to pick me up before the party and we had dinner”, said the blonde, linking her arm with Steve Rogers himself.

“Nah, Sharon, don’t cover his ass. We were late because the three of us had to wrestle Barnes into changing out of that old ass Henley”, said Sam.

Instantly, Tony and Natasha cheered and raised their glasses, making you laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, very funny”, said a gruff voice coming from the bar, making you turn your head, seeing Bucky Barnes open a beer bottle with his vibranium hand. 'How did he sneak past everyone?', your thoughts were interrupted as you took him in. You wanted to personally thank Sam, Steve and Sharon for making him wear that tight fitting black shirt.

“Well, Y/N, here’s Capsicle, Mrs. Capsicle, New Captain, and Snowflake. Guys, this is Y/N, the new assistant. Oh, and there’s Spider Boy but he’s on curfew, Strange had to hop out of the dimension and Scott but he’s… He’s somewhere out there being small, I don’t know. Watch were you step, just to be safe”, said Tony

“Hi”, you gave a shy wave, being greeted right back.

If it wasn’t for the serum, Bucky is absolutely sure he would have a heart attack on the spot. You were wearing red heels, a form fitting black pencil skirt and a white button up blouse and he could see your curves, your strong arms, your thighs. You looked absolutely amazing. You look like one of the girls that Bucky would’ve rushed to ask for a dance back in the day. But what really made him stare is the fact that your body type looked eerily similar to the character of the calendar he spent an embarrassing amount of time staring.

As your eyes scanned the room as you were bombarded with questions, Bucky made sure to avoid your gaze, looking everywhere but your face: his shoes, the ceiling, the armrest on the couch, Steve’s shit eating grin. Oh. So THAT’S what it was about. Little shit.

Even avoiding your gaze, he made sure to keep his ears open. A man could be interested, right?

By the time the party ended, Thor and Bruce were sleeping, Tony was buzzed walking around singing Iron Maiden, Natasha and Sharon were talking, Steve and Sam were giggling like two school girls, Rhodes went home and Vision and Wanda were talking and looking out the window to the New York skyline.

Which left you – and Bucky – alone.

“Uhhh. I guess I’ll start cleaning, then”, you said. Your face was on fire. The only person that you were sure didn’t like you and you were awkwardly standing, not knowing where to look and what to say. It didn’t help that you were attracted to him but damn it, you were not going to lose this opportunity because of a school girl crush. So you decided to keep yourself occupied by taking some empty glasses and bottles from the table and taking them to the kitchen.

“Oh, come on, Y/N! Let the cleaning crew deal with this in the morning!”, said Natasha.

“No, no, I don’t mind. I like to keep myself busy”, you said with a smile. Technically, it wasn’t a lie. You only hoped she couldn’t see how awkward you were.

“I’ll help”, he said, picking up some glasses and following you.

“You can pick up more of these glasses and I can start washing them”, he said. “I- I noticed you got your nails done, so…”, he said, and you shyly looked away while thanking him and making your way out of the kitchen.

In no time, the room was getting emptier. Vision and Wanda went home and Thor took Banner back to New Asgard. And you were almost done with the dishes, having also gotten rid of most of the empty food containers. As you both cleaned, you and Bucky got a bit more comfortable with each other.

“I’m sorry for seeming a bit standoffish earlier”, he said suddenly. “I’m not used to parties and I don’t know how new people will react to me. Especially pretty women”, you smiled at the compliment, but felt your heart ache. You were so caught up in your insecurities that you didn’t even consider his side of things.

“You don’t have to be sorry. I don’t know how you feel but by what I’ve seen and heard, you have a family here. You’re out there fighting to save the world. Trying your best. This is redemption enough, don’t you think?”, you said as you put the glasses to dry, missing the awestruck look that Bucky sent you, a goofy smile making its way into his features. “Okay, you wait here and I’ll get what’s left”.

You were back in no time. “Okay, so just more two champagne flutes and one plate left”, you said but before you could give the dishes to Bucky, you slipped, and if it wasn’t for Bucky’s reflexes, you would’ve fallen hard. You yelped as the sound of breaking glass hit your ears and for a second you two just stared at each other, before Bucky pulled you closer and back to a standing position.

“Thanks”, you said as he helped you straighten up.

“Your ankle, does it hurt?”, he said.

“Uh, no, I don’t think so”, you said.

“Ah, I think it does. And I can’t let a dame go home alone on a hurt ankle”, he said, giving you a dashing smile.

“You know what, now that you’ve said it, it hurts really bad”, you said, catching on. “You know what’s amazing for a bad ankle?”, you asked, and the gentle smile in your lips and the mischievous glint in your eyes made his heart piston inside of his chest.

"What?", he said softly, stepping closer, like you were sharing secrets.

“Ice cream and a walk on the park. Very therapeutical”, you said, making Bucky laugh.

Before you knew it, Bucky had already scooped you up into his arms and rushedly announced that you had slipped and fell, whisking you away into the elevator.

“Dude, that took all night”, said Sam. “This is the smooth guy you told me about?”, he said, while Steve and Sharon laughed.

While everyone got ready to go home, Scott came out of the kitchen in his Ant-Man suit eating some leftovers.

“Someone owes me 20 bucks for making her trip”.

#bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x chubby reader

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duskamethyst · 4 years ago

Text

at last.

a/n: in celebration of reaching 200 followers. thank you. i’ve started this piece months ago but constantly failed to find the will to continue whenever i opened the draft. however, the response i’ve received from my other works gave me the drive and i knew i had to finish this.

word count: 4.1k

genre: smut, nsfw, fluff

pairing: musician!semi x f!reader

warnings: mirror sex, soft dom

summary: you and semi are in a band together. though having feelings for the male, you’ve always kept it professional until one night...

“thank you for tonight! you guys were amazing!” you speak through the mic enthusiastically, waving to the crowd as they cheered on and begging for an encore at the same time. “we hope to see your faces again when we come out with new songs soon! please continue to support us! we love you!” your lips curl into a huge smile, stepping off to the back of the stage while waving your fans goodbye before the staff hands you a towel to wipe off your sweat and a mineral bottle to cool off.

it’s another amazing night in a different city for you and the band. the feeling of having people enjoying your music and your voice is overwhelming and to have such wonderful bandmates to join you in this journey for three years now has you feeling beyond blessed.

the band started small, having the drummer and bassist as your high school besties while the guitarist, semi eita was later picked up along the way when one day you blasted on your socials and the small music stores stating the band needed a new guitar player. your band was pretty well-known in the town you live in, showing up and performing at a few gigs and now you’re much more familiar in the industry and often play in different cities.

semi was one of the few candidates that was chosen to be part of the band. much to everyone’s surprise, playing the guitar wasn’t his only talent. semi was able to write lyrics, produce and sing and that’s what made him stand out among the others. while making the decision with your band mates, you guys knew not to pass up on him and today it proved to be the right decision you guys had made.

to describe semi eita, he’s incredible. a genius and a sight for sore eyes. hell, he could even pass to be a model if he was into it. you knew that his addition to the band could garner more fans through his skills and looks. on his first night at the gig as the guitarist, you noticed how some of the girls there were ogling him and especially recording him through their phones, even the older woman who was practically forced to be there almost every night by her husband paid more attention (and you believed it was because of semi’s presence) as your band performed. maybe the fangirls could start off by drooling over his looks before they could slowly support the band entirely, hence building a bigger fanbase.

you feel a little bad for him. you believe that semi is more than just his looks but you can’t really blame people for liking pretty things– it’s only natural. semi has a burning passion for music and what he does and he works tirelessly for the band. he gives his all when he writes lyrics and he uses most of his time by himself inside the studio, learning and enhancing his skills further. you often accompany him in the studio, offering your opinions when he shares the new lyrics he came up with and the studio would be filled with harmonizing voices of yours and his.

a weird fuzzy feeling engulfs you when you learn that semi had always especially asked for you to join him in the studio and never the other guys, but you alway shrug it off; reminding yourself that it’s only because of work and nothing else.

though no matter how much you try to deny your feelings, you know you’re already head over heels for semi eita.

you sigh and put down your luggage as soon as you walk into your hotel room before looking out at the window to see the fans that were swarming as you arrived earlier begins to dissipate slowly. as you’re smiling and being lost in your thoughts, you start to hear strumming sounds from the other side of the room– undoubtedly semi’s.

it’s way past midnight and you’re all tired from the tour and the recent performance. while all you can think about is getting inside the tub and having a good night sleep, semi on the other hand can only think about the next show and creating new music. though he’s much more new to the industry compared to you, he works so diligently and it makes you feel a bit guilty and shameful. so you decide to come up to his room and see if he needs anything– or maybe just to persuade him to stop thinking about work and go to sleep.

“eita, it’s me.” you say as you knock on his door. you hear the strums come to a halt before he opens the door for you. “gosh, you look terrible.”

it’s only partly true. his hair is disheveled and he only has his jeans on from earlier but you try so hard not to check him out and quickly walk inside his room. semi closes the door as he turns to you, “you’re not asleep yet?”

“no, i heard you were playing and that’s why i’m here. you know you should be sleeping instead, right?” you sit on the couch where he was sitting earlier. sheets of paper are spread on the coffee table and you pick up the one with the lyrics that he wrote.

“sorry,” he apologizes as he sits next to you and notices the one that you’re reading. “but it’s good that you’re here too.”

ignoring the little skip your heart made, you refuse to look at him and read one of the lines out loud in an attempt to play cool.

“i’m alone,

“i just wrote that one in the van earlier.” he scratches the back of his neck as he laughs nervously. his eyes never tearing from you, just watching while you scrutinize through his little work.

i’ve nowhere to go,

but you gently held my hand.”

you smile as you finish reading the last line of his incomplete lyrics and turn to look at him, “i wonder what it sounds like?”

“ah, i haven’t figured it out much but i think it could go like this.” he grabs the guitar from where he left earlier and places it in front of his chest before slowly strumming a few chords. you watch as his fingers sweep up and down across the strings, his black nails that you painted weeks ago are only left with little residues.

it sounds exactly like you heard in your room earlier. his voice and the tunes he’s making fills the room and it sounds absolutely beautiful. you can sense the longingness in his work this time around, a little different from what he used to play but a little change doesn’t really mean bad– it feels like something that many people can relate to.

you gleefully clap your hands as he stops playing and a faint blush creeps up to his cheeks which he hopes you don’t notice.

“what’s your inspiration this time?” you ask as he puts back down the instrument.

“well…” semi sighs and leans further into the couch. “someone special to me– the reason i started pursuing this.”

a heavy lump suddenly forms in your throat, making your stomach churn at the thought of semi having someone special in mind but you quickly shake off the feeling. you’ve always been close with the male, he was easy to get along with from the start and semi would agree that out of all the members, he spent the most time with you; though it's only because it’s strictly on a work basis and you respect that, and you remain professional.

“must be. you’ve never written anything so personal but tell me all about it! you know i won’t judge.” you force a smile, hoping that it’s not too obvious and instead semi laughs at your eagerness to know about his little puppy love.

“it’s not even that great. i feel like it’s rather ironic– the reason i pursue this is also the reason we can’t be together.” he looks at you as he speaks, as if searching for something.

“damn, that sucks so bad.” you lean back to the couch with him and gaze at the ceiling while imagining the type of person semi would like and start to mindlessly compare yourself to them– putting you down even further.

“you get it, right? on top of that, i think we would lose some fans if we start to date.” he continues as he rests his arm behind your head in a more relaxing manner. he hopes that he emphasized the word clearly so he could get a reaction from you.

however, you only laugh a bit at his consideration. you can already imagine the online articles being bombarded about semi being in a relationship, not forgetting the snarky remarks and lashes he and his partner might get on stan twitter and the thought makes you shudder.

“but i would want to see you happy... even if it’s not with me.” you mumble lowly before realizing what you just blurt out on the last part. “i mean- i mean- i was thinking from a fan’s point of view, of course!”

the sight of you being bashful and constantly avoiding to make eye contact with him is endearing to him. he can’t help but to laugh and it provokes him to tease you instead. his hand creeps up to pull and tuck away the strands of hair behind your ear, instantly drawing your attention to the male next to you. you’re waiting for him to speak but he only stares quietly at you with a gentle smile across his face.

“what?” you’re surprised at how meek you sound and you know he notices it when his smile turns into an amused shit-eating grin.

“really? you’d be happy for me?” he asks, leaning his head down on the arm he has hanging on the couch back.

“um, yeah? since you’re my–”

“friend?” he cuts you off in an instant. “i’d be happier to at least know that you’d feel jealous, though.”

jealous? you blink and nervously laugh at the poor joke, “why would i be– you’re funny. anyways, go to sleep!”

semi’s lips tug into a frown as you stand up from the couch and when you’re about to take a step away, semi grabs your wrist and pulls you back to him. he wraps his arms securely around you and buries his face at the nape of your neck, inhaling the very faint scent from your expensive perfume you had on before the show.

“you’re so close, yet so far.” his hot breath fans against your skin as he murmurs with a hint of frustration lacing his voice.

thinking not too deeply into it, you disregard the butterflies in your stomach, “yeah, i think you can put that in the song.” you attempt to reply coyly, concealing any suggestions of you being a total nerve-wreck right now.

“god dammit.” semi curses. he turns your face to look at his, “this isn’t about work anymore.”

“what–” he presses his lips on yours and his arms pull you closer to him which your body wastes no time but to completely melt into.

semi pulls away to take a breath, locking his brown eyes with yours as he speaks. “stop making me feel so lonely.”

“i’m… sorry…?” your apology comes out unsurely, not knowing where this conversation is leading up to and it’s making you feel apprehensive more than anything. there’s no way he’s confessing, right?

semi sighs as he runs his fingers through your hair, “i used to only play the guitar as a hobby but you’re the reason why i even thought about getting into this band.”

you’re out of words to speak from the abruptness and remain quiet before he continues, “i thought i’d be happy enough just being close to you but i realized i wanted more than that. am i being selfish?”

you break free from his grasps and turn to the blushing male before curling into his chest. semi’s body is still as he processes what’s happening and slowly relaxes as he wraps his arms around you again.

“no, eita, no. you’re not.” you reassure. “i really had no idea.”

“then, can i kiss you again?”

“whatever you want, eita.” you mutter under your breath before he gently cups your chin with his fingers and pulls you into a deep kiss.

for the second time that night, you feel as if you’re on cloud nine as your wet tongues twirl against each other in your mouths. a faint taste of tobacco and beer still lingers on his tongue but you pay no mind to it when you’re too busy drowning into your own ecstasy.

semi manages to push you down on your back without breaking the kiss and props on his knees before his hands wander all around your body. a gasp passes your lips when he squeezes your breasts against your shirt and his lips move down to nip on your neck.

“e-eita...” you breathe and the male pulls away to look at you with heavy lidded eyes– and they’re filled with desire.

“whatever i want, right?” he whispers and you nod your head before he delves back down to litter bruises on your skin. “and what i want is you.”

warmth surfaces on your cheeks as you hum in response, a subtle reply to tell him that the feeling is mutual. as soon as semi lifts up your shirt, he quickly tips down to tug your bra and latches his mouth on your hardened nipple while his fingers tweak the other. the stimulation causes your body to jolt in pleasure and you can practically feel yourself drenching in your panties.

semi glances up at you expectantly when he notices your thighs are pressed together underneath him. with his other free hand, he lifts up your denim skirt and rubs circles on your clit against the damped fabric.

you mewl and tug his hair gently as your hips desperately grind against his finger for relief.

“does it feel good?” he speaks softly. “you’re so wet for me.”

“y-yeah.” you mumble a little bit in embarrassment after he pointed it out but semi finds it to be endearing as he lets out a breathy chuckle.

“i’ll make you feel even better,” he grins, bending your knees up and spreading them apart. “but i need to hear it.”

you nibble your lip anxiously, “please?”

“please what?” he coos, though he’s already settling his head down between your thighs while he looks at you with passion filled eyes.

your lips feign a pout but your pussy twitches when you feel his finger pulls your panties to the side, “please make me feel better.”

“good enough.” he smirks before spreading your puffy folds and sticks out his tongue to lap off your essence.

a loud moan rips from your throat as he sucks on your clit and purposely teases it with quick flicks with the tip of his tongue. your legs start to tremble and try to close together but to no avail since semi holds them apart from crushing his head.

there were nights where he could only touch himself while imagining how you would sound like writhing underneath him but tonight, you made his dreams turn into reality. your moans and whines are like music to his ears and they’re better (and he knows it would be) than what he expected. now semi is driven even more to hear what more beautiful sounds you can produce for him.

semi groans when he slips one finger inside your tight hole and you cry in surprise as you feel his finger brushing in and out through your walls. he can feel that the walls are already sucking him greedily while your hips jerk to fuck yourself with his finger.

“god, you’re so fucking hot.” he grunts, inserting another finger and fucks you ruthlessly. you can feel your orgasm building and threatening to tip over when his finger curls, hitting your g with every drag.

“fuck, eita–” you pant as your toes curl over the unbearable stimulation and causes your body to shake.

“feels great, hm? i want you to cum all over my fingers.” he toys with the swollen bud before harshly sucking it.

“mmhh– gonna cum!” your eyes screw shut as your orgasm finally crashes down and your pussy gushes and flutters around his fingers.

your breathing turns erratic and a whine escapes your lips from the emptiness when semi pulls out to lick his fingers.

“you taste so fucking good.” he groans, hovering above you and crashes his lips onto yours so you can taste your own juices from his tongue before he pulls away breathlessly.

“i want to make you feel good too, eita.” you whisper almost innocently and push him back so he can sit down on the couch. semi watches you as you kneel beside him to unbuckle his belt and proceed to unbutton and unzip his jeans swiftly before he helps you release his throbbing dick from its confinements.

you nearly gawk at the size of his cock; thick and veiny, tip flushing red with a bead of precum. you give a few strokes with your hand and a sharp hiss rolls off his tongue as soon as he feels your tongue swirling around the slit and slowly taking a fair amount inside your mouth.

“fuuuuck.” he sighs as he sinks into his seat further, eyes closed shut as he lets you take over. you offer the pressure needed by pressing the bottom of the length with your hand and hollowing your cheeks while your tongue runs up and down the rest of his cock, slobbering it with your saliva.

“oh, fuck– baby. that feels so fucking good.” tears prickle from the corner of your eyes when you force yourself to take deeper into your mouth and his hips jerk when the tip hits the back of your throat. semi’s hand finds itself on top of your head; he makes sure not to tug your hair too hard as he guides you bottom to top and a pop sound is audible when he pulls you away just before he feels like he’s about to cum.

he wipes the tears from your eyes and kisses you while pulling his jeans and boxers all the way down before continuing to carry you off from the couch with him and leads you to his bed.

“can i?” he looks at you concerningly and you nod your head yes.

“take it all off.” he commands once he puts you down on the bed. what seemed to be the gentle semi is long gone but his dominating side makes you undeniably excited so you easily oblige, peeling off your clothes until you’re bare and naked in front of him.

“on your knees.” he orders again and you submissively get on your knees but he stops you before you can lean down on the bed. “face the mirror.”

you turn your head to see the large mirror in front of the bed and shift again as he climbs on the bed and props behind you.

“i want us both to see how pretty you look when i’m balls deep inside you.” he grins.

a soft mewl rolls off your tongue when semi smears your juices through your slits with his cock. he grabs your hips for leverage as he slowly penetrates into your hole and you bite your lip hard when you can feel his girth stretches you out both painfully and deliciously. semi gives you a moment to adjust and after receiving the green light does he begin to move his hips.

“i’ve waited so long for this.” he growls, black nails digging deeper into your skin that'll be able to leave crescent marks by the end of the session as he pounds his cock into your cunt erratically.

your cheek is pressed down and your hands clutch the bed sheet as you feel his veins brushing against your walls and his tip kissing your cervix with each thrust. semi’s breathing is already ragged from above you, hips diligently rolling into you as he picks up the pace.

“look at you, baby– fuck– i’m so lucky.” you moan at the praise, subconsciously feeding to your ego; to be desired by semi and to have semi fucking you into oblivion.

“s-so good.” you whine, glancing up to the mirror to see yourself but what you’re mostly able to see is the man behind you. his toned abs, ash blonde bangs almost covering his eyes and brows furrowed in focus as he ruts into you mercilessly like a feral beast and it’s fueling your arousal even further.

a mischievous smile etches on his lips as his hazy eyes light up once they meet yours through the reflection, “i don’t think you can see yourself that well.”

you feel your body being lifted up abruptly before he makes you stand on your knees with your back against his broad chest. in front of you, you can clearly see the mess he has made out of you; hair unkempt, pussy slopping and dripping down his balls and the sheets from where your bodies are connected.

“better.” he smirks through the mirror. both of your eyes fixed on the reflected image ahead; your tits bouncing up and down as he continues to thrust into you while his arm wraps around your torso to hold you in place.

“so– pretty. my baby– my muse.” he says in between grunts and takes one hand to cup your face. “can you see my cock go in and out of you?” semi intends to show you how lewd it looks by pulling out his thick cock slowly and pushing back inside your pussy in an agonizing pace.

“yes, fuck– eita.” you sob, staring at the mirror ahead as you see his cock glistens with slick when he pulls out from your stretched cunt and fills you back in, edging you at the same time.

“and what happens when i touch you here?” he coos, reaching down to press your clit with his thumb. a shock of pleasure washes through your body, making your eyes roll back and your head thrown back to his shoulder. “come on, you can tell me.”

“it’s-it’s gonna make m-me cum.” you whimper as your hips roll desperately against his finger and each time he plunges into you.

“and you’re gonna sing my name when you do, right?”

“yesyesyes– please, just–” semi cuts you off by continuing his pace again and the knot in your stomach tightens at the feeling of being stuffed full when he rams deep inside you along with his ministrations on your throbbing bud.

his other hand pinches your pebbled nipple and causes you to keen in pleasure and you finally open your eyes to look at the mirror again to see the compromising position you’re in and the way he manhandles you; having absolute control all over your squirming body with both his hands and his cock– and it got your vision turning white as you tip over the edge.

“eita!” your lips part into a scream as your pussy flutters around his cock and come undone. the walls squeezing him elicits a low growl from his throat and he holds your body with both his arms as he remains to fuck you in order to chase after his own high.

“fuck– that’s it.” he kisses your head when you let out a choke from the overstimulation. “i’m gonna fill this pretty pussy.” sporadic thrusts begin to stutter as his balls tighten and his cock twitches inside you to indicate that he’s close to reaching his orgasm and a loud moan rips from his throat as he finally comes undone.

semi stills for a few moments inside you, catching his breath and regaining composure before he lifts your body slightly to pull out his softening cock. your trembling knees fail to keep you up so your body falls down on the mattress and semi chuckles at the sight as he joins next to you.

“you did so good for me, love.” his sharp, brown eyes gazes adoringly into yours and a soft smile tugs the corner of his lips as he caresses your hair. “was i too rough?”

“just a little,” you blush. “but i liked it.”

semi sighs in relief and draws closer to give a chaste kiss on your forehead, “i’ll run a warm bath for you, alright? then we can go to sleep.”

you nod your head, feeling warm and fuzzy when he holds you in his strong arms before he leaves for the bathroom. as you wait and hear water filling the tub, your mind wanders how you’re going to break the news to your manager about your blossoming relationship with semi.

and semi thinks about the same thing too.

whatever it is, it doesn’t matter to him.

as long as he has you.

#semi eita #eita semi #semi #semi x you #semi x reader #semi x y/n #haikyuu smut #semi eita smut #hq smut #haikyuu!! smut #hq!! smut #r; writes #semi smut #semi fluff #semi fanfic #semi eita fanfic #semi ff #haikyuu semi #haikyuu fanfic

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yutahoes · 3 years ago

Text

Roses and Blood

pairing: private detective! Yuta Nakamoto x journalist! Y/N

word count: 4.4k words

genre: angst, a bit of smut, NOIR

summary : A high-profile cheating case just become a murder case. And the center of it all is the detective himself.

warnings : death, murder, blood, cigarettes, alcohol, sexual themes (masturbation) but not detailed, abuse, mentions of cheating, mentions of torture

This is my attempt to write a Noir AU, I’m not a fan of detective movies or this genre so this is the best that I can make up. This is heavily inspired by Secret’s Poison MV. 😁

taglist: @dimplehyunn @nominsgirl @jaesqueso @ahsshilee-me @readers-posts @justpeachygirl

written for Neo-City Noir Collab Call by @suh-insane

An extra cube of sugar in my cup of coffee. The only thing that changed in my everyday routine. The everyday bustling and hustling of the street outside didn’t change a bit. A typical day.

The calmness of the office was disturbed when the door opened. A strong scent of woman’s perfume hitting my nose. Roses. She smelled like roses.

The woman removed her coat, revealing a red button-down blouse hugging her figure. Blood. She reminds me of blood. A woman who might bring trouble.

Her heels click-clacking against the hardwood of my office and she slumped on the chair before I could remove my eyes from her. “I need your help.” She started, crossing her legs. “Detective Nakamoto.”

I leaned in on the table to assess her. An unreadable expression. She might be used to this. She took an envelope from her white handbag, sliding it on the table in front of me. "This is the file for Senator Hall." I opened the envelope which revealed a detailed copy of the said senator's information. "There had been threats to his life and I wanted to ask your help in finding who the mystery sender is."

There are different sized papers inside the envelope, letters cut from magazines that contain messages of threats. “Are you and the senator…?” Her lips curled up even before I could finish my sentence.

She handed a card, slipping it on the table. “I’m Y/N, Senator Hall’s publicist.” True enough, the card says that she is a journalist. “There are talks about how good you are, considering you found the mistress of Otto Holding’s chairman.” My jaw clenched. It’s not my best work but why did I get famous because of that? “Can I assure your help, Detective?”

I nodded with a smirk. She knew the business. Interesting. The woman placed the briefcase on the table, “This is just the first payment.” A briefcase full of money? This is serious business. She placed a gold-colored card above the briefcase with the letters ‘Fantasia’ written on it. “The senator usually comes to this club. He often gets the letters in this place.”

Fantasia? It’s a new high-end club that just opened for VIPs. This just narrowed down the list of potential suspects. They can either be VIPs or someone working in that club.

“I trust that you do your job discreetly,” She leaned on the table and I found myself staring at the low cut of her red blouse. “Mr. Yuta Nakamoto.” The way my name rolled on her tongue sent shivers down my spine. And as she left the office, her heels clicking on the floor, I was left with the scent of roses and an unhealthy amount of attraction for the senator’s publicist.

My fingers fiddled with the business card she handed.

Miss Y/N.

Trouble.

Will I get to see her again?

Fantasia is so posh, so high class, that security is so tight. It runs in an invite-only policy, the golden card that Miss Y/N handed. But even if you had the said invite, you needed to give them your personal information. Nothing bad will surely happen here.

The inside was not anything I imagined. The smell of alcohol and the blinding lights are the first thing noticeable inside, followed by jazz music playing. Girls in promiscuous clothes were serving drinks as another girl with flashy red clothes was singing on the stage. The color of rose and blood. And I was reminded of Ms. Y/N once again.

Senator. I’m here for a task.

After getting my drink from the bartender, I searched for a place where I could sit and surveyed the place. Before I approached a corner seat, I spotted the man I should be eyeing, seated on a velvet couch and staring at the girl on the stage. Based on the files, he has a wife and she’s very wealthy. Is this another case of a cheating husband? Then this case will be solved immediately.

The girl in the red dress singing earlier made her way to the crowd, stopping in front of the senator before giving him a smile and a wink. A smirk escaped my lips, case closed. I've been in this work for so long to know that his wife is giving him threats for having a girlfriend. A cliché love story.

The task was done even before I could begin so I drank a little to celebrate my small victory. Although the drink is expensive, I deserved this.

I'm busy minding my drink when the seat beside me gets occupied. "Hi." The same girl in the red dress singing on stage earlier. The senator's lover. "You're new here, aren't you?"

Does she keep track of the people here? "Want me to show you a good time?" What? But before I could say anything, she lightly pushed up her skirt to show me her thigh. What the hell is this club?

I turned around from her, facing the female bartender who was wiping the counter, and drank the contents of my glass in one gulp. I have to get out of here. The girl held my chest and I hastily stood up, feeling my head throbbed. What is happening to me? I felt my legs lose their strength as my stomach grumbled, sour liquid creeping up in my throat.

Immediately, I ran to the men's toilet to vomit everything in my stomach. The sour and bitter taste coming out of my mouth. Where did this come from? Is it the expensive drink? Am I not allowed to drink expensive scotch? Luxury life isn't really for me.

The moment I went out, wiping my mouth with my handkerchief, a surprise overtook me. A body was lying on the floor, a pool of blood by my feet. Turning it, I stumbled on my feet to see the senator as pale as a ghost. What the hell? I kneeled on the bloody floor, pumping his chest to at least save him but it's too late. He already lost a lot of blood. Shit, this is bad.

A stray bullet can be seen on the side of his body next to something glistening. An earring. Gold flower earring. The lingering smell of cigarettes, mint cigarettes. Before I could stand, the door opened followed by a scream of terror. This is really bad.

The door closed. I had to save myself. Even if it is the most questionable thing, I jumped out of the window and ran for my life. My hands were still bloody as well as my coat, the earring in my coat pocket. This is a first. What will happen to me now? There's only one person who saw me. They can't actually remember me, right?

It must be the distress, the lightheaded feeling of panic. A blinding car light made me stop in my tracks. This might be my death. I should have bought the fanciest drink there is.

"Detective Nakamoto?" Then the voice of an angel. I might be dead. "Are you alright?" The angel appears to wear a red shirt. The color of blood. Death. "What happened to you?" Her flesh feels warm, she's alive.

It is the distress, the panic, that I cling to her arm. The police sirens could be heard and I begged for her to take me out of the place.

The evening lights were blinding as she drove. Destination, unknown. Her phone rang and she accepted the call, Mrs. Hall. "My husband is dead." She stepped on the brakes immediately, putting her phone on handset before glancing at me.

I didn't hear what they were talking about but her stare at me got me ideas. She might have found out that I'm in the same club as him. When she put down the call, she only stared at me. "You killed him?"

"What? Of course not."

She raised an eyebrow, eyeing my bloody coat. "I swear I didn't. I saw him lying in his own blood when I left the restroom stall."

"Someone saw you." She opened the radio of her car, "And now, they're looking for you." The voice from the radio was talking about how the senator was found dead in the jazz club and that they're looking for a man in a coat. I hastily removed my coat, throwing it on the backseat of the car.

She laughed at that. "You think that's all, detective?" She showed her phone, a picture of me taken earlier in the club with a wanted sign on top. Shit! "I asked you to find who tried to kill him, not kill him."

"I swear I didn't," I shouted, putting my hands up. "I don't even own a gun and he was shot." I tried to think of other things I noticed at the scene of the crime. Come on Yuta, think. "It smells like cigarettes and I don't smoke."

She raised an eyebrow at that. "But why are you there?"

"You asked me to come there."

"I mean the restroom." She rolled her eyes. "If he was shot, why didn't you hear the gunfire? Why didn't you ask for help?"

I closed my eyes in frustration. Journalists really are inquisitive. "I was vomiting my drink and I don't know, I panicked. I thought I could save him." She started the car without a word and I just sat there, looking outside to see where we were going.

What will happen to me now? A wanted man. I can't return to my original life. Why am I in this mess? "I'm sorry. I believe you. I asked you for help and you were just trying to do your job." I nodded. At least she understands. "But for now, everyone knows you so I'll help you hide then maybe we can clear your name."

I have nothing to do but trust her. I need to clear my name. Why is my brain so blank now?

We stopped at a gas station to get some food. I’m pretty famished after vomiting everything but the moment I stepped inside the store, the news of the senator can be heard followed by a description of the person who killed him. The attendant stared at me before Y/N took his attention. This is bad.

Hastily, I made a beeline outside after cleaning my hands off the blood. Y/N is already outside with a lollipop in her mouth, leaning by her car. “I borrowed some clothes.” She should have said that when I was inside but where did she get those clothes? “You can change inside the car.”

Here? In the open? But she was already opening the door for me. The clothes were on the backseat of her car, a black shirt and jogger pants. And it’s better than having my bloody clothes so even if the shirt is a little tight, pants shorter, I have to wear this.

She eyed me from head to toe and for the first time, I felt exposed. A raise of an eyebrow followed by the lollipop removed from her mouth with a popping sound. "Do you have any place you can go?" Is there? They're probably at my apartment address by now. The police might be in my office. I shook my head and she smirked, gesturing to the car.

The city buildings are now gone, replaced by endless empty landscapes. It was a long drive. The news from the radio was replaced by jazz music, her phone kept ringing but she didn't mind it all. A blinding light changed the overall aura of the surroundings as she made a sharp turn heading to what seems like a motel. Why here of all places? It looks like a rundown. Is someone still living here?

I followed her to what seems like an endless hallway, the smell of cigarettes and weed in the air as the sounds of grunting and bed squeaking can be heard. She inserted a key on the last door to the right, opening it and switching the lights on. “Stay here for a while.” She whispered before casually entering the room. It smelled like roses. Her scent.

“Do you live here?” She shook her head, handing me a bottle of beer. Then why does she look so comfortable here? She removed her coat and casually throwing it to the couch in the middle of the room. Her arms filled with bruises and scars. “What happened?”

She shrugged, disappearing to another door and I took time to look around. A large window covered with dark curtains, bottles of beer on the floor under the table. I even saw underwear which made me immediately turn around. There was a sound of murmuring from inside the room, she might be on a call with someone.

I took my phone out of my coat pocket which revealed countless calls and even messages asking where I was. In annoyance, I just closed my phone and return it to the pocket where my fingers grazed at something sharp. The earring. The gold flower earring. It’s a woman.

“A woman killed him.” I immediately told Y/N when she went out of the room. “I’m certain of that.” She glanced at me in question. “Maybe his wife.”

“Mrs. Hall? She’s so kind.” She claimed. “Why would she do that?”

“Because he’s seeing someone else.” The statement obviously came as a surprise to her. Doesn’t she know? “Senator Hall is seeing another girl in that jazz club.” Her eyebrows were scrunched to focus on my words. Then it came. That girl. She was beside me before I took a shot of my drink. She might have put something in my drink. She listened as I narrate everything to her, no one can help me with this shithole but her. I need to clear my name and find who really killed the senator.

She bit her lip. “Do you really think she did it? The jazz singer?” I nodded. It’s only her or his wife. “I’m meeting Mrs. Hall tomorrow. I’ll try and look at this.” She rolled her eyes. “This is supposed to be your job.” I apologized. It really is. But my hands are tied now. I can’t do anything.

The death was all over the news. My face plastered on every newspaper and wanted poster. How quick are they to assume that I killed the senator? Should I just come clean and tell them that I don’t have a gun? That I don’t smoke?

With nothing to do, I laundry my bloody clothes and some of Y/N’s things. Lightly tidying up her motel room. Why would a girl like her live in a place like this?

And as I reached out from under the couch, I found out exactly why.

It’s almost midnight yet she isn’t back. Maybe she isn’t coming here tonight. So I settled to bed, removing the dirty shirt I have been wearing the whole day. The incessant pounding of the bed on the wall from the other room only made me annoyed and, well, disturbed. I can’t fucking sleep. The moans got louder, mattress squeaking that made it unable for me to focus on just sleeping. Fuck! I’m very well disturbed.

My hand slipped inside my pants, finger tracing the outline of my member while thinking of a certain girl in red lace underwear. Hand wrapped around the hard rod, I started stroking while creating soft moans along with the sound of sex next door. “Y/N,” I whispered and a gasp can be heard that made me open my eyes. She’s in the doorway, looking at me in surprise. Fuck! Immediately, I removed my hand from my pants then stood up from the bed that made me light-headed. “It’s not what it looked like. I…”

“Yuta,” she called. A sound that rang like a melody in my ears. There were tears in her eyes, a bruised lip, and a cut on her cheek. The reason why she’s staying in this motel room. Why that ring is under the couch. “I don’t want to come back to him anymore.” She choked on her tears.

Y/N’s cries got louder as I wrap my arms around her. “Then don’t come back to him,” I whispered. How long was this? Why isn’t she speaking up about this? Why is she hiding here? “I’ll protect you, Y/N.”

She stared right into my eyes. And I knew that very moment I shouldn't have let myself be taken by her good looks and smell. I realized that she was the kind of trouble I was looking for. The kind that would give my life a sense of purpose.

My hunches might be right seeing how there are bruises and scars all over her skin. How can a confident girl be this fucked up? Now, I have more reasons to clear my name. "When everything clears up, stay with me." I whispered then kissed her bare shoulder. My lips went to hers, gently kissing the bruises and cuts in her skin as if I could erase them. My arms trying to give her the warmth she needed.

When I woke up, she was nowhere in sight. Her car wasn’t outside as well, she must be off to work. The news is different now, something about the stocks dropping and the murder of another man in town. Maybe I can come outside now. But where should I go? There isn’t any diner or restaurant near the motel, even a store where I can buy food. I’ll have to wait for her to come home and wish that she brought food.

Luckily, Y/N did. Sushi. Along with the take-out foods is an envelope that contains papers inside. A picture is inside the brown file, the girl from the jazz club. “Is she the one you’re talking about?” I nodded. Although her clothes are different and with a lesser make-up on, she’s obviously that girl. There were details about her, her name and her address. “Do you think she killed the senator?”

“Why would she drug me if not?”

“That’s not enough evidence, Yuta.” She’s right. It really isn’t enough evidence to name her the suspect. Shit! Is there anything I can do to clear my name? “I’ll try and watch her, maybe I can get some answers.”

I moved closer to her, holding her in my arms. If we’re going to clear my name, she wouldn’t be doing this alone. She’s been through a lot. “I’ll come with you.” When she kissed my lips, I already knew her answer.

She was exactly that girl in the bar. My eyes can’t fool me. It’s a high possibility that she is the killer now that we’re watching her smoke a cigarette. All we need to do is get her alibi and see if she has a gun. But I'm positive that she is the killer. Why would she put poison in my drink? Why me?

Is it to frame me? She doesn't know me. Is it obvious that I'm a detective at first glance? Which came to my first question, why me?

That question still lingered in my mind. It's been a week since we saw the girl. Y/N would always leave in the morning and come back each night with new information about the Senator's case. She had been working closely with the lawyers and the police about the case, updating me of recent findings. "Can I come out now? Tell the police everything I know about the case?" I asked while brushing her hair, her head laying on my arm. "I have enough evidence."

"Evidence?"

"An earring," I whispered and she jolted to sit, looking at me surprised. "I saw an earring at the scene of the crime."

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" She picked up her discarded clothes in a hurry. Why? What’s wrong? But before I could ask anything, she had already left.

The news of the senator’s death was once again on the headlines but this time, my face isn’t the one flashing but the jazz singer’s as the suspect. She admitted to the crime, saying that she had been threatening the senator since he promised that he’ll buy her out of the club. Fantasia club is now under a lot of criticism for prostitution and the unethical labor of the workers. A gun with a silencer was found in her possession, the weapon used for the crime.

My picture flashed on the screen, not as a suspect, but as the detective who solved all of this.

There’s only one thing to do now. Go back to my normal life.

Journalists all came to the office and asked me a lot of questions. The newspaper was filled with pictures of me, claiming that I’m the best detective in town and the phone kept ringing endlessly in the office. I smiled, it hadn’t been a typical day even if I didn’t put an extra cube of sugar in my coffee.

I was on a call with a journalist from the local newspaper when two uniformed personnel came inside my office. “Detective Nakamoto, we need your help.” And I knew, this is something serious.

Maybe it already happened two times. I have been to this place before. Thrice. I have been here thrice. The mansion of the Chairman of Otto Holdings. It was his wife who asked me to come here before. Now, the reason was him.

The officials informed me about the corpse, stabbed in the stomach then shot in the head. The killer wants him dead, I’m sure of that. I saw him a couple of times before and he is a tall man. If someone were to kill him by stabbing his stomach, that person might be close to him. Who would do this? His wife? But she’s already living abroad. His lover perhaps? Someone working for him?

“Reports said that he’s here with his daughter. We’re trying to locate her.” He had a daughter? They showed a plastic bag with the pieces of evidence found at the crime scene: strands of long hair, cigarette butt, a bullet. Familiar shreds of evidence.

They let me look around his office, the place polished in cleanliness except for little splotches of blood on the carpet. Old marks of blood. On one side of the wall were torture devices: floggers, leather whips, handcuffs, and wooden cane. Either he’s into serious sexual acts or he’s just a demon who loves torture.

A picture hanging on the wall took my attention. A happy family. The young-looking chairman was standing behind his estranged wife who looked really happy and youthful. On her lap is a young girl with such angelic features. Bright shining eyes. Then a familiar thing caught my attention.

The gold flower earring was shining on my hand. The same earring the little girl is wearing in the picture. Why do I feel like I’ve been chasing the wrong suspect all along? I drank some beer, seated by the edge of my desk when the door opened. Before I could tell that the office was closed for the day, a strong scent of a woman’s perfume hit my nose. Roses. The familiar smell of roses. Y/N.

She removed the black coat she had on, revealing a red wrap-around dress that shows some skin below her neckline and stops midthigh. Her hair has gotten shorter since the last time I saw her. Lips deep red. Her heels click-clacking against the hardwood of my office. A sheer lace thigh-high stocking completed her look.

Her hand slipped on my neck, leaning close to whisper in my ear “Long time no see, hotshot.” My heart beating wildly against my chest. Her smell. That addicting smell. Her lips went to mine. Her taste. A deadly combination of alcohol, cigarette, and mint. “I missed you, Yuta.” She whispered in that erotic voice, fingers heading south my shirt.

I took the glass of alcohol to relieve the parching of my throat, finishing the contents before holding her by the waist. “It’s you, isn’t it?” A smirk escaped her lips. “You killed the chairman.” I should have been aware the moment it smelled like roses in the chairman’s house. “You’re his daughter.” The same eyes as the girl in the picture. “Why…?”

My chest suddenly felt tight. Like someone just punched my heart. I gasped for air. Mouth burning as if on fire. She just sat on the chair, crossing her legs while watching me. “Because he promised mom that he’ll take care of me.” She flexed her fingers, checking her nails. “I hate people who don’t fulfill their promises.”

Promises. The same thing the jazz singer said about the senator. “You…” I coughed blood. “You also killed the senator.” It makes sense now. She came to me. She wanted me there. She pretended to help me. The earring. Her reaction. The taste of mint and cigarettes. “Why? Why me?” My legs feel numb that I fell on the floor.

“Isn’t it your fault why mom left my dad? Why I’m in hell because of him?” It wasn’t a husband. It was her dad. He really is a monster. “Think of this as a little gift. You’ve became famous. Everyone will know that you died.” Her fingers glide on the edge of the desk, placing a small white pill beside the glass. “They just wouldn’t know how.”

I called for her name but she just stared at me with an evil look in her eyes. “I sincerely liked you, Yuta. I even believed that we could be together.”

“We can.” But every word felt like a thorn in my chest. “I love you.”

The corner of her lips curled up, kneeling beside me. “But you’re also like them. Promising things and not actually doing it.” I grasp her arm, words not coming out of my mouth. She took her phone. “Mrs. Hall, the work is done.” She stared right into me with cold eyes. “Detective Nakamoto is gone.”

Her lips were as red as rose as she smirked at me. Her dress, red. The color of blood.

The memory of when I first saw her came to me. The same smell of roses. The gold flower earrings on her ears. The same color as blood telling me that she’s bad news.

I should have listened.

But it’s too late.

She is indeed trouble.

The kind of trouble that will be the death of me.

Like a sweet poison. She’s a poison. Addicting. Deadly.

And then everything went black.

#neo city noir collab #yuta #yuta nakamoto #nakamoto yuta #yuta angst #yuta nakamoto angst #nakamoto yuta angst #detective yuta #yuta au #nakamoto yuta au #yuta nakamoto au

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worldsover · 4 years ago

Text

Judgement to the Desiccated ft. Karina

length ✦ 5573

genres ✧ sm type future; asphyxiation; blackmail; virtual_servant!Karina;

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Air did a poor job of not being polluted so Lee Soo Man flooded the world instead. The man himself certainly must be long gone and could not have been in charge of that decision but the legacy of his company far exceeds the legacy of any other human collective in history. Once on this planet, gas was the fluid of choice for respiration and breathing was an unconscious reflex. Now there’s Aether by SM. How very on-brand of them to have the liquid air you breathe follow perfume naming conventions.

Open your eyes and exit the sleeping chamber. Aether has you work for each inhalation, it desaturates the color of the bedroom—maybe there’s a subtle but uncomfortable tinge of yellow—and it makes your nose itch. Your muscles wield much less force than they used to because of the lack of resistance the fluid provides. Moreover, it smells like hairspray as though the ozone layer is taking sardonic revenge.

Screens impersonating windows track your eyes to ensure realistic parallax, playing the scene of divine blue heavens that could not exist. An azure sky is a reward for those planets that have an atmosphere and a sun for light to scatter. Your walls are either chrome or drywall white and your whole bedroom is plainly decorated just like the day you moved in.

“Etymology of bedroom,” you think out loud, though it falls on no ears.

“Bedroom is a compound noun consisting of bed and room. Bed goes back to Old English bedd ‘sleeping place, plot of ground prepared for plants,’ which goes back to the Germanic-”

Plants and sleep are both strong words to use nowadays. The former doesn’t exist in nature and it seems you’re the only one who bothers with the latter. Faint buzzing distracts you from the AI’s response and signals you to the nano drones that swim throughout the liquid to process carbon dioxide from your lungs. This whole ordeal could’ve been much worse if you didn’t have brain interfaces doing the hard part of controlling your diaphragm. The most you need is a purposeful thought. Still, it gets tiring having to think the same thought every three seconds. In. Out.

Was the metaphorical Soo Man teaching a lesson in perseverance? You love K-pop and imagine it’s how trainees used to practice dancing, singing, being charismatic. Being an idol had to be as natural as breathing air. Inhale and exhale. Right now with any antiquated programming language you clung on to, you could write a single for loop that did the same job. For every three seconds: breathe in, breathe out.

“What’s for breakfast today?” Not loud enough. “What’s for breakfast?” you think it louder.

“Welcome, master. Ae-Karina is ready for service.” It’s quite a kindness for SM to blur the bland dystopia you live in by augmenting reality through your neural device. A bosomy woman in a gold-lined but otherwise modest maid outfit appears from the corner of your eye and she bows. Ae-Karina is bewitching and almost becoming of her basis as its graphics have gradually upgraded over the rotations but you wouldn’t misconstrue the avatar as human.

“I said, what’s for breakfast!” It feels impolite to scream in your head, there’s other residents there, but finally the fridge lights up.

“Of course master. May I remind you eating is unnecessary?”

In. Out. Every day, she does remind you, yes. How kind of the company to put all your nutritional requirements in the new air. Aether goes in then Aether goes out. You wish the thoughts of breathing could fade into the background but they’re just like your cravings for food. Always hungry but never starving, whole though not once satisfied. Your eyes pause at her gorgeous face and she tells you there’s bacon. Take it from your fridge. Bacon goes in. Well, the drones take care of the out.

Your assigned living space is the entire 207th floor of a tower. Two hundred and seven floors below the surface. The neighbor a few floors upstairs says that he thinks living deeper is a sign of status. What a luxury. That guy should check the status of his facial muscles, maybe improve his code that lets him tell lies while he’s at it. A couple hundred flights of stairs to swim up is a useless skeuomorphism of skyscrapers in the days of the sun. In fact they were more than useless, you would've preferred a single vertical hallway as it would have let you propel upwards unimpeded. Each floor is the exact same, a glass door that affords no privacy for its residence, a false tree on each side. At the upper levels, malls, convenience stores and other gaudy retail, but it’s the gyms that mock you that you mock in return. They’re always empty.

Finally reaching the top is no true break even if it is a change in scenery. Inhale. Aether tastes a little different up here. Exhale. Can’t say you like it.

Countless satellites form a parody of the star from which the planet flew away, the false image refracted by the upper boundary of Aether. They can’t take away your memories of this star. Looking up at the sky once blinded you with ultraviolet radiation, burning your cornea. It was beautiful. Now everyone’s decided that if they’re playing the part of corporate dystopia, they might as well fit the aesthetic. In a way, it’s self-fulfilling. They wouldn’t have chosen a neon pink sun to compliment the blue and metallic gloom of the cityscape if it weren’t so ingrained in popular media already.

Still, you would’ve expected Google or Walmart to become the megacorp responsible for the state of the world, not a Korean entertainment company. Must’ve been quite the red paperclip scenario. Instead of material design or utilitarian architecture, tacky artistic structures line the streets. The same advertisements for albums that they’ve been selling for the past however long. It's all so obvious, the city could've been designed from scratch to accommodate new forms of travel and goddamn liquid air but instead they went with futuristic Tokyo.

Dubstep permeates your inner ear implants. A notification informs your thoughts that it’s “Hip-hop EDM dance pop with a strong jungle house groove and urban influences.” It’s dubstep. Liquid carries barely any sound so SM affords the option for implants if you're nostalgic for one of the senses. Even though it’s a slower form of communication than direct neural transfer, the noise comforts you. Of course the company would choose dubstep as their background music, but maybe they make money off refunds somehow. It switches to Ice Cream Cake. Much better.

You walk the not so busy roads towards a short brick warehouse in the distance and heavy rain soaks your clothes. No such thing as weather without the sun and water but it’s all simulated anyway.

A warm Seulgi adlib and you know it’s Psycho that starts playing. No, none of your senses are real. The most you could trust is your vision but even that’s being lied to. You could be living in a vat and fed all these thoughts, but then why make it so mediocre? Not paradise, nor torture but a lukewarm in-between. Guess that's what happens when SM Entertainment manages the post-apocalypse. Good on them for trying. The alternative would be a frozen hellscape without solar radiation. Can’t deny their work with geothermal and nuclear energy to keep the Aether warm so that you didn’t have to live underground for the rest of human history. It’s quite great PR to save humanity.

“Hey now, we’ll be okay,” repeats a few more times than you remember.

The Idea Factory Alpha White Delta Green says the neon tubes lighting the front of the brick and mortar building. Your ID card bears a name but it’s not yours, not until they approve your name change. Those usually get processed faster with how often people liked changing their names.

Sit at a desk with a sterile white keyboard and slick new monitor. Type and empty words appear on the screen: “Think for the many, not for the one. We need to think ahead.” A thumbs up. The company appreciates the input. That’s probably enough work for one day. Some SNSD live stages help the time pass, SM certainly appreciated the streaming numbers and it would net you some social points.

It’s hard to say what comes to mind when they ask you to envision a world without the sun and air, especially since it’s what you’ve known for... Two hundred years? There’s no frame of reference, that much you can tell from when you counted seconds to see how often the satellites completed their orbit. SM really took time to have them propel at random speeds, they love withholding sensitive information like that from citizens. To be fair, time is sensitive. Guess the meaning of that phrase changes like all parts of language.

Look around. Dozens of employees at identical workspaces all try to answer the same questions. Naturally, there’s no need for manual labor anymore but there will never be a replacement for human ingenuity. Nice slogan but you know you’re only here for data. Can’t see a need for customer retention though—what’s the alternative, skip Earth? See you on another planet?

“Hey bro, you come up with anything new?” Dave says. Two desks away, you see the enthusiastic, surprisingly spry man play around with a Newton’s cradle. The balls at each end bounce back and forth, not slowing down their rhythm any time soon.

“I think I got something,” you say, “Earth is not the answer. It can’t be, long term.”

“Ooh, I like that. Actually, I really like that.”

“What are you gonna do, copy me?”

“Of course not. You know how much SM hates plagiarism.” Click. Clack.

“Ha. As if there’s a single original thought left in the world.” Click. Clack. The imaginary sounds of metal spheres bouncing play in your mind. They got the volume wrong, no way it’d sound that loud from that distance. “You’d think with all their resources, they’d have figured out space travel by now.”

“I don’t think they want to leave, bro. Wouldn’t be great for profits.”

Your mouth opens to laugh and causes laugh8942.mp3 to play in Dave’s head. “I love it. SM probably hates that sass too,” you say.

“Oh no, they’re gonna arrest me for thoughtcrimes. Nah, they love creativity, just when it suits them. Also, if they actually did bust you for wrongthink like rumors say, I wouldn’t have this on me.” Dave twirls a finger and points at you and you thank his absurd flair for the histrionic that keeps you amused with such drab work.

“NewDrug.mp6. Would you like to play it?” the dry system voice notifies you.

“Woah woah there tiger, hold on.” Dave must’ve noticed your intrigued eyes and holds his hands up. “You might wanna experience that at home. But if you’re interested in more, ask for chicken parm at the vegan place. You know the one.”

Dave leaves his desk. He doesn’t return. You finish your work. Inspire. Expire. You’d rather not.

In contrast to your commute to work, the roads fill with others on your way home. You have to know. Take solace in the comfort of a bench where a huge McDonald’s arch bathes the surroundings and its people with a yellow glow. Really shouldn’t watch it now, especially if Dave says it’s a home type of watch but you have to know. A family of five watches you pass out. They, along with every other passerby, ignore your still body draped over the chrome outdoor seating as you look like yet another junkie. The title is correct after a fashion, the simulation is some sort of new drug. The details of the exploits that happen in the immersive replay wash over you but you don’t need them to know that it’s the sort of lewd that SM would not allow—at least not publicly and not without the right exorbitant payment.

Suit pants and underwear go straight to the laundry. That must’ve been an embarrassing sight but no one bothered to stop you, so it doesn’t matter. Look up where this vegan place was that Dave so presumptuously assumed you knew about and you find that it’s about four Avengers’ stores down from work. He must’ve eaten there before.

“Yo Dave, just wanna make sure, what’s the name of the vegan place called?”

“What are you talking about, man? You telling me there’s some secret underground farms that SM wouldn’t know about?”

You can’t tell when you got to work, a lack of standardized timing would help as well the haze of living in a monotonous dark. “Nah, I mean, for the-”

“I have no idea,” Dave emphasizes each word, “what you’re talking about.”

“I see.”

Work flies by, unusually.

“Hey, can I get a chicken-”

“Uh, this is Maron’s Veggies Only, it clearly says on the sign.”

Clear your throat. “Parm.”

The shifty part-time worker looks around and rubs his fingers gesturing for money. “No digital.”

Over the counter, you pass him a gold coin stamped with a holographic 1 and he hands you a USB stick and a laptop in return. How old-fashioned.

“It’ll sync with whoever you have set as your avatar experience aspect,” the worker says.

“Thanks.”

Ever vigilant as the patrol is, the alleys are the last place you want to go to hide with the obvious criminal element within them all but you head to one anyway. Dump the anachronistic technology in your storage pocket dimensions. Looking at its contents, you’d have to clean that mess up later, but the more you look like an average slob the better. The biggest problem with the inventories is all the people squatting in them. Inspectors wouldn’t care about the archaic ruins you left in yours.

“Welcome, master. Ae-Karina is ready to service.”

“I’d like to go on a date. A special date.” You highlight the key word special and sit on your living room couch. No one’s going to look in your glass door and regardless, you wouldn’t be the pervert for glimpsing into someone’s home.

“Ah yes, master. Ae-Karina is ready to fully service,” she says with a provocative tint in her tone, her sclera disperses to black to match. A pole drops from the ceiling while parts of her maid outfit dissolve which reveals more of the silky skin of her thighs, her lissom arms and most importantly her overflowing breasts. Ae-Karina wraps her legs around the pole and spins around, teasing fingers trace curves on her body to harden you. Her dance is precise but sultry regardless. She pulls up her short skirt to flaunt more of her ass beneath white panties and then pulls down to flourish her cleavage, not trapped by a bra. “Are you enjoying your maid’s show?”

“Very much so, yes,” you say.

Half of a smile forms before a glitch occurs and she teleports next to you, fully nude. It doesn’t pull you out of the illusion however. You just stare and drink in the splendor of her created body.

“You’re not going to touch?” Ae-Karina says.

A feel of her tits and you find it softer than pillows you used to rest on. Soft isn’t much of a character that exists anymore when the whole world is engulfed in liquid. No one has beds, especially with the rarity of sleep. Therefore, her mounds are a consummate dedication to the texture as you squeeze and pinch at her cute nipples.

Her maid outfit rematerializes as she straddles you. It provides more friction to your pants as she begins her lap dance. The weight of her body dragging across your legs and clothed erection induces your carnal impulses further. If only you could fuck the virtual idol. You have to make do with the imprint of her pussy lips on your bulge sliding up and down. Breath in. Breath out.

Ae-Karina pulls down your boxers and spits on your erection. It's not real but her hands so slick on your cock and you let reality slip. Real is for the past, you have desires gratified in the present. There is no real person nibbling at your neck but your nerves activate in sexual desire without discernment for truth. No, she doesn't love you, but when the voracious mass of ones and zeroes says it loves its master, you say it back.

"I love you."

ILOVEYOU infected ten million computers in 2000. An explosion. Calibration engaging. It’s 1:21 PM, Sunday, July 18, 2286 and hypothetically the sun would be out in its full rage. At this latitude and longitude, you’re at what was once the epicenter of all—Seoul, where a fountain caused a chain reaction allowing the hopeful remnant of a world to exist. It lasted a surprisingly long time without the sun and without Aether but the dying planet would succumb inevitably to the ever-increasing contamination so SM of all corporations took charge. A different kind of chain reaction occurred when they acquired a restaurant chain that discovered the recipe for liquid air. The law is on its way and prepared to punish you to its full extent.

You reel while your ears ring. An even sexier version of the woman you already fantasized about appears from your peripheral vision in the crater of your floor. A skimpy cop outfit, striated with reflective material that seems to wane black at different angles, outlines Karina’s curves. She has a tool belt with absurd gadgets, such as a knife baton hybrid, a taser combined with a spray bottle and a Tamagotchi. None of this is necessary. They could just immediately arrest you, impose limitations on your devices. Sure, SM cloned people to deal with underpopulation, but why Karina would be the enforcer is a whole nother issue. Maybe the entertainment company loves their irony?

“Halt. You’re under arrest. Any resistance will be penalized according to the combined Terms of Service of all SM and SM associated products.”

Fucked anyway, you figure you might as well go for it. Escape into your inventory and only seconds later you’re forced out. You manage to get what you need regardless.

“Violation of access rights will be charged to your account.”

It’s so obvious but there’s a reason you kept so much gold in physical storage. As you swim away, the sides of your apartment start to bubble. Bubbles? Already, your limbs feel unsteady. Something’s wrong in the Aether.

“This is standard procedure for escaping suspects that are indoors. Again, this is all agreed to under the Terms of Service.”

“When the fuck did I ever click accept to that shit?”

“When you were born in this world and decided you want to stay in it,” Karina says out loud. You hear her say it. Your physical ears process the vibrations in the air that come from her mouth. Gravity thwarts your desperate escape as your limp body floats on the limit between liquid and air. The atrophy of your muscles becomes apparent within the gaseous atmosphere. She watches you sink down as the room drains of all the false air though her eyebrows crease when she inspects you closer. Your breaths are involuntary. Despite your muscles shorting out, the force of gravity and the pressure of the gas bearing down on you, you’re breathing and you don’t mean to. Her eyes wander farther down. On your pants, a concrete rod stamps the fabric.

“Oh, you like what you see?”

“Shut up, criminal. Anything you say can and will be used against you.”

“Your pussy,” you say and she scoffs.

“Original.” Karina bites her lip as your erection continues to grow behind its prison. You use all effort to put your hands up.

“Please, miss Karina. I’ve been bad.”

“I could punish you even more for sexual assault.”

“Then do it.”

Heat radiates the room in a way you haven’t felt in a while and droplets of sweat form on each of your bodies, especially on the thighs that her revealing outfit parades. Her facial features contort in deliberation and the wait kills you. You bat your eyes at her before Karina takes off her tight shorts and drops herself into your anticipatory face. This makes no sense but none of this life made any sense so you decide to go with the tides.

Centuries of training your respiration has led to this moment, but when you finally have real air to breathe, you spit at the opportunity and choose to suffocate. Then you spit at her pussy and lap it up. Karina’s nectar transfixes your olfactory glands, for once a smell that isn’t the sterile Aether. Your eyes are mesmerized in parallel because of the perfect design of her pussy, a single crease that leads into her hole that your tongue emphatically explores. Karina spreads her thighs wide to reveal a small nub that craves attention. So give it. Suck and swirl and flick your tongue, and the woman provides you the tight clench of her legs as a gift. And the sounds, rediscovered glorious noise. Loud, almost too loud, and clear is how they assault your ears, even surrounded by the flesh of her thighs. Muffled by the weight of her legs, you hear Karina moan in approval but she’s still clearly in charge with how she chokes you with her legs. This is not about your pleasure but hers, and any satisfaction that you derive is not only incidental but probably punishable by SM copyright law.

Karina squirms her hips subtly on your mouth. Her eyes are sharp and she’s just about to stop your hands from moving but she notices them clasp together.

“I’ll do anything to make you cum, please.” you say sloppily as her pussy juices fill your cheeks and drip down your chin.

“God. I can’t.” She takes deep, contemplative breaths. ”That’s more time added on for inappropriate behavior.” Her groaning and brief squeals make her words sound incogent.

You give her a concluding lick and a kiss on her slit. “So what have you been doing right now then?”

Point to a corner of the room and a subtle red light indicates a recording camera. At once, she pulls out a hose from a pocket that could not fit it and the vacuum submerges the room with noise. Her expression shifts quickly to serious.

“We don’t play games here in SMTOWN unless it’s SuperStar so don’t fuck with me.”

“Look who's trying to be a comedian. How about you fuck with me any further and the video gets released.”

“That’s funny, you think you have any sort of power-”

“Yoo Jimin, I suggest you don’t push me more.”

“Where do you know that name from? Right now.” She weighs herself down on your neck.

“You think I don’t have contingencies for if I die too? Karina, we can make this a win-win scenario. We both get to cum, we both get to walk away unscathed.”

“Fuck you.”

Your weak arms wander between her thighs. At any moment, a feeble punch towards your face or another ten seconds of asphyxiation and she could call your bluff. Even if you did have the ability to expose her perversions in any way, there would be no permanent recourse, not as long SM was in charge. So it surprises you when Karina takes off her shorts.

“Goddammit. Your cock just looks too good. And your mouth, how are you so good with it?” Put up five fingers when she motions to remove her top as well, and instead she opts to take off your clothes, seizing your pants and throwing them to join the rubble in the room.

A finger slips in, then two and a third dares. Her flawlessly architected pussy lips clings to your digits and Karina shudders in reply. You explore her wetness and find it’s smooth to the point of having no faults, but her juice inside is gloppy and causes your fingers to stick more than the liquids she spills from her slit.

“Who said you’re allowed to have more?”

You lap up the nectar on your fingers. “Then why’d they make you taste so good?”

Your thumb teases her sweet tight asshole and puts just the slightest amount of pressure on it while you finger her with more intensity. The mass of her butt burdens your torso the closer she gets to orgasm. Her eyelids squeeze close and you see her body ripple in anxious pleasure. Karina shows off her pearly whites, teetering on the cliff of hysteria.

“Yes, yes! I’m so close,” she screams.

"Not yet."

“Fuck." Karina sobs, "God. Damn, fuck I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Just fuck me.”

“My pleasure,” you say. There’s no need for you to grab her since she brings herself down to your groin, which you’re thankful for as your arms are as good as jelly now. Fortunately, your cock throbs as hard as ever while Karina’s slit rests on it.

“Say you’ll delete it all, all the evidence, promise me.”

“You’re gonna fuck me first or what?” Your breath hitches while she makes a strangled noise as her velvety walls swallow your cock whole to leave no room for comfort. Her tightness is stifling and you have to start counting just to breathe again.

“One two-”

“Be quiet.”

But there is no quiet when pleas for your cooperation intersperse her excessive profanities when she seats herself into your cock and ricochets up and down. Sweat emanates from her creamy skin while her legs widen to find a better angle for her supporting knees in her cowgirl position. Grapefruit and other citrus mingle with the scent of the sweat, fruits you haven’t seen except on billboards in music videos. As much as your mind crackles and your blood roars for every atmosphere of pressure Karina’s walls provide on each thrust in and out, you can’t help but reminisce on sweeter, more innocent times.

The white fluorescent lights in your apartment sputter. For all the advancements in technology, some among many things never change. Light refracts differently in air, less bright, but you can see the pure enjoyment on Karina’s face no matter the luminescence. Karina slows her ride to pull her hips down harder instead and she jolts when your cock finds the most tender spots inside her pussy and it interrupts her babbling.

Karina almost hyperventilates when she gets up to spit on your cock. She pulls out some kind of meter from her tool belt and sighs when there’s no beeping and you recognize it having to do with carbon dioxide. She gets back to dribbling saliva and the filament trailing down to your shaft mesmerizes you. This spit is real, not simulated, and it wettens your erection in a mix with her pussy juices to paralyze you further in your already listless state. Her bare thighs jiggle and you can’t exert much force with your hands but her buttcheeks are firm with just a bit of give.

“Thank you for this cock, thank you for being bad,” Karina says as you watch her ass sink deeper while her pussy holds your dick taut. She’s frenetic when bounces up and down to play an unadulterated orchestra of slick noises between your groins.

“You’re welcome,” you accomplish getting out the words between planned breaths. Your hands cup her buttcheeks but you fear they may break with how she strikes her ass into you.

Karina turns around once more to give you the spectacle of her facial expressions as she fucks herself into you. Knead her calves laying on your torso and they take no energy to spread them though she brings them back together, compressing your hard shaft within her pussy. A new game you play with her, a separate rhythm of loosening and tightening. Her feet press on your chest to help her bounce, but the way they bear down on your lungs against the timing of your breathing causes you to fumble. Your cock bends straight forward as she plunges herself into you and it sends prickles to your entire skin, making the new angle difficult but worth it. Karina takes your hand and starts sucking on your fingers.

“You want my promise that bad?” you say.

“Yes, as bad as I want your cum. I swear, I need it.”

She draws her knees up to her torso and hugs her legs to keep thighs as tight together as possible. Karina couldn’t keep her word, she was trying to kill your cock with constriction.

“Fuck, your pussy is so fucking tight. God, Karina, fuck. You’re so good.” Even if good isn’t the word you want to use to describe her.

“Do it, please, please. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, baby. Karina can be a good girl, a good maid, a good cop, whatever you want. Just don’t get me in trouble, please.”

Karina’s mouth stops saying words though her lips writhe, drunk in increasing lust. Her cheeks flush, before the rest of her skin joins in redness while she grapples your chest and whatever spare limb she can find. You still struggle wresting control of your body but nature seems to take over when you drive yourself into her and match her needy cadence. The air in the room is replaced by a new air but it isn’t Aether. Passion, sweat, heat and all fluids that you both exude join squelching sounds, slaps and moans in harmonic bliss when her body tenses and she screams. As her body tightens, her pussy especially holds your cock for dear life and endeavours to wring out all your semen as her wetness throbs and spills. Karina starts counting to three repeatedly and you laugh though your amusement quickly subsides when you feel her juices become more viscous and she continues her ride, even in the dying pulses of her climax.

“Was I good?” Karina asks.

Just a moment goes by before you mentally send her a screenshot of all the recordings being deleted. Karina hasn’t stopped fucking you yet so at least it wasn’t a ploy.

“Thank you, thank you, I love you.” The flexion of her pliant legs brings them all the way back to rest on top of your legs. Karina lays prone above you and finally give you a kiss. The citrusy flavor may be closer to lime than grapefruit but it’s been so long that you can’t remember which scent is which. Lips crash and her tongue lashes out at yours trying to establish dominance. Keep still to let her investigate your mouth while her pussy does the same to your shaft.

You savor the way Karina’s top emphasizes the bouncing of her tits synchronous with the rebounding of her waist on your cock, but your mouth waters when she frees them. Take the shortest moment to relish in the sight before Karina smothers you with her plump globes. You wriggle your face to try to breathe. Inhale, up and exhale, down, but all you inhale is the scent of her orbs’ sweat. Her hips undulate with a pace at least double yours breathing and the echoes of slapping flesh resonate throughout the air-filled chamber. The loudness is unlike any you’ve experienced in a long time. It’s almost a flashbang every time her ass slams into your lap, especially as you start to see white when orgasm threatens to overload you with preludial pulses.

The last words you hear infected ten million computers in 2000. Fade to black. Cut. You’re slammed out of existence back into existence as a sun rebirths both within you, heating your core to a dangerous high, and from your eyes, dazzling you in an unforgiving white light. In the throes of unconsciousness relapsing to consciousness back to tenebrosity, your streaks of semen suspend in the Aether like a dead tree resting from the wind. What flashes your mind in its orgasmic state are two things only you would remember, plants and weather. Your hyperventilation is unconscious but not unwelcome, as it’s the first time in a while your breaths were reflexive even in the liquid air. However, basking in your newfound power, you start to choke. Right. You breathe in and out again. In and out. In. Out. In. Out. Back in.

“Replaying KarinaArrestsYou.mp6.” A hint of vexatious glee in the system’s otherwise dry voice. You don’t stop for it.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

It’s pretty silly but the idea danced around in my head ever since I saw the absolute Black Mirror concept that SM had for aespa and I concur that Karina is insanely hot.

As I’m writing this, this Kurzgesagt video on the idea of a rogue Earth comes out and now I have to rewrite stuff to make it at least a little consistent. I’m obviously already going nuts with all these ridiculous sci-fi concepts but this video almost feels too targeted to me writing this for me to ignore it.

#kpop smut #aespa smut #male reader #reader insert #title tracks

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matchamorphosis · 4 years ago

Text

𝐿𝐼𝑁𝐺𝐸𝑅𝐼𝐸 𝐷𝑅𝐸𝐴𝑀𝑆

— 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑒, 𝑖'𝑚 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑙𝑙 𝑤𝑟𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒.

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 — Andy Barber takes his sugar baby out to her favorite lingerie shop, however they’re both reminiscing the night before.

𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒 — smut || porn with plot

𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 — retired lawyer!sugar daddy!andy barber × woc!reader

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 — 18+ nsft || daddy kink, size kink, teasing, ass grabbing//breast groping, fingering, degradation + praise, tongue kissing, salt and pepper haired andy, this is kinda slowish burnish smut. minors dni.

𝑤. 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 - this is for all my daddy lawyer fanatics! ♡ enjoy reading cherubs and make sure to leave feedback + reblog. ♡♡♡

The soft clad of your velvet baby pink heels fill the various rows of lace and velvet. Soft eyes skimming the multiple color choices through the soft pink tint of your Dior sunglasses.

Paying your own mind from the people who pass by, the repetitive clack continues as you walk down the many shiny golden racks displaying the lewd lingerie. Possessing a seductive sway in your hips the act catches Andy’s sight who stands behind you, attempting to keep up with your wandering body.

A pistachio bag with the store's pristine logo in his grasps, smelling faint of floral perfume that makes Andy Barbers sense’s fizzy, his cornflower eyes don’t avert away from your flirtatious figure.

With every step you take, left or right wherever it maybe he has his eyes on you. Following you, his blue eyes practically widen and mouth drooling when his sights go to the visible strip of lower back your long-sleeved crop doesn't cover. It only leads his eager glance drooping to the tight skirt that covers your ass.

Knowing well of his attentive state, you ignore it cheekily, a smirk pulling on your lips that he can’t see. Your fingertips trace the lacey gartier belts that are lined up on shiny rows of mannequin thighs. Shining eyes pick up the color of snow and try to find your size, dropping it in your bag.

Which is full to the brink in other luscious satin and lace pieces because whatever you liked, you grabbed without a second thought. For that reason, of course it isn’t you paying for the sultry items but the older gentlemen behind gawking at your figure.

Lifting your head up to notice the other heavy pocketed women surrounding you at their desired stands and displays. Their bags not as full as yours and to the distasteful glances that make them crudely look away when you catch them, they seem too not like you either.

It doesn’t anger or embarrass you as much as it did in the beginning of your new relationship. Instead, their rude encounter only has a smirk performing on your lips as you dash your sight on the shiny rose quartz floors. The lights from the glimmering chandeliers reflecting off the tiles making you feel like you’re walking on starlight.

The wide space as much as it holds a few dozen people per aisle although you’re very much lucky the store isn’t as crowded like it was a month ago at its grand opening. This pristine establishment caught the attention of the many heavy pursed individuals around to grab whatever they can from the famous runway brand.

Even now the store bustles with woman and men looking for something for their partners or themselves. Little groups of salesperson’s there to assist on each aisle, that give tight smiles and glances wondering if you really were going to buy all pieces you told them to rack up.

As much as you’re thrilled to set out to spend as much as you want on sultry pieces that you liked (and not whatever expensive set Andy picked up last minute on his way home from work because he thought it looked sexy and wanted you to wear it as he fucked you) the thrill was beginning to become a bore.

It makes you pout that Andy has spoiled you to the point where nothing seems good enough, but the store still has so much to offer. However, now your thoughts are attentive on what exactly is in the bag that's clutched in an almost secluded like matter in Andy’s hands.

The knowledge of so given away from his mirrored reflection not far from the two of you. “What’s in the bag Daddy?” your voice perks, not caring that the salespersons around you give shocked glances.

Andy’s crystal eyes snap to the back of your head and when you turn to face him, he sees your curiosity seeping through your examined glance. His response no short then a nervous chuckle, a sort of distraction to cover the surprise in the pistachio parchment bag.

Is it jewelry? A bag maybe? Whatever it is you don’t keep your eyes off it.

The top was covered in a glittery yellow sheer like paper so you couldn’t see what was beneath. Andy seemed to carry the bag well, but you know your older gentlemen could carry and do anything his mind set to with those hands.

Oh, those hands that drive you to the edge with just a simple touch.

Biting your lips reminiscing the night before. The same electrifying sudden excitement courses through your veins as it did an hour ago when Andy took you here when you’ve been beginning for weeks to.

However, this enchanting delight is nothing that comes from the expansive provocative bralettes, ravishing lacey thongs, or bewitching baby-dolls- but the memory coursing through your brain from the last night and you remember it perfectly.

Waking up suddenly from a cold sweated slumber, you lied patiently underneath the warmth of the white sheets. As much as you urged your eye lids to grow heavy, within each minute that passed sleep did not overcome you.

So, you slipped from Andy’s hold on your waist by gently moving his muscled arm from over you to tip toe bare feet out of your bedroom. Hearing Andy soft snoring fade as your cold feet take you to the kitchen, switching on the lights, your eyes squint over the sudden brightness.

A shiver doesn’t embrace you as the heat from the vents reach your figure. Slumping into the kitchen, you smile to yourself realizing you have the kitchen to yourself; with that you open the freezer and your eyes brightened over the sight of the untouched ice cream cartoon.

The cold chilly air waves of the freezer waft over your barely clothed body and you shiver in your pricey tiny two-piece bed wear. Pouting to yourself why you didn’t grab your robe or even wear your fuzzy socks on the way down here.

Grabby hands snatch it from the iced box, shutting the freezer door behind you quietly while retrieving a spoon you dug into the ice cream. Attempting to savor your midnight snack as quietly as possible to not wake up Andy, you hum as you savor the rich melty creaminess of your favorite flavor on the warmth of your tongue.

Debating whether or not to make a sundae, if successful in keeping quiet you could enjoy the sundae you wanted to have for dessert the dinner before Andy didn’t allow you to have yet you’d have dishes to do. Hating to do any dishes for something you wanted to make in the first place, you’d put yourself in risk for causing noise with the faucet and would cause Andy to wake up.

Although the thought of taking out the little aluminum pot to heat up some hot fudge and chopping some bananas and nuts was so tempting yet you sighed in defeat. Annoyed state ruining your mood you successfully attempted to cheer yourself up by leaving the only options of toppings at your use.

Walking back to the refrigerator and silently rummaging through the cupboards you have three jars in your grasps. One jar including median sized maraschino cherries, the other your desired syrup concentrated jam and the third a tin of the cookies you baked two nights ago.

Taking the jarred goods to the island you open the divine glass cherry jar that shone red light through the bright kitchen lights, you grip and turn it open. The sight of the cherries soaking into their cardinal sugar bath makes you lick your bottom lip, twirling your fingers to find which one you’d eat first.

Plucking the first stem to reveal itself from the crimson sugar syrup with the tip of your fingers. The dangling sugar fruit drenched in the red water syrup that coats the sickly-sweet cherries you plop it into your mouth and of course.

One cherry isn’t enough, because one turns into four which turns into ten till you’re going through half the cherry jar and drizzling the bare scoops of ice cream with your jams and chunky cookie crumbs.

Your desired sugar rush keeps having you shoving spoonful after spoonful of melting sugar into your mouth until the cartoon as you droop down is now half empty. The sight upsetting to your heart as your bottom lip trembles, sulking at what you’ve done, eating not your carton of ice cream but yours and Andy’s carton of ice cream.

Regret filled your stomach over what you believed to be the fifteenth spoonful, you placed your chin in your hand and looked down at the melting ice cream. Innocent concepts of Andy sharing the carton with you: Oh, how you would giggle when his top lip would be smothered in the melted ice cream. Oh, how you wouldn’t hesitate to swipe your soft pedicured finger across it, licking it off as if it was sacred ambrosial.

Such an innocent concept would have its downfall to your corrupted dirty mind, how you would lick his lips to assure yourself you didn’t miss a single droplet of the soft ice cream.

Those same innocent concepts of licking Andy had your thighs rubbing against one another, crossing your legs over one another at the sensual heat that radiates your core. Being situated on one of the kitchen islands stools, eyes continue to stare blankly down at the liquefied ice cream in the sweating plastic carton as you imagine licking the sensitive pinkish tip of Andy’s cock.

Who knew that an innocent midnight snack would have you craving something else entirely?

Shifting in your leather padded seat, the grind of it against your core as you choke on your breath yet leaves your sourly pouting knowing your soaked cunt isn’t getting the satisfaction it needs and craves. Without any thought your icy warm fingers occupy themselves to play with the waistline of your satin blue bed lounge shorts.

Dipping your cold fingertips beneath the elastic fabric, your heart paces in the wanting need, to be embraced with the hot skin of your core until a cough interrupts your actions.

“What are you doing up this late, sweetheart?” you jump as your eyes leap up to see the man you’re touching yourself over.

Tired yet prominent blue eyes wrinkle in sleep as does the distraught of his silver traced hair. The spoon in your hand and the carton of ice cream and jars of cherries, jam and cookies in front of you is an obvious answer to what has you up.

Although, your thighs rub against each other when these sweets aren’t exactly what’s keeping you up now. A disappointed sigh rakes through his body and as much as you would be gutted in the guiltiness of this scene, you’re pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

The sight of the white tee shirt that covers Andy’s wide chest only has you picturing the sculptured plane of muscle underneath. Imaging yourself roaming your hands through it as you rake through small and finely trimmed hairs has you revoking a moan.

“Do you know what time it is?” he softly demanded again, hands at his hips waiting yet slowly growing impatient glance down at your eyes locked down to his chest blankly.

Well, he thinks your stare is derived on the downfall of what he believes to be your sugar rush. By that assumption your only response is just your heavy eye lids closing your wary eyes that are his hips now. Tiring yet restless eyes turning from his slim hips to stare at where his hard member would be, tucked in the fabric of his boxers that wrap it up.

like a little present, all for me to unwrap.

Andy doesn’t even know what’s up with you, no words escaping your pouting lips as your eyes locked shamelessly on the space between his legs. With that he has half the mind to scold you and send you upstairs but he rethinks that. On the account of the sight of the prominent bags underneath your eyes from waking up this early in the night to enjoy some ice cream.

It doesn’t surprise Andy; you were revoked from your dessert and sweet privileges for a week over your rude exchanges over dinner yet now he’s thinking the petty punishment only made things worse.

A mess of sugar syrup in little red puddles along with the dark cherry stems covered one side of the sticky counter. Melting drips of the ice cream carton and crummy cookie crumbs covered the other half in front of you. Andy is surprised you didn’t get any on you, but he takes it back when he notices only little residues of the jam stains on the corners of your cupid lips.

As much as he was upset with the mess and disobeying him and his punishment, he couldn’t help but be fully armored by the beauty of your glowing figure under the soft kitchen lights that slowly wraps in the shadow of sleepiness.

“Look at this mess.” the older man tsked, brows furrowed at your sleepy disinterested face which is your only response. Along with the slip of your fingers on the spoon when your clenched tired body hunches.

The loud clank on the floor, your hooded eyes open fully at the sudden noise, you pout at the spoon. A single outreached arm reached out for it but that would cause you to get up from your seat and pick it up yourself and of course you’re too tired for that to.

Sighing at the scene in front of him he walks around the island to pick it up himself, all he wants is for you to go back to bed. This mess could wait for them to clean up in the morning, you’re both too tired to clean it now at two in the goddamn morning.

Bending down on his knees to pick up the utensil near the kitchen stool, your pedicured feet playfully nudge is shoulder. Intentionally to cheekily tease him he rolls his eyes at your antics yet as he was about to rise up, he smelled something that wasn’t the mess of your mindless sundae.

it was the all too familiar scent of your arousal.

Squinted eyes look up to your satin powdered blue shorts and they darken at the enticing sight of the dark blue wet spot on your crotch.

naughty girl

That thought isn’t kept in his mind that’s wrapped in figuring how wet you are that it’s whispered in a hot and bothered raspy tone.

are you wearing panties?

are you that desperate for him your arousal seeped through them and onto your pretty blue shorts?

The bewitching sight has him licking his lips, if you had your midnight snack why couldn’t he have his?

Seeming to enjoy the attention you’ve been craving the past minutes from his dreaded absence you have your bottom teeth in between your teeth. Your chest bends slightly outwards in a seductive matter as your elbow relaxes on the counter.

Awaiting glance finally meets Andy who firmly caresses your thighs with his large warm hands. The sharp nib on your bottom lip doesn’t conflict your face in pain as it heats up when Andy brings his head closer to your drenched satin shorts.

That same arousal drenched patch has his him leaning in so dangerously close, quivering thighs ensure what his present goals are. Those lips that were blessed by the brush of his tongue are only a centimeter away from your weeping cunt.

Pouting you are, wondering if he’s going to devour you or if he’s going to continue this tease game. It’s only intention to leave you feeling disastrous as your pussy continue to be slicked in your rapturous honey, but he won’t help you even with his nearness.

So close you can feel the heat of his face against your thighs as he inhales your sweet shea lotion, soft wet lips trailing kisses up those plush thighs while a burning lust flames in those cerulean eyes. A stare you're too intrigued and too threatened by to not look away before his warm large hands grip the waistband of your shorts and yanks the smooth material down.

Obliging to his motives you take in a breath anticipating his reaction when he finds you’re lack of, well his widen eyes and raspy exhale expresses it all perfectly.

Spiraling desire ripples through Andy’s hardening cock, hot blood pumping through his ears and down south at the perfect image of dark shiny slicked folds capture the apple of his carnal eyes. Not daring to move your thighs an inch or squirm under his tight grip on them the position and eye contact Andy has on your exposed sex only encourages the seduction that has casted a spell on him.

There you now sit; bottom half bare, with your provocation creaming from your pussy to your drenched inner thighs. Revealing your bare, soaked core in front of his very face he can only but let out a staggered breath as the vitiating thoughts of delightful sin bare like sirens in his mind.

Whimpers softly exclude through your lips when his hot breath fans over your dripping cunt, weeping for its deserved pleasure to grace you in either his hot tongue or thick fingers. Patience running thin you begin to start shifting in your leather stool, yet his hot hands grip you still. Clenching the sweet-smelling flesh of your soft hips a gasp escapes you when he shifts his head between your thighs.

The tip of his nose touching your pussy lips, he moans at the scent of your arousal mixed with the girly elements of your lotion. Those same warm enticing hands that grip your thighs smooth them, rubbing and stroking them gently up and down to sooth you as he lets his hot breathy exhale pull a whimpering moan from you.

Hesitant hands glide down to touch the soft hair on top of the older man’s hair while your lust induced breath shortens in your chest. Skipping heart beating and thumbing as his nose continues to dip into your folds until he slips it out, surprising you with a long pleasurable pained lick that causes you to jump in the height of your seat.

Heaving and gasping position against the island is slightly uncomfortable even as your legs separate to fit Andy’s head between them. Breaking the eye contact away from your pleading glance to pay attention as he savors your juices on his tongue.

He’s getting you all worked up and he just started touching you, just started to give you what you want and taking what’s his.

Licking and cleaning up your tangy sweet arousal, your nipples poke out through your fluffy rimmed sweetheart neckline of your satin blue spaghetti strap top. Vibrating sensations of the lick making your thighs tremble and pussy linger in slight pain to capture any bit of intoxicating pleasure.

Fingers that were once laced within his brown locks lift up to pinch the peaks of your thinly covered nipples, yet an abrupt gripping hand stops you before you could give yourself the simplest pleasure. Just as his grip on your wrist was sudden so was his standing form, no longer stooping down on his knees to drink from your pool of desire he towers over your now wonder struck whimpering stance.

Quick hands and strong arms are swift enough to haul your body, same warm hands grip and grope the softness of your hips to situate you on the counter. The back of your thighs hitting the sicky red syrup of cherries and the annoying obscenity that were your homemade cookie crumbles you aren’t in any position to argue as his hands are back on you again.

Kneading your breasts through the same silky blueness of your top his thumbs graze through the peaks and he pinches them in circular motions. All the attention on your breasts turns the sparks of pleasure into a flame as its trailing down south to your wet pussy that’s soaking the leather of the seat.

No sooner as he was admiring your tits your yanked to sit up straight by your shoulders and your lips smash against his eager ones. Andy’s warm tongue entering roughly through your mouth you whimper as you allow him to take control of the kiss and keep the rough hold that’s cupped on your chin.

Your mouth hums against his moans as the creamy ice cream that was on your tongue and the sweet cherries flavored your lips. His own tongue and lips savoring your taste, but he knows the candy sweetness that is your mouth isn’t the snack he’s treating himself to.

Thick fingers go back to your bare core, not in a sudden way but your body shook in your eagerness when it trailed slowly down your body. Gripping each curve and desired area of skin until his hand cups your exposed dripping cunt.

Mouth not pulling away from yours for even a second, it picks up on his roughness but paces down to his gentlemanly manner. As if the digits he’s slipping through your warm folds drenched to the brink in your pressure back up on any gentlemen code it all doesn’t matter because you crave more of it.

you’re desperate for it, greedy for it.

With each moan and the kiss picking up to only tongue and teeth against the teasing matter of his thick pumping fingers and honey slicked palm makes you teary eyed. Begging for him to give you the pleasure, you try to speak but inaudible blurbs are only spoken due to the account that this older mans tongue wasn’t leaving yours.

So, all you have to depend is on the delicious stretch that still has you whining but his tongue still dominates yours in the sloppy kiss. Andy’s gentle yet firm grip on your chin keeping you in place leaves every once a minute to grope your breasts that were spilling over your top and his other hand continues to be busy by pumping another finger in your warmth.

The nipple pinches, the kiss and the velvety sensation of his three fingers thrusting through your channel is all too much. Your sugar intake causing you to thrive off the breathless kiss you grind against his fingers, the action causing Andy to growl against your mouth as he wrapped his hand that was messaging your tit to your throat.

A warning squeeze has you stopping the roll of your hips and as much as you anticipated the stern stare and degradation that would roll of his tongue he still doesn’t pull away. The roughness in his bruising kiss from before became slower, gentler and intimidate even when his teeth bit the plumpness of your bottom lip.

“Was my baby up for a midnight snack?” he rumbles as his mouth presses against your again, demanding an answer he slaps your ass when you solely whimper.

Bobbing your head up in down it makes him smirk against your lips, your hands rub against the thick bicep of his arm that’s pleasuring your creaming core. While the other is busy caressing his scuffed cheek as you enter your tongue in his mouth.

Andy’s larger, dominating figure makes you feel so small, makes your hands that’s rub and caress the visible veins that bulge through his hands and forearms so tiny compared to him.

tiny, little you.

in your tiny little clothes.

sitting on your tiny little sundae mess.

Being finger fucked and kissed breathless by this bigger older man has you moaning deliriously. Feeling the knot in your core breaking away when his pumping fingertips graze through the spongy ceiling of your g spot.

Such action has you cupping Andy’s face in your hands, gently digging your own fingertips into the soft hair at the nape of his neck. These nights always stuck with bot of you, always made you wet when reminiscing them when you’re bored during classes or lectures and always made him hard when he’s doing the something so simple as making coffee.

As if he was thinking the same exact thing, he moans at the impact of your tiny chilly hands on him that slip under the hem of his white tee shirt. Pulling away from your mouth just for a second he also takes his fingers from your needy cunt and a whine that would embarrass yourself slips from your pouting lips.

You don’t care, because the slow and sensual pumping of his three fingers slips out slowly, almost purposely. A thick string of your honey connecting your weeping core to them.

The sight of his thick digits pulling away to break the string has his smirk spreading wider. Lifting up his three fingers, before he gets his taste of the juices of your forbidden fruit, he snatches your face in his free hand.

Lust blown eyes meeting yours, he darkly laughs at your quivering mouth as your eyes break away from his to awe at his shiny coated fingers.

“I think it’s only fair that I have first taste sweetheart. You’re stuffed with sugar already,” Andy murmurs, voice slightly raspy it only makes your cunt wetter, you feel your face getting hot when you drip more onto the counter.

Such a scandalized sight has his once semi hard cock now stirring brick hard in his boxers. A tent beginning to form but sweet little you is oblivious as you’re concentrated on the lewdly scented shimmer that glistens off his fingers.

Eagerness radiating off you only turning him on even more, so much so that Andy himself could feel the agonizingly sensual ooze of his precum drip down from his smothered tips slit. All the way down to the thick veins pumping with pleasure up and down his thick shaft.

Lifting his index and middle finger that are soaked in your juices, his eyes don’t leave yours as you place them into his mouth. Humming from the sweet tangy taste that hits his tongue he always prefers it against any creamy sweet. Closing his eyes in sweet bliss, your curious eyes look down and they massively widen when you notice the large tent that protrudes from his boxers.

The image has you unknowingly rubbing your thighs together, although, the act has them splitting roughly apart by Andy’s rough groping hands. A sharp growl sounding in your ears makes your heart skip a beat and gasp escaping your mouth.

“Who said you could cover yourself baby? Not anything I haven’t seen before, you know it and love it,” his raspy whisper laced with a taunt of some sort, his voice an octave deeper still managed to coo at your pout and dripping state.

Making you feel like a child the thought diminishes as his single thumb that glistens in your arousal catches your eyes. Internally pleading that you want a taste, it’s not as if you haven’t tasted yourself before but you always have thought it signifies the moment and the flavor when you’re sucking your juices off his fingers.

And you can get just that, all you have to say is please-- but even a simple word like that is hard to bring yourself to.

“Soo fucking tasty baby. You know, I was gonna help myself to this for breakfast tomorrow. But-” he mutters and your eyes weep as he takes his thumb down south to graze against your soaked pussy.

A rushing tear slips from your eye, streaming down your cheek when he wasn’t even planning to let you have a taste of your own honey you bite your tongue when he smashes his mouth to yours instead. Rubbing the thick digit against your puffy folds that haven’t even been satisfied with your edging orgasm.

“This is better as a midnight snack. Don’t you think so honey?” murmuring just loud enough for you to hear and your head whirls as the passionate kiss between you and him turns into nothing but a desperate mix of teeth and tongue.

Andy’s teasing thumb does nothing but merely coax more pleading moans from you, the sweet sounds vibrate against both your hunger stances as he slips his thumb easily through your slicked walls.

Blissed out you think you’re finally getting what you want until a whine excludes you as his fingers pull away from your cunt. Arousal coating it, quivering whimpers exclude your trembling mouth when he prolongingly circles your dripping hole.

The teasing should have it’s limits you may think but it’s all a game to you two. You thrive off of the sexual uneasiness you both make each other feel, the greedy yet patient touches induced to torture the other in the best way.

all to see who would crumble under who’s touch before getting what they want

Pulling his saliva slicked lips from yours, craving them back until his thumb slides out of your hole that it’s in your sights again. The shininess of your pleasure that soaks his thumb sparkles in the dim kitchen lights above the sticky ice cream marble counter.

Turning your glance to him his wicked eyes soften just a bit, he thinks his baby has earned herself a reward. Andy doesn’t have to tell you to open your mouth, obediently parting your lips and sticking your tongue out, he rests his thumb on it and your glossy lips close around it.

Biting his own bottom lip, Andy wonders how in the fuck he’s surviving from your seductive touch without manhandling you over the counter and fucking you till you both pass out. The way you push his limits and make his lungs flutter is just, absolutely fucking perfect.

The sugar daddy isn’t capable of speaking up because his mind is enthralled on your pretty lips wrapped around something else besides his cock. Humming in response from your tangy sweetness, the roll of your tongue wrapping his thumb to savor every bit of your euphoria has Andy moaning, he doesn’t dare slip his thumb from your mouth.

Sure a few tugs to tease you as you furrowed your brows and lifted your glassy irises up at his dark erotic curled smirk. The image just makes him snap; he can’t take those faux innocent Bambi eyes anymore. Grabbing your free hand he places it on his hard member, your soft palms grazing the material of boxers before you firmly grip it.

A hiss slips from Andy’s lip but he continues to let you suck on his thumb, all so he could watch that blasted ego of yours crumble in your teary doe eyes. Picking up your own actions doing what’s best you rub his thick bulge up and down slowly.

The innocent sparkle in your eyes has him pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as your hands dip under the waist band of his boxer briefs. Chilly fingertips bringing shivers up his spine as they drag slowly down the trimmed hair of hair covered skin on his lower stomach.

“Stop teasing Daddy,” he hisses between gritted teeth, a pursed smirk of your own appears on your lips.

Doe eyes and sucking mouth innocently look up at the man above you as you grip his raw precum covered cock, you don’t even need your own arousal or spit to lube his shaft. Your thumb rubs his creaming tip and you’re more than ready to unwrap your well-deserved reward as your free hand lifts to pull down his boxers. Irises widen at the almost threatening size of his standing cock.

All rosy tipped and angry red shaft gloriously slicked with his white pre-cum, all for you...

It’s only fair to exchange the same torture back, you grip his cock and pump the shaft up and down. Moans fill the kitchen, well his moans as his head back while your tiny hands work him into an orgasm.

You don’t allow your rubbing fingers and palming hand to miss a single area of his hard member and you purse your lips around his thumb to a sudden thought. Other hand quickly yet gently cups his tight balls, Andy lets out a sound that’s almost animalistic in your ears, you block it out.

Ignoring it and the rough grab he has on your hair you fingers, gently caressing and grip his balls as your other fists his crying pink cock.

“So fucking greedy for Daddy’s cock. Daddy spoils you too much, too fucking much,” he grunts while you continue pumping his thick shaft, your thumb glides against his tip and he moans.

Staring up at him he groans and pulls his finger from the pleasurable torture that is your mouth. The same hand however wraps around your throat, his large hand and thick fingers big enough to cover the circumference of it.

Just as you thought you were winning his spare hands fingers suddenly rub your slicked folds. A whimper-like moan slips from your parted lips but you don’t let your own pleasure keep you from giving Andy his.

Two fingers enter your soaked pussy and you think you’re about to cry from the building crashing pleasure when Andy mercilessly plunges in a third finger. The amount causing a firm stretch for your walls that screams and continues to satisfy your velvety walls.

It all too much when you softly and slowly press his mouth against yours again, his fingers pumping your core and your hands busy with his cock, you learned from multiple nights like these how to multitask.

Gasping against his mouth, parting away from when you feel the pleasurable spring in your belly begin to twine until he captures your mouth with his again. The sensation just keeps your grip on his cock pumping faster and harder trying to keep up with the same rhythm he has on your weeping edged cunt.

Feeling his balls tighten under your grasp and your toes curl when his plunging fingers to the delicious curl hitting your golden spot as you make him float towards spilling into your fist.

Just as your tongue twined together so does your pussy clenching against his fingers, coming hard around them as your lips vibrate from both your unrestrained moans as he shoots his load of cum into your hand. The after effect of your sore limbs and dripping overused sexes as you drop your drained body on his chest.

While you lie almost seconds away from drifting to sleep his staggered breath regains from his own crashing orgasm. Looking down at your sleepy-tired laced face, Andy leans down to press a kiss against at the crown of your head.

“Sit up baby, can you do that for me?” he whispers, and you nod your head slowly. Sleep crouching upon your shoulders, you feel cold without him to embrace you in his arms.

Lifting your cheek off his pec he sits up and watch him leave the kitchen to the downstairs bathroom, returning quicker than you thought with wet hand towel he wipes your sore sex and then himself. Pulling up his boxers and pulling your sleeping shorts on you and lifts your slouching stance off the counter.

Weary legs wrap around his waist while his large warm hands cup your ass simultaneously. Tired eyes don’t leave the mess you created on the counter and the stool besides it.

well... it isn’t just your mess now

Andy’s eyes go to where yours are exhaustingly resting upon, pulling your head in the crook of his neck he rubs circles on your back.

“We’ll clean it in the morning sweetheart. Now it’s time for bed,” he whispers in your ear and you nod your head and allow him to carry you upstairs to your shared bed.

.♡♡♡.

Now, the older gentlemen sits on one of the crimson plush lounge couches that fill one of the more “private” dressing rooms. Having slipped a few hundreds to the consultant, you and him had all the time in the world.

Resting his back against the expensive furniture his eyes go through his phone, checking in on the reservation of the restaurant he’s heard made excellent French cuisines he’s been planning on taking you to after this.

The dazzling red violet lights reflect against the mirrors for walls, Andy catches his reflection of his silver traced hair shining a pinkish tint. Sighing, he checks the ticking clock on his Rolex and notices that ten minutes have passed and you haven’t even gone through the first lingerie pieces out of the many others you’ve chosen.

Rushing anticipation fills his veins, one hand lifts to rub his bearded chin while his dark eyes rest on the small wardrobe like stage in front of him. All he can hear is the fabric against your skin and he wishes you can move that damn velvet curtain to see you in whatever lace or leather you decided to torture him with.

It’s inviting but he passes that thought, he knows how much you love to surprise him, so he continues to sit there and keep himself occupied by looking around the room.

The crème-colored oriental rug that covers the marble flooring rests beneath his polished black loafers. Curious cerulean eyes dash along little velvet staircase leading to small display stage then to the topless marble statues that stand eloquently on each side.

A giggle breaks his thoughts and he moves his head to the curtain slightly moving.

“Do you need help dear?” he stands up and takes a step to the stage until he stops, seeing your single jeweled hand going through the crack of the thick burgundy curtain to only just shake a finger at him.

The image drives his patience to the edge, but you prioritize perfection. Sighing, Andy takes his seat, his attention quirks when a message flashes on his screen.

Picking it up his eyes squint when it’s addressed from you, not saying anything, Andy opens the message. Clicking on the first message, his lust blown take in the collection of lingerie pieces on you in every promiscious way.

Swiping his finger along the screen to see each and every scandalous picture, you’re in a different position more slutty and needy than the last. Each one more risqué than the one before to enhance your curves and the tiny pieces of clothing getting more tiny and tighter.

Andy’s hands rub at the bulge in his trousers, he counts thirty pictures in all and he’s sure as fuck going to print them all so he can have something to look at when you’re busy and away.

Now his mind ravels at the thought of you here, on his lap with whatever lace that barely covers your tits and ass. Licking his lips in thought before looking up at the stage then back to his phone.

if you’ve already wore all of them, what are you wearing now?

Finally, catching Andy off guard, he doesn’t notice the curtain slowly opening, revealing you in practically nothing but your favorite piece.

“Daddy...”

♡♡♡ thank you for reading!!! ♡♡♡ pretty please like, reblog and/or comment what your feedback and if you enjoy my writing follow me to see more of my future content! ♡♡♡

#brattycherubwrites #chris evans imagine #chris evans smut #chris evans × black!reader #chris evans × reader #andy barber imagine #andy barber smut #andy barber × black!reader #andy barber × reader #chris evans fanfic #andy barber fluff #chris evans fluff

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heybeybey · 4 years ago

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Hey there! I just read your newest story, your heart on the line, and even though I avoid nsfw like the plague, I read and loved it so much, it was so beautiful, i legit cried! If you are taking requests, could you write something short with slow dancing rivetra (no nsfw)? Slow dancing fics are my weakness. Once again, great job on your last work!

Helloooooo I'm so sorry this took a week! I'm glad you liked ‘and it was your heart on the line’. That means so much to me and I'm glad I made you cry 🧡 Anyway, I decided to also use this prompt for this Mother's Day. Hope that's alright and thanks for sending this over!

I was also listening to pov by Ariana Grande. I think this fits Levi's feelings for Petra so much.

I wanna trust me The way that you trust me Ooh, 'cause nobody ever loved me like you do I'd love to see me from your point of view

Anyway, Happy Mother's Day to Petra because she did act as the mother to her team lol

Words: 1,307

Genre: Romance, Fluff

Rating: G

Canonverse, set around 7 to 8 years after the rumbling. Other than the slow dancing, this fic also features wheelchair Levi because I love him so much + a 6-year-old Ackerbaby.

When Izzy asked her father what their plans are for Mother's Day, Petra said that she'd be happy with just staying home and ordering something for the three of them. While they did have enough money to splurge once in awhile, their modest income from the tea shop she and Levi established four years after they left the military was only enough to support the basics.

It's been three years since they opened the store's doors and while the tea shop has been picking up, they still have to take into consideration their future savings for Izzy's university tuition years from now. Not to mention that they were trying for another child.

So, of course, Petra insists that she would be alright if they had a simple celebration instead.

But Levi, who has the tendency to dote on his family and often insists that they get the best of the best, took them to an establishment that's situated in the city's more upscale neighborhood. He said that there's a restaurant there with live music, and it passes his standards of cleanliness so he's sure that Izzy won't catch something.

And while he hates these kinds of establishments and would prefer if they just drink tea—

"Like an old man," Izzy huffs at his initial suggestion, way too blunt for her own good and not hesitating to call out her father on his tendency to be boring.

—both Petra and his daughter loved singing and dancing around their house that he thinks it doesn't really make much of a difference. He'd already resigned to his fate but hell, it's Mother's Day. Petra's excitement when he mentioned what they'll be doing for the day was more than enough to make up for the next few (probably chaotic) hours.

And now here they are, enjoying the last few plates of their dinner while Izzy bounces around along with the upbeat songs played by the band.

"Oi, don't stray too far." Levi scolds his daughter. Petra was quick to pull Izzy back so that she'll stay next to their table, while still being able to enjoy the music.

The band eventually shifted to a slower tune, urging couples in the room to grab their partners.

"I miss slow dancing," Petra fondly says. "Remember those balls we had to go to Levi? You hated those so much."

"Tch, yeah. Those parties were just a fancy way for the Survey Corps to beg for funds," Levi notes. "But I bet you and the three idiots loved getting dragged to those events."

"Who would've thought Gunther would be great on the dance floor," she laughs at the memory.

Their 6-year-old tugs on Levi's sleeve eagerly, eyes looking between Levi and the dancing couples. "Papa, dance with mama!"

Petra pats her daughter on the head. "That would be nice Izzy, but your father-"

"Sure."

Petra's brows shot up at that. She and Levi rarely danced. In fact, the only time they were even at a dance floor together was back when he had to save her from a creep of a noble who won't stop hitting on her.

"Are you sure Levi? You said your knee hurts if you stand for too long." Petra takes his hand, thumb grazing his. "We can just sit here and watch."

"It's the least I could do for the mother of my child," Levi says, shrugging. Deep down, he's already dreading the fact that he has to dance in public. But again, this is Petra's day. She'd always strived to make him happy and he'd want to do the same for her.

A corner of his lips tugs up slightly as his own unique way of smiling for her. He then places all his weight on his arms to push himself up using the arm rests, grabbing one crutch to support himself. Petra stands with him, ready to assist in case he needs her while Izzy claps in excitement.

"If you're sure..." Petra says, face starting to light up with a stupid smile. She starts to lead him to the dance floor with Izzy in tow, used to following her parents around whenever her father needs to stand and her mother needs her help in supporting her dad.

When they've found a spot not too far off where his wheelchair is, Petra directs her husband to put both his hands on her shoulders, grateful that they were almost the same height, while she wraps her arms up his back so that Petra would be the one supporting most of both of their weight together. They fumbled around awkwardly at first, especially since their form was different from the other couples around them. When they're both sure that Levi won't fall over, Petra takes the crutch from him and hands it over to Izzy, while the little girl enthusiastically takes it to watch her parents dance.

The band plays a slower song, same as the previous track. The mellow tune and heartfelt lyrics carries throughout the room and Levi can see how the couples all fall into step with the rhythm. He suddenly feels a little self-conscious, a bit bitter that he can't be the one guiding Petra on the dance floor. However, he softens at her smiling face, knowing that such a thought wouldn't even cross her mind. She did marry a retired soldier who now can't even stand properly and giggled the whole night after he proposed, despite people saying that she could've enjoyed her younger years with someone else.

What a peculiar woman.

They start to sway to the music, a little bit more sure with each step they took, and looking more like they're just hugging and rocking from side to side. He eventually leans his forehead down to press it against Petra's and he breathes in her vanilla perfume.

"Oi, Petra." Levi whispers. "Thank you."

Petra hums, eyes closed as she takes in this soft moment between her and her husband.

"What for?"

"For this. For sticking with me 'til the shitty end." Levi coughs as a way to cover his awkwardness. "For Izzy."

She opens her eyes at his words, eyes and heart melting at the fact that Levi was pushing himself to express his feelings vocally. Petra allows him to continue, knowing that he might shut up if she started talking.

"I never expected a family," Levi continues, voice starting to stutter and eyes starting to shift away from hers. "But I'm... grateful that I got the chance and that it's with you. Uhm... Happy Mother's Day, I guess?"

Petra starts to tear up, tilting her head slightly up to give him a kiss on the tip of his nose.

"Levi, I wasn't kidding when I said that I wanted to devote myself to you." She only gets a soft kiss from Levi in return with that statement. Petra smiles against his lips, cupping his cheek while still making sure she's supporting his side with the injured leg.

They eventually slow their swaying to a stop once the band starts playing a faster song, Izzy popping up once again next to their side and asking her parents to dance with her. Levi, whose knee was starting to ache at the time he had to stand and even dance, had to sit back down. He still urges Petra and their energetic daughter to enjoy the night.

He watches from his wheelchair as the two most special girls in his life light up on the dance floor, Petra spinning Izzy around in her arms as their daughter giggles out loud.

#rivetra #levi x petra #ackerbaby #rivetra baby #petra x levi #rivapet #mother's day fic #rivapeto

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scapegrace74-blog · 4 years ago

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Ginger Snap, Chapter 5

A/N Know what this fic needs? More Geillis. No really, I think you guys are going to like where I’m going with this. Just bear with me. Only one more chapter to go after this one, plus an epilogue. Thanks for coming on the journey with me! With due credit to Sia, this chapter’s title is Fire, Meet Gasoline.

Previous chapters are best enjoyed on my AO3 page, because I have a bad habit of going back and editing them after they’ve been posted.

Geillis Duncan drove much the way she approached life, which was to say without much regard for rules and at white-knuckle speed. I gripped her Range Rover’s leather cushion and swallowed any exclamations of dismay as we ricocheted through Edinburgh’s late afternoon traffic. When we finally slid into an underground parking spot and emerged into the bustling festivity of the Princes Street Christmas Market, I felt the tension of imminent disaster abandon my shoulders.

“Where to first, then?” Geillis asked, looking far too animated by the prospect of accompanying someone while they did their Christmas shopping.

Geillis and I had kept in touch and met for coffee a few times over the past months. When I explained that I wouldn’t be taking any more cooking classes at Ginger Snap because Jamie was giving me at-home lessons, her reaction was a moonbeam grin.

“Look at ye, wee vixen! I ne’er wouldha thought ye had it in ya, Claire. Tho I canna say as I blame ye.”

No matter how much I protested that I was together with Frank and that my relationship with Jamie was purely professional, she refused to believe me. The ongoing absence of a ring from my left hand didn’t help.

“Now,” Geillis exclaimed once we’d taken in the sights and sounds of the market, “let’s have a keek at yer list. Where should we start?”

I pulled out my phone and opened the Notes app. As she read, my friend’s nose wrinkled in confusion.

“Trouser socks, shoe stays, Moleskine notebook, Rive Gauche... who are ye shopping for, yer grandparents?”

“No,” I protested. “The first three are for Frank. The perfume is for me.”

When I explained that Frank had made a list of the items he would like to give me for Christmas, Geillis grew incensed.

“Ye mean he has ye doin’ his gift buying fer him? Tha’s the least romantic thing I’ve e’er heard. Do ye even like Rive Gauche, Claire? And dinna lie tae me, fer I can read yer feelings all o’er yer face.”

Truthfully, I didn’t much care for the flowery scent. My personal taste ran more towards woodsy or herbaceous aromas. But it was Frank’s favourite, and it pleased me to please him. Or it had. I was beginning to wonder when it would be my turn to please myself.

“Right,” Geillis interrupted my thoughts. “Marks and Sparks will do jes fine for yer wee granny list. And then you and I are going shopping fer yer real gift.”

Geillis was a force to be reckoned with in a retail environment. She navigated like a guided missile from one department to the next. Twenty minutes later, we were back on the pavement, which glistened with the colourful reflections of decorations strung above.

“Your car is the other way,” I explained as Geillis turned left.

“Aye, tis, but our destination is right o’er here. House of Fraser. See? Tis practically calling yer name, Claire.”

Inside the venerable old building was an astonishing multi-tiered arcade reaching over five stories to a massive skylit ceiling. The central space was dominated by a fifteen metre-high Christmas tree (a Fraser fir, of course) and every archway of every arcade was dripping with lights. The impression was like stepping into a Fabergé egg.

Geillis dragged me, slack-jawed, towards the ladies’ wear section. Circling the racks like a hawk on the wind, she eyed my body, sizing me up quite literally, then thrust several pieces into my hands.

“Geillis,” I hissed, wary of the sales staff hovering nearby, no doubt smelling an excessive commission in the offing. “I don’t need a new outfit. And I certainly don’t need,” I shook the garments in question, “something like this. Wherever would I wear it?”

“Well, fer starters, ye’d wear it tae dinner t’night. I dinna wish tae offend ye, Claire, but I canna in good conscience allow ye tae set foot in the Timberyard dressed fer a job interview as a primary school teacher.”

With that she shoved me in the direction of the changing rooms. Deciding to humour her, I was unbuttoning my top when two lacy bits of nothing came flying over the door.

“Start wi’ these. And dinna think I willna notice if ye’re no’ wearing them!”

I stripped down to my panties, bemusedly wondering how she knew my exact bra size.

Upon seeing me exit the dressing room in her choice of clothing, Geillis let out a squeal of delight. She insisted I rip out the tags and leave the store wearing my new outfit, declaring it was her Christmas gift to me.

I felt tremendously self-conscious as we walked towards the restaurant. The aubergine velvet jeans clung to my legs in an unfamiliar way and the black turtleneck, while technically not revealing, hinted at kink with its many heavy zippers and fastenings. Together with my unruly hair, unstraightened for once, I felt like another woman entirely. I didn’t recognize her, but I felt like she might be someone I’d like to get to know.

The Timberyard was a modern restaurant in a rugged old warehouse, not far from the farmer’s market I’d visited with Jamie. We were joined there by several of Geillis’ friends, and we ate, drank and laughed until my sides were sore.

As I wobbled to the loo, I noticed the bartender following me with an appreciative gaze. It had been a long time since a man had looked at me that way, and it gave me a guilty thrill.

We left the restaurant just before midnight. I pulled Geillis into an impulsive hug.

“Wha’ was that for, hen?” she asked.

“Nothing. Everything. Just, thank you for being you, Geil.”

“Och, tis my pleasure, lass. I only want tae see ye happy. Now, what do ye say to a digestif?”

After only a slight protest on my part, the two of us piled into an Uber. Our destination was another restaurant, this time in a converted whisky warehouse by the harbour in Leith. It was well past last sitting, but when I mentioned this to Geillis she explained away my concern.

“I ken the owner, who’s also the chef. Tis a popular spot fer locals in the restaurant scene tae meet after they close up fer a few drinks afore heading home tae their beds.”

Inside, the walls were rough stone, supported in places by industrial metal beams. The kitchen was open to the main dining area, and I grinned as I thought of Frank’s strong opinion on the matter. Near the back of the room, lit by dim naked bulbs and the glow from several open fireplaces, was a huge square table surrounded by nearly twenty chairs upholstered in bright yellow plaid. Around the table was gathered a motley assortment of men and women, all talking and laughing and sipping on a variety of drinks. And in their midst, his copper hair shining in the firelight, sat Jamie.

A shout went up from the table as Geillis approached. I hung back, tugging at the hem of my new turtleneck as though I could stretch it to cover my arse. Besides Jamie, I recognized Jenny, Angus and Murtagh, but I only had eyes for the big ginger chef. He sat at one corner, probably in deference to his long legs which were stretched out before him, wrapped in black denim. A black leather jacket hung over the chair behind him. He looked dangerous. It was a very good look for him.

Dragging me by the elbow, Geillis nudged and bumped Angus to one side despite his vulgar protests, then practically pushed me down into the chair directly next to the chef. With a smug smile of satisfaction, she then retired to the opposite side of the table.

I looked anywhere but directly at Jamie, but I could feel his butane eyes on me. I was certain he would scorch right through my outer layers and down to where Geillis’ choice in lingerie burned against my tender skin. The noise from the rest of the table faded away.

“Ye look bonnie t’night, Arsonist.” His voice was low and gruff and it sent a quickening through my veins.

“Thank you, Jamie. It was Geillis’ Christmas gift to me, and I feel, well... let’s just say it isn’t my usual look.”

“It suits ye, I think.” He reached out and lightly touched the silver tab of a zipper that ended near my wrist, setting it swinging. I swallowed and looked frantically around. Several open bottles of liquor stood nearby. Grabbing the nearest one, I poured myself a generous serving and knocked it back, all in one go. I tried to steady my breathing.

“Look, Jamie...”

Just then a blond man in chef’s whites called to Jamie from across the table. An exchange involving a lot of Scottish cursing and an off-colour reference to someone’s lobster pot ensued. I tried to convince myself I needed to leave. It was late, I was half-drunk, and whatever I intended to say to Jamie should definitely wait for another moment. Maybe never.

A hand on my thigh broke my preoccupation.

“Sorry, Arsonist, ye were sayin’ something?”

I wet my lips, frantically trying to recall anything but the feeling of Jamie’s strong fingers, stroking me through the velvet of my jeans.

“I...”

At that moment, the woman on Jamie’s far side broke into song. The rest of the table cheered and clapped along, and it was impossible to hear anything except the concussive pounding of my heart against my eardrums.

Jamie grabbed my clammy hand.

“Come wi’ me,” he instructed, grabbing our outerwear and pulling me towards the door. Geillis watched our departure with all the excitement of a child on Christmas morning.

Outside the air was dense and cold, a briny slap after the stuffy warmth of the restaurant. Jamie obviously had a destination in mind, and we walked hand-in-hand along the cobbled streets for several minutes before finally emerging at the port. A jetty struck out into the inky sea, and it was there that we ended up. Besides a few gulls and the winking of a nearby lighthouse, we were all alone. The sodium street lights caught Jamie’s curls and made them burn.

“Forgive me, Arsonist. I couldna hear myself think in there. Tho, come tae think of it, tis no’ much better now.” Rather than release me, as he spoke Jamie stroked my hand, running calloused fingers over each vein and every knuckle. I don’t think he even realized he was doing it, but it stole every thought from my head.

“No ring,” he remarked, stroking the finger in question.

“No,” I whispered in response.

And then it burst out of me, like a tidal wave of feeling that I never saw coming. I told him everything. My childhood roaming the globe with my uncle, pre-occupied and rootless, dreaming of stability. Meeting Frank at Harvard, and realizing that he represented all the things that my life to date had lacked: structure, security, a solid foundation, a home. And how it took moving to Scotland and coming into contact with a group of near-strangers to make me realize that the price I had paid for that stability was higher than I’d ever imagined. I’d given up my dream of becoming a doctor. I’d become so lost in Frank’s vision of who I should be that I’d almost lost sight of who I actually was.

By the time the flood of words left me, I was in Jamie’s arms, crying into his leather jacket. He hushed me with quiet murmurs and languorous stroking of my hair, as one would a child who has woken from a nightmare.

I stepped out of his embrace and rubbed my sleeve across my face. I must have looked an absolute mess, but he still watched me with those earnest, patient eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I began, “I don’t know what...”

“Claire,” he interrupted. I’d never before realized just how many consonants were in my given name. “Ye dinna need tae apologize tae me. But ye may want tae consider an apology tae yerself.” At my raised eyebrow, he continued.

“I’m no’ the kind of man tae tell another what they should and shouldna do. But ye strike me as someone who’s made decisions fer the right reasons, yet ended up in the wrong place.” Here he paused, as though carefully weighing his words. “There’s no sin in changin’ yer mind, Arsonist. Tis very well tae be hungry, so long as ye ken what ye hunger for.”

“And what do you hunger for, James Fraser?” The provocative words had left my lips before I had the chance to censor them. His answer came in the form of a blistering look that left no doubt as to its meaning. Then he gathered himself, banking the fire I’d unconsciously ignited.

“Many things. Regular, ordinary things, mostly. My family’s health and happiness. A faster bike. My own restaurant.”

“Like Tom’s there?” I asked, gesturing towards the harbour.

“Och, Tom is a braw chef, and worthy o’ every accolade tha’s been showered upon him. But the hospitality scene in Edinburgh is cut-throat, an’ suitable locations cost a fortune. Nah, Jenny and I want tae buy back our childhood home in the Highlands. Tis called Lallybroch, and when our Da passed, our Mam sold it tae her brother. We’d turn it inta a country inn, wi’ Jenny running the lodging side o’ things and I the dining. Tha’s the dream anyway,” he ended with a shrug.

I rested my hand on his forearm. “That sounds like a wonderful plan, Jamie.”

Before he could reply, an enormous yawn burst from my lungs.

“Time tae get ye home tae yer bed, Arsonist,” Jamie grinned. “Come, I’ll give ye a ride.”

“Wait, haven’t you been drinking?” I inquired as we walked back down the jetty.

“Three years sober,” he explained with no hint of embarrassment. “I went somewhere pretty dark after my Mam died, an’ it took a near-fatal crash tae scare me straight.” His eyes squinted in a poor approximation of a wink as he added, “Besides, there are better ways tae chase a rush than in the bottom of a bottle.”

“Such as?” I asked brazenly.

Which was how I found myself on the back on a black motorcycle, my arms twined around Jamie’s waist. Rather than take me directly home, he steered us north, following the coast. It was very late, with hardly another vehicle about. We merged onto the motorway, and Jamie picked up speed. My thighs tightened around his lean hips, the vibration of the motor beneath us shivering up my spine. As we emerged beneath the hastate lights of the Queensferry Bridge, I stretched my arms wide, icy air ripping against the sleeves of my jacket. I laughed, although no-one could hear me. I yelled, and only the wind yelled back. I was flying.

***

It was nearly dawn when Jamie pulled up in front of my flat. My legs thrummed, my eyes were dry with fatigue, and my heart ached, but I felt better than I could ever remember. I handed Jamie back his spare helmet and shook out my curls. He watched me in that half-sleepy, half-vigilant way of his that I now recognized as desire.

“I don’t know what I could ever say to thank you, Jamie.”

“Ye needn’t say anything at all, Arsonist. Nae matter what ye decide, it has been my very great honour tae get tae know you.”

Without another word, he kick-started the engine and drove off into the early morning mist.

“Goodbye,” I whispered to his vanishing shadow.

***

The lamp above the couch was lit, and Frank lay still beneath its glow. I realized he had fallen asleep waiting for me to come home. Instead of regret, what I felt in that moment was pity.

The sound of my jacket being unzipped woke him. He blinked in confusion and then in shock.

“I’m very sorry if you were worried,” I began.

“Worried? Do you have any idea what time it is? My God, Claire, I don’t know what to make of you these days. You’ve never behaved irresponsibly before, and now you’re out at all hours and you’re wearing,” he gestured wildly with his hand at my new outfit which I had, quite honestly, forgotten I was wearing. “And your hair, Claire!” he finished, as though the manic state of my curls was definitive evidence of my fall from grace. Despite my exhaustion, I stood tall.

“Frank, we need to talk.”

#my writing #outlander #ginger snap

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rubysunnday · 4 years ago

Text

Hug

A/N: Here is the second piece of writing for Tuactober 2020!

Tuactober 2020 Day 10: Hug

Prompts by @totallyevan

The Hargreeves siblings weren’t really an affectionate family. Their father never gave them any affection - that came solely from their robot mother so it didn’t, really, count - and they as sibling had never been close enough to hug one another.

But after being separated and stranded in the 1960′s, things changed.

People changed.

Y/N Hargreeves was considered the baby of the group - despite being the same age as her other siblings - and her other siblings were very protective of her.

But now she was three years older than the rest of them, bar Klaus who was older than her by two months, and their relationship had shifted.

Everyone was suddenly showing their emotions more and showing how much they truly cared for one another.

Y/N first noticed the shift when she found Allison, completely by accident.

She’d been walking down the street of South Dallas, heading back to the apartment she was sharing with some friends, when she passed a beauty parlour.

Y/N wasn’t sure why she looked in through the window. Naturally curious, she guessed. But one look had her halting in the middle of the street.

“It can’t be,” Y/N muttered, staring at the woman the other side of the glass.

She pushed open the door to the parlour and instantly the room fell silent. The black woman who worked there all looked up at her, ready to defend themselves against yet another racist person in the city.

Y/N stared at Allison as she hung the broom back on a hook on the wall. “Allison?”

Allison whirled around, newly dyed and straightened hair bouncing slightly as she did so. She stared at her sister, eyes wide.

“Y/N?” Allison asked, gaping.

Y/N giggled and stepped forward as Allison practically ran at her, the two meeting in the middle of the room in a hug. Y/N clung to her sister tightly, standing on her tip toes slightly (Allison had always been taller) and buried her face in Allison’s hair.

Allison clung onto Y/N, taking in her sister’s perfume, the feeling of her hair and the fact she was alive and in front of her.

“I thought you were dead,” Allison said, stepping back and putting a hand on Y/N’s shoulder.

“Same here, I thought I was the only one left,” Y/N replied, tucking her hair behind her ear. Suddenly aware of the numerous women staring at them as if they were insane, Y/N gave them a meek wave. “Oh, hi.”

Allison looked up at smiled slightly awkwardly. “Ah, this is my... adopted sister, Y/N. We haven’t seen each other in...”

“A while,” Y/N finished, nodding.

“We’ll be in the back,” Allison added, grabbing Y/N’s hand and dragging her out to the back of the parlour.

Allison shut the back door behind her and turned back to face Y/N. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

Y/N smiled slightly. “Yeah... when did you get here?”

“1961,” Allison replied, sighing. “It’s been... a long time. What about you?”

“April, 1960,” Y/N said. Allison raised a shocked eyebrow at her and she shrugged, rocking back on the heels of her shoes. “Guess I’m older than you now.”

Allison chuckled softly and brought Y/N in for another hug. Y/N didn’t complain, hugging her sister back tightly and breathing in the smell of her perfume and hairspray.

The next sibling Y/N hugged was Klaus.

And she wasn’t in the least bit surprised to find he’d started a cult.

Because what else was Klaus supposed to do when he got stranded in the 1960′s?

Allison had given her the address of his mansion - said mansion wasn’t, technically, his but Y/N chose to overlook that bit of the story - and Y/N had driven her car out to it.

She sighed despairingly, shaking her head as she turned the engine off and stepped out of the car. Knowing Klaus, it was unlikely that he’d answer the doorbell so Y/N, with the lock picking skills she certainly did not have, broke into the mansion, shutting the front door behind her as quietly as she could.

There were white sheets covering almost everything inside - presumably this was to protect the furniture whilst Klaus had travelled the globe with his cult - and there were several rather... unflattering paintings of Klaus looking as religious as you could get when you ran a cult.

“Klaus?” Y/N called out, stepping around a pile of boxes on the floor. “You here?”

There was a loud bang followed by a curse and Y/N smiled to herself, recognising Klaus’ voice.

Her brother emerged into the hallway, long hair tousled and shirt crumpled, and stared at her, his eyes wide.

“Y/N?” He asked, dropping his flask onto the floor in surprise. “Oh my god, you're alive?!”

Y/ N laughed and ran up to Klaus, jumping up to hug him. Klaus lifted her off her feet and spun her around in a circle, clinging onto her tightly.

“Hi,” Y/N giggled, resting her chin on her brothers shoulder. Her face was beginning to hurt from smiling.

“Hey, Y/N/N,” Klaus said, setting her down and pressing a kiss to her head. “You look stunning, little sister.”

Y/N’s smiled grew even more as she straightened her jumper. “Thank you. I like the hair,” she said, nodding to Klaus’ long locks.

“Oh,” Klaus said, tucking a piece behind his ear and trying not to look to touched by the compliment. “Thank you.”

Y/N shook her head and launched herself at him again, hugging him once more. He smelt different to the last time she’d hugged him. Less tobacco and weed and more... well, more Klaus.

“I missed you too,” Klaus said softly, kissing her head once more.

Vanya was the next sibling Y/N got a hug from.

Y/N had stepped into the electronics store and looked up at the balcony and immediately spotted her sister. Her heart had stopped for a second as Vanya smiled at her and Allison.

“I can’t believe I’ve got two sisters!” Vanya exclaimed, smiling as she walked down the stairs.

Y/N nodded slowly as Vanya approached them, standing in front of them awkwardly. It took the three of them a few seconds of staring at one another before it all clicked into place.

Allison opened her arms and Vanya came forward into the hug, pulling Y/N in with her. Y/N smiled to herself as she became sandwiched between Allison and Vanya. She rested her head on Allison’s shoulder, still smiling.

“Oh, god,” Y/N moaned as Klaus suddenly appeared behind her, latching onto her and Vanya.

“Hi,” Vanya said, her voice muffled by the three of them.

Y/N burst out laughing as she let go slightly, still holding onto Vanya.

“Hi, Vanny,” Klaus said, kissing her head as he let go.

Y/N, taking advantage of Klaus stepping away, hugged Vanya once more, clinging onto her sister. “I missed you,” she whispered.

“Thank god someone did,” Vanya replied, hugging her back just as tightly.

When they were younger, Y/N and Diego struggled to get along. They didn’t hate each other, they were just polar opposites and struggled to find something in common.

Not to mention the fact Diego was really annoying as a brother.

Y/N had been making herself a cup of tea in Elliot’s kitchen, minding her own business. It’d just been her and Diego - everyone else had disappeared off to deal with their lives - and they’d stayed there to wait for Five.

She walked back from the kitchen and set her mug of tea down on the table and sat down on the sofa opposite Diego.

Neither sibling said anything for a while, both content with their own company.

Y/N looked up at Diego and sighed to herself. “Diego... I... I missed you,” she said quietly, looking directly at her cup of tea in the hopes it would somehow make the conversation easier.

Diego stared at Y/N in surprise. He smiled slightly and leant forward. “I missed you too, Y/N.”

Y/N looked up from the tea and looked at Diego. Diego smiled at her and Y/N suddenly felt her eyes burn. “No, don’t give me those eyes, Diego, I’ll start crying,” she warned, shaking her head.

Diego scoffed and stood up. He sat down next to her and put an arm around her shoulders, bringing her into his side. “Oh, shut up,” he said, leaning down and kissing her head softly.

Y/N sniffed and wrapped an arm around Diego’s middle, holding onto him tightly as he returned the hug.

Before now, Y/N had only hugged Diego three times before. The first time was when they’d gotten their tattoos, the second had been when Ben had died and the third was when she and Klaus had ‘saved’ him from the giant piece of ceiling that almost killed him.

But this hug was different. It was a genuine one. A hug that was wanted from both parties and was, more importantly, needed by both of them.

Diego would never admit this to his sister, but even though he’d only been in Dallas for a few months, he’d missed her the most.

He just hoped the hug was saying what he wanted to because god knew how he’d be able to get the words out without stuttering.

Five had disappeared before Y/N had really gotten a chance to properly form a bond with him. They’d known each other for years and had grown up together but they’d never really... spoken.

Obviously they'd sneak out to Griddy’s occasionally and Y/N would help Five with his equations, but they’d never really gotten to bond with one another because one day he’d been there, the next he’d gone.

Y/N knew that Five had been through hell. Out of all of them he’d been through the most.

But even though it was Five’s fault they were in 1960 Dallas in the first place, it’d been Five she’d been worried about the most. And Five she’d wanted to suddenly find the most.

Because Five always had a plan. And always made things better.

“Hey, Five,” Y/N said suddenly.

They were sitting in a diner, waiting for Vanya. Five had a giant pot of coffee in front of him and Y/N had a fairly large cup of tea and a plate of waffles.

Five raised an eyebrow and looked at her. “Yeah?”

Y/N give him a small smile. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said, unsure of what else to say. “I missed you.”

Five returned her smile, only this smile was a true one, not a forced one. “I’m glad you’re here too, sis.”

Out of all her siblings, Luther was the one Y/N had never really been close to. They were polar opposites and she’d often been kept apart from her father’s precious ‘Number One’.

So, it was no surprise that Y/N had never hugged Luther. In all her years of knowing him, not once had they hugged or shared a sibling moment.

Because their relationship just wasn’t like that.

But here they were, being shot at by what felt like the entirety of the commission.

Luther had as arms around Y/N, Allison and Klaus, shielding all three of them from the storm of bullets flying around them. Y/N didn’t register it at the time, but she was holding on to Luther; holding onto him in the hopes he’d protect her.

And then the bullets stopped.

And then Y/N suddenly found herself been thrown through the air, into the farmhouse.

She hit the wall of the house with a significant amount of force, splintering the wood. Y/N hit her head on the window frame and fell down into the snow, dazed, confused, and on the verge of passing out.

Y/N closed her eyes for what felt like a few seconds but, judging from how much the house around her had change, was more like a few minutes.

“Y/N!”

Y/N groaned softly, rolling onto her side as Luther ran over to her. “Oh, hey Luther,” she mumbled, clumsily sitting up and practically falling into her brother.

Luther caught her and grabbed her shoulders, his eyes frantically checking her over. “Are you alright?”

Y/N nodded, patting his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, I will be,” she muttered, rubbing the back of her head.

Luther sighed and pulled her in against him, holding Y/N tightly against him. Y/N froze, eyes growing slightly wider as Luther hugged her.

Luther was hugging her.

Y/N slowly returned the hug, wrapping her arms around Luther and resting her head on his shoulder.

Luther’s hugs were the best ones, she decided.

“What’s wrong, Klaus?” Y/N asked, frowning at him as he stared at her as if he’d never seen her before.

“Nothing,” Klaus said, still staring at her. “Just... can I have a hug?”

Y/N frowned even more but, now used to her brothers sometimes weird requests, stepped forward and hugged him.

Klaus hugged her back tightly, resting his head on top of hers. Y/N chuckled softly, but didn’t complain about the hug.

Ben, who was currently in possession of Klaus, sighed sadly as he hugged his sister for the first time in 17 years. He kissed her head as he let go and smiled at her.

“I love you, sis,” he said, meaning it even though it was Klaus who said it.

Y/N smiled back at him. “I love you too.

#tuactober #tuactober 2020 #tua #ua #The Umbrella Academy #Umbrella Academy #the umbrella academy imagines #umbrella academy imagine #umbrella academy x reader #sister!reader #hargreeves!reader

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years ago

Note

63. sometimes I steal flowers from your garden on my way to the cemetery, but today you’ve caught me and have demanded to come with me to make sure the “[person] is [attractive] enough to warrant flower theft” and I’m trying to figure out how to break it to you that we’re on our way to a graveyard

Danbrey, sfw, please!

Here you go!

It’s the rabbit that draws her eye; it’s not everyday a bunny the size of a Beagle stops outside the window of Amnesty House. She follows the leash from the harness to the hand holding it, and spots a much bigger issue.

“Miss?” She steps onto the porch, “could you not take my flowers.”

“Yeeeeep!” The other woman drops the pocket knife she’s using to saw off the stems of tulips and irises, scrambling to her feet and tearing her fishnets in the process, “shit, um, I’m sorry, didn’t think you’d notice, I’ve done it before and you never, um, nevermind.” She pulls the rabbit back from the fence, “anyway, I really needed this, they’re really pretty and I think she’d like them-”

“Ohhhhh, I get it” Dani crosses her arms, “in that case, I’ll come with you. I want to see the person who’s cute enough to warrant multiple flower thefts.”

“Um, or! You could not do that and I could promise to never do this again?”

“Nope, my mind’s made up.” She slips on her Birkenstocks and heads down the front stairs. Jake and Moira are both home, so she’s not too worried about locking up.

“Fine. Let me just-” The woman scoops the rabbit up and sprints away. Dani could just let her go, but those were her heirloom irises, damn it, and she wants to make sure the person who gets them knows just how valuable they are. So off she goes, soles slapping the pavement as they head towards the lakeside.

She won’t be surprised if the recipient is hot; god knows the thief is. The freckles and red-streaked hair is just the icing on the combat-boot, denim-vested femme cake.

Growing up in this neighborhood means she never loses sight of her target, even when she’s cutting through alleys and taking sharp turns. Then the woman goes straight through a wall of junipers and Dani is not interested in getting that scratched up by plants today. This is one of the borders of the park, so all she needs to do is find the front entrance to relocate her very distinct thief.

Ten minutes of hunting later, she spots a red and black pompadour on the other side of a low, stone wall. She’s cross-legged on the grass, which the rabbit is happily munching by her side.

“Okay, seriously, does the person you’re seeing know those...are...aw fuck.”

The other woman turns from the gravestone she’s sitting by to look at her, “Yeah. This is kinda why I didn’t want you to come with me. I mean, it was a hella weird thing to do anyway, but” she sweeps her arm at the cemetery, “this is super not a date.”

“I’m so sorry.” Dani sits on the opposite side of the rabbit, “That never even occurred to me. I…” she sneaks a glance at the dates; the death was only three years ago, “I’m sorry for your loss, too.”

Silence settles between them; she feels like she should say something else, that it’d be rude to just shrug and walk away, but she has no clue what words are even appropriate here. The rabbit stretches its neck, bonking it’s nose into her hand. She pets it, smiling when it nestles closer.

“Mom really liked bulbs.” The thief says softly, “when I was little we’d always go for walks in the spring just so we could see the first ones popping out of the ground. She liked ones that were unique, so when I saw the orange and black ones in your garden all I could think was how happy they’d make her. How she woulda stopped to look at them whenever she walked past. I know it’s silly but I, um, this felt like the closest I could get to giving her that.”

The breeze carries dried iris petals from the headstone into the park beyond the wall.

“You could have just asked. There’s no way I would have said no if you told me what they were for.”

“It felt too weird. Everything feels weird these days.” She sighs, reaching out to rub dust from the stone, “I thought I was ready to come back, but it’s like the whole town is haunted.”

The fresh flowers wobble, then land on the grass. Dani grabs them and puts them back, the rabbit honking indignantly when she does.

“At least Dr. Harris Bonkers is having a nice time.” The other woman rubs the rabbit’s ears, “isn’t that right, buddy?”

“What’s he a doctor of?”

A small, beautiful smile, “Psychology. He worked hard for his PhD.”

“I bet.” She gives the doctor a final rub on the nose, “I’ll, uh, I should give you two some time alone.” Dani stands, brown eyes watching her the whole time.

“Thanks for the flowers.”

She smiles, “You’re welcome.”

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

Moira’s expecting a package, so Dani doesn’t even look up when the older woman answers the front door.

“Um, hi. I, um, I was hoping to get some flowers? The blonde who lives here said I should ask this time. I’m Aubrey? Wait, I don’t think I told her that.”

“Which blonde?”

“The cute one?”

“....I meant the boy or the girl.” Moira replies, amused, just as Dani reaches the door.

Aubrey waves, “Hi again. Could I take a few Irises?”

“Sure. Oh, wait, let me get you the pruning shears; the knife isn’t great for cuttings.”

“Dani! Could I get a hand really quick?” From the accompanying clanks, Barclay needs said hand urgently.

“Coming! Here, you can just leave them on the steps when you’re done.”

One hour and a narrowly avoided soup disaster later, she’s herding the others to the table when there’s another knock on the door.

“I, um, I stuck these in my bag without thinking.” Aubrey holds out the shears. In the porchlight, her eyes are red-rimmed and there’s a slight smear in the black lipstick on her upper lip.

“It happens. Jake, my roommate, once went a whole day with six boxes of poptarts in his bag because he got distracted while unloading groceries. Uh, if you’re not busy we’re just about to have dinner. Seems only polite to invite my biggest admirer.”

Aubrey raises her eyebrows.

“My, uh, the biggest admirer of my gardening?” Her cheeks are hot, but her flustered tone seems to relax Aubrey.

“Sure. I just have to make sure I get home in time to feed Dr. Harris Bonkers.” She grins and steps into the house.

It’s common for Amnesty residents to bring home friends (or strangers), so when Barclay spots Aubrey he simply ducks back into the kitchen for an extra set of cutlery and a bonus bowl. As always happens when Barclay cooks, everyone is too busy stuffing their faces for the first ten minutes of dinner to say much.

“So, Aubrey” Mama sips her tea, “what brings you to town?”

“I grew up here but, um, I left a few years ago to try and kickstart my career.”

“What do you do?”

Literal sparks fly from her guest’s fingertips as she wiggles them, “magic.”

“Whoah, sweet!” Jake leans forward, “do you do stunts?”

“Nah” Aubrey’s smile is brightening under the excitement, “I do sleight of hand, card tricks, that kind of thing. I like the classics. Lots of other people do too, but I hit a spell where no one was interested in booking me, so I came back here to regroup.”

“Smart thinkin’. Pretty much everyone here knows that tryin to make ends meet on the road can lead to serious trouble.”

“Or grand theft auto.” Dani smirks at Barclay.

“That was an accident!”

“Wait, what?” Aubrey laughs, the room feeling ten times brighter when she does, “how does that even happen?”

Barclay recounts the story, blushing all the while, then points out that at least he never got stuck halfway up an off-limits slope because he was daydreaming, and to which Jake responds that that’s not even in his top ten wipeouts, dude.

Aubrey hangs around, helping Dani with the dishes while they chat about childhood pets (Dani had a frog that required her to drop food on his head in order for him to notice it). When she finally re-laces her boots, her new friend is smiling constantly and Dani never wants to look at anything else.

“Hey, uh, tonight was really fun. Do you want to come by on Friday? I’m, uh, I’m cooking, so it won’t be as good as what Barclay made, but I’d love for you to try my breakfast salad. Oh, and my muffin. Muffins.”

“I’d love to. And don’t sell yourself short, flowergirl” Aubrey winks, shooting finger guns her way, “I bet your dinner is gonna rule.”

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“What do you think? Too much?” Aubrey turns from the mirror. Dr. Harris Bonkers wiggles his nose.

“You’re right, the heels are too much. Gotta leave some plausible deniability. And be able to run away if this goes bad.” She tosses the black heels back into the closet and squeezes into the tiny bathroom to start on her make-up. It has to be perfect, or as perfect as she can get it in the mirror that’s inexplicably high up on the wall.

Yeesh, is getting ready to impress a cute girl really the thing making her consider moving back in with dad? It would be easier to find the right clothes if she had a space to hang them up in, instead of stacked boxes to dig through. But walking the streets where mom used to hold her hand, eating at the places they’d go for breakfast, all those vortexes of memories are hard enough to free herself from on their own. Sitting in the chair she used to, expecting to see her at the table or in the yard, those things would be too much.

It’s been easier since she found Amnesty. Since she found Dani. It’s hard to be stuck in the shadows of the past when there’s a beautiful ray of sunshine sitting next to you. She has dinner there most days now, practices her new routine while Dani updates the inventory for her online plant store.

Relatedly, Aubrey now has several rabbit-safe houseplants that Dani always offers to come check on. Aubrey’s actually pretty good with plants, but she’s not about to miss out on an evening sandwiched next to Dani on her futon and the ghost of jasmine perfume winding around her when she sleeps.

Amnesty is lit only by the string lights on the porch and the glow from the kitchen when Aubrey bounds up the stairs.

“Dani?”

“Oh, hey, you’re early.” Dani leans in the doorway of the kitchen and Aubrey’s brain sounds like a cartoon, nothing but “boiiings” and “wowzas” for a good ten seconds.

Dani’s hair is out of it’s usual messy bun, and instead of her overalls or patched jeans, she’s in a short, heather green tank-top dress. Getting on her knees to kiss the vine tattoos weaving up her legs would be too forward, but boy does she want to.

“Took an earlier bus just to be safe. Man, it’s so weird to be here when it’s this quiet.”

“No kidding; I can’t remember the last time I was the only one here.” Dani shoos her through the kitchen and out into the back garden. The little white table usually piled with tools is cleared of everything but a green tablecloth and two wine glasses. That’s another point in the “yes, this is a date” category. The first was that Dani was careful to emphasize that everyone would be gone for the night for camping, work, or ill-advised urban skate stunts.

“Sit your cute butt down, I’ll be right back with dinner.”

That’s the first butt-based compliment she’s gotten, so score one for this red skirt. When Dani comes back, Aubrey can’t help but bounce in her seat; her crush is carrying a board covered in fruit and bread, and she absolutely sees a fondue pot on the counter inside.

“Since Cheesy Heat closed, I thought I could recreate it for us. Kinda. Barclay said he thinks they used a super fancy cheese that’s hard to get here.”

“That’s probably why they went out of business. Dang, why so many fondue pots?”

“Barclay keeps getting them for Christmas.” She sets the chocolate one down next to the cheese, and when she tugs on her dress before sitting down Aubrey’s mouth waters from more than just the meal.

The stars come out as they take turns making a mess of the table cloth, but the longer she sits here, happier than she’s been in years, the more Aubrey knows she can’t put the question off.

“Why the fancy dinner tonight?”

Dani dabs her mouth with her napkin, “I, uh, I, Cheesy Heat was my go-to, uh” her voice drops to a whisper, “date place.”

“Ohthankgod.” Aubrey flops back in her chair, “this is a date.”

“Did you think it wasn’t?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t wanna, like, assume.”

“Fireblossom” Dani stands, making a little half circle to reach her, “the first time we met you were stealing from me assuming I wouldn’t notice.”

“To be fair, getting caught in petty theft is less terrifying than making an ass out of yourself in front of a hot girl.” She grins as Dani straddles her lap.

“...okay you’re right, I’d hate to embarrass myself in front of you. Again.”

“A girl who can run me down in sandals is pretty hot.”

“Pfft” Dani giggles, hides her face in Aubrey’s shoulder, “not as hot as a girl who can sprint while carrying a twelve pound rabbit.”

“Seventeen.” Aubrey kisses her cheek, whispers teasingly, “you shoulda told me this was a date, I could’ve brought flowers.”

“You can bring me some next time.” Dani sits up, smiling at her.

“Sweet, I know somewhere I can get them for free.” She bounces her eyebrows, making the vision of perfection in her lap laugh.

“Nope, this time it’ll cost you.”

“How much?”

Dani cups her cheeks and dives down for a kiss, Aubrey clinging to her dress and sighing as she slips her tongue between her lips.

“Few of those” Dani murmurs, brushing their noses together.

“I’m happy to pay them.”

#meet ugly #danbrey #aubrey little/dani #taz amnesty

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