#it’s 8am I’m sorry if this was over the place

[boldlyanxious]

A Simple Deception

masterlist

“I’m really sorry for you Jon. I know you have gotten close over the last few months,” Damian spoke into his phone.

“No, I really mean it,” he continued after a pause. “I know I’m not the most expressive person to talk to but it is clear that she means a lot to you. I wish her visa had worked out.”

Damian made a few more non-committal noises as his friend went on and on about his newer friend who would be moving away soon.

“I wish I had gotten a chance to meet her. Maybe sometime later in the future. I’ll take you to Paris for your birthday or something.”

“See you for New Year’s then. Merry Christmas to you and the rest of the Kents. I believe my gift should have arrived.”

He put his phone back on the desk and went looking for his family. Unlike Jon’s family, Christmas morning did not start promptly at 8am. With their evening activities, they all preferred to start a little later. Coffee and brunch would start at 10 am and the scavenger hunt for gifts would begin promptly at 11. The first one back after completing all the challenges would win Christmas.

It wasn’t the most traditional of Christmases, but it worked for them. And Damian was determined to win this year.

---

“Hold on, I’m putting you on speaker phone. I still have to be out of this apartment,” Marinette said. She moved her phone from her ear and put it on the mantle before shoving a pile of boxes.

She zipped back and forth as she continued talking at her phone.

“I just got the call that it was approved. Apparently, it went through last week but because of a mix up with the paperwork I didn’t get the call until they were closing today.”

“I can’t believe you still have to move,” the voice said from the phone.

“The cut off to stay here was a couple weeks ago.” Marinette stopped and looked at her phone with an uncertain look that even though the person on the other end couldn’t see her, would be able to hear the uncertainty in her voice. “But I had a friend tell me that if everything else failed, he would have a place for me in his apartment. He said it would just be a relief to have me in the same country.”

“I heard the same thing,” the voice laughed. “I have the space, and I already messaged a friend to borrow a truck to help.”

“You are a lifesaver; you know that?”

“I do, but I like to hear you say it.”

“Not to just call for huge favors, but I have to let you go now. I still have a ton of things to do. I haven’t even called my parents yet.”

“You told me before your parents? That’s cold.”

“Well, I sent a message saying I had an update so if they have been on, they can guess. But proper calls are hard while the bakery is open. They will call while they are closing, once they get the loud ovens off.”

“Best of luck. I know they were excited to have you back even though they wanted things to work out for you.”

“They were. But I did visit during the process, and they should be able to make another trip one day soon.”

—

The triumph of Christmas had not even lasted the week until New Year’s. His father had them gathered together to talk about their behavior for the New Year’s gala. It appeared to be a fabulous fancy dinner with all the Waynes and associated persons present, but his father was droning on about the behaviors that had been noticed at the last party. It had been a season full of parties where they were all expected to be dressed impeccably and a minimum not be caught causing disturbances and definitely not be written about in the press. Something that had been sorely lacking from the last Wayne hosted event.

Dick had been considered to be too drunk although it was more likely he just had had enough of the perfumed, elderly ladies pinching the wrong cheeks to tell him how handsome he looked all grown up. Stephanie, while not technically family, was not inconspicuous enough when doing impressions of Lex Luthor. Damian believes that she actually wanted Luther to see her. Tim and Jason both had a game of being confused any time someone spoke to them rather than greeting them as if they knew them. They had offended several long-time business associates and acquaintances of the Wayne Family.

Damian still believed that he had done nothing wrong. He was the picture of politeness and had greeted every person of note and some others. He remembered all the names, the grandkids and pets to ask about. He had not talked business once and he retrieved drinks when people were low. Apparently, his grave error was in not asking a single young lady to dance during the evening. He had the required skills, and he was not in any way unable to perform the motions at the time so he should have. It didn’t matter that he simply did not wish to dance with them.

“It is expected of you Damian,” his father said.

“There were plenty of other people dancing, including Dick and Tim. I think even Jason danced,” Damian complained.

“That makes it even more noticeable that you were not dancing. All of your brothers danced, and I danced. You should dance too.”

“I was busy making the rounds to all of the people who needed greeted.”

“I expect better time management next time then. I also made greetings for everyone and found the time. You will find the time for at least three to five dances–”

“That’s too many,” Damian cut in.

“Three to five dances and you will choose one of the suitable young ladies to kiss at midnight.”

“Absolutely not. I don’t want to kiss any of them.”

“You will and that is final.”

“But” Damian’s mind raced before he blurted out “I have a girlfriend.”

The stunned eyes of the entire table and the waiter turned to him.

“You have a girlfriend Dami?” Dick squealed.

“Of course he doesn’t,” Jason laughed. “He is just trying to get out of kissing some social climber at the gala.”

“Well,” Bruce said, “you certainly can’t kiss someone else if you have a girlfriend. You will bring her and kiss her at midnight. What is her name for the invitation?”

“Her name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” Damian said, “But she will be out of the country by then.”

—

“You got settled, I see,” Jon said laughing at Marinette in the kitchen.

“You have been to my place many times. You knew what you were getting yourself into.”

“That I did. And I’m delighted to have you, but I’m going to help you clean up. Damian is coming over and I didn’t mention you were living here yet. I don’t want to overwhelm him. He wanted to talk about something, and it sounded serious,” Jon said.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I’ll clean really fast and get out of your hair,” Marinette said.

“Nonsense. I meant it when I said it was your place too. You haven’t met Damian yet, and you should. You will love him,” Jon paused, choosing his words carefully. “I just don’t want it to feel too chaotic when it sounds like he is already having a tough time.”

“Right. You get the dishwasher going while I get the counters cleared. Then, I’ll wash the remainder and leave the floors to you.”

“Perfect. That should get you a chance to get out of your mismatched jammies.”

“Do not impugn my mismatched jammies. They are very comfy, but possibly too chaotic for meeting new friends.”

“Right you are.”

—

“You really don’t have to come up with me. I’m just getting the keys to the truck I let Jon borrow,” Damian said, climbing the stairs to Jon’s apartment.

“You have a girlfriend who is about to leave the country. I want to meet her while I have the chance. I’m sure you will want to stay and see her for a bit anyway. I remember what it was like to be young and in love,” Bruce responded.

“If it is anything like you are now with Ms Kyle, do not ever think I will behave like that.”

“To be in love is to be part fool and let yourself be open to another person. Perhaps you and Marinette just need more time.”

“You are already aware that the time is limited, yet you insist on encroaching upon it.”

Damian let out a long-suffering sigh before he knocked firmly on the door.

“Damian, you made it,” Jon said, quickly turning his attempted hug into a handshake. “Uh, Mr Wayne, how nice to see you again. I didn’t realize you were coming.”

“I’ve told you so many times to call me Bruce,” Bruce said with a warm smile.

“Right, I’ll get the keys. Thank you so much for letting me borrow your truck. My grandparents were supposed to help but they got held up in Kansas,” Jon said, shifting on his feet.

Bruce pushed past the keys Jon held out and looked around the apartment. “Tell your grandparents I said ‘hello’. I do hope to see them when they make it to town.”

Damian took the keys and grabbed his father’s arm, “We should go. Jon is clearly busy.”

Bruce looked around and raised an eyebrow at Damian. Jon said nothing until Bruce stepped into the kitchen and looked down at a tray of goodies.

“Can I offer you something to eat? Marinette was baking earlier. I’m sure she is willing to share,” Jon was relieved to have something to do with his hands. “Oh, Marinette is a friend of mine. She is from France and staying here.”

“Damian mentioned that. I was hoping to meet her,” Bruce’s eyes lit up at the mention of his reason for coming. “It’s a shame about her visa expiring though.”

“Actually, it was approved,” a dark-haired woman said as she walked into the room. “I found out too late to keep my apartment. That is why Jon let me move in.”

“That’s wonderful!” Bruce exclaimed, reaching for her hand. “I’m Bruce Wayne, Damian’s father. You must be–”

Damian cut it, hoping to stop his father from saying something he didn’t want anyone to hear. “Father, might I present Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“You may. Damian was so disappointed his girlfriend had to go back to France. Congratulations on your visa approval. You must come to my New Year’s Eve gala. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“So nice to meet you, Mr Wayne.”

Marinette was shaking his hand but then he suddenly pulled her into a hug. Her eyes were huge and confused looking over his shoulder at Jon and Damian. Damian was trying not to make eye contact, but Jon was looking at him and laughing.

“You must call me Bruce,” he said, patting her back.

“Bruce,” she repeated.

—

“I’ll take the truck back. Don’t be back too late,” Bruce paused with a smirk, “or do. I guess you will be celebrating.”

“I will see you at the usual time,” Damian said stiffly.

He turned back slowly to face Jon, who was clearly trying not to laugh and Marinette. He had just met her, but he had the distinct impression that was not her happy face.

“What just happened?” Marinette asked, hand on her hip.

“My father invited you to the annual Wayne New Year’s Eve Gala,” Damian said.

“As your girlfriend? That is the part someone would typically ask first.”

“Why did no one tell me the visa was approved? You were supposed to be going back to France.”

Damian looked accusingly at Jon who shrugged.

“I didn't think you would go get engaged because I was waiting to tell you until I saw you. I honestly thought you were bored of me talking about it.”

“I was bored, but it was too convenient to tell my father I couldn’t hook up with whichever socialite is most convenient for his business.”

“We are not engaged or hooking up.” Marinette said emphatically. “We aren’t even dating, and you will make this right. I did not sign up for a randomly assigned billionaire boyfriend.”

“Trust me, I have no interest in dating you,” Damian said firmly. He paused before adding, “But since you already told my father you would attend the gala, would you be willing to go as a favor to me.”

“I do not owe you any favors,” Marinette said.

“Please,” Damian said. “I would owe you one. Jon will be there too.”

“I go every year. It is the best one of the year. Also, least likely to be attacked by rogues and I know you have a dress you designed that you would love to show off.”

“I don’t want to go around lying to people. It isn’t fun for me, and I’m not interested in profiting off deception.”

Damian held up his hand to get them all to stop.

“Jon, would you leave us for a moment.”

Jon looked like he wanted to argue but Damian waited until he relaxed and then walked out of the room. Damian gestured at the chairs in the living room.

“Please allow me to talk for a moment. Once I have explained myself, I will ask you to go with me and then accept whatever response you give.”

Marinette studied him for a moment and then nodded.

“First of all, allow me to congratulate you on your visa. I know from Jon that it was very nerve wracking to not know where you would be by the end of the week. Even though I blamed you for not leaving, I am happy for you.” Damian took a breath and continued. “I am not typically a rash or unfeeling person. I may show a lack of concern for things that don’t affect me, but I don’t like to be cruel or use others carelessly. That being said, when my father told me that he wanted me to essentially woo the young ladies at the gala, I provided the easiest excuse that would be accepted at the time without planning to produce an actual girlfriend. Jon has spoken of you many times so your name came easily to me as someone who my family would not know, and you were so conveniently not going to be in town at the time of the gala that I would be off the hook from my father’s expectations.”

Damian stood up and circled the room a couple times before turning back to her.

“My father’s expectations make me uncomfortable, but his reasoning is sound. I made choices in my behavior at the last event we hosted that did not meet what was expected of me. Now, I am expected to show attention to the ladies in attendance by dancing and being a proper gentleman in polite society. If you refuse to go with me, I will tell my father when I see him about my deception. I will then behave as I must at the event. If you agree to attend with me, you will benefit from being seen and talking about your design work. That is not disingenuous of you. It is how high society works. Everyone there is trying to advance themselves while also showing off for each other. That would be a good thing for you, and I would also owe you a favor. I could do as much as buying you a fabric store easily, if that is what you wished. After the evening is over, I will come clean to my father, and we will not be romantically linked. You will have just been my date for the evening.”

“Wow. I didn’t expect all that.”

It was Marinette’s turn to stand up and pace around the space. Her hands were tightly clasped in each other, the skin turning white where she squeezed.

“I–” She took a deep breath. “I accept. You really don’t need to owe me anything. I understand why you did what you did. It was a series of unexpected events that collided. Besides, I want to be friends. I’m sure we will see each other from time to time.”

—

It wasn’t nearly as bad as she expected.

It nearly felt like she was in a period piece. Everyone was all dressed up and speaking formally. It was definitely the best collective posture she had seen anywhere during her time in the states and possibly ever. Damian escorted her around on his arm and smiled at all the people he greeted by name and introduced her as his date.

His family was different. They all seemed like they were laughing at some joke, but it didn’t seem like it was at her. They did all seem interested in why she started dating Damian. She supposed that was just how siblings were. She ended up dancing with all of his siblings, Jon and then his father. As well as several dances with Damian and a couple of the other men in attendance.

It was nothing like the fake dates seen in pop culture. Everyone just accepted her as Damian’s date, and she didn’t have to justify it. She made the appropriate responses to her current dance partner. Archibald was handsome and a great dancer; she made sure not to tell him that she didn’t realize real people still had that name. He had been very polite.

Damian was approaching her, but he did not look happy. She glanced around to see if anyone was watching her. She didn’t think she had made any faux pas that would reflect poorly on him, and no one had even suggested that she was only here as a ruse. She had no clue why he suddenly looked so serious.

The crowd was getting louder. Everyone was leaving the dance floor and waiters were efficiently passing out champagne. The glasses were clinking together and people chattering noisily and pairing off.

Damian took her by the arm and pulled her along with him. She stumbled slightly but his arm was there to hold her upright. He took two flutes of champagne and held them in one hand as he took hers in the other and pulled her along to a balcony. All the other guests were moving down outside and once they got out there, she could see a couple other balconies with guests on them. But they were the only ones on this balcony.

“There is a slight possibility that we will be expected to kiss at midnight,” Damian said.

Marinette was so stunned she didn’t register the voices of the crowd start counting down from ten.

“By slight possibility I mean my father just told me that he still expects to see me celebrating at midnight and it should be easy since you are my girlfriend.”

Damian pushed her hair back from her face and cupped her cheek.

“I really hoped he just wouldn’t notice.”

He tilted her face up and looked into her eyes. He didn’t move forward, but his eyes held the question in them.

Marinette pushed forward until she was kissing him.

It was just supposed to be a quick kiss, but she gasped at the spark she felt kissing him. She didn’t pull back, instead her arm went around his neck as she felt his fingers dig into her hair. He pressed closer and held on to her. The fireworks were going off all around, but they didn’t notice anything but each other. They pulled away slowly, breathing a bit more quickly.

Neither seemed to know what to say for a moment.

Marinette picked up a glass of champagne and clinked it against Damian’s glass before taking a sip.

“Happy New Year,” she whispered, before leaning in to kiss him again.

[omega-e123]

Dude I’ve been having thots,, I must share them with you and get ur opinion or reaction especially since a lot of ur shadow smuts revolve around a certain hedgy having a breeding kink. Imagine if you’re on birth control tablets and he sees you taking them one day and you tell him what they’re for, I feel like he’d either get all grumpy and sad because oh boy does he have a massive breeding kink even if he knew rationally you probably were on some sort of contraception (that’s even if it could happen) or he’d get all gloomy n sad but would refuse to tell you because he thinks it’s silly and immature to feel that way especially if you’ve been together for a while, but I feel like he’d probably let it slip when you’re both getting freaky afterwards because it would mix in with his dirty talk about how hes gonna fuck the birth control out of you 💀

!! NSFW !!

This is in the time he’s not ready to be a father, but has the kink.

Shadow seems like the type of person to have discussed safety and methods prior along with whether or not if it’s even possible. He’s not going to take that risk, especially at your expense.

During the season, sometimes Shadow magically forgets. Absolutely fixated on you. Remembering causes him to get frustrated. The hell are you on pills for? You should be wanting a child just as mush as he does!

“Hmph. Do what you want. I won’t let something minor such as a pill get in my way. ”

Oh boy, if it moves on to sulking. The rush of emotions Shadow gets are definitely being internalized until it’s time to get down and dirty 100%. Like a balloon bursting as it slowly gets filled up with air. Those are rough sessions. Your poor legs won’t be working for a while.

Outside of rutting season, he rationally knows you’re on birth control pills. It still doesn’t lessen the embarrassment after Shadow’s hormones have calmed. His cheeks are going to match his gay highlights.

If the first time was spontaneous and he found out later down the line after multiple attempts, Shadow would absolutely be upset and annoyed. A pouty hedgehog is in your hands.

Grabbing you by the hips, Shadow leans in close. His breath tickling your lips, “You’re telling me all this effort attempting to put a baby in you was a waste of time?” A yelp is forced out of you when his hand slid down to firmly grab your ass. “Or perhaps, I need to try harder?”

Shadow struggling even more to keep his distance away from you, now knowing you’re on birth control. The pill is 99% effective and he is desperately trying to convince himself that 1% chance of it failing. Even then, that’s only if you’re taking them perfectly. Typical use is 91% effective. Odds are stacked against him, but Shadow is the ultimate life form goddamnit!

“Seven out of a hundred get pregnant on the pill… I’m determined to make you one of them.”

[motorsportbarbie13]

The Princess & The Pilot

In which Lando Norris meets his childhood crush, who just happens to be an actual princess.

Warnings: none Pairing: Lando Norris x BritishPrincess!Reader Word Count: 3.5k or something

(quick note: running late for a meeting this morning but wanted to get this out. I'll update the tag list later tonight when/if I have time. Enjoy the new seriesssss!)

Master List

There must be a foreign power invading London. 

That is the only reason you can think that your assistant would be waking you up at 8am the morning after you spent nearly 12 hours entertaining Argentinian foreign dignitaries with your father yesterday. When you had tumbled into bed at 2am after the state dinner the previous night, the last words you had mumbled to Noelle were ‘please don’t wake me up before noon tomorrow.’ 

This was supposed to be your one day off after attending engagements with your parents four days in a row. 

“I’m so sorry, your highness.” Noelle whispers from where she stands at the foot of her bed. You immediately wonder if the palace groundskeepers would be willing to install a set of locks on the doors to your apartments that only you had the keys to. 

“Noelle, you’ve been my assistant for how many years now? You can call me by my first name.” You grumble from under the thick cream duvet that you had tugged over your head moments before. 

You glare at Noelle but immediately regret it when you see the anxious look on the older woman’s face. This wasn’t her choice, you realized. “What does my father want now?” 

Noelle worries at the corner of her lip before holding out her cell phone. “He’s been trying to reach you for an hour now. Insisted I come wake you up.” 

“He’s been unable to reach me because he swore up and down last night that I’d get today off from anything family related.” You complain, unable to keep the whine out of your voice.  

Tossing off the covers, you swing your legs over the side of your king sized bed before reaching out to take Noelle’s phone from her. You can see the active call ticking away with your father’s name on the caller ID ‘HRH King Edward’ 

“Good morning Papa.” You expertly adjust your tone, knowing that if your father hears one single hint of grouchiness in your voice you’ll never hear the end of it. “Everything okay?” 

“Your brother is sick.” His tone is brisk and you try to tell yourself he doesn’t mean to be short with you. He is literally the King of England after all. You’re sure he’s got a few things on his mind beyond worrying about waking his youngest child up at the crack of dawn. 

“Does he need me to bring him something? Soup? Medicine?” 

Your father scoffs on the other end of the line. “Don’t be silly.” He scolds. “My doctor has already been in to see him this morning. It’s just the flu, but he is contagious.” 

You’re silent on your end of the phone, knowing there is more to come as the news of your older brother being sick didn’t really warrant an early morning phone call. 

“I need you to take over the engagement he was going to do today.” 

It takes every ounce of royal training for you not to groan. You’d been attending events and engagements all weekend long, standing in for your mother who also was sick with the flu. “Can’t Mike do it?” 

Your youngest brother Michael was in his final year at Oxford before he’d go on to do the requisite military training but he was still able to engagements here and there. 

“Michael has exams this week, so he is unavailable.” 

You nearly suggest your sister-in-law Charlotte take her husbands place but know that would also be turned down as she’s been busy with her new well baby charity and juggling having two young children at home as well. The weight of the expectations of being the second eldest child of the King of England hangs heavy on your shoulders as the sunlight pours in through the curtains Noelle has drawn back. It’s a gorgeous spring day in London, which you know is rare this time of year. You had been planning on spending the day out on the private gardens that are tucked away in a hidden part of the palace not open to tourists reading a book in the quiet. 

“What’s the engagement then?” You sigh, resigning yourself to the fact that once again, your family duties were coming before your own personal agenda. 

You tried so hard not to be resentful of the weight of who you were and most of the time, you were fine with your station in life. You lived a very privileged, if not somewhat regimented and controlled, life as the only daughter to King Edward and Queen Matilde of the United Kingdom. Your parents, while busy with their own lives and duties, adored you and your two brothers, Sebastian and Michael. They had worked hard when you were younger to make sure that you and your siblings were raised as normally as possible, which hadn’t always been easy. 

“You’ll be going out to the Silverstone Circuit in Towcester to meet with some people from the McLaren Formula 1 team. They're the Duke of Dover Awards newest partner and their drivers are doing some laps the track with children from the local schools. They’d like to take you on the track too.” 

Your brother had started the Duke of Dover Awards when he had married Charlotte 10 years ago and had inherited the title as the heir to the throne. The foundation awarded hundreds of thousands of pounds each year to kids and teenagers that applied to be recipients of grants to improve their communities, start small businesses, and conduct scientific research. It was your brother’s brainchild and baby and you were shocked that Sebastian had agreed to allow anyone that wasn’t him to go near an event of theirs. 

Sighing, you stand and shrug on the silk robe that was hanging form the little hook next to your bed. You were certainly not getting a day off today, now were you? “Okay, sounds straight forward enough. Does Noelle have the details?” 

“Yes, Noelle has everything you’ll need. Thank you for helping, little dove.” 

Your heart squeezes as the nickname your father has used since you were a toddler. You knew he carried a heavy weight with the crown on his head and expected nothing but the best from himself, and by extension you and your siblings, at all times because of it. He meant well and loved you fiercely, you knew that but sometimes it got lost in the legacy of what it meant to be a Windsor. 

“Of course, Papa.” 

You hang up and hand the phone back to your assistant. “Papa says you have all the details. Could you have everything printed out so I can read it in the car. Towcester is quite far away, isn’t it?” 

“About an hour and a half, if traffic is good.” 

You nod, mind jumping into preparation mode. The timeline that had landed in your inbox while you had been on the phone with your father said you needed to be there a little after 1pm, which gave you enough time to get ready. “Can you call Tibby, give her the details and have her pull some outfits for me? I can do my own makeup and I don’t think I’ll need anything fancy for hair, yeah?” 

Noelle nods, eyes skimming her emails. “Your brother’s valet says he was planning on wearing jeans and a jumper, so it sounds casual. Natural makeup and a sporty ponytail, maybe?” 

“That’s fine, I can do that myself.” Sometimes it chafed at you how much had to go into your appearance. You could never really go out looking sloppy or unkempt because the bad press that it inevitably invited drove your mother crazy. If your father was preoccupied with the weight of his crown, your mother was preoccupied with the weight of what her image meant to millions of people. It was a difficult relationship to navigate and you didn’t always do a good job, so you tried to maintain at least the minimum appearance standards your mother requested just to appease her. 

Noelle snaps into action, calling Sebastian’s valet to get some more details on the people that will be present along with any other notes he had thought important. You pad towards your private bathroom to take a shower and get ready for what you assumed would be another routine royal engagement. 

And boy, how wrong you were. 

“Are you nervous?” Oscar mutters as he comes to lean against the counter in the garage next to where Lando stands, scrolling on his phone.

Lando looks up, confusion knitting his brows together. “Nervous for what?” 

As far as he knew, this was just going to be another routine event with some kids and the Duke of Dover, who he'd already met last year during the race at Silverstone. Nothing to be nervous about really.

“To meet the princess!” Oscar chuckles, knocking his shoulder into Lando's.

“Princess?" The crease on his forehead deepens even more. "I thought it was the Duke that was coming. Isn’t it his awards thing that we're partnering with?” 

Oscar shrugs. “Zak said the Duke is sick. His sister is coming instead. Apparently she just pulled in as well. Sophie is running around like a chicken with it's head cut off. Something about not being prepared for her."  

Oh. A thick sense of anxiety settles in the pit of Lando's stomach. Oh fuck. This changed things. He certainly hadn't been nervous before but now he was, knowing that it was you that he'd be driving around the track instead of your brother.

Like most guys his age, Lando had grown up with photos of you taped to the back of his door and indulged in several...interesting and not very polite fantasies when he was in his teens. In fact, now that Lando thinks about it, you were probably his very first crush. You had been the first princess to be born into the Royal family in two generations and the press had fallen in love with you the day you were born, dubbing you the English Rose that was going to save the monarchy.

Once you reached your 18th birthday and debuted into society, taking your place beside your older brother and parents by working for the family full time while going to university to study international business, the country had fallen even more in love with you. Your family was well loved by the entirety of the Common Wealth but you? You were absolutely everyone's favorite Windsor by a country mile. And that included the British Formula One driver.

"You okay, mate?" Oscar's thick accent shakes Lando out of his day dream.

"Oh, yeah." Lando replies weakly, rubbing the palm of his hand over his jaw, glad he had shaved this morning and put a bit of extra care into his hair.

"Boys!" Sophie, McLaren's head of Public Relations, yells at the entrance of the garage, fists on her hips as she taps her toe glaring at the pair. "The princess is here and everyone is waiting on you."

"Coming." Lando mumbles, desperately trying to tamp down the nerves that are making his stomach do somersaults. This is like a teenage wet dream come true.

Just outside the garage is a group of people clustered around several McLaren sports cars waiting to get started. Lando can see Zak chatting with you from 50 meters away and he loses all ability to think straight when he sees you in person for the first time. You're dressed in dark wash jeans that hug your curves and, much to Lando's surprise, a papaya colored knit jumper. With your hair pulled back in a high ponytail, your delicate features on full display. He couldn't help thinking how much better you looked in real life compared to the glossy magazine photos he used to keep tacked up to his bedroom wall.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Lando, Oscar, and Sophie approaching before Zak does but you don't allow the group to distract you from your conversation with McLaren's CEO. That kind of behavior would send your mother into a tailspin. She hadn't sent you off to boarding school at the age of 12 for nothing after all. But you can't help how your stomach twists when you lock eyes with the boy with the curly hair. A nervous ghost of a smile plays at the corner of his full lips, sending goosebumps exploding over your skin.

"Oh, there they are!" Zak finally notices the drivers and Sophie and moves to introduce everyone. Behind you, Noelle hovers, lying in wait to correct anyone who might break royal protocol when it comes to interacting with you. You desperately wish she would've let you come alone.

Introductions are made and you try your hardest to ignore the way your skin sparks when you shake hands with Lando. Zak explains how the afternoon is going to go and that Lando is going to take you around the track on a hot lap while Oscar and a few other reserve McLaren drivers take the kids out behind.

"Nervous, your highness?" Lando asks as he checks the chin strap on your crash helmet.

The way your stomach dips when he smiles at you has nothing to do with nerves.

"You're about to whip me around this race track at speeds that could kill me, I think you can call me by my first name, Lando." You tease, deflecting the real reason your palms are sweating.

Lando blushes, eyes falling to the ground. "I guess that's true. Just didn't want your lady in waiting to tackle me for committing some protocol crime, I guess."

The laugh that escapes you would send your mother into a complete fit it's so sudden and loud. "She does look like she's lying in wait, doesn't she?" Your eyes dart above Lando's shoulder where Noelle stands, eyes trained on you as if she's expecting someone to attack at any moment.

"She's just a little...protective." You say, voice going soft. "Last year we had a little incident where I was being stalked for several months. The guy thought we were engaged and he somehow managed to get around my protection officers and into my building at 3 in the morning. They caught him outside my door with duct tape, rope and a knife in his bag."

Your eyes go wide with horror as you realize what you've just said. No one in the public knew about that, your parents had insisted on keeping the investigation quiet. The man had been sent to a psychiatric facility with the blessing of his family and charges hadn't been filed in order to protect your privacy. You had no idea why you had just spilled one of your most closely kept secrets to a veritable stranger.

"Well then I'm glad she's here to watch over you." Lando's voice is quiet, like he knows you don't want others overhearing this conversation. "I'd hate to think of anything happening to such a pretty girl."

For several moments, the busy pitlane falls away a bit as Lando's hands remain on the straps of your helmet and he looks at you like he's known you for your entire life. You're used to people staring at you and being under the microscope but the way Lando looks at you makes you want to squirm in the most delicious way possible.

"Okay, you two!" Zak booms, shocking you out of the little bubble that had grown around you and Lando those few moments. "Lets get you out on the track. Lando, please remember this is a member of the royal family, I'd rather not have to leave the country if you injure her."

"What kind of knight in shining armor would I be if I hurt the princess in my charge?" Lando quips, aiming a wink your way before rounding the hood of the low slung papaya colored McLaren.

You can't help the way you snort in response to his flirting, it's so ridiculous but you also can't ignore the way your stomach twists in delight at the way Lando's tongue works around the word princess while he looks at you.

You had to be careful though. Despite Lando being famous and well off in his own right, you were even a step above that and life had taught you that even the most well connected and rich men saw you as the ultimate prize. Who wouldn't want to marry the only daughter to the King of England, even if they had billions. You can't buy a real royal pedigree. Not like the one you had, dating back generations on both sides of your family.

No, you couldn't allow yourself the luxury of lowered walls but you could allow yourself to indulge in a little innocent flirting, because that's all it would ever or could ever be with Lando Norris.

"Zak, can I file a workplace injury claim if I've gone deaf this afternoon from her screeching?" Lando complained as he held out a hand to help you out of the McLaren 45 minutes later.

"I have no idea what you're talking about! Princesses don't screech." You sniff, smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as you yank your hand out of his grasp the moment you're steady on your feet.

Lando snorts now, rolling his eyes, enjoying the color that flushes in high on your cheekbones. He was the one to make you blush like that and it sends a zing of arousal straight to his cock. While you had been in the car with Lando, before he had scared the daylights out of you, he'd been able to overcome the initial nerves of meeting his boyhood crush and had settled into a flirty conversation. The way you two bantered back and forth so naturally was new to Lando and kind of unnerving to him, but in a good way.

"I'm inclined to believe if the princess was driven to 'screech' that it was all your fault, Lando." Zak jokes with a shrug before turning to you. "Thank you so much for coming out this afternoon and filling in for your brother. We got some great shots of you guys on the track and before with everyone together."

You nod, smiling at the group that's now gathered. Beside you, Lando has wiggled his way between Noelle and yourself so he's settled in at your side. "Wonderful. I'm sure they'll be the perfect content you guys all need. Is there anything else you need from me today? Did all the kids get laps on the track and the merch bags?"

Sophie nods, "Yes ma'am, no one left empty handed."

You sigh internally knowing that the day is almost over. You can taste the freedom of the back seat of the Range Rover where you can finally let your mask down for a few extra moments. You loved days like this, busy and filled with lost of interaction with the public but it was also exhausting beyond measure. You knew you'd sleep well tonight, having attended events nearly every night for the past 9 days.

"Good, thank you." Your eyes find the McLaren CEO who stands across from you. "Zak, I assume we'll see you at the awards gala Saturday night?"

Zak nods, "Yes, Oscar and I will be there."

You can't help the bit of disappointment that blooms in your chest when he doesn't say Lando's name. You hate it and ignore it the best you can because it simply isn't acceptable. So instead you lean on your years of training and upbringing to hide your true feelings. "Lovely, I can't wait to see you both again."

As Lando watches your car pull away, he can't help but feel a little disappointed that your time together is up.

"What awards gala was she talking about? Why wasn't I invited? Lando practically whines, turning to Zak once the Range Rover is out of sight.

Zak chuckles "You were invited Norris and you turned it down because, and I quote, 'you don't do boring awards dinners that aren't written into your contract'."

Lando kicks at a rock with his sneaker, feeling a bit foolish. "Well, I guess I'm just going to have to make an exception for this one then."

Zak narrows his eyes, not liking where he thinks Lando's head is going. "Listen Norris, I know your personal life is none of my business."

"And you'd be right in that assesment, Zak." Lando responds cooly.

Zak holds his hand up, "But I'd be remiss if I didn't remind you that whatever I think is going on in your head about the woman that just left the track is probably a bad idea. A princess like her is not able to have a casual relationship like the ones your used to. Just..." Zak pauses, trying to put his advice in the best words possible. "Just be careful, okay?"

"Message recieved loud and clear, Zak." Lando mutters before turning and walking back towards the garages.

[adrienneleclerc]

so i’ve been a virgin my whole life right, and my family (like true latino fashion) they always bring it up and makes jokes and my nickname about it. if i EVER say anything about losing my virginity, dios mío, no me avergüenzo. anyways my sisters always say that when im 25 they will give me a birthday that say new record 25 years of virginity. but i can’t help think that charles is celebrating your 25 with your family and see this and turns red, because he knows the truth 👀. and your sisters realize what is happening so the next week they give you a cake that say congrats on no longer being the virgin

Oh my god, I LOVE THIS IDEA!!! It’s new, it’s unique, me encanta tu imaginación, de verdad. I am also a virgin, 21 years and counting, jajaja, haven’t been in a relationship either so this is going to be fun to write. I hope I did your idea justice!

The 25 Year-Old “Virgin”

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Where Y/N spends her birthday with her family who still think she’s a virgin with Charles, the boyfriend who made her not a virgin anymore.

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: sorry it took so long, I try to make the Spanish as neutral as possible but I am Mexican and Peruvian so there will always be nods to my cultures, I am sorry.

Y/N was sleeping and turned over to hug to Charles but his side of the bed was empty and there was only a bouquet of white and pink roses. This made Y/N sit up in bed and check her phone. It was 8am, she put on her house slippers, took the bouquet in her hand, and walked into the kitchen for something to eat and she saw balloons, more white and pink roses, and Charles making breakfast to some piano music. Charles turned around and saw his girlfriend.

“Mon ange, you’re awake! Happy birthday, beautiful.” Charles said, leaving his station to give Y/N a quick kiss before finishing his cooking.

“This is amazing, muñeco, when did you wake up to do all of this?” Y/N asked, sitting at the kitchen counter.

“6am, i tried really hard not to wake you.” Charles said, serving Y/N’s breakfast on a plate and placing it right in front of her. “Your parents called, they want to host your birthday party at their house.” Charles said and Y/N looked shocked. Y/N and her family moved from New York to Monaco when she was 18, Y/N started dating Charles last year, a little after she turned 24, so Charles doesn’t know how her parents and sisters get.

“Are you sure we can’t just have a small party here?” Y/N asked.

“Mon coeur, I have never met your parents in person, I’ve only talked to them on the phone, I would love to meet them, we’ve been dating for almost a year.” Charles said.

“I know but you don’t know what they’re like.” Y/N said, eating her breakfast. “I’m glad that dating me made you a better cook, this is so good.”

“Ha ha, i asked my mom for cooking lessons since we started dating. Your parents want us at their house at 3.” Charles said.

“Fine, you pick out my outfit while I shower and do my hair.” Y/N said,

“You’re not gonna do your makeup?” Charles asked.

“It would be better if I didn’t,” Y/N said, knowing one of her sisters would probably push her head into the cake, it happened last year.

Y/N got out of the shower with her bathrobe on and she saw the what Charles left on the bed.

“You love seeing me in this dress, don’t you?” Y/N asked, picking up the dress.

“It makes you look so innocent like an Angel, even though we both know that’s not true.” Charles said, kissing Y/N.

“You and your innocence/corruption kink, it will ruin you, you know.” Y/N said, putting on a pair of panties and one of Charles’s shirts so she could do her hair and skincare routine.

“I think I’m the one that’s ruining you, Mon coeur,” Charles said.

“Yeah that, that right there is something you can’t say in front of my family. Are you wearing a suit?” Y/N asked.

“Of course I am, because we are going out of something goes wrong.” Charles said.

Y/N and Charles are outside her parents house, they knocked on the door and her mom opened.

“Ay, mi Lupita, how are you? Come in, come in, your sisters are picking up your cake.” Y/N’s mom, Hilda, said.

“Lupita?” Charles asked.

“I’ll explain later.” Y/N said. Charles and Y/N walked into the house to see her dad, José, setting up the table.

“Mija, there you are! Happy birthday, mi niña chiquita, never had to worry about boys in the house with this one growing up. So charles how are you?” Jose asked.

“I’ve been good, it’s nice to see you in person.” Charles said.

“Same here, son. Come to the kitchen, you need to eat.” Jose said and Charles turned to Y/N.

“Andrea is going to kill me.” Charles said before entering the kitchen where Hilda made him a plate of tacos dorados de papa, pollo a la brasa, jalea de mariscos (mixed fried seafood so like calamari, clams, fish, shrimp, crab), white rice, French fries. Charles left the kitchen and sat at the dining table next to Y/N. “I’m gonna have to do so much cardio to burn this off. Maybe you’ll help me with that.” Charles whispered the last part in Y/N’s ear.

“I Can’t with you. But I really want jalea so I’m just gonna steal this piece of calamari.” Y/N said, taking a fried calamari ring from Charles’s plate. “Delicious! I’m gonna make my plate.” Y/N said, getting up and thats when her sisters, Maria Luisa and Angelica entered the house with the cake.

“Hola todos! Tenemos el pastel.” María Luisa said, putting her keys on the hook and walking to the kitchen. “Lupe! So good to see you, hermanita. You look good, love the dress, very you.”

“Charles! Nice to finally meet you, I hope being with Y/N isn’t too boring, you know.” Angelica said and Y/N rolled her eyes and turned to charles.

“Don’t listen to them, muñeco.” Y/N said before entering the kitchen to make her own plate of food, sitting down next to Charles.

The little “party” was going well, Charles was getting along with José, there were no jokes at Y/N’s expense, it was all great until.

“Okay, time to cut the cake.” Hilda said, bringing out the cake to place it in front of Y/N with the candles lit on the dinner table.

The cake read “New Record: 25 Years of Virginity”. Y/N looked up at Charles and covered her face with her hands while Charles’s face turned Ferrari red and he scratched the back of his neck. María Luisa and Angelica stared at Y/N and then at Charles. The two girls laughed.

“No manches! Ay mami, pásame algo para quitar el frosting, ya no creo que esto aplica a ella.” Angélica told Hilda. No fucking way. Mom, pass me something to scrape the frosting off, I don’t think this applies to her anymore

“Angelica!” Y/N yelled. “Que oso, neta, mejor ustedes se quedan con el pastel, Charles y yo tenemos planes. Muñeco, Let’s go.” Y/N said, getting up how embarrassing, seriously, y’all can keep the cake, Charles and I have other plans.

“It was nice meeting all of you.” Charles said, before leaving with Y/N.

“Usan protección!” Marcia Luisa screamed out and Y/N flipped her off, causing her sisters to laugh and their parents hit them upside the head. Charles and Y/N walked to his car and Y/N turned on the radio.

“So…that’s why your mom called you Lupita?” Charles asked.

“Yep, the Virgin Mary, La virgencita de Guadalupe, Lupita. Ugh, I’m so sorry about that, my sisters are…well, they’re my sisters.” Y/N said.

“It’s fine, Mon coeur, at least they won’t tease you anymore.” Charles said.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. Can we still make it to our reservation?” Y/N asked.

“Yes we can, do you want cake for dessert? You can’t celebrate your birthday without cake.” Charles said,

“One slice should be good, let’s go.” Y/N said.

A week later, Y/N and Charles were sleeping, cuddled up together when they heard the doorbell ring.

“Mon coeur, get the door.” Charles moaned out.

“No way, muñeco, this is your apartment.” Y/N said, burying her face in his neck.

“Mon ange, I’m semi hard and I don’t think I should answer the door like this.” Charles said, the doorbell rang again.

“Alright, I’ll go.” Y/N said, kissing Charles’s neck.

“That’s not helping my situation.” Charles said.

“I know.” Y/N said, she got out of bed, put on her chanclas, and answered the door, her two sisters were holding a white box.

“Surprise!” They said. Y/N motioned for them to come in.

“Whats that?” Y/N asked.

“Well we felt bad about last week so we got you a new cake and some pan dulce.” Angelica said as María Luisa placed the box on the kitchen counter.

“Open the box, it’s your favorite flavor.” María Luisa said. Y/N hesitantly opened the box and when she saw the frosting she laughed.

“Se pasan, de verdad.” Y/N said. “But thank you. I’m sure Charles will get a kick out of this.”

“So…you lost your virginity to an F1 driver. I’m so jealous,” María Luisa said,

“Yeah, I’m pretty lucky, he was so gentle to me. Now get out.” Y/N said,

“You’re so mean to us.” Angelica said.

“Dude, you guys are late for work.” Y/N said, showing her sisters the time.

“Oh shit we are, see you later.” María Luisa said, pushing Angelica out the door and running down the stairs. Y/N closed the door and that’s when Charles entered the kitchen in boxers where she can see his semi hard on.

“Your sisters came over?” Charles asked.

“Yep, and with a new cake for us.” Y/N said, Charles walked to the counter and saw the cake, she laughed lightly.

“Well i am glad that I got to be the one to ‘pop your cherry’, I hate that expression, by the way.” Charles said. Y/N walked to Charles, having one hand on his shoulder and the other on his chest while charles placed his hands on her waist.

“It doesn’t matter. By the way, we never got to have birthday sex and I believe you need some bell with your situation.” Y/N’s said, trailing her hand from his chest to the elastic of his boxers.

“I guess we should fix that with some morning sex, don’t you think?” Charles asked in a flirtatious manner,

“Oh absolutely.” Y/N replied and Charles carried her to the bedroom.

The End

Hope y’all liked it! It was very fun to write, not gonna lie. I also started watching Drive To Survive because if I don’t have F1 TV, I’m gonna keep myself entertained with something F1 related

[ba9go]

two smart cookies

bakugou katsuki x reader

u.a.!bkg and reader, exam stress and study sessions, bkg comforts reader, soft bkg hours, fluff (sfw)

part 2/3 of the cookie craving collection (completed!)

more cookies for you? part 1 (sfw) 🍪 part 3

you were never the best at academics. sure, you came to your classes on time, paid attention during lessons, took down notes, and did your homework on time.

still, you were never the top of your class, and you didn’t mind it, really. i mean, u.a. was full of brilliant students! you never let your grade or rankings deter your efforts from trying your best.

katsuki, on the other hand, has always been an all-rounder. back in junior high, he berated izuku for being a shitty nerd, but the truth is, katsuki was quite the nerd himself. even now, in u.a., katsuki studies hard to get perfect grades — and he does, every single time. because katsuki deserves it, you think.

you know katsuki like the back of your hand. you know that he wants to do well, to become the number one pro hero, to be the damn best. and anything that katsuki wants, you knew he would get. katsuki has always been relentless like that, unshakeable resolve and unwavering determination. that’s the stubborn katsuki that you knew and loved.

sometimes, you can’t help but wonder if you’re falling behind.

sighing, you close your laptop, burying your face in your hands. you rubbed at your eyes drearily, willing yourself to stay awake just a bit longer. there was a huge test next week, and you wanted to ace it, wanted to be able to show off to katsuki, wanted to make him proud of you for once.

it’s only 1am. classes start at 8 tomorrow. you got this. you gulped a few mouthfuls from your water bottle (katsuki banned you from drinking coffee; “stay off that shit! it makes ya all jittery! s’not healthy for ya, idiot!”). you opened your laptop, and continued studying until you fell asleep at your desk.

you barely managed to stay awake during your 8am class. the bell rings, and it’s time for recess. but instead of leaving to grab lunch, you fold your arms under your head to lay down on your desk. your eyes fluttered close, and you drifted off into sleep…

meanwhile, katsuki’s frowning, waiting for you at the canteen. he looks down at his phone. no new notifications. he scowls. normally, you’d text him when your class overran. his frown deepens when he sees a few of your classmates stream in to queue for their food.

he tries to stay calm and rational. maybe you went to the restroom? maybe you had questions, and stayed back after your lesson? maybe you’re already on your way? but it’s already been almost 10 minutes and— “fuck this shit,” katsuki swears, and starts walking in the direction of your block.

katsuki’s worried. his hands are clammy with sweat, balled up into fists in his pockets. he’s walking briskly down the hallway, stressing about what might’ve happened to you.

he freezes at the doorway of your classroom.

for a moment, he’s angry. katsuki glares at your sleeping frame, then at your messy desk, stacks of paper and sticky notes strewn about, and he’s thinking god, you’re so irresponsible, you’re clearly overworking yourself, the fuck are you even that stressed for—

katsuki walks over, and he’s fuming.

he notices the eyebags under your eyes, notices the sticky note pasted right on the front of your laptop.

katsuki’s pissed off, partially at you, but mostly at himself. how did he not realise?

katsuki taps your shoulder gently. you stir awake, and his heart aches as he watches your tired eyes blink open. he walks to your side and kneels next to you.

“‘suki?” you mumble, raising your head to look at him. “oh god, i’m so sorry, i forgot to…” you words trail off as katsuki places his face in your lap.

“fuck that,” katsuki mumbles.

“huh?”

katsuki’s quiet for a while. he’s so still, until his shoulders start to shake and you feel him trembling against you and you feel wet, hot tears on your legs. you start to apologise, but katsuki speaks again.

“s’not a total victory,” katsuki says, and his voice cracks halfway. “i can’t win…” he finally looks up at you, shaking his head, and it hurts, seeing your katsuki break down in front of you like that. “not when you’re not okay…”

you hold katsuki’s face gently in your hands, thumbs moving to wipe across his tear-streaked cheeks. tears of your own start to cloud your vision. “katsuki, i’m sorry,” you whisper shakily, but katsuki shakes his head again, prying himself away from your hands. he leans forward to bury his face in your tummy. your wrap your arms around his shoulders instead, one hand rubbing soothing circles into his back.

“i can’t,” katsuki hugs your waist tightly. “don’t want to see you suffer like this, i can’t, y/n.” you feel a pang of guilt. “please.”

“i’m sorry, katsuki,” you sobbed. “i.. i just wanted to do good, for you. wanted you t’be proud of me.”

katsuki looks up at you slowly. “why wouldn’t i be?”

“my grades suck—”

“hah? we havin’ the same conversation right now? what the fuck does that gotta do with anythin’?!”

“i’m stupid! and i can’t be your sidekick if i stay stupid!” you whine.

katsuki stands up. he claps your face in his hands, squishing your cheeks between them. he’s frowning, glaring daggers at you.

“what are you,” he asks dryly.

“…an idiot sandwich.”

katsuki sighs, letting go of your face. without warning, he traps you in a loose headlock, his free hand ruffling your hair roughly.

“damn right you are,” katsuki scoffs. “but yer not stupid. ya got that?” he kisses your forehead. “the smartest girl i know. my girl. ya got some nerve, callin’ my girl stupid. ya wanna die?”

as he continues drowning you in his affection berating you, you’re reminded again of just how much katsuki loves you.

“yer already smart. don’t gotta do anythin’ to prove shit to me, or any other fucker. someone been tellin’ ya things, behind my back? what’s gotten into you, hm?”

“no. got myself stressed ‘bout my test next week, s’all,” you admit with a pout.

“next time yer fuckin’ stressed, ya come to me, got it?” katsuki pulls you into a tight hug. “no more of this overworkin’ yourself bullshit. ya need sleep to focus in class, damn it!”

“i knoooow—”

“ya clearly don’t,” katsuki scolds. then, he rests his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes seriously. “take better care of yourself.”

“mm,” you hum.

he kisses your lips. “i’m serious. i need my future sidekick in tiptop condition, ya hear me?” you frown at his words.

“am i really good enough?” the question slips from your lips before you can stop yourself.

katsuki kisses you again. he pulls back with a smile, the one that’s reserved just for you.

“yer the damn best thing that’s ever happened to me,” katsuki says easily, confidently.

you smile.

“thank you, hero.”

dynamy has my whole heart

taglist (thank you for your support!!): @anicaaa67 @maddietries @nemisimp @an-na-bella @valeriyaaak @buggie07 @v3n7s

[elihermit]

lost in the memories

pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley x fem!reader

summary: after the incident at work where Buck had to rescue you, you ended up in coma and relieved every moment of your relationship with Buck

word count: 2,1k

note from the writer: i’m so excited to finally share my first imagine with you! i’m taking requests 🫧

Breath in and breathe out. That’s what Buck always said when you start panicking and feel anxious. But today this panic was not over missing a deadline for your task at work, it wasn’t something you could easily fix.

You work as a psychologist who helps your patients get through the trauma of the past and find the strength to move on.

The day started as usual: morning kisses and cuddles with Buck, breakfast, I love you's, and you both went to work. But then everything is just blank, you didn't even get a chance to take your first patient or maybe you did? You can’t even remember.

You woke up at your apartment, cuddling your favorite toy, you got it when you were 9 years old and since then — it’s your lucky charm. You look at your screen to check the time — “8am”. Good, you have time to grab the breakfast at your favorite spot.

Brush your teeth, shower, get dressed, put on some makeup and you’re ready to go.

“Good morning, (Y/N)! Let me guess, latte with raspberry syrup and English breakfast?” — it was Alice, the waitress in your favorite spot. You go here almost every day and you truly can say that she became your friend.

“Good morning, Alice! Yes, you know I can’t start my day without you teasing me and my favorite coffee to get through this.” — you can’t help but smile, she really knows how to highlight your day.

“Of course.” — Alice smiled. “How many patients do you have today? I think I need to make you two coffees.” — she remembered when yesterday you had 5 patients and you came back to the cafe to buy one extra coffee. You loved your job, but sometimes it was too much even for your professional head. Poor people, they don’t deserve to live with all of those traumas.

“Yes please. You’re an angel!” — you gave her a grateful look and agreed on her offer.

Now you have 30 minutes to eat your breakfast and the place was so packed, you were lucky to take the table the moment you walked into the cafe.

About halfway through enjoying your breakfast and making your schedule for tomorrow, you heard someone approaching you.

“Excuse me, I’m so sorry for disturbing you, but could I please sit with you? There’s no empty table and I think I will actually go nuts if I don’t eat.” — you raise your head and it was the most gorgeous man you have ever laid your eyes on. Pretty blue eyes, brown hair and the body of Greek God. Fuck, you stared too long, gotta answer quickly.

“Of course. I got you, this morning anger because of being hungry is not very cutesy.” — you laughed and pointed at the seat in front of you.

“Oh my god, yes! Thank you so much, my co-workers just got saved from my rudeness by…” — he sat down and didn’t finish his sentence so you could tell him your name.

“I’m (Y/N), nice to meet you. Happy to help, we don’t want to give your co-workers some traumas.” — you chuckled. God, you can’t forget about your work even when you have free time.

“That’s very true.” — he laughed. “I’m Evan, but you can call me Buck.” — the way he smiled… This image definitely won’t leave your head.

Suddenly, everything went dark. It’s like there was only one lamp that shined on your table. Buck started crying. You never heard any man cry like this. So much pain, desperation and suffering. With his head on his hands, you could see how his shoulders trembled with every cry.

He raised his head and looked into your eyes with so much sadness.

“Please, come back to me.”

Darkness. You move your finger. Why can you move ONLY your finger? What’s going on? It doesn’t feel right. You can’t see, you can’t move, you can’t speak and hear. Just darkness.

You open the door. Here he is, in all of his glory. Your partner, your love, your friend and your boyfriend in one person.

“Okay, I got every snack you like, you ready for our movie night?” — there’s a big bag of goods in front of Buck and he’s smiling like The Cheshire Cat.

You smile and pull him into the kiss. The sweetest kiss you have ever had. The best lips you have ever tasted. You already knew it would end up being Netflix & Chill.

“I missed you so much.” — you say into his lips and he gives you one more kiss before leading you to the couch.

You sat on the couch immediately getting trapped in his embrace. You didn’t mind at all. There’s no place in the world where you would rather be.

“Did you pick a movie? It’s your turn today, baby.” — you loved your tradition when at least 2-3 times a week you have movie nights. Last time you watched a movie called… You actually can’t remember, making love to each other sounded better after 15 minutes into the movie.

“Yes.” — he makes you look into his face. “Come back to me.”

Darkness. What the fuck is going on? You can feel you squeeze someone’s hand but you can’t see anything. Is that some kind of dream? More like a nightmare actually. Why are you getting pulled out of the most happiest moments of your life?

Buck. You feel so scared without him, you feel so alone. You want to scream “I’m here!”, but not a single word comes out of your mouth. That must be some kind of horrible joke.

You look into the mirror one more time and notice Buck staring at you with a smile.

“Okay, baby, first of all — you know you can stare and touch.” — you said with a smirk and Buck immediately made his way over you. He put his hands on your waist and yours gently fell on his neck. “Secondly, remind me again why we’re gathering in the middle of the week?”

You took a day off, because Buck was convincing you that no one has any other free day and only today they can all meet up together. Honestly, you loved being at Bobby’s and Athena’s house, especially when everyone was there too. Eddie with Christopher, Hen with Karen, Chim with Maddie. It’s like having a second family and you were grateful that they accepted you and loved you as much as Buck loves you.

“(Y/N), I told you it’s the only day when everyone is actually free.” — he said and kissed you. “And to be honest, I just wanted one more day off for you, you were working your ass off past weeks.”

True. For some reason you took more patients than usual and it was exhausting two weeks. Buck is always worried when you overwork yourself, so you didn’t hesitate long when he asked you to take a day off, you felt like you needed that too.

The evening was going great. Everyone is talking, laughing, dancing and eating. It was the most fun days when you all meet up together and Buck knew you loved it. So when Buck asked everyone to give him a little attention, you giggled, because usually it was the beginning of Buck doing something funny.

“Yeah, I know you all are probably expecting me to do a back flip.” — everyone laughed. “But today is a bit different. Not gonna lie, probably it was the hardest task in my life to keep everything a secret.” — you furrowed your brows, what secret?

But Buck continued.

“(Y/N), can you stand next to me, please?” — you’re confused, but you did what he asked. “My love, I know you’re confused and probably thinking that I had too many drinks. And I might be drunk, but I’m drunk in love. The moment I saw you in that cafe, I knew I couldn’t lose you. Honestly, the waitress said that there will be an empty table in 5 minutes, but I still chose to sit with you. Because how could I not?”

You started to realize. Is he… proposing? The love of your life is proposing to you?

“Buck…” — you could feel tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

“Baby, I can’t imagine my life without you and can’t even remember my life before you, that’s how well you filled all the missing pieces. So…” — Buck got on one knee, pulled a pretty little velvet box out of his pocket and asked the most important question that you didn’t even know you needed to hear. “Will you make me the happiest man alive and be my wife?” — you froze, tears started streaming down your cheeks. All the love you had for Buck just got 10 times stronger.

“Yes!” — you smiled happily and fell on your knees to kiss Buck.

He pulled the ring out of the box, carefully placing it on your finger and looked into your eyes.

“Then please, (Y/N)… Come back to me.”

Darkness. Honestly, you’re getting tired of this. You either died or got trapped in the most fucked up dream. And knowing that you don’t really have dreams, there’s only one option left. Are you actually dying? This can’t be real, right?

In the past 3 years your life has finally fallen into the right places. You met Buck, work was going great, you’re supposed to marry the love of your life… You cannot miss that. “Till death do us apart” doesn’t mean that you have to die so soon. You need to come back!

“My love, I know you probably don’t hear me, but I can’t do it without you.” — you heard the echo in this pitch blackness. It was Buck. “We had so much ahead of us, do you remember? We wanted to buy the house, I wanted to surprise you with the best honeymoon, we wanted to start trying on our own bab-“ — his voice broke, you heard sobs.

Your breathing has become heavier. You could feel your chest rising. Can you just open your eyes? You can’t leave Buck like this, you can’t leave your new family. You need to come back, you had so much ahead of you. Wedding, kids, travels, joy, being a wife and mother.

You heard another echo.

“Please, baby, just please come back to me…”

NOW! YOU NEED TO WAKE UP!

You could feel your eyes trembling. Darkness was replaced by white light. Heaven? There is definitely no smell of medicines in heaven.

Slowly, you open your eyes. So slow that it doesn't scare away reality.

The first image you see when you open your eyes and move your head to your right is Buck. He squeezes your hand with his head almost on the hospital bed. He’s still sobbing. It broke your heart into a million pieces. He didn’t deserve to go through this.

“Buck…” — you whisper. You can’t talk any louder, because your mouth is so dry. But he heard you.

Buck raised his head and met your eyes. You’re awake. You’re actually awake. One moment he was in hell, now he’s praising God for bringing you back.

“You came back…” — he smiled with his puffy eyes.

“How could I not? I heard you wanted me back at least four times.” — you chuckled tiredly, making jokes was your defense mechanism against difficulties.

“I thought I lost you, these 4 days were the hardest time of my entire life…” — he wanted to continue, but you interrupted him.

“4 days? W-what happened?” — you couldn’t believe it, you were out for 4 days.

“The building where you work collapsed. There was a mistake made when designing the building and it just fucking collapsed. I found you under the concrete slabs.”

Of course he was the one who rescued you. Your hero. On one hand you were happy that it’s him who saved you, but on the other he probably blames himself for not doing more, for not providing the proper safety. But let’s be honest, he did everything he could and you’re so grateful for that.

“Thank you for saving me.” — tears falling down your cheeks and you’re just happy to be back to him. To your lifeline.

He didn’t say anything, just got up and placed the most gentle kiss on your lips. Almost like he was afraid he could break you and you would vanish, that’s why you placed your hand on his cheek as a confirmation that you’re really here with him.

“So, what’s the best honeymoon you wanted to surprise me with?” — you said into his lips.

“You really heard everything?” — he asked confusedly, you giggled and kissed him once more.

Time to make more memories together.

[dixons-sunshine]

Come Back To Bed | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

(GIF by @daryl-dixon-daydreams)

A soft, quiet yawn escaped your mouth. You wiped the sleep from your eyes and placed your hands on the counter, your gaze landing on the coffee maker that you had started up a few seconds prior. Coffee—that was another luxury that came with your stay in Alexandria. You hadn’t realized the full extent of your love for coffee until the ability to make yourself a cup of coffee in the mornings was ripped away from you. Now that you had access to a coffee maker and coffee, you weren’t about to take the delicious liquid for granted ever again.

You were waiting for the coffee maker to finish up, contemplating what you were going to make for breakfast when you felt a pair of arms encircle your waist, a warm body pressing up against your back, a face nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You didn’t even have to look over your shoulder to know who it was. However, you still did, and you were pleased to find your partner pressed up against your back.

You smiled and placed your hands over his. “Good morning, handsome,” you greeted him, chuckling when he simply grunted in response. “You sleep okay?” You simply got another grunt as a response, eliciting another chuckle from you. “You want some coffee?”

“Nah,” he voiced, finally doing something other than making noncommittal grunts. “I don’ want coffee. I want ya to come back to bed. I ain’t ready to for the day yet.”

This was a pleasant surprise for you. You’ve known Daryl since the early days of the outbreak, dating back all the way to the quarry. He was always the first person up in the mornings and the last person to go to bed at night. He was always rearing to go, to make himself useful. You couldn’t think of a time he had ever wanted to sleep in. This was a side of the archer you had yet to see.

“I can’t,” you began in an apologetic tone. “I have to switch with Glenn for my watch shift soon.”

“He can wait,” Daryl grumbled into the skin of your neck, his arms tightening around you. “Can’t even count how many times he’s been late for somethin’ jus’ ‘cause he was busy with Maggie. He’ll jus’ have to understand.”

You giggled and shook your head, leaning forward to switch off the coffee maker. “I can’t do that, Dar. It’s not fair to him to have to stay longer than what was agreed. You can stay in bed longer if you want to, though.”

“Like hell it ain’t fair. Seems pretty fair to me. And I want ya to come back to bed too. Don’ sleep well without ya there.” Daryl lifted his head from the crook of your neck and spun you around in his embrace. From your new position, you could better appreciate the view of your partner. He was sporting an old, faded Metallica t-shirt with a pair of flannel pants. His hair was messy and you could clearly see the sleep still present in his eyes. He looked rather appetizing, in your opinion. “I don’ care whether or not Glenn throws a hissy fit if yer late or not. Yer comin’ back to bed. S’way too early to function right now.”

“It’s almost 8am.”

“Exactly.”

You shook your head and stepped out of Daryl’s embrace. “I’m sorry, Dar. I can’t.”

A few beats of silence passed. “Then ya leave me no choice,” Daryl finally spoke up again.

You barely had a chance to process his words. You were hoisted up off the ground, your body being laid over your partner’s shoulder. You yelped and laughed simultaneously. “Daryl! You can’t just—”

“‘Course I can. I jus’ did,” he cut you off, patting your rear end once as he descended up the stairs to get to your shared bedroom. “Yer comin’ back to bed. Thought I already mentioned that.”

You knew there was no point in arguing with him. When Daryl sets his mind to something, you knew there was no point in trying to talk him out of it. You’d just have to apologize to Glenn later, and as Daryl placed you down on the bed and clambered over to lay down next to you, holding you tightly from behind, you realized you definitely weren’t about to get out of bed again soon.

And the cup of coffee you were busy making yourself stood long forgotten on the kitchen counter.

[hanniesbrat]

sweet release | p.wb

bdsm with wonbin

pairing: park wonbin x reader

genre: smut, pure filth

wc: ~2.2k (not proofread again i’m sorry)

synopsis: wonbin always thinks it’s funny to eye fuck you when you’re both out with his friends, when there’s nothing you can do about it. but as soon as you two get home, he always knows what to expect.

!other kinktober fics!

a/n: this was supposed to post at 8am idk what happened BUT upon writing this one, overstimulation and a mommy kink also crept their way in… binnie also drools…. takes awhile to get there :3 but thank you hoshi bestie ( @iluvhoshi )for pretty much being the reason this fic even came to be (she gave me the drooling wonbin idea) also!!! sorry the “bdsm” part of this doesn’t last long. i love touching :3

“w-where’d you go?”

“relax binnie, i’m just grabbing something,” you giggled softly, grabbing the pink wand from your underwear drawer. he whined in response, impatiently waiting for you to return with whatever you had in store for him.

when you turned back around, you took in the sight in front of you before walking back to him. there laid your boyfriend, chest rising and falling rather heavily, wrists cuffed to either side of the headboard, a blindfold impairing his vision, his mouth slightly agape, beads of sweat starting to form on his forehead, and his dick painfully hard hovering over his tummy.

“fuck,” you sighed as you made your way to him. you crawled onto the bed slowly to torture your already wrecked boyfriend. you sat on your knees right in between his legs.

“mmm baby p-please~ please touch me..” his voice was so weak and full of desperation that you started to actually feel bad for the torment.

you decided to turn on the toy.

“w-what’s-“ before he could finish his question you leaned over his body and took the toy to his neck. a sharp gasp escaped his wet, swollen lips. you started to graze the pink device down the center of his chest, then steadily zig zagged it across his tummy as he squirmed through the whole process. you then stopped right before getting to the place he needed you most. he whimpered while trying to buck his hips in the direction of the vibration.

“ah ah ah not so fast. a greedy whore like you doesn’t deserve to be pleased so easily.” you hissed.

“b-but please y/n i told you im sorry like a m-million times! i won’t mess with you like that ever again i promise!” lies. he would continue to eye-fuck you while you and all his friends hung out, and you’d continue to punish him every time.

sighing, you moved the toy down his pelvis, directly to his balls making him cry out a “fuck!” before repeatedly thanking you like a fiend getting his fix.

“i know you’re lying, so you’re lucky i love you huh?” you taunted, hovering above him. hearing how close you were, he lunged up in a pathetic attempt to kiss you. you avoided him entirely just to dip your head down, attacking his neck. he lolled his head back giving you full access.

once satisfied with the amount of hickies you left, you made your way down his chest. you left wet kisses all over him, stopping to suck on his nipples a couple times, each time pulling a mewl out of the fucked out boy. completely fucked out, and you hadn’t even gotten to touch him yourself yet.

with that thought you turned off the toy and tossed it aside. before wonbin could testify to this, you took his length into your mouth with one motion causing him to nearly growl. “mmph f-fuck baby” wonbin breathed, aggressively pulling at the restraints. “let me hold your hair back for you please” he begged, craving to touch you in any way that he could.

“only because you asked so nicely.” you muttered before straddling his abs to reach the cuffs. you didn’t want to admit it but you were craving his touch too… as well as his glossy eyed gaze.

after unbuckling the cuffs, you slowly took his blindfold off. his eyes didn’t have to adjust to the light of the room to realize you were sat atop him with nothing but your silk panties on. his hands shot forward, immediately grabbing at your chest, massaging the flesh. you instinctively leaned forward and allowed his mouth access to your tits. as euphoric as his mouth felt against your skin though, you quickly snapped out of it knowing you couldn’t let him have his way. you grabbed his throat and nearly slammed him back against the headboard.

“and what the fuck do you think you’re doing, binnie?”

“i-i’m sorry i- i wasn’t thinking,” he choked out.

“clearly.”

you moved down, back onto your knees in between his legs. before going in with your mouth, you grabbed his shaft tightly. not enough to hurt, but enough to get his undivided attention. “now binnie, are you gonna be a good little toy for me?” you questioned cocking an eyebrow.

“yes, yes i promise baby i’ll be a good toy for you,” he babbled. “good kitty,” you tested before taking him back in your mouth. the twitch of his dick and groan that escaped his chest told you he definitely liked the nickname you’d just given him.

he grabbed all your hair in one hand, giving his all to not guide your head up and down. he knew that with any slight pressure from him, you’d stop your actions immediately.

you swirled your tongue around wonbin a couple more times just to see his face swoon over you committing such acts. now, you needed to move on to take care of the slick gathering in your underwear.

you lifted off his cock with a pop and looked up at him with lustful eyes, pumping him with your fist.

“would you like to help me with something, kitty?” you whined, tilting your head to rest it against his thigh.

“a-anything, fuck- what is it baby?” you stopped your movement with your hand to get back up onto your knees, this time spreading them more to expose the wet spot forming at your core. you grabbed his hand, bringing it to cup your pussy. “this~” you gently rubbed against his palm. the boy nodded with such vigor, you couldn’t help but giggle.

you then got back on top of him, mounting his cock with your wet, silk covered cunt. you moved yourself back and forth against his length a couple times.

“m- mah~ fuck~” wonbin whined, hesitant with his words. “say it,” you demanded, grinding down even harder on his cock. you knew what he wanted to say and you were okay with it, though he’d never called you the name before. “cmon, pretty boy,” you cooed reaching down to cup his face, grazing your thumb over his swollen lips. they parted slightly, still skeptical even with your evident eagerness radiating from your body. you leaned forward, your noses nearly touching, and slipped your thumb into his mouth. he eagerly began sucking on it before you spoke. “say it,” you whispered again. he opened his mouth and you pulled your thumb from it, now grazing his cheek. “m-mommy p-please,” he whimpered. the words went straight to your core.

tempted to move your underwear to the side and start fucking him then and there, you managed to control yourself. “please what, binnie?” you asked, faking your confusion. you trailed your hand down his face, his neck, then to his chest. “f-fuck me mommy pretty please,” he panted, overwhelmed from your touch. “christ binnie… i could just eat you whole,” you groaned out before dipping your head down, capturing his swollen lips in a desperate kiss. wonbin started to fumble with you underwear, trying to move it to the side. instead, you pulled away and got off the bed making him whine. “oh shutup,” you scolded as you turned around and pulled your underwear down dramatically bending over, putting yourself on full display for your boyfriend. “mfff mommy..” he moaned behind you and you heard the bed shift. before you could turn around, wonbin was gripping your hips while quickly leaving your ass covered in open mouthed kisses, knowing this wouldn’t last long. and he was right.

you reached behind your back, smacking his hand hard enough to startle him. he frantically scrambled back to the position he was in before against the head board. “i-im so sorry please i couldn’t help it y-you just looked-”

“shutup binnie,” you growled as you crawled back on top of him, your lips colliding with even more passion than before if possible. your tongues beautifully danced in tandem as his hands wandered back down to your ass, kneading at the skin in a pathetic attempt to pull your body even harder down on his. you slid yourself along his cock, basically fucking him between your cunt and his stomach. when you pulled away, you both looked down at the sticky mess you caused. you two also noticed the precum dripping from his tip onto his tummy. “m-mommy…” wonbin whimpered, looking up at you with blown out pupils.

you let your gazes bore into the other’s for a moment longer before giving him one last kiss, turning yourself around to sit on his cock backwards. his hands reached out to grip your ass as you moved your hand down, lining him up with your entrance. you stifled out a moan, in contrast to your boyfriend becoming a whining mess as you started moving up and down on his dick.

not even a minute into this position, and wonbin was already holding back the knot in his tummy from snapping. you weren’t oblivious to this as his moans went up in pitch each time you came back down on him. the grip he had on your ass became painful when he panted, “d-don’t wanna cum yet mmmph please-” his breath hitched, his fingers twitched, and his eyes screwed shut. “fuck!” he choked out. “cumming so soon, binnie?” you teased, still milking his cock. “and without permission?” you lifted off of him, his cum dripping from your cunt making an even bigger mess on his tummy. “you’re a fucking mess, aren’t you binnie?” you taunted. when you turned back around, the joke was on you.

you boyfriend was laid in front of you completely fucked out. his cock still hard, his eyes heavy, his bangs stuck to his sweaty forehead, and his lips parted with… drool coming out of his mouth? he felt you staring at his mouth and licked his lips as if that’d clean up the saliva leaking out. and suddenly, you were the mess. wonbin mistook this as an opportunity to overstep however, “look who the f-fucking mess is now.” his voice was suddenly deeper than before. he looked no less pathetic, though. wasting no time, you immediately sunk yourself back down onto him. he winced at the overstimulation, having still not recovered from his recent orgasm. “at least i didn’t cum in less than two minutes,” you spit, your pace far faster than before, desperate to chase your own high this time. you stabilized yourself with your hand on his neck. tears started to gather at the edges of wonbin’s eyes. “binnie?” you were barely concerned, knowing he was okay. “-m okay k-keep- fuck going.” he mewled. so you did.

you moved your hand from his neck up to his face. you squeezed his cheeks slightly before running a thumb over the drool that was still running down is chin. he looked at you with such admiration as you made his cock more and more sore by the minute. you finally felt a knot suddenly start to form in your tummy. “say it binnie,” you growled as you sat up on him, now stabilizing yourself with your hands on his chest, your head thrown back in pure bliss.

“say w-what?” he replied playing dumb. you were quick to look down at the mess of a human below you. “you know what,” you deadpanned through gritted teeth. wonbin’s hand reached out, finding your clit as he started rubbing circles over it with his thumb. “i don’t know what… but does this feel good, mommy?” he said in a condescending tone. he could be such a pest sometimes, knowing exactly what makes you weak. “mmph fuck binnie~ don’t talk to me like that,” you hardly warned. you were mere seconds away from falling apart and so was he.

his tone shifted slightly, becoming more dominant in nature. “c-cum for me mommy p-please.” the contrast of his demanding voice with his desperate words sent you over the edge. “ah~ binnie,” you whined, falling forward with your head in his neck. wonbin immediately took over, grabbing your hips to hold you in place as he fucked himself into you with determination, letting you both ride out your highs. how he had the stamina for this after all you’d put him through tonight, you had no idea. (quite frankly, neither did he)

once you'd both caught your breath, you lifted your head up from his neck, looking his face up and down with a tired smile. he too had a soft smile painted on his face, his half lidded eyes not straying from yours, watching you watch him. “i can’t believe i’d never thought to call you that before,” he whispered. you giggled, “took you long enough.” he rolled his eyes playfully before changing the subject.

“so… how are we gonna get up to clean this up without making an even bigger mess…” he trailed off. you fell back into his neck, groaning. he just chuckled moving a hand up to your hair to stroke it. he kissed you on the top of your head, “goodnight, princess.”

tag list: @jenoslutie @skzooluvr @iluvhoshi @map0fthes0ul7 @unlikelysublimekryptonite @goblynnrockz @actuallynarii @glttrlix

[itsnotbird]

Ghosting

Post!Hydra Dark! Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

‘I’ve been ghosting…I’ve been ghosting along, ghost in your house, ghost in your arms.’

Summary: Maybe his tendencies are odd, but maybe the two of you are just meant to be? He doesn’t want to be the ghost that looms around, but what choice does he have?

Warnings: Stalking, dark themes, 18+ content, not intended for minors! Reader gets harassed in the beginning, Bucky is…he’s a little crazy but he means well. Isn’t he so dreamy? Trust the process here.

A/n: I had this idea and I’m going to poorly execute it! Not cannon whatsoever, post Hydra/Winter soldier Bucky but…old habits die hard.

“You want to come back to my place?”

You scrunched your nose. “That’s um…that’s a kind offer, Connor, but I’m kinda tired.” You politely say as you leave the restaurant.

It’s a bold offer for him to make after a first date- a lousy first date. He made you pay half the bill, made subtle comments about your choice of outfit, talked about himself the entire time. Now, he has the audacity to ask for a lousy hook up.

He looks at you with a confused smile. “No? Oh…okay.”

“I don’t know if you were…expecting something but…I just don’t think we’re the best match.” You say honestly.

He scoffs like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Okay, wow, um…I was trying to be nice because you’re clearly desperate-”

“Desperate?” You choke out a dry laugh.

“-but hey, go ahead and be a tease, that’s fine.”

“What?” You squint, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, I’m a little confused.”

“Yeah, it probably doesn’t take much.” He says with a serious look.

“Wow, what a wasted night.” You say to yourself.

“Yeah tell me about it, you sat there going on and on about your parents and I’m not even going to get head? Hey, newsflash! Your parents are probably just disappointed they have a screw up of a daughter. Seriously, you’re so fucking boring.”

You huff in disbelief, not able to wrap your head around how mean his words are.

“I’m gonna go.” You say. “I hope you can find a decent personality.”

As you turn, walking back in the direction of your apartment, he shouts a few choice words in your direction. You only wrap your coat around you tighter.

Though you hate it, tears burn your eyes. Silently crying in the dark, you place a call to your best friend.

“Hey! How was the date?” She asks in a cheery tone.

Immediately you sniffle. “Pretty bad.”

Your soft sobs echo off of brick walls, all the way up to Bucky sitting on the roof of the building you pass. The sound is enticing, causing him to look over the edge at your figure.

Somehow, he knows that he should just stay where he is, it’s really something he doesn’t need to get involved with.

But…he finds himself hopping over to the next roof, following you. It’s like he’s enticed to do it. Part of him - the small part that’s still sane- recognizes how crazy and creepy he’s being.

The much larger part of him doesn’t give a fuck.

Rooftop to rooftop, he’s like your shadow, listening to your conversation, watching the surroundings around you to make sure you don’t get hurt. He aches for you, utterly displeased that you are upset. Which is a crazy idea because he knows nothing about you.

Well, not for long.

See, it’s like the universe is on his side. Because though he’s not trying to keep track of you, you’re constantly crossing his path. Over the next week, he quickly learns your schedule. He learns that you leave your apartment building at 8am to go to work at the overpriced coffee shop down the street, you usually get off at 3pm. Then your night plans alternate, one night you go to a college class, the other you go to a friend’s house where you don’t come back until very late.

You grocery shop at a Whole Foods, you don’t shop for yourself, you like music, you play the guitar. He watches you open your apartment window and sit on the sill, smoking a cigarette once in a while and that’s how he knows you’re stressed.

At first, he ran into you purely by chance.

But it became almost too easy to pin you down when you lived the same, boring life.

On the coming Saturday, you go on another date. He doesn’t know this until you and the man come into the bar he’s in.

You look gorgeous, like always. You seemed to have this classic elegance about you, and this guy…well, he’s wearing brown shoes and black trousers so there’s no hope.

He tries not to stare, but you laugh so beautifully and your smile is sparkling, then he’s angry because this fool is making you laugh and smile.

You have much hope for this guy, Noah is his name. He’s sweet, he’s funny, he…is so insanely boring.

But you push past it and claim that everyone is a little off on first dates. He pays for your drinks and offers to call you a cab home. What you don’t expect is for the way he grips you sharply in the alleyway of the bar, kissing you heatedly. You awkwardly laugh and try to tell him this wasn’t really your style, but he’s rather persistent.

You feel stupid. Did you give him the wrong signs? He was so good the entire night and this is how it has to end?

“Noah, wait. Wait, stop.” You say, trying push his hands off of you.

“You’re really gorgeous.” He huffs, pulling the strap of your dress down so he can suck on your shoulder.

“I- thank you but really, I don’t want you to do this.” You struggle again, only to be pushed back harder against the brick. Your head hits it and pain blooms in your skull.

“No, it’s okay.” He claims, holding your hands down.

You begin to panic, frozen in fear as you start begging him to let you go.

“Hey.” A voice suddenly says.

You look over at the man who has a very scary look in his eye.

“I think the lady wants you to stop.” He says.

Noah rolls his eyes. “Why don’t you mind your own business?”

Bucky looks at your quivering lip and determines that he can’t do that.

So he sighs, then calmly comes to grip Noah’s shoulder and rips him away from you. He stumbles back, aiming to throw a punch before Bucky stops his fist and punches him in the face, hard enough that he falls to the ground.

You gasp, fixing yourself and quickly wiping your face. The stranger turns to you, eyes searching you.

“Are you hurt?” Bucky asks.

“No. Thank you.”

He nods, then motions to the street. “I’ll get you a cab home.”

You aren’t completely sure what to do, it was all so strange. Looking back to Noah on the ground, you quickly get away from him, trusting this stranger more than anything now.

He does exactly what he says and hails you a cab, watches you get in and shuts the door behind you.

There are no other words spoken.

You drive away and that’s where it’s left.

Or so you think.

In all actuality, that little interaction has been fueling his growing obsession. He’s paying closer attention, in every shadow, you could find him there. But you never do.

From the fire escape, he sometimes- lots of times- he sits when he can’t sleep. He sits on the ledge, concealed in darkness, and silently observes you. Bucky determines that you were strategically placed in his life, you had to be.

The universe was never on his side, so why was he being rewarded now? If he didn’t understand it, it’s because his brain is still trying to connect wires back together. Oh but it does make sense, you’re this shining star, you’re the lark bird with a broken wing and who is he? He’s the man to help.

He recognizes the look in your eye, the gaze that searches for salvation in every person, he knows desperation because it’s been under his mask for years. He could be your savior.

He is.

No, no he won’t force anything. You’ll have to ask, admit that you strive for something other than the cards you have been dealt. But you couldn’t do that if you keep ignoring your ghost.

He’ll pull the sheet off of his head, that’s what he’ll do. He’ll strategically plan the way your paths will cross again, like any good soldier does, and it’s going to open that shut door. He won’t have to look for an open window anymore, physically or metaphorically.

Saturday night. You’re dressed up. You leave your flat in heels and a backless dress. You should really put on a coat, that shall around your shoulders won’t keep the chilly air away.

He watches from the adjacent roof top, he makes sure you get in your cab alright.

He knows you’re going to your best friend’s birthday night out at the city’s newest jazz club, a very elegant place, he’s heard you discussing it with her for weeks.

That’s where he’ll be.

Dressed the part in a suit he’s lifted from the dry cleaners, he’ll lurk around the bar, hide within the crowd, stay far away from the dance floor.

Nostalgia seems to make him feel a little sick, the music, the theme, everything seems to be reconnecting him to the boy he was before.

James Buchanan Barnes. That’s who he needs to be now. Charming and all smiles and smooth talking, he could do, can’t he?

Irritation bites at his nerves when opportunity doesn’t present itself for a while. You seem glued to your star-of-the-show best friend. He admires your loyalty, your blind adoration for a woman who tends to brush you off often for much more interesting people.

How dare she? If you were stitched to his side, he’d never make you feel pushed out, he’d give you his attention, he’d make sure you knew you were the most important thing in the room.

He’s bitter now.

He needs a drink. The idea of it soothes more than the alcohol does, given the fact he could drink three entire bottles before feeling something. That’s a painful disadvantage of the serum in his blood, he couldn’t even effortlessly get drunk to forget his troubles.

At the bar, he orders whiskey neat and pushes his hair back in a huff.

“Hi, could I get another glass of champagne?”

There it was, that voice that’s better than every song being played here.

You stand beside him, smiling at the bartender.

“Actually.” You change your mind. “A Martini, please. No- just a double Tito’s with three olives. Please.”

The barman chuckles at your request and begins to make it for you.

You’re here, all elegant in your green silk dress that compliments your eyes, smelling like your nice perfume, the one you spray on your wrists and behind your ear. Suddenly, Bucky is at a loss of words.

He’s waited around all night and you’re finally here.

You sigh in dissatisfaction, it’s a noise he never ever wants to hear from you ever again.

“Thank you.” You thank the barman again as he slides your drink to you.

Bucky watches you take a sip, he envies the martini glass for the way your lips wrap around the rim. Your eyes shut as you taste the alcohol, dark lashes flutter together and you look just like a doll.

“Rough night?” He questions.

You face him, an excuse on your lips but you pause when you recognize him.

“No, no my evening has been fine. I’m sorry, you look so familiar. Have we met?”

He thinks it’s cute the way you pretend you don’t remember him.

“Briefly, I believe. Outside of the-”

“Outside that bar. Right. You…helped me.” You state, obviously feeling a little embarrassed even though he isn’t sure why you would be.

“That guy was a dick, don’t worry about it.” He says, drawing your eyes back to him.

“Thank you…most people would’ve just kept walking.” You say, genuine tone, vulnerable face.

“Most people suck.”

You laugh, and it’s the best sound he’s known. He smiles, watching you tuck away a strand of hair that has fallen from your updo.

You introduce yourself now, giving him your name to hold, not like a secret.

“I’m James.” He says.

“James.”

His name has belonged on your lips for over a hundred years.

“I like that name.” You determine, sipping on your drink. “What brings you here tonight, James?”

He’s quick to think on his feet.

“A failed double date.”

You give him a questioning look.

“How was it failed? She wasn’t a damsel in distress?” You joke, and he smiles at your smile.

“No, she left with another man. Honestly, it’s fine, I wasn’t interested in her.” He lies, adoring the pout you gain on his behalf.

“That’s a shame, you seem like great company, James.”

He hasn’t been told that for as long as he can remember, well, he can’t remember much, actually. But he does know that he loves getting to know you face to face, not just learning from a distance. There would never be a distance again, he knows this, feels it in the way you accidentally touch his arm as you laugh in conversation.

You feel as if you’ve known him for ages, you haven’t but he sure knows you.

“Why look so drab if you’re celebrating your best friend’s birthday?” He asks, watching you toy with your empty glass before the bartender takes it away.

A sigh leaves your perfect lips. “I’m happy, of course I am…I just, well, sometimes I get looked over. It’s fine, it’s not my night, it’s hers…but somehow it happens very often when her and I go out. I suppose it’s just easy for people to forget I’m around, especially her when she has so many people’s attention.”

He shakes his head, you might as well have confessed to a crime. Those words shouldn’t have left your mouth.

“You’re not easy to forget.” Bucky tells you, his clear, blue, eyes heavy in yours. “In my opinion, you’re much more memorable and-and admirable than her.”

He hasn’t spoken this much in forever, he’s surprised he remembers words as big.

You blush at his compliment. “Really?”

“Really.” He coos. “Girls like her are a dime a dozen, but not you. I could tell from the moment I saw you, you have something far more interesting than her.”

You selfishly let his words flatter you for a moment.

“She’s my best friend since high school, she’s really been there for me so for that I am grateful but…well, she has a tendency to make me a sidekick. I don’t like being Robin.” You laugh.

Bucky pretends he knows who you’re talking about.

“You deserve to be the hero.” He chimes.

You giggle. “I am no Captain America.”

That has him at a loss for words.

You don’t notice though. You look over to the stage, the band plays a slow throwback, a smooth jazz song.

The alcohol bas mostly calmed your nerves, and the way your best friend has yet to notice your absence, has you making an offer you’d never make.

“Are you a fan of Frank Sinatra, James?” You ask.

“Never heard of him.” He jokes, definitely finding it far more amusing than you do.

“Do you dance?” You question now, boldly taking his hand.

You haven’t figured out the deal with the gloves he wears yet, but you don’t ask in fear you’ll offend him.

And though he said he’d stay far from the dance floor, he’s blindly guiding you to the space where the others sway, it’s like he’s enchanted by the low lighting on your skin, or the way you’re so willing to let him in. He’s not even sure he remembers how to dance, but he falls right into the rhythm like it’s always been with him.

Gentle, he’s oh so gentle with you, you have no clue how much he’s thinking about the touch he’s giving you.

It’s you who gets flirty, hand sliding over his shoulder to gently hold the back of his neck, you gently press into his rather broad frame.

You can see the way your best friend’s eyes finally find you, and she’s immediately curious.

You’re immediately frightened.

She’s going to want him, she’s always had the same taste as you.

You let out a shaky breath and look away.

“What’s wrong?” He immediately asks in a protective tone as he feels you go rigid in his hands. His defense is up, he looks around the room for a threat.

“Nothing, sorry. I’m sorry, I’m okay.” You let out a soft laugh, laying your head on his chest.

The action immediately distracts him.

Here you were, falling right into him like you were meant to, his perfect girl.

He tucks that loose hair behind your ear, he lets his fingers gently trace down your spine until he comes back to hold your waist.

“Your heart’s beating pretty fast.” He says close to you, not thinking about the possibility of you asking just how he could tell.

“I’m trying not to step on your shoes.” Is all you say with a fleeting giggle.

As the song closes, you’re in some sort of dream land. It’s not the alcohol, even if it was a strong drink, it’s all him.

That elated feeling continues as he pulls you away from the crowd, and it dissipates right when your best friend finds you.

“There you are!” She smiles at you. “I see you’ve made a friend.”

You should just go home.

“This is James.” You say, watching them greet each other.

“It’s my birthday, James.” She tells him in her tipsy tone.

He looks at her birthday sash and nods. “I can see that. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you. You can give me a gift later if you want.”

You should really just go home and put on your sweats and a movie.

But then you feel his hand on the small of your back.

“We’re actually going for a stroll.” He says, because what else is he to say? That your friend’s actions aren’t attractive? How she comes on far too strong in the worst way? Perhaps he’s only in this mindset because he can see the way your face fell when she posed a threat.

She’s no threat, sweet girl. No one is a threat to you, ever, not now that I’m here.

He says it with his eyes as you look up at him in question. The gentle nod he offers has you easing. A stroll sounds nice.

You find yourself agreeing? How is it so easy to agree and tell your friend good night? It’s as easy as your hand around his- large- bicep as the two of you walk the glimmering night streets of the city.

He makes you feel so…secure. Maybe this is how girls get kidnapped and turn up dead in alleyways, but you feel the need to trust him with your life.

You feel the need to grow obsessive over every word and touch he gives you.

Maybe that’s how you end up showing him your apartment. He acts like he’s never seen it before.

And he has not one intention on things going further- well, maybe just one. But he’s a perfect gentleman, drinking the coffee you make him, complimenting your music collection, asking about the instrument in the corner.

It’s all you who gets closer.

And as your lips touch, you can’t help but think this is insane.

You should pull away, but then he grips your waist and deepens the kiss and you completely lose your mind.

He’s a stranger in your home, on your lips.

But is he really?

“I’m sorry.” You immediately say when he pulls back and turns his head away. “I-I don’t do this, a lot of girls say that, but I really don’t do this.”

He knows you don’t, and the fact that you’re doing it with him has him trying to control himself.

“I’m sorry.”

You apologize too much. He’s going to have to fix that.

“No, no.” He says, looking back down at you. “Don’t. It’s me, not you.”

“I’ve heard that before.” You laugh awkwardly, anxiously.

His hand comes to your cheek. “Hey, no it really is me. You’re perfect, I…am not.”

Your brows droop together. “You seem pretty perfect to me…I’m pretty sure I like you. Is that crazy?”

How sweet, how innocent.

He struggles with his emotion like he always does, too confused to put things into words, and the confusion turns into irritation and soon he’s huffing and drawing both hands to your face, like it will help.

“Not crazy.” He says. “I like you too, I’m certain of it…but I am not perfect, do you understand?”

He’s a magician, or he’s drugged you. James speaks assertively and it’s like you’re in a daze, just nodding along.

He sees that spark in your eye, in that moment his suspicions are confirmed. He’s watched you strike out on dates because you try with men who don’t understand what you need. Only he knows, only he knows you want someone to comfort and lead you. That’s how he gets you to do as he asks, which all just consists of changing out of that damn gorgeous dress and relaxing on your sofa with him. But in the long run, he knows you’ll follow with your blind loyalty and never forsake him.

He doesn’t let you be nervous, thinking he’s expecting something from you. He sits and lets you decide how close you want to be next to him, and that’s because Bucky is confident you’ll be following right along in his plan without his assistance.

You sit about five inches away from him, knees curled to your chest in your flannel pants and you bunch your sweater sleeves around your hands. When it’s supposed to be a two way conversation, you hardly notice how he lets you do all the talking.

That’s because he isn’t sure how to go about explaining things to you yet, he has to wait for the moment he’s confident you’re all in on this.

“It’s weird, I feel so comfortable around you…like I already know your presence.”

You do, you just don’t know that.

Bucky hums, then is immensely pleased with the way you draw yourself closer.

“Sometimes people are just like that. Familiar.” He says, slightly stiff as you turn to lean into his shoulder.

“I’m glad you seem familiar, James.”

That’s a statement echoing in his haunted mind, bouncing off walls as he carries you to bed and tucks you in after you fall asleep against him, it’s with him in the following days when he shows up in your life again after you had the fear you were never going to see him. You woke up and he was gone, no note, no number to call and you cried and felt pathetic and yet, here he is now.

Bucky is waiting outside the coffee shop as you come out after your shift, he looms in such a way you almost don’t see him.

“James.” You say in surprise, heart beating a little faster at the abrupt introduction of him. “Hi, I-I didn’t- were you waiting for me? Meeting someone?”

Bucky smiles at your nervousness. “I was waiting for you.”

Interactions like this become common. Before you realize it, you’re getting to know someone who has you memorized perfectly. There’s no concern on how to reach him, because he always manages to find you, he’s always there when you need him. And weeks pass and Bucky wants to hear you say his name a thousand times over, his obsession grows and you know it.

The best part? You don’t mind it. Sure, it’s an adjustment, your whole life has been a constant fight for attention. So when he’s here, physically ignoring people when you’re near him, your first reaction is to think it won’t last.

He assures you through his actions that he is here to stay, because when he wants something, he takes it.

You could classify this as dating, wouldn’t you? Those nights he takes you away to places where it’s just the two of you, those are dates in your mind. To Bucky? There what life is meant to be like forever.

A month after the meeting in the bar, you’re sitting in your lounge chair, murmuring about how much you hate your job and the fact that you can’t seem to get a better one, it’s a conversation Bucky hears often. And somewhere from the moment you’re draped over his lap and his hand nudges your chin up when you get blue, you sigh.

“You never touch me.” You say, large eyes blinking at him.

Bucky grows confused. “That’s not true.” He states.

Your head rests against his collar bone, face almost nuzzles into his neck and you reach for his hand.

“I don’t know the feeling of your skin.”

It’s in this moment that he knows you’re ready for the truth, as much of it as you can handle.

When you started to fall for James, you knew he was different, had a different energy about him. Never in a million years did you expect him to start explaining a story so dark and horrid, and it’s only the version he alters for you, not having it in him to taint your perfect mind with the entire nightmare.

He talks more than you’ve ever heard him talk, for thirty two minutes you sit in his lap with wide eyes and a pale expression, trying to wrap your head around it. You have about a hundred and one questions and can’t fully form any, you wait until he finishes, then he looks at you with something so humble and vulnerable.

“…What?” You breathe. “What!?”

You’re off of his lap, pushing the sleeves of your shirt up and starting a pace while you try to process the information. He sits there, watching you, letting you get through the shock.

“James- you know that sounds crazy, right? Metal arm, wanted by the government, over a hundred years old- crazy.”

You continue to mutter and work through the sheer fear of ‘oh God what did you just get yourself into?’, then after about eight and a half minutes, you settle.

Just like he knew you would. Because that’s the kind of woman you are, able to think things through from an alternate perspective.

You stand before him, hair tucked behind your ears and you breathe.

“I want to see.” You state, sure of it.

“Why?” He questions.

“I might not believe you otherwise.”

You believe him, of course you do, this is something that could only happen to you. The more you think about it, this story explains things. Like the way he always hold you with his right hand, how he goes rigid at the mention of things that could be triggering for him and you had no clue.

Bucky processes it, then stands.

A glove comes off, a perfectly normal, large, right hand is under it.

Then, the other.

You blink, staring at the metal that has been revealed, shiny and silver.

He swallows hard, then pulls at the hem of the henley shirt he wears. It lands on the floor and you don’t move, just let your eyes explore the new discovery. Up his right arm, toned bicep, broad shouldered, expanding chest, down his stomach and back up and then…

His head turns, he looks away when you see it, the scarred skin of his left shoulder. It’s jarred, metal meets flesh and you can’t look away.

Maybe you should be repulsed, but you aren’t. You step forward, hand raised and he flinches slightly.

“Can I? I-I’ll be gentle.” You whisper.

If you were not made just for him, you would have left already, screamed perhaps, anything but let your fingertips graze his skin with no anger or malice behind it.

He continues to look away while you explore, and even though you’re filled with curiosity, a sour feeling stirs in your stomach at the thought someone did this to him.

“What is it?” You ask, your index running down the metal, watching it flex almost human like.

“Vibranium.” He says, tone bare.

“This is like…Stark technology stuff.” You gasp, watching his fingers flex.

He lets out a shaky breath at the Stark name, you make a mental note to not speak of it again.

Your hand skims the expanse of his chest, firm, tense. Had you truly not realized just how huge he is? Down his flesh arm, fingers follow valleys of muscle until they slip right into his. His hand is warm and entirely engulfing yours.

The other, it holds the back of his neck, lost in his hair, forcing him to look down at you, just in time for you to lean up and kiss him slowly.

You’re okay with it, all of it.

Perhaps you’re secretly just as crazy as he is?

With your hand in his, he has no choice but to grab your waist with the thing he viewed as a weapon. You do not hurt, he does not maim you like he has feared, you draw closer to his body and show him kindness and comfort.

There was no going back now, you couldn’t reject him now. Not when you’re shifting your head to allow him to deepen the kiss. The sky outside could be falling and you’d still be here, barefoot in your living room, tip toed to reach him. His hand leaves yours to cup your jaw, fingers flexed into skin like he could sink claws in.

Your hot. It’s a heat that blooms inside out and you find your hand twisting in hair and the other drawing his hips closer. Perhaps your actions shouldn’t come like this after he explained how tortured he is, but he does not stop you. In fact, it’s Bucky that nips at your lip, drawing you away in shock.

“You bit me.” You state, shocked.

“Sorry.” He says deeply.

Licking your lower lip, you shake your head. “No, it’s fine.”

That had to be it, that connection he felt, it’s because you could handle insanity.

Huffing against his lips, you breathe, open mouthed into his. “Is the serum a real thing?” You question before his tongue slips to yours.

Without a word, he’s gripping your sides and pulling you up, feet dangle before your thighs trap his waist, just one arm holding you there.

Okay. Serum’s real.

It’s hot mouths on each other until you tell him to take you to your bedroom.

“Listen to me.” He says as he sits you on the bed. “Don’t give me this just because you think it’s what I want.”

Immediately you shake your head. “No, no, I want this.”

He strokes your hair. “Think this through, there’s no going back after this, okay? You’ll be tied to me, you’ll be guilty by association, if you have me this once, I’ll want to keep coming back.”

Your heart hammers inside your chest, knees press together and your lips hang apart.

“You won’t have to keep coming back if you stay.” You say, reaching out to grip the top of his jeans. “I want it all.”

Psychotic, absolutely psychotic for speaking the words you speak and mean it so deeply. How could you say such things and still look like an angel? And how could you make him feel the way he does when you do nothing at all?

Bucky’s drunk, he’s gone, he doesn’t even know if it’s him or yet another alter ego that is enjoying all of this. But he’s undressing you and feeling every single valley and curve and soft spot. His lips are everywhere, pressed to your bare skin as you trust him with the most vulnerable parts of yourself. He’s kind to you, bringing you to a point where he knows you’re going to be relaxed enough for it. It’s his fingers that draw it out, they’re warming you up, causing your head to tilt back in ecstasy.

It courses in his blood, the rush he gets from watching you twitch and moan.

There’s stars that dance across your vision, they linger and burn, especially when you start to come down from the high you haven’t felt in awhile and he’s kissing your chest while lined up to your entrance.

“You can tell me no.” He offers one last time, but you shake your head fiercely.

“I want it.” You say, hand in his hair. “Do you?”

Does he? What a silly question for you to ask. He wants your everything, he wants to lay his claim and make you belong to with him. He wants to know you inside and out, wants to feel the way you’ll shudder and cry when he pushes you off the precipice.

“Yes.” He whispers, heavy eye contact as he stares down at you. “I want this. I want you.”

Your free hand comes to gently clutch the dog tags that hang from his neck, and you’re slightly breathless as you drag him down to your lips.

“You have me, you have me.”

Those pesky wires in his brain? The ones that are half connected? Well, they’re short circuiting. Maybe the wrong ones connect, because the level of possession he feels now isn’t one he thinks is normal. As the asset, he wasn’t allowed to possess anything, he was the possession…and before? Before the war and the snowy day in Austria and everything, he was sure he didn’t feel this way.

This is new, this is entirely because of you.

One hand braced at your head, the other grips the underside of your knee, keeping it far from the other and he pushes into you, maybe too fast.

The gasp that escapes your lungs is sharp and long, your eyes squeeze shut and he mirrors your drawn brows.

“I know, I know.” He comforts. “Breathe. There you go, just like that, my girl.”

His girl.

Toes are curled into the sheets. Maybe it’s because you haven’t done this in a while, or maybe because he’s so…big. You hide in his neck, chest heaving, fingers gripping his hair in hopes of relieving the pressure.

“Am I hurting you?” He asks, trying to get you to look at him.

“I just- ah, I need a second. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing for things.” He grunts in your ear. “We could stay like this for an hour, if that’s what you need.”

With the slight adjustment of your hips under him, you breathe out. “I-I’m okay, please, do something.”

Your normally soft voice has gained an octave, it’s bordering a whine, pinched and breathless and oh so desperate. And just like that, he slowly drags out and back in and it’s the best feeling he has ever known, better than the relief that comes after the electric shock stops.

He’s courteous, he’s gentle and slow and it’s soothing to the burn between your legs, all the way up until you get comfortable and needy for more.

Holding his jaw, you kiss him deeper, with no concern for how messy it is.

“More, please.” You say into his open mouth.

“So polite.” He teases, moving a hand up to your hip.

You choke on your inhale as he quickens his pace, driving into you in such a vulgar way, you’re threatening to arch off the mattress. But he holds you down and you take it, you take it as well as he knew you would, with nails digging into his back.

“Oh- like this. Ah, James, it’s so good.” You say, slack jawed and whiney.

You sound perfect, because you sound like this just for him. He has to grunt with a face of contortion.

“It’s because you take it so well, such a good girl.”

You blush violently at the moan that you let out, and from the way you flutter around him, he has a feeling you like the name you don’t get called often.

He might not 100% remember doing things like this, but he figures it out perfectly, encouraging you to tell him what you want and how you want it. But you’re so shy. He’s practically buried in your cervix, and you’re acting shy.

He laughs at you.

“You’re too sweet.” Is what he comments before making it his mission to figure out what it is exactly that you want.

That unserious and unspoken thought that you had to be a little crazy in order for you to be so perfect, it might just be true. Because Bucky sits back on his knees and grabs your hips, pulling them up to match the way he thrusts deeply into you, and you love it.

You love it so much, you curse and he gains a look of surprise.

His angel girl is writhing and cursing.

“Fuck, I think you’re in my stomach.” You laugh, you laugh. He’s fucking you in a way soft lovers would cringe at, and you’re laughing with pleasure.

You’re perfect.

Bucky doesn’t even know if he’s fully conscious anymore, he has to be, right? It’s not guaranteed with the haze in his head and the film over his eyes and the voice that whispers over and over.

Take, take, take. It says.

брать, брать, брать.

It sounds good in both languages.

Almost as good as the sound of you practically shouting praise. Maybe it’s intense for the first time, but nothing about this relationship was going to be subtle and calm.

You don’t want it to be.

That knot forms in your stomach, it shoots heat everywhere, your heart beats so loud you’re convinced he can hear it. Your back will ache from the way it’s arched, but it all feels too good to be a concern.

“I’m getting close.” You cry, legs shaking around him, hand over your mouth.

He leans back over you and takes the hand away, caging it to the pillow, under his.

“I want to hear you. I want to hear the noise you make when you come for me.” He tells you, hot breath mixing with yours.

You nod, wide eyes, aimed to please.

Bucky’s fingers curl with yours and that’s how he keeps your hand while the your other is damaging the skin of his back. He is no stranger to pain, and the fact you don’t mean to inflict it has his lips on your throat. His teeth graze the skin, like he’s the wolf ready to rip it apart. When he does bite the skin and you jolt at the feeling, you can only assume it’s a tic that he comes with.

His tongue presses to ease any discomfort, and hips are heavy into yours as he drives you to the point of breaking apart.

It’s high pitched and sob like, how you cry and tense against him. That hand squeezes his to ground yourself, and your head tips back, pressed into the pillow, and you lose it.

He watches in amazement and that voice is so pleased.

Mine, mine, mine.

It all pushes him overboard.

He does his best to work you through it, then he’s pulling out too fast and fisting himself to finish the job, painting across your stomach and he can’t look away.

You mourn the loss of contact, but far too overwhelmed to do anything about it. You look at him with blurry eyes, hot tears have leaked into your hair and he’s looking at the way his spend lays across your skin.

Then, deep blue eyes flick back up to yours and he’s….proud.

“You with me?” He asks in a husky tone.

You nod with a heavy head.

That’s when he finally lets go of your hand, moving to rub your cheek before he grips your jaw. Not tight, nothing to hurt you, but he grips it and your swollen lips part.

“It’s you and me now. You’re mine, do you understand?”

You shouldn’t love the sound of that but you do. So you nod, eyes heavy, skin aflame. He wipes tears, kissing you sweet and like he’s following orders, he cleans you up wordlessly.

Later, he’ll watch you sleep because you can’t fight it anymore, and he’ll know that feeling in his chest has settled. He’s a ghost with a home now, he’ll stay because you invited him in.

[bigtreefest]

A What in Church?

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x reader (can be read as a continuation of Meet The Parents or alone)

Summary: Ransom comes with you and your family to church…and then comes with you at church 🥴 (I’m sorry, but I had to)

Word count: 2,728

Content/warnings: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, SMUT, near-fingering, p in v unprotected sex (pls, for the love of all that is holy, wrap it up), sex in front of a mirror, sex in a church😬, creampie, established relationship, swears, Ran is a sneaky li’l gaslighter but not towards you, lying in Church?, kissing, pet name usage, choking on one’s own saliva, implied female reader, li’l belly bulge

A/N: I hope God forgives me for thinking this up during church…

This is for the Cum Together: A Community Revival Extravaganza set up by @labella420 and @stargazingfangirl18 with the prompts of characters cum together at the same time and praise.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Main Masterlist

It was early Sunday morning when you dragged Ransom out of bed.

“Hugh Ransom Drysdale, come on. You have to get up. We’re already running late and I’m not dealing with disapproving looks from my parents for punctuality. It’s already bad enough every time the church ladies give me a side eye when I show up.”

He sighed as he rolled over in his high thread count sheets, the sunlight now hitting his face causing him to squint. He looked at you through one open eye as he made a light scowl.

“Sweetheart, come back to bed. It’s too early. I promise I’ll make it worth it.” A sly smirk crept onto his face as he reached out and pulled your hips closer to the bed.

You put a hand on his forehead, trying your best and failing to push him away. “Ransom, no. The only reason I stayed over was to make sure we got there on time. My parents think you’re picking me up right now and neither of us are even showered. If you get up now, maybe I’ll let you join me. Then we can get going.”

His arms snaked from your hips and around to give your ass a squeeze. “Hm….deal.” He rasped out in his groggy voice before shifting to get up.

“Whose idea was it to join your family at the 8am service of church this week, anyway?” Ransom threw the covers off the side of the bed in a mini tantrum before rising on his knees on the mattress to be face-to-face with you. You ran your fingers through his hair, slightly smoothing out the bed head before giving him a peck.

“Yours, baby. That’s what you get for trying to impress my mom.”

You fixed your makeup in the mirror of Ransom’s Beamer and smoothed down your baby blue linen dress after Ransom parked in the church parking lot. You turned to look at him as you straightened the collar of his shirt that peeked over his sweater.

“You look absolutely dapper. The church ladies are gonna love you. Probably enough for them to keep their judgy eyes off me. Now let’s just hope they don’t start asking my mom about a wedding date.” You grumbled the last part as you brushed imaginary dust off his shoulders before leaning back towards your own seat again and placing your hand on the door handle.

Ransom didn’t move a muscle as he sat there, leaning over the center console, with a look as deep at the ocean. That was weird. You’d expected him to have his cocky game face on, which he did, but his eyes showed something different.

“What? Is something wrong? Do I not look okay? Are you regretting agreeing to come along today?”

He sighed and shook his head before holding out his hand for yours. “No, you look heavenly. I am regretting sleeping in because if I wouldn’t have, maybe you would’ve actually let me touch you in the shower. I thought a shower with you meant with you, but you tricked me, you minx.”

You softly smiled at the beginning of his statement, placing your hand in his. As he kept going, you rolled your eyes before playfully shoving his shoulder. “Oh please. You and I both know you wouldn’t have gotten up for anything else. And if I would’ve let you touch me, we’d still be at your place.”

He shrugged before pulling you closer for a final kiss before heading in. It was the kind that left you breathless and speechless, and a little dizzy when he pulled away, but that could have been due to skipping breakfast, too. Your eyes were still closed when he spoke against your lips. “Don’t think you’re getting away with this that easily, though. Now stay here while I get your door. Gotta make sure the church ladies see me treating you well.”

Your jaw dropped as he gave you a smirk, fire rising in his gaze as he slipped out of the driver’s side and over to yours.

Ransom held your hand as he walked into the church, sliding into a pew near the back where your family had saved the two of you a seat. It was just in time for the service to begin. You were simultaneously filled with relief for not being late, but also anxiousness. You knew that when he held that look in his eye, Ransom was up to no good.

If someone had asked you what you’d gathered from the sermon so far, your answer would be ‘jack shit.’ You were too focused on Ransom, and the way his hand was creeping up your leg as he stared straight ahead. He looked enthralled by whatever the preacher was dragging on and on about, but you knew better from the way his lips curled just slightly at the corners and his ringed pinky finger was sliding under the hem of your dress. The cool metal gave you chills. Your breath hitched, just as you were salivating, imagining what Ransom could possibly have in store for you. Unfortunately, that didn’t make for a good combination, as you choked on your own saliva.

You tried your hardest to hold in your coughs, eyes watering, until you couldn’t take it anymore. They burst out of you and the sound of your coughs, one after another, echoed through the nearly silent room as you scrambled to get up and into the hallway. Ransom shot your parents a sympathetic look before wordlessly gesturing that he was going to check up on you. They nodded in response, glad you had found someone so caring and responsible.

You burst through the doors at the back of the room with Ransom hot on your heels. You fast walked into the family restroom and Ransom slipped in behind you. He locked the door and made his way to your hunched over form, your arms bracing you against the sink as you continued coughing and heaving, trying to catch your breath. Ransom rubbed your back in soothing circles until you took a final gasp for air and looked up at his reflection in the mirror with a scowl.

“You did this. This is your fault, Mr. Handsy.” It came out with the slightest rasp. Ransom’s face morphed from slight concern into suggestion. Now that he had made sure you were okay, he was more than happy to have you exactly where he wanted you all along: alone.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not the one out there snorting my spit. I could probably successfully swallow, unlike you.” He knew exactly what he was doing. He was trying to rile you up so you’d give in to him now since you didn’t earlier this morning. You’d never outwardly crumble that easily, though. Where was the fun in that?

“First off, you should be the one to know I’m great at swallowing. And secondly, if you believe you did nothing wrong, I think we should find you a neurologist for those wandering hands. Maybe the rings are causing nerve damage and cutting off the feeling in your fingertips.” Ransom couldn’t help but let out a small chortle at that. Good one, babe. But he knew what could push you a little farther. He knew how much you really did love the way his hands wandered, even if you’d say otherwise. He could tell right now even, as he shifted to stand behind you, soft fingertips tracing up the front of your thighs and under your flowy dress. His hand was in between your thighs, creeping dangerously close to your cotton panties. He used his grip to pull you back against him, eyes never leaving yours in the mirror.

“Oh honey, I don’t have to be able to feel my fingers to know how good they make you feel.” He ran his fingers over the dampening fabric as your breath hitched. Finally.

His grin grew wide as he slipped his pinky finger under the gusset of your panties and pulled it to the side, exposing your glistening folds to the cool air.

You hissed at the sensation as Ransom began running a finger through your wetness. If you were anywhere else but a church bathroom, he would have worked to pull even louder sounds from you than the tiny breaths and moans you were already making, but that’s not something that could be afforded right now. As his one hand continued to tease your entrance, the other moved to cover your mouth.

“Quiet, Sweetheart. You make a noise and I stop. Don’t want anyone to find out what’s going on in here.” You nodded in acknowledgment and Ransom was satisfied with that response, kissing your temple that was collecting a thin shimmer from sweat already. Just as he was about to dip a finger in, though, the two of you heard music start. That meant service was almost over. They would play a few songs, and then everyone would rush out the doors, making it impossible for the two of you to leave the bathroom undetected and unsuspected of what was going on right now.

Ransom didn’t waste a second, though, pulling his hands off you to unzip his slacks and pull them down just low enough. His eyes locked in on yours in the mirror again, deep blue irises thin around lust and mischief-blown pupils.

“Sorry, sweetie. Don’t have time to prepare you. But you can handle that, right?” You didn’t have a chance to reply this time, as his hand found it’s place over your mouth again at the same time he fully sheathed himself within you.

The little squeak you made into Ransom’s hand when you were trying to hold back was music to his ears. Oooo, he liked that. He was gonna make sure to do whatever he could in the future so you’d make it again, but he didn’t have the time for it right now.

His hand that wasn’t over your mouth snaked to your tummy from where it was gripping your hip. Ransom could just barely feel the bulge pushing against your softness with each thrust and it drove him wild, as he sped up his thrusts and babbled into your ear.

“Yeah you can. You can take it. Look at you. Taking this so well. Being so good for me. I’d say you were an angel if we weren’t fucking like two whores in church right now.”

His vulgar words always did something to you, causing your eyes to roll back and your pussy to clench. That was Ransom’s favorite, especially when he found it out that his sharp tongue was something you actually enjoyed and rewarded him for, instead of punished. Despite his hand on your mouth, you were still working hard to keep yourself quiet, only letting out a low moan in response.

“Fuck, so good. So, gah-tight. You’re so perfect. I’m gonna take my hand off, okay? You gotta keep it down and I promise I’ll make you feel good.” You gripped harder against the sink as Ransom removed his hand, using it to hike your leg up on the edge of the counter, his hand that was previously on your stomach moving to rub your clit.

You gasped for air, before moving your own hand to your mouth. If you were at home, moans and curses would’ve been profusely spilling out of your mouth with how near your were to the tipping point. Ransom’s grunts in your ear we’re pulling you even closer to the edge when he licked your neck, the sweet taste of your perfume mixed with salty sweat hitting his tongue, and the debauchery of the gesture tossing you over the edge of your orgasm. Your knee gave out as you came, Ransom’s strong arms holding you up against the sink as you felt him swell and release in you at the same time, still rubbing your clit and shallowly thrusting for both of you to come down from your highs.

“That’s it. That’s it, sweetheart.” His breath was hot against your neck, but you were both pulled out of the post-orgasmic bliss by the sound of the music changing. The last song of service was playing and within a few minutes, everyone would be emerging into the hall.

Ransom pulled out of you faster than he had before, both of you moaning with oversensitivity and the abruptness of the action. You gained composure on your jelly legs before pulling your panties back into place and doing your best to fix your makeup in the mirror. Luckily, the smudges could be attributed to your coughing fit earlier, but Ransom’s rogue hairs that had flown forward and stuck to his forehead couldn’t. You quickly pushed them back into a decent position and straightened his collar before rushing into the hallway and taking a seat at an old pew that was next to a table with water bottles and cookies on it, set out for the social hour that always happened after service. Ransom grabbed a bottle and quickly chugged it down halfway, handing it to you just as the last song was ending.

“Here, hunch forward like you’re still recovering. And take this.” He was too good at convincing people of the scenes they had walked into. But how could you complain when it had gotten you out of trouble with the cops more times than you could count? Including after the two of you had been parked somewhere a little too long having car sex, or when he had driven just a little too recklessly while fingering you in the passenger seat. He always knew exactly how to manipulate the scene in his favor, convincing others to not believe their own eyes, but the stories he presented them instead. But he didn’t do it to you, never to you. He learned that the hard way, it’s better to be honest and do it with you. You were his teammate, who better to use his skills for than the one he loved? Bring it up though, and he’d deny it.

So you and Ransom sat there, your elbows on your knees and him rubbing circles on your back with his large, warm palm. Sure, it was performative, but it was also extremely comforting and reassuring, especially with the way he just rocked your world in the bathroom.

The church-goers began to file out of the double doors and into the hall. You looked up through your eyelashes to be greeted by your parents. They looked at you with confusion and a hint of concern when your dad crouched in front of you and your mom sat next to Ransom.

“Everything alright?” Your dad looked up into your eyes and you managed a nod, taking a sip from the water bottle and clearing your throat.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Got into a coughing fit and couldn’t shake it. Much better now.”

Ransom heard the clarity with which you spoke. If he really wanted to be convincing, he should’ve had you suck him off. There wasn’t really the time for that, though. As much as he loved watching your lips wrapped around him, he came way faster inside you, and how could he allow for the evidence of scuffs on your knees when you were wearing such a pretty dress? Maybe next time, when you were in jeans.

Ransom was pulled out of his thoughts when your mom and dad spoke, thanking him for checking up on you.

“Oh no problem, don’t worry, I took good care of your girl. I always will.”

They smiled, and must’ve believed the scene in front of them, as the topic swiftly changed to what they wanted for brunch plans. Ransom met your gaze, giving a quick wink for only you to see before kissing the top of your head and giving his input to the conversation.

That was the last you saw of him for half an hour, though, as the church ladies descended, squeezing themselves between the two of you, oohing and ahhhing over your sly boyfriend. Every now and then, as they’d ask him a tidal wave of questions, his eyes would seek you, full of fire, secrecy, and love, paired with that signature smirk on his face.

Bonus A/N: I think something that this extravaganza has taught me is that I have a thing for mirrors….and that scares me. It’s so hot in fics, and sure, every time I walk past a mirror in real life, I’ve been told I stop, but I wasn’t aware of what a dangerous combination that made until now. Lord save me, but he’s probably too angry at me now bc I wrote this.

[morgana-larkin]

Ok so I had an idea, it might be stupid but here’s the summary: one of Melissa’s first students became a teacher and got a job at Abbott as a first grade teacher. Melissa becomes interested in her right away.

On another note: dudes, I’ve noticed I don’t get as much notice on my Chessy fics and I’m not understanding, she the original gay icon from Lisa Ann Walter. Also almost no notice on my Marilyn Thornhill x reader fic. I’ll be doing worth it then a sexy Mel firefighter prompt😉

Playing Favourite

Warnings: smut, Mel being a tease

Words: 2.9k

You walk into the doors of Abbott Elementary and you stop to take a look. Been awhile since you last step foot in here, last time was when you were graduating grade 8, about 10 years ago. You’ve gone from graduating from Abbott to teaching there, full circle as they say.

You got your teaching badge and classroom key and then you head to the staff lounge. You open the door with a smile and look around in amazement. You never saw this room, the one place students couldn’t enter. You look and see a few teachers staring at you confused. You just walk in and go to the fridge to put your lunch in and you freeze.

“Ms. Schemmenti?” You say and she looks at you even more confused.

“Who are you?” She asked.

“Oh sorry, I guess I look a bit different. My name is y/n y/l/n. You might not remember me actually, I was in your class when you first started working here.” You tell her and she smiles.

“Of course, I remember you now. What are you doing here?” She asks.

You showed her your teaching badge. “I work here now.” You tell her proudly and walk over to her. “You actually inspired me to become a teacher. I just saw the way you loved teaching and I thought it’d be great to love your job so much and I always loved helping people out.” You tell her. “Ms Howard, you’re both still here. I don’t recognize anyone else here.”

“They all left dear.” Barb tells you. “And you’re a fellow teacher here now. Call me Barb.” She tells you.

“Barb…wow, that felt weird.” You say with a chuckle and she smiles at you. You then go and put your lunch in the fridge and then make a coffee. “Anyone else want one, I’m making a new pot.” You ask the room. Melissa gets up and stands next to you with her coffee mug.

“I’ll take one hon.” She tells you and you smile at her. “I’m proud of you, I knew you’d make a great teacher.” She tells you while you put coffee in her mug.

“Really?” You ask her and stare at her with wide eyes and she nods. “You might not have known but you were my favourite teacher.” You tell her and she rubs your shoulder.

“Thank you, it makes me happy to hear that.” She tells you and goes to sit down. When you’re done making your coffee, you get invited to sit with the trio and they all introduce themselves when you do.

“So y/n, what was Melissa like when she taught you?” Janine asks you.

“Well… she was always caring of all her students. And every year I was here, I saw that never changed.” You tell them and then go on and recall more moments that you remember from second grade and Melissa.

When it was close to 8am, you all make your way to the gym for the welcome back presentation. You walk in and see Barb and Melissa going to sit down somewhere and the trio going to get good seats near the front. The trio invited you to sit with them but you saw Melissa and Barb sitting in one of the middle rows and you make your way over there. You go in from the other side and walk over and sit down beside Melissa and she looks up from her phone to look at you.

“Hope it’s alright that I sit beside you.” you tell her and she smiles.

“Of course not hon.” She says and takes a candy from her bag, unwraps it and plops it in her mouth.

“I knew you had a candy stash.” You tell her and she looks over at you confused. “Whenever one of us was crying, you always gave a piece of candy to make them feel better along with a small pep talk.” You tell her and she smiles.

“Want one?” She asks and hands you a piece of candy. You take the candy with a smile.

“Sure, thank you Ms Schemmenti.” You say and she rolls her eyes as you pop the candy in your mouth.

“Hon, I’m not your teacher anymore, I’m your co worker, you can call me by my first name.” She tells you and you look at her confused. “Do you not know what my first name is?” She asks you and you shake your head. “It’s Melissa.”

“Melissa… that sounds weird.” You say and she tilts her head at you and you mentally facepalm. “Not that your name is weird. Just that I’m used to knowing you as Ms Schemmenti.” You rush out and she chuckles.

“I get it. When you’re used to something a certain way then it’s weird when it changes.” She tells you.

The presentation starts and you see that Melissa and Barb aren’t really paying attention. Barb is mostly focused on crossword puzzles, and Melissa on eating candy and her phone. She does keep offering you some during the 2 hour presentation, to which you always accept.

When Ava was showing selfies of her summer vacation, Melissa leaned over to you. “So where’s your classroom?” She asks you.

You look at your papers and see. “Ummm…” You look and she grabs one of the papers and sees.

“Oh, you’re right next to mine.” She tells you. “You’re a first grade teacher?” She says and you nod.

“You know we end up doing some things with the first graders during the year. I don’t know if you remember.” She tells you and you think about it.

“I remember doing some project with a bunny…or was it a rabbit.” You say and she grins.

“Peter rabbit.” She says and you smile and nod. “I still do that project.” She tells you and you smile.

“Really? Oh I would love to collaborate on that if you want. It’s a cute story.” You say while looking at what Ava is saying and she blushes.

A few hours later you’re decorating your classroom when you hear a few curses from next door. You walk over and knock on the door. A few seconds later Melissa opens the door and smiles when she sees it’s you.

“Everything alright in here? I heard, what I think is cursing.” You tell her and she sighs and nods.

“Ya, just having some trouble hanging something up. It’s a bit wide and everytime I go to hang up one side, the other one comes off cause it can’t support the weight.” She tells you.

“Do you need some help?” You offer and she smiles.

“If you don’t mind then I would appreciate it.” She says and she lets you in.

“Wow.” You say as you walk in her classroom. “It’s changed but still some things are the same.” You say as you look around the room.

“Was I really your favourite teacher? I mean you aren’t just saying that?” She asks and you look at her.

“Ya of course. I don’t really remember my other teachers that much, but I remember you. I sorta remember Barb but you don’t see me telling her that she was my favourite.” You joke a bit and she laughs.

“Well you could have without me knowing.” She tells you and you chuckle. You go over to one side of the poster that she needs help with and pin it up and then hold it while she pins the other side. “Well thanks for the help, I can’t wait to see you with the students. And it’s been great seeing you again.” She says to you and you smile.

“You as well.” You tell her and then go back to your classroom.

*2 months later*

Melissa opens her door and sees you there with a bag and a frustrated expression on your face. “Hey y/n.” She tells you with a quirked eyebrow.

“I need your help with my Halloween costume.” You say, straight to the point and she giggles.

“Alright come on in.” She says and steps aside to let you in her house. “Who are you going as?” She asks.

You and Melissa have gotten closer over the past 2 months. She didn’t give you the cold shoulder even though you’re new since you were one of her first students. She’s gotten to know who you are and the both of you have been slowly falling for each other. Neither of you will admit it though since you’re both stubborn and don’t want to possibly ruin the friendship.

“Ok well you know how you said you’re going as Penelope Featherington?” You start and she nods her head. “Well I thought I’d go as Eloise Bridgerton.” You tell her and she laughs.

“And what exactly are you having trouble with?” She asks you sigh.

“I can’t figure out how to put on the clothes.” You tell her with a pout. She giggles as your pout and walks up to you.

“Alright, well we can both get ready and help each other out.” She tells you and you smile.

You both get your costumes ready and laid out. You begin to put the corset on and she comes to tie it up. She sees all your skin on display and since you’re standing in front of the mirror, she sees a good amount of cleavage as well. She loops the string in the last few holes before beginning to tighten it.

“Is that too tight?” She asks and you shake your head.

“No, that’s perfect.” You tell her and she ties it together. She then helps you put the dress on and accidentally brushes one of your breasts and you gasp.

“Sorry.”

“Oh, it’s- it’s ok, just surprised me is all.” You rush out.

You then help her with her corset. You both really should have accounted for her chest, as when tightening it, one of them slips out and you both freeze. You stare at it through the mirror and your brain stops working. She tucks it back in and you’re still staring at where it was and your cheeks are redder than her hair. She sees your reaction and she turns around to face you.

“Did you like what you saw?” She asks, with a bit of a teasing tone and you nod.

“It looked perfect.” You breathe out and she can see your breathing has gotten heavy. She takes a step towards you and she’s right in front of you, it wouldn't take much to lean forward and kiss her.

“Y/n, are you attracted to me?” She asks cautiously. You widen your eyes and you don’t know what to say. All you have the brain function to do is nod. “Well that’s perfect because I’m attracted to you too.” She tells you with a smile.

“Really?” You say in disbelief and she nods.

“Ya, and I just want to say that I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a couple weeks now.” She tells you and you lean forward a bit and she closes the gap. She puts a hand on the back of your head and you put one on her cheek. You both pull back after a few seconds and you stare at each other before going right back and make out. She walks forward a bit while still kissing you and your back hits a wall. She puts both her hands on the wall, one beside your head and the other beside your waist. You have both your arms wrapped around her neck to keep her where she is and open your mouth a bit to let her tongue slip in.

At one point she puts her hand on your waist and gives it a small squeeze and you moan. You pull back when you need to breath and look at her as you try and bring oxygen back to your brain.

“Do you kiss all your former students?” You tease and she smiles.

“Can’t say I have, you’re the only one.” She tells you. “Do you kiss all your former teachers?” She teases back.

“Only my favourite teacher.” You say and she lunges forward to capture your lips again. She moves her hands downward near your ass and cups it when she gets there. She then gets you to hop up and wrap your legs around her and you do just that. She then pins you against the wall harder and goes for your neck.

She then gets some of her control back and she pulls back to look at you. “Do you want to continue with this or do you want to stop here? Cause I’ll tell you right now that if we continue then I’ll want to go all the way.” She tells you bluntly.

“Then let’s go all the way.” You tell her and she carries you to her bedroom and lays you on the bed and continues kissing you. You then get an idea when she goes back to kissing your neck. You get her to pull back and look at her. “I know you said to call you Melissa, but right now I just want to call you Ms Schemmenti.” You tell her and she smiles and shakes her head.

“Oh, do you want to be disciplined then?” She asks, playing along.

“Perhaps.” You say.

“I mean you have been bad. Having dirty thoughts about your teacher, showing up in sexy clothes to get her attention.” She tells you and blush. “Oh don’t think I haven’t noticed your wardrobe change in the past few weeks.” She tells you.

“So it worked then.” You say proudly.

“Oh, it definitely worked.” She says and kisses you again. She then reaches under your dress and pulls your underwear down and throws it somewhere. She then goes under your dress and connects her mouth with your pussy.

You feel her tongue on you and you gasp. You can’t see her, all you do is feel her and she definitely knows how to please a woman with her tongue. You grab the headboard behind you and you buck your hips. She then moves her mouth to your clit and you moan and buck your hips again. She then slips a finger in and you gasp out. She pops her head out from under your dress and looks at you with wet lips.

“How should I discipline you?” She asks you and you just whine as she’s still fingering you. She adds another finger and your eyes are shut closed. She expertly takes her underwear off and goes in her nightstand to get her strap on. She somehow is able to put it on with one hand and then she pulls out of you, much to your reluctance. She pulls your dress off and then she pulls one of your breasts out of the corset top and wraps her mouth around the nipple. She pulls back after a few seconds and looks at you. “I’m going to get in a sitting position and you're going to settle yourself on my strap and ride it.” She tells you and you look down and realise that she put a strap on and you nod.

She goes to sit and you climb on her lap and then slowly go down on the strap, taking the whole thing in you. You then start to go back and forth on it, riding the strap and wrap your arms around her neck and look at her. She grabs your hips and helps you ride her and she feels it rubbing her clit.

“Yes, ride my strap, take your discipline like a good girl.” She tells you and you moan.

“Yes Ms Schemmenti, I’ll be good.” You tell her and she groans. She slips a finger down to your clit and applies pressure and you gasp out and pull her body closer to you. She pulls you in and kisses you and you feel yourself close to coming. “Omg, I’m so close Miss.” You gasp out and she moans.

“I’m close as well, go on baby, come with me.” She says and seconds later you come and she comes right after you. You stop riding her strap and you get off of her. She holds you to her and you’re both trying to catch your breath. While doing that, you hear a knock at the door and you look at the time and realise it’s probably some of the early trick or treaters. “Ignore them, I’m more interested in this treat.” She says and points to you and you giggle.

“I do have to get ready though. I have a Halloween party to get too.” You say to her and go to get up.

“Nooo, but I want you here and don’t want to let you go.” Melissa says to you as she holds you tight and you giggle.

“Well how about you come with me, and then I can come back here with you.” You suggested and she smiled as she accepted your offer.

“Ok deal.” She tells you and then the two of you get ready and go to the party.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

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Let me know if you want to be added!

[tbgblr2]

Cruising to a new life - Part 8

(Some may say at long last… sorry just been having a real bad time of getting motivated to write with work chaos ruling my life. Hopefully this won’t go so many months without a follow up…)

- - - -

I was roused from my sleep by the sound of my phone going off with a message. My sleep-addled brain immediately went to wonder who was messaging me until I realised that I was at sea, and we wouldn’t get mobile signal here. Jodie’s phone went off a second or two later, and that’s when we realised it was a shipwide message.

Picking up my phone, as Jodie did the same, we both looked at each other. “Adriana’s in labour” we both said to each other simultaneously.

The message was ship wide from Charles and said that Adriana had started having contractions at 5am that morning and wanted to start her video diary of her labour as soon as soon as she could. Over the course of the last 3 hours – checking my watch it was 8am – they have developed and became regular. She would like to invite everyone to the cinema to watch at their own convenience. Charles added at the end – it may be difficult viewing for some so individual discretion is advised. The standard cinema screenings would be put on hold whilst the video diary was being transmitted to the ship.

Jodie had already started tapping away on her phone. “Jess is going there right now, she’s been awake for an hour or two already.” Jodie’s hand rubbed her bump absentmindedly. “I’m sure this one has seen enough babies coming out of people now to get the hint… who knows we might be next.”

I kissed her. “We can only hope babe.” I laughed as I rolled out of bed and wandered over to the shower, the rush of water drowning out any other noise that could be heard.

As we got ourselves presentable and headed down to the cinema we realised just how popular this ‘event’ was going to be. We had to wait for 3 different lifts to arrive as the crowds were filling them as they passed but eventually we managed, with a sigh of relief, to get inside the lift car as the doors shut in front of us with a ding.

As we entered into the cinema we were greeted with a who knows how many hundred inch view of Adriana’s face as she was kneeling in a birthing tub, arms crossed on the edge as she looked into the camera and was narrating away.

“The labour pains are frequent but manageable. I’ve been using gas and air to take away the worst of it. Charles has been a welcome distraction and my dear Miguel has been his ever professional self throughout.” She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, we presumed this was a signal that a contraction had started, all but guaranteed by the hum escaping her mouth.

We noticed she still had on some sort of top covering in the pool, a sports bra or similar, but with her proclivity for nakedness we had to wonder how long that would stay on. Jodie even turned to me and whispered “do you think she has knickers on?” Which I’ll admit did bring a little chuckle.

We spied Jess and headed over that way as she was sitting in one of the comfy seats, with her hand rubbing her belly absentmindedly she hadn’t even noticed us approaching. Jodie sat down next to her and it was only as she realised there was a space occupied did Jess even acknowledge our arrival.

“Something up?” I asked, noticing she was paying special attention to her midsection.

“I think I might be in labour” Jess talk-whispered loud enough that we could hear but hoping it won’t carry. “But Miguel is obviously otherwise occupied… as you can see” she gestured to the screen where Jess’s lover could be seen wheeling over the bottle of gas and air and handing the mouthpiece to Adriana.

“If you are, you’re going to need to be seen” Jodie admonished, a little shocked that Jess would put the health of herself and her baby in place of the promise that Miguel made to deliver her baby.

“I will, I mean she looks worse off that me, my contractions are only light. We might get to watch this baby be born then I get in right on after” she giggled at least showing her sense of humour wasn’t affected.

I took a moment to change the subject “is your mum coming?” I asked. Jess shook her head.

“She’s not had much sleep what with the baby and me pacing around for hours” again another dirty look from Jodie “so she’s decided to nap when she can. It’s not like me trying to learn something, she’s done it a couple of times now…”

“… and you’ll experience it first hand soon” interrupted Jodie, still not letting the subject lie.

“Yup” grimaced Jess as she pulled her dress tight to her bump and we both saw it change shape, almost becoming oblong as the contraction gripped at Jess and squeezed. It stayed that way for a good minute until it returned to its normal shape and she started breathing normally again. We both looked completely gobsmacked as this event unfolded only a few feet from us.

Jess pulled her phone out from her bag as she tapped a message. We couldn’t see what she wrote but turned to see Miguel in the background on the big screen pick up his phone and tap something, only to hear Jess’s phone buzz a moment later. It was clear they were talking at least.

Jodie huffed in resignation knowing she wasn’t getting Jess to move anywhere so offered her hand for her cruise mate to hold as we all turned towards the big screen.

Adriana was getting out of the pool aided by both Charles and Miguel, her soaked body raising up. Jodie won the bet, she had nothing on from her waist down. As she stepped over the wall of the birthing pool she announced to the camera “I’ll ask Miguel to check my progress then I want to labour outside the pool a little. Movement is very important. You shouldn’t feel constrained to any one place, keep moving, your baby… and hips… will thank you for it.”

Charles brought over a towel and wrapped it around his wife, patting her down and getting rid of as much of the excess water as he could. After both were satisfied, she plodded over to the bed where she lifted her bum up onto it and swung her legs around so she had them splayed open to the camera with everything on display. This brought a few unexpected gasps from the onlooking crowd but from what I knew of Adriana from the few days I had known her, this wasn’t exactly unexpected.

She narrated again as Miguel gloved up a hand and applied some gel to his fingers. “Miguel will enter his fingers into me and he can feel how much my cervix has dilated. It was previously at 5cm but I’m hoping for more” she said as she shuffled back on the bed. She held her breath and breathed a out as Miguel put his hand between his sisters legs, the camera man following around to catch the examination in detail. Miguel’s fingers had all but disappeared when he abounded “you’re at 6. You’re progressing.” That was when Jess gripped Jodie’s hand tight as another contraction assaulted her middle, catching her off guard.

Over the course of the next 3 hours or so the cinema was somewhat abuzz with activity. Some families came and sat for an hour or two, but most seemed to tire of watching the stream eventually, some rejoined it again after leaving for food or some other activities. Some had babies with them at this point and when they got fussy they left the auditorium to save spoiling things for others.

We however, sat enraptured. I had to pop out for food to make sure we kept our growling stomachs satisfied – and it was during one of these trips out that Jess announced she was going back to her room, the confines of the seat too much for her. Having witnessed Adriana going through a particularly tough contraction, and it being echoed in parallel by Jess just next to us, Jodie made sure that I escorted her back to the lifts.

I’ll be honest and say it was the slowest walk of my life. Jess firstly wanted to go outside for fresh air, but had a plodding walk along the deck and stopped 3 times. I asked if each were contractions but she shook her head. “I’m just big” she laughed looking out to sea and resting against a railing.

“It might not be appropriate, but damn it, can you rub my back please?” She asked, almost groaning. I’m guessing that was a contraction. I did as I was asked, knowing fine well comfort was more important than decorum at times like this. It had the desired effect, Jess’s groan turning into something a lot happier sounding as I rubbed her back.

“Now right down the bottom squeeze my hips.” I realised she was echoing something she watched Adriana do when coping with a contraction, though in her case she was on all fours in the tub and Charles was knee deep in the water behind her. Thankfully Jess didn’t try and get down on all fours mid deck.

“Oh that’s the good stuff. You remember this for Jodie, because this right here is golden” Jess surprisingly had all but lost the sound of pain in her voice and seemed to be coping a lot better after my ministrations. She moved off soon after and we returned indoors to the lift, pressing the button. A few moments later Jess gave me a hug as she stepped inside. I wished her good luck in case I didn’t see her again as the door closed in front of me.

I dashed back to the auditorium to meet up with Jodie again and relayed what had happened with Jess. She in turn explained that Adriana had now not spoken for at least 10 minutes, she was more lost in her contractions than anything, even going so bad as to be yowling in pain as she goes through them. She seemed to be having it real tough – perhaps, we thought, much tougher than she expected. Jodie did confide in me that she was worried about going overdue and finding the baby be too big to push out. I told her that it’s really unlikely, and in all of the birth videos we had watched together – and let me tell you it was a lot – we had never seen anyone struggle as much as Adriana seemed to be doing at the moment.

We had lost sight of Jess for over an hour at this point and to be frank we were starting to wonder if she was still in her room with her mum or if she’d moved on to delivery by now. On the screen in front of us, Adriana was not doing so well. Her attempts at being a calm, collected labouring mother were long gone as the tears streamed down her face and she yelled out with abandon. She was presumably deep in transition now, her pains seemingly all but on top of each other but Charles was there to support her, rubbing her back, getting in close and whispering what we presume were affirmations to her ear as she struggled.

Adriana was on her knees in the pool with her arms crossed on the edge, alternating between her forehead and her chin resting on her arms. We were presuming there was no sign of the baby and she wasn’t pushing as the cameraman was stoicly sat in front of her - last time he moved around the pool was to catch Miguel leaning in over the edge of the to check her progress where he announced she was 8cm and nearly there. We don’t know if Adriana actually realised in her state.

Suddenly we see Miguel’s phone ring and he answered it. Whilst we could only see his half of the conversation on camera we guessed the other participant would be Jess by the context of the conversation.

“So soon? Ok please tell me you don’t need to push just yet…. Oh good can you get here? Ok I can’t leave Adi just yet, she’s struggling…. Yes baby I know you are too. Come up here and I’ll let you in. Get here by my room… ok take it slow and ring when you get here I’ll dash through.”

Charles looked up with a quizzical look. “Jess?” he enquired.

“Jess” confirmed Miguel.

That caused Charles to sigh. “I need you to look after your sister she is struggling more than I expected.”

We weren’t expecting to see some sort of family argument playing out on the big screen in front of us but here it was. Miguel took control though “I know what I’m doing. Let me do my job. 2 babies at once is unfortunate but nothing I can’t handle especially when they’re both in the same room and I can keep track of each of them together.”

Charles nodded. “So be it, you’re the expert.” You could tell he wasn’t exactly pleased at the prospect though.

“It’s my decision” confirmed Miguel as he walked off camera.

Charles did what he could to explain the situation to Adriana in a moment of lucidity between contractions and to give his wife her due, she nodded, presumably confirming understanding as she went back to putting her forehead on her arms and letting out a sorrowful moan as the next contraction picked up.

Miguel came back on camera leading Jess by the hand a few moments later. We were somewhat of a close knit community on the ship so there’s a chance that the unexpected arrival was known to many, but Miguel offered no explanation to the camera he just lead her off screen to the other side. Some murmurs were heard in the cinema so perhaps not everyone knew our friend and the relationship she was developing with Miguel.

Charles looked up at the camera and said “Adriana please” - presumably he was being asked who the camera should focus on, the directional mic masking the voice behind the camera.

In the background of the shot - the pool in the foreground and the bed in the back - Miguel had unzipped Jess’s dress and lifted it over her head. She was dressed in a sports bra and light blue maternity panties which came up the underside of her bump, but what was most obvious about them was the dark patch between her legs. We could only presume her waters had broke and she panicked resulting in the phone call.

She didn’t seem in much distress - at least compared to Adriana - as she had her underwear dropped to the floor by Miguel, resting her hands on his shoulders as she stepped out of them. She lifted her bra off herself then flung her arms around Miguel’s shoulders and practically fell into him as she groaned herself.

Miguel, in response could be heard saying “breathe, pant through it. Don’t push! Let me check your progress first” and it was obvious that Jess was much more progressed along her labour journey than what Adriana was at this point in time.

Jess managed to form words around her grunts. “I’m trying baby, it’s too hard, the baby is right there, he’s going to come out…” it ended with a yell. She seemed to squat down a little hanging deeper off his shoulders.

Adriana in turn looked up to the camera then to the side calling for Charles. He dashed around to the front blocking the view of the cameraman, who stepped to the side, taking Jess and Miguel out of shot.

“Charles, Charles… the head. I can feel it, it’s stretching me. I need to push! I need to push!” She was frantic, her hands reaching out to grab Charles’s who in turn held them tight.

“Miguel, she needs to push! Can she push!” Bellowed Charles, concern for his wife etched on his face.

Miguel yelled out “Pant Adi, don’t give in, I’ll be there in a moment… and DONT PUSH!” He emphasised the last part. The cameraman panned over taking Adriana and Charles out of the shot to focus on Miguel and Jess as he was helping her up on the bed and unceremoniously poked 2 fingers between her legs. “Jess, baby. You’re good push when you’re ready. I need to check on Adi a moment.”

Jess’s eyes grew wide and she was about to yell out something about him staying with her as she suddenly curled over and lay on her side on the bed, hooking one leg back - the primal need to push had taken over.

Miguel looked distraught his eyes darting between his sister and lover but he knew Adi needed him more right that second. As the cameraman followed Miguel he bound the few steps it took to get over to the pool to check on Adriana.

He checked her over and confirmed she was at 10cm dilation also and could push when she was ready. Her first attempt was met with a wailing, sorrowful sound but Miguel congratulated her. “That’s it, you’re doing the right thing. Keep that jaw loose. Make as much noise as you need, it really helps things along.”

He looked up to Jess and she was doing somewhat the opposite. Chin to her chest, her face going beet red with effort, she pulled her leg back so far it was squashing tight against her belly, her knee essentially meeting her nipple. Miguel shook his head as he asked Charles to keep Adi focused on pushing and went back to looking after Jess.

“Release, release baby. Breathe, breathe, breathe” he chanted at Jess as his hand met her knee. She gasped and let go of her leg. “Remember the baby needs oxygen. Big gulps of air between pushes. No more than 10 seconds each one.” Jess nodded understanding and gasped a lungful of air as she resumed the position. “Good… good. That’s it. Now breathe!”

Jess gasped and was left panting. “Is that the contraction over?” Asked Miguel. Jess nodded. “Good, take a moment to relax.”

“Is she ok?” Asked Jess, looking over to Adriana.

“She’s good. Struggling a bit, but she’ll get there. Let me worry about her and you worry about yourself and this little one” he said gently resting a hand on Jess’s belly. “I know this isn’t what you wanted, but baby’s come at the time they want and often ruin peoples plans. Just know I’m here for you but I also need to look after my sister.”

Jess nodded understanding as the need to push came back on her. “Good” said Miguel enthusiastically “you’ve got the hang of it, remember to breathe!” As he left her to return to Adriana.

Adriana in turn had flopped back into more of a sitting position in the pool. She had braced her feet against indents in the sides and held on to bars designed to give leverage. Charles had moved back into position behind his wife as the camera was front and centre catching her spread legged position in the main shot. However we could still see Jess in the background taking part in her own battle as Miguel dashed from lady to lady to try and give each as much support as he could.

Jess was the first to crown. The camera of course wasn’t focused on it but we could still see the action happening. Jess’s pushing was much more inward and grunting, Adriana yelling and screeching with each contraction. We saw her lips part and the head come out in about a 2 minute window, Jess giving her own yelp of pain as the head was born. Miguel kept up her spirits with affirmations and coaching then suddenly with a grunt and gush of fluid we watched as Jess’s baby was pushed out and placed on her chest. The sound of a crying baby in the room rang louder than even Adriana’s wails and she stopped, desperately trying to turn around to see what was going on behind her, but her body not letting her.

Adriana’s moment of respite was short lived as she went back into pushing. At this point her lips were bulging outward to show the shape of the head that was so near, yet seemingly so far from being born. She grunted and yelled, and ironically it was the cameraman who yelled out from behind the camera “I can see baby’s hair.”

This seemed to buoy Adriana, who actually smiled, but that smile turned into a grimace as the next contraction forced her to push again. Her lips parted and sure enough the auditorium could clearly see the dark patch between her legs. Charles rubbed her shoulders telling her she was doing great and to keep it up, but what he didn’t see from the room was the collective ‘aww’ we all gave as we saw the head sink back out of view as the contraction let up.

Now admittedly we all knew that this was the process and how it would take several pushes for the head to crown… but for Adriana who was struggling so much it felt like a cruel irony.

[issysh3ll]

Daily Drabble | 23

Matt Sturniolo

Walking through campus at 8am is the last place you want to be today but the first day of semester is not one you can skip. The free coffee your friend had given you when you showed up to the cafe she works at this morning with bags under your eyes and grumbling about hating today is the only thing keeping you going.

As you trudge along the path towards your class building, sipping the warm coffee in your hands, you roll your eyes at the group of boys yelling and messing around on the grass next to you. How they can have this much energy so early is beyond you.

Suddenly one of the boys comes tumbling towards you, his chocolate brown hair falling over his face and blocking his view as he barrels across the path. His body collides with yours messily and you screech as you both crash to the ground in a heap, your beloved coffee flying out of your grasp onto the pavement. His groups of friends cackle in the background as your body shoots with pain from the landing.

With a small groan the boy pulls himself off you and peers down at you sheepishly, holding out a hand to help you up. You begrudgingly accept and dust yourself off before looking over to the mess off coffee to your side.

Your attention is drawn back to the boy as he clears his throat and scratches at his neck, awkwardly offering an apology. “Uh sorry ‘bout that… my friends pushed me… I’m Matt.”

“Matt… You ruined my morning” you declare, gesturing at the coffee spread across the pavement.

more daily drabbles here If this idea inspires you, feel free to continue the story in a reblog ♡

[yallfavblkgirl]

“ 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐈 𝐇𝐈𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ?? ”

✩ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ; you stayed over a chris’s house last night, now he asking if he can hit it in the morning…

ఌ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 ;

smut !

foul language !

use of the n word !

use of the nicknames : mama, ma, and baby !

dom!chris !

THE LOUD SOUNDS OF THUNDER woke you out of your sleep, you opened your eyes and turned over so you could be face to face with your boyfriend, chris, you fell back asleep as chris started feeling up your waist and lower back.

“heyy mama.” you heard chris’s voice calling you causing you to open your eyes and smile, “hey baby.” you said back to him and chris went under your shirt and rubbing your breast.

“boy you better stop.” you said as your grabbed his hands gently and giggled as you turned away from him but that didn’t stop him at all. chris was still under your shirt and still rubbing, he started kissing on your neck to your ear and back down.

“mmm baby you need to stop, your brothers could come in at any moment.” you managed to moan out, trying not to give into what chri was trying to do. “i’m not doing anything.” chris said in devious tone with a smirk on his face.

“turn around mama, i wanna see your face.” chris whispered into your ear, you did as told and turn around but you grunted while doing it. “you’re being so needy!!” you said as he continued to rub on your breast, your pussy was getting wetter and wetter by the second.

“mama you know that pussy screaming my name.” chris touched on your pussy through your pajama shorts, you moaned as you placed your thigh on his waist making it a bit easier to get to it.

“see, you hear it? it’s sayin ‘chris!’ ‘chris!’ it’s okay baby i’m hereee.” chris said as you playfully hit him on arm, “baby please stop playing and fuck me.” you spoke in a whiny tone and chris smirked before he took the covers off you and got on top of you.

he started taking off your clothes and kissing all the way down to your pussy causing you to moan loudly as his lips danced on your lower stomach, he was leaving hickey’s all on your body. “chris baby!” you continued to whine because now that he got you wetter than the ocean he was playing.

chris smirked, he finally got down there to your pussy and he started licking and sucking your clit so well that he had your eyes rolling into the back of your head and coming more than once. “ouuu babyyy!!” you moaned as he took off his joggers.

“tell me what you want mama.” he said but he knew what you wanted he just liked playing with you, “baby come onnn.” you said and chris shook his head, “that’s not what i wanna hear.” chris said before you rolled your eyes.

“baby can you please fuck me?” you bat your eye lashes at him, chris smirked again before slowly picking you up and placing you on him lap, “you know what to do mama.” you smirked as you spread your legs and slipped your wet pussy on his cock.

you moaned loudly followed along by chris’s groans and moans, you bounced up and down on his cock causing your moans to get louder and louder, you continue to ride him until you came on his cock, you got off him and laid down as chris came on his sheet.

you were trying to slow down your breathing, you heard knocking on your door. “y/n? can you get th-” chris started but he saw you sleeping and didn’t want to bother so he put his pants on and walked over to the door.

“what?”

“it’s 8am!”

“so?”

“so stop fucking in here and dumping my fucking walls!”

“oh sorry nick…”

“i told you nigga.” you said as you pulled the cover over your shoulder.

[redrose10]

Yoongi x Female Reader. Soulmate AU

Summary: There’s no one on this planet you hate more than your coworker/secret crush Min Yoongi. He’s an arrogant, rude, womanizer who gets under your skin every single shift and you can’t wait for your day to be over so you can get away from him. Unfortunately when Jimin, your caseworker from The Ministry of Adoration, shows up offering you both a raspberry jam filled cookie, things take a surprising turn for the worst and you can no longer get away.

Warnings: Swearing, hints of smut (nothing graphic or really detailed), a little angst, Yoongi gets around, small hint to homophobia, mentions a guy not taking no for an answer. Might get updated later

Tag list: @kam9404 @yoongisducky @farfromsugafanfic @welcometomyworld13 @viankiss @ktownshizzle @bear8585

(I think I got everyone. If I missed someone I’m sorry and please let me know.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 3- Tea and Tteok-bokki

Word Count: 3,702

When you woke up the next morning you felt a little guilty for being so harsh towards Yoongi the night before. Maybe you did overreact a little because why did you care that you weren’t his ideal type? Even though you had a massive crush on him and you technically were soulmates you still had a deep seated hatred for him or so you thought.

You also woke up and regretted asking Han out and thought about canceling, but then realized maybe it would be good for you to actually go out, meet other people. Especially since Yoongi clearly wasn’t interested.

A knock at your door caught your attention and got you up out of your still semi induced sleep state.

Waking Yoongi was harder than you expected, but you finally got him up and followed behind him as he opened the door.

A smiling Jimin greeted you both. “Here have some breakfast. I got you some bagel sandwiches and two green teas. I thought you might be sick of coffee.”, he said handing over the packages.

He let himself in and took a seat before clapping his hands together, “So I think we need to have a little meeting because you two are one week down and have made zero progress from what I can see. If anything you went backwards.”

“We know.”, you both nodded.

“So then why am I hearing about hook ups with blondes in lingerie, and club girls, and why is Y/N going on a date with some other guy?”

“Wait how do you know all of that?”, you asked.

“I know everything.” Jimin replied.

“Okay but ho-“

“E V E R Y T H I N G”

You had to admit seeing this side of Jimin was a little intimidating. He was normally bubbly and smilly, but he was completely serious at the moment making you realize just how alarming this whole situation was.

He popped a donut hole in his mouth before continuing, “So what is the plan? How do we get you two to actually start trying to make this work?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll make it happen.”, Yoongi nodded.

“Good because I don’t want to have to make another early morning visit over here to voice my frustrations. I am not a nice person before 8am.”

“Yeah I’ll say.”, Yoongi replied while you nodded feeling like a scolded child.

“Y/N can I have a few minutes alone with Yoongi please?”, Jimin asked. You looked around confused as to where he wanted you to go since you couldn’t walk that far away from them.

Spotting your solution you grabbed a pair of headphones off of the table showing them to Jimin for approval which he nodded for so you placed them on your head and began streaming some music to drown out their conversation.

Once he was sure you couldn’t hear anything he turned his attention to Yoongi, “So how did you manage to mess up last night? I thought you were supposed to bring another date to the wedding to make Y/N jealous? Why didn’t it work?”

Yoongi nervously scratched the back of his neck, “Well I ended up not asking the other girl and just taking Y/N as my date instead.”

“And why exactly did you do that? That wasn’t part of the plan.”

“I don’t know. I guess I just wanted her to be my date for the night. I didn’t want to take anyone else. I wasn’t sure she’d even get jealous if I did anyways.”

“Okay then… so how did things end so badly that she asked another guy out?”, Jimin asked frustration evident in his voice.

“Everything was going great and then she overheard my cousin talking about how she isn’t the type of girl I usually go for and then I don’t know what happened. She just stormed off and has barely spoken to me since.”

Jimin sat with his elbows on his knees looking between the two of you before bringing his fingers up to rub his temples, “How did I end up assigned to a case with the two biggest idiots ever?”

“Excuse me. Who the fuck do you thin-“. Yoongi began, but Jimin cut him off.

“Let me spell this out for you as simply as I can. Everything was going just great between you two yesterday. Then Y/N got upset with you when she overheard your cousin saying that SHE wasn’t YOUR ideal type.“

Yoongi nodded his head, “Yeah I don’t get it either.”

“Oh my god. You two are starting make me rethink my career choice.”, Jimin huffed.

Then he continued, “Y/N got upset when she heard she wasn’t your ideal type…meaning you wouldn’t be interested in her.”

Jimin watched closely expecting Yoongi to come to the same conclusion, but instead he just sat there in silence sipping on his tea.

“I am not paid nearly enough for this.”, Jimin sighed.

He sat forward a little to pull Yoongi attention in, “Yoongi, firstly I want to start by saying that you’re lucky you are so attractive because of it wasn’t for your looks I don’t know what you’d bring to the table. Secondly, Y/N likes you. You big doofus.”

Yoongi continued to stare at the floor until Jimin’s words finally clicked.

“She likes me?!”

“YES! Why else would she be soooo upset thinking that you would never like her back.”

“So then I should just kiss her!”, he exclaimed.

But Jimin shook his head, “Not exactly. You both need to come to terms with your feelings and the kiss needs to be mutual. You can’t just ambush her.”

“Why are there so many fucking rules?”, Yoongi groaned.

“Don’t know. I didn’t make ‘em, I just enforce ‘em.”, Jimin replied popping another donut in his mouth.

“So what do we do now?”

“Well you and Y/N have two weeks to figure it out. Let’s hope her date goes poorly and maybe you could try actually being pleasant to her. Maybe try and woo her.”

Yoongi chuckled, “I’ve never had to woo anyone before. I don’t woo.”

“Trust me, I noticed.”, Jimin rolled his eyes.

“Maybe try some flowers just because. Tell her to her face that she looks pretty instead of drooling over her when she’s not looking. Maybe compliment her in public. Take her on an actual date. Try to hold her hand. You know…relationship things.”

Yoongi pondered for a moment, “Okay I’ll try.”

“Good boy! That’s what I like to hear.”

Jimin caught your attention signaling for you to remove the headphones which you happily obliged.

He grabbed his things and began walking towards the door before spinning around, “Okay both of you promise me that you’re actually going to try and make this work.”

You nodded your head while you heard Yoongi scoff next to you earning him an elbow to the ribs before he finally nodded as well earning a smile smile Jimin.

The following days Yoongi was uncharacteristically nice to you. Like sickenly sweet, lovey dovey nice to the point you offered to take him to the hospital because you were worried he somehow had a head injury even though you knew he hadn’t even come close to hitting his head at any point.

On Monday you woke up to a giant bouquet of roses being delivered to your front door with a card from him. He even sprung for a little teddy bear to be included. You thought it was super sweet, but really weird. Especially when you thanked him and he turned the same color as the roses.

On Tuesday he took you to your favorite lunch spot. He encouraged you to order whatever and how much you wanted and paid for all of it without even a snarky remark. Afterwards he also stopped for ice cream and a walk through the park.

Wednesday was a terrible day weather wise so the two of you stayed in and watched tv. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him consistently move his hand ever so slightly closer to yours his fingers twitching before he’d end up pulling away. He did this close to twenty times before letting out a long sigh and resigning to crossing his arms on this chest as you finished up the next episode. You knew it was odd, but didn’t want to start an argument by asking.

Now it was Thursday and the two of you were working a double shift together.

It was super busy thanks to the hot weather and a buy one get one half off promotion going on.

You had just finished up with a customer when you heard Yoongi clear his throat next to you.

“Can I help you?”, you asked amused.

He remained silent staring out the window while fidgeting with the end of his apron, a nervous habit of his that you had noticed a long time ago.

“Umm well I uh I’m…”

“Are you having a stroke?”, you giggled

“Just forget it.”, he whispered before turning away from you.

“No I’m sorry.”, you said grabbing his arm.

“What did you want to tell me?”

He took a deep breath, “I just wanted to tell you that youlookreallyprettytoday.”

“I’m sorry Yoongi I couldn’t understand that.”

“Why is this so hard?”, he mumbled before turning to face you, “Y/N, I think you look really pretty today.”

Your eyes widened in shocked. The Min Yoongi giving you a compliment without being provoked? And in public like this?

“Oh yeah I’m sure I look great after sweating and being soaked in coffee and sugar for the last 8 hours.”, you chuckled.

You expected him to laugh or even make a sarcastic remark, but he just nodded, “Yeah I do think you look pretty like this.”

“Oh oh okay, well thank you.”, you whispered feeling your cheeks heat up both in embarrassment and confusion.

You went to try and give a compliment back when you heard someone say your name grabbing your attention.

“Oh hi Han”, you forced a smile.

“Hi Y/N, ready for our date tomorrow?”

“Oh of course! Can’t wait.”, you exclaimed a little too excitedly.

You heard Yoongi snort next to you causing you and Han to both look in his direction. Han visibly tensed up once he noticed how close Yoongi actually was which you had to admit made you smirk a little.

“What can I get for you?”, you asked trying to get Han out of the cafe.

“Umm what do you suggest? Like if Y/N was going to order a drink using her pretty little mouth what would she have?”

This time it was Yoongi’s turn to tense up before turning to Han, “She’d have a large cup of fucking order something or get the fuck out.”

Han stepped back in surprise. You were no stranger to seeing Yoongi or one of the other guys put Han in his place, but something about the way he snapped back at him this time really stirred up some feelings in you.

Wanting to just make the sale and move on with your day you continued, “I’d probably just get a black coffee and add some hazelnut creamer. I’m pretty easy like that.”

“Mmhhhmm I hope so.”, Han replied as you quickly finished up at the register wanting out of the situation. You had missed the way Yoongi gripped the counter until his knuckles turned white thanks to Hans little comment.

You handed him his drink and as he was leaving he turned to you, “So we’ll meet at 6pm? At that Italian place I told you about?” You nodded as he turned and happily walked out the door.

“Seriously you’re still gonna go out with that creep?”, Yoongi suddenly spoke making you jump a little.

“Yes. I like him. Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”, you asked secretly hoping he’d give you a good reason not to go.

“Yes because I love you and I want you to stay home with me forever.”, he said internally, but outwardly he just shrugged, “I don’t know. Do whatever you want. You’re an adult.”

You simply nodded while trying to ignore the way the atmosphere shifted between you two and how Yoongi suddenly became cold and callous towards you. He remained that way for the rest of the shift as well as at home.

The next day you woke up determined to enjoy your date. Maybe Han came off kind of creepy and forward, but you were hoping he was just an awkward idiot who was actually a sweet guy.

Yoongi sulked on the bed as he watched you go through your closet. He couldn’t believe he was going to have to sit there alone at a restaurant while the love of his life goes on a date next to him.

“Okay pink or purple?”, you asked holding up two different dress options.

“I don’t care. Whatever you want.”, he spat back.

You licked your lips in annoyance before deciding on the pink one.

Once at the restaurant and after a very awkward conversation of having to explain to the hostess that Yoongi had to have a seat as close to you as possible, but still at a different table you were sat across from Han. You felt overdressed once you realized he had shown up in jeans and a dirty tshirt. He didn’t even bother to shower or comb his hair. You were appalled at his lack of effort.

He was going on and on about some video game that you’d never even heard of and your mind drifted over to Yoongi.

You snuck a peak and saw him reading through the menu while he sipped on his drink. Even though he was sat alone he wore a crisp navy blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up that he paired with a dark wash jean. His hair was lightly styled and you knew he smelled amazing because you couldn’t stop thinking about it as his cologne filled the air of the car on the drive over.

“Will the Mrs. be joining you this evening?”, you heard the waitress ask him.

He smiled, “No dining solo tonight.”

“Oh that’s too bad. I bet she’ll be so devastated that she missed out on a date night with you.”

You rolled your eyes at the waitresses clear attempt to flirt while confirming whether or not Yoongi actually had someone.

You saw him smirk before he replied, “There actually isn’t anyone. But uh maybe that could change tonight.”

The waitresses cheeks turned pink as she scurried over to the next table. You felt a wave of jealousy and a maybe a little hurt wash over you. You were no stranger to watching Yoongi flirt, but for some reason that time it really struck a cord with you. You were also currently on a date with another man so you had no idea why that little interaction made you feel such a way and you felt a little guilty for feeling so because if you could go out with someone else then so could Yoongi.

You turned your attention back to Han for a while before you decided you need a break and pulled out your phone sending a text to Yoongi,

You: I need to go to the bathroom.

Demon Kitty: Okay? Here’s a cookie 🍪

You: 🙄

You: As much as I would love to, I can’t go without you. So please get up and I’ll follow right after.

Demon Kitty: But my dinner should be here any minute 🥺

You were about to reply when Yoongi stood up and slowly started walking towards the restrooms.

“I’ll be right back. I have to use the restroom.”, you let Han know before you stood up waiting for a group of women clearly from a bachelorette party to pass you before quickly catching up to Yoongi who had hid himself off to the side to wait for you.

Yoongi was as close up to the bathroom door as he could be while you quickly tried to do your business.

“Hurry up Y/N! I’m pretty sure this old woman is about to call the police on me.”, he hissed through the door.

“Sorry sorry, this dress is a pain.”, you said opening the door.

“Yeah well I did tell you to wear sweatpants remember?”

“I’m not wearing sweatpants on a dat-“

Yoongi suddenly stopped in front of you causing you to crash into his back, “What the hell Yoongi?”

Quickly he turned around, “Uhh let’s go home.”

You shook your head, “No I want to go back to my date.”

“Please Y/N, let’s just go.”

“What has gotten into you?”

“Diarrhea. I knew that calamari tasted weird.”

“Eww tmi. But let me at least go grab my sweater.”

“No need. I’ll buy you a new one.”, he said trying to pull you away.

You managed to slip out of his grip though and when you looked around the corner you saw Han sitting at the table making out with one of the women from the bachelorette party. Your mouth went dry as you watched the two of them going at it.

Yoongi cleared his throat and motioned for you follow him which you did. Once back in the comfort of his vehicle he looked you over.

“Are you okay? I know you liked him.”, he softly spoke.

He wasn’t expecting you to chuckled, but you couldn’t help it, “Honestly I didn’t even really like him. I just wanted to prove that I wasn’t some stuck up prude, but I guess I won’t even get that chance.”

Yoongi watched you as you fidgeted with your fingers while staring out of the window. He really hoped it wasn’t his worlds that made you feel like you needed to prove that. Even though deep down he knew they were.

He started up the car and began driving.

“Where are you going?”, you asked realizing he wasn’t going home.

“You’ll see.”

Not long after he parked at one of the local night markets that was packed with various street vendors selling goods.

“Neither of us ate dinner so I figured we could get some food before going home.”, he said.

You nodded, “Sounds nice.”

You both talked for what felt like hours as you walked around the market stopping at various stalls. You really got to know a lot about each other that neither of you ever bothered to do before.

You were getting full, but agreed that you couldn’t leave without getting an order of tteokbokki.

You had begun to stare off into the night sky when you heard Yoongi clear his throat. You looked over finding him holding out a single piece of tteokbokki, “A tteokbokki for your thoughts.”, he smiled.

You laughed before taking the toothpick and popping the cake in your mouth.

“What’s wrong with me Yoongi?”, you asked after swallowing it down.

His eyebrows furrowed, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I asked out Han because I thought he would be an easy hookup, but that clearly didn’t work out. Even someone like him didn’t want me. Jae didn’t want me. My two boyfriends before that didn’t want me. Even my own soulmate doesn’t want me.”

Yoongi could feel his heart shattering. Gently he grabbed your chin turning you to face him, “Y/N, please don’t ever feel like that. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. You’re smart, funny, a hard worker. You’re beautiful. All those guys are big fucking idiots.”

“You were include in that group you know?”, you giggled.

“Yeah and I’m the biggest idiot of them all.”, he laughed back.

You felt like your heart was going to explode. You weren’t completely sure, but a part of you felt like this was his way of admitting that he loved you. You wanted to confess and say something to confirm it, but there was that little part of you that was worried you were misreading everything.

As you were having an internal debate about whether or not to confess Yoongi leaned in ever so slightly. Everything in his body was telling him to move closer, confess his love for you and then gently pull your face to him so that he can lean in and kiss you like he’s always wanted to. Then take you back home and show you all the ways that you were perfect to him.

He leaned in a little closer waiting to see if you’d back away and when you didn’t he took that as his sign.

“This is really hard to say even though it shouldn’t be so I’m just going to come out and say it.”

Your heart felt like it was beating a million beats per second and Yoongi was starting to worry that he really did get poisoned by some bad calamari judging by how his stomach felt like it was doing flips.

He managed to push through though and continued, “Y/N, I know I don’t really act like it, but I really do lo-“

“There you are! I have been looking everywhere for you.”, a high pitched voice exclaimed next to you.

“Rose? What are you doing here?”, Yoongi asked looking very confused.

“You told me to meet you here silly!”

Yoongi remained silent.

Rose pulled out her phone, “Yeah see here. You texted me yesterday at 9:07pm. Wanna meet up? It’s been a while. Need you baby. And then I said of course my little suga cookie. And then you said great. Meet me at the main night market at 8:30. Wear something easy to take off.“

Yoongi was speechless as you stared at him in disbelief.

“So here I am! Just like you asked.” Rose continued oblivious to the situation.

You swallowed the lump in your throat the best that you could. Apparently you had 100% completely misread the situation.

“Soooo are we going to head to the car or where did you want to do this?”, she asked excitedly.

Yoongi cleared his throat, “Um Rose I’m sorry but I actually think that maybe we shouldn’t continu-“

You cut him off, “Continue this here. He means continue this here. Come on. I know a place you both can go.”

You stood up and tossed the rest of your garbage in the trash. Rose happily followed after you while a confused Yoongi was forced to trail behind feeling like the biggest idiot in the world, a feeling he was getting quite used to.

[suddencolds]

Atypical Occurrence [1/?]

Happy birthday to my dear friend, @caughtintherain!! I wanted to give you some Vincent suffering to chew on for the occasion, so please take this fic (or, first part of a fic) as a gift <3

this is an OC fic - here is a list of everything I’ve written for these two! chronologically, this fic takes place a month or so after the last installment leaves off :)

Summary: Vincent shows up late to a meeting. It just goes downhill from there. (ft. fake dating, the flu, a house visit)

—

Vincent is late.

Yves tries not to stare at the empty seat across from him. The meeting—their first meeting of the day—started five minutes ago. If there’s anything Yves knows, it’s that Vincent always comes in early. 

In stumbles Cara, handling a morning coffee with probably more espresso shots than anyone should have at 8am. Then Laurent, briefcase in one hand, paging through a folder of files in his other. Then Angelie, Isaac, Garrett, Ray, Sienna. Then they get started, and Yves turns his attention towards the graphs projected onscreen at the front of the room, and tries very hard not to think about Vincent.

It’s five minutes later that the door swings open, near-silent.

Sienna—who’s presenting—stops, for a moment, to look back at Vincent from where he’s standing in the doorway, which means that of course, everyone looks.

Cara turns around in her seat, raising an eyebrow. Angelie frowns at him. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Vincent says, quietly. “It won’t happen again.”

Isaac shrugs. Angelie looks a little concerned, but she turns back to her work, anyways. Sienna resumes her presentation. All in all, it’s nothing—or it should be nothing. Probably traffic, on the way here; a particularly unlucky commute. An unlikely occurrence, but—to anyone else—not anything worth dwelling over.

It might be a sufficient explanation, if Yves didn’t know better.

Vincent takes care to close the door quietly behind him, then heads over to the only open seat, across from Yves. He unzips his briefcase, quietly, unobtrusively, and takes out his laptop. Yves tries to focus on what Sienna is saying—she’s giving a review of a client’s current investment strategies; he’d reviewed her work on this just a couple days ago.

Vincent asks good questions throughout—he always has a good sense of what areas still lack clarity, Yves has found. Today is no exception. He takes part in the meeting with such calculated precision that Yves almost misses it.

Almost misses: the slight stiffness to his shoulders, as if it’s taking more than the usual amount of effort to keep himself upright. The way in which he clears his throat before speaking, like it might actually hurt. The way he rests his head on one hand, halfway into the meeting—as if even now, barely forty minutes into the workday, he’s already exhausted.

It’s subtle enough to go unnoticed, subtle enough that Yves wonders if he’s just reading too much into it—if, perhaps, Vincent is fine, after all.

—

He doesn’t see Vincent again until lunch.

Or, more accurately, he doesn’t see Vincent again until he’s headed down for lunch with Cara and Laurent. Vincent is already on his way out of the cafeteria, a takeout container in hand.

“You’re not going to eat here?” Yves asks.

Vincent doesn’t look at him. “I have some work to get done at my desk,” he says. He clears his throat again, like it’s irritating him.

“Okay,” Yves says. Vincent turns to leave, and Yves thinks of a hundred ways in which he could possibly prolong this conversation, and then decides against it. Vincent is already so busy.

“You look tired,” he settles on, instead.

He expects Vincent to dismiss this, to reassure him that it isn’t true. But Vincent looks up at him at last, blinking, as if he’s surprised that Yves noticed at all. His eyes are a little dark-rimmed underneath his glasses.

He doesn’t deny it, which is as much of a confirmation as Yves needs.

“The sooner I can get this work done, the sooner I can go home,” he says. Yves supposes he can’t argue with that.

“I guess I’ll see you around, then,” Yves says, even though he wants to say more, even though he feels like there’s more that he should be saying. “Don’t work too hard.”

Vincent nods, at this, and resumes walking.

—

Yves is probably overthinking it. There isn’t anything concrete, really, to justify his concern.

Vincent’s lateness to the meeting could just as easily be the consequence of an alarm he’d forgotten to set, his exhaustion just as easily a side effect—of recent late nights in the office, of arbitrary changes to the projects he’s on, of last-minute demands from clients.

The next time he sees Vincent is at the end of the work day. Yves always takes the elevators on the north end of the building—they’re ones that lead directly out into the parking garage. When he gets out to the hallway, Vincent is already standing there, waiting for the elevator.

Yves watches Vincent stiffen, slightly. Watches him raise one hand up to his face to shudder into it with a harsh, “HHihH’iKKTSh-hUH!”

A thin tremor runs through the line of his shoulders, as if he’s too cold, even though the office air conditioning is no colder than usual. His hand, cupped to his face, remains there for a moment more before he lowers it.

He sniffles, then, rummaging through his pocket for—something. When he doesn’t find it, he just frowns a little, sniffling again. 

“Bless you,” Yves says.

“Yves,” Vincent says, his shoulders stiffening a little. He clears his throat, turning around so that he can address Yves properly.

It’s only a few seconds later that he’s turning sharply away, tenting both hands over his nose and mouth for—

“Hh-! hHiH—HIHh’DZSSschh-uhh! snf-!”

“Bless you again.” 

Vincent sighs. “Don’t bother.” He really looks exhausted, Yves realizes. During their brief interaction at lunch, he’d already sensed as much, but the harsh white glare of the bright corporate lighting only makes it more evident.

Vincent looks a little paler than usual, if only slightly, and there’s a slight flush that spreads itself over his cheekbones. He looks—well, nearly as put together as always, distilled only by the slight crookedness of his tie, as if it’s been on too tight; the near-invisible sheen of sweat over his forehead. The slight redness to the bridge of his nose, the slight shiver to his hand as he reaches up to adjust his collar.

Yves frowns, taking this all in. “You look kind of…”

“Terrible?” Vincent finishes for him.

Yves winces. “...Well, terrible is a strong word. I was going to say, you look like you could use some sleep.”

“I’m… feeling a little off,” Vincent says, staring straight ahead, as if it’s not an admission at all. But Yves suspects, from the way he avoids eye contact, that perhaps it was something he was intending on keeping private. “You should keep your distance.”

The elevator dings. The sliding doors part, and he steps inside. 

“First floor?” Yves asks, hesitating next to the panel of buttons.

“Yes,” Vincent says. Then, quietly: “Thanks.”

“You know, now that busy season is over, the world is not going to end if you take a sick day,” Yves tells him. “Even if you do like, twice the amount of work as everyone else on the team, if you needed to call out, I’m sure something could be arranged.”

Vincent smiles at him, a little wryly. “I must look pretty bad if you’re saying this to me.”

“Yes, I was lying,” Yves says. “Clearly, you look terrible.”

It isn’t true at all—even here, even like this, Vincent doesn’t look terrible, not even in the least. But Vincent still smiles, at this—a tired smile.

The elevator doors slide open.

“Text me if you need anything,” Yves says, impulsively. “Seriously. Tissues, soup, medicine—whatever. It’s not far of a drive.”

“That’s very considerate of you,” Vincent says. “I will see you tomorrow.” And then he steps out of the elevator, and Yves is left with an inexplicable sinking feeling in his stomach. As far as he knows, it has no place there. Obviously, Vincent can take care of himself. Obviously, Vincent can handle a cold. Yves has nothing to be concerned about.

—

The next day is rainy—a constant, torrential downpour, which makes his commute to work take almost twice as long as it usually does. It wouldn’t be spring here, Yves supposes, without dreary weather like this.

Back in uni, when he rowed crew, they’d practice out for hours out in the rain. Now that he spends the majority of his day inside, he supposes he can’t complain. The shelter of the office building is a reprieve.

Vincent doesn’t show up.

“I think he’s out sick,” Cara says, when Yves asks. “You know, it’s funny. I don’t think I’ve actually seen him take a sick day before.”

“For how hard he works, he definitely deserves one,” Garrett says.

“He seemed fine yesterday, when I saw him,” Cara says, with a shrug. “Probably came on quickly.” Yves nods.

But that isn’t quite right, is it? Vincent hadn’t seemed fine, had he? Yves thinks back to the things he’d noticed—Vincent, uncharacteristically exhausted during the meeting, though it was clear he’d been just as engaged as usual. Vincent, shivering in the elevator, telling Yves to keep his distance. How poorly had he been feeling already, yesterday? How poorly does he have to be feeling today to have called off of work for it?

He finds some time just before lunch to text.

Y: how are you holding up? Y: yesterday’s offer stands if you need me to bring you anything!

He doesn’t get a response from Vincent, which is a little concerning. He checks his phone halfway through lunch, and then twice more, in between his afternoon meetings, just in case he’s missed a notification.

“Are you expecting a text from someone?” Cara says, looking a little curious.

“Just a friend,” Yves says, which is and isn’t true.

To make a point—to Cara, and possibly to himself—he shuts his phone off. He very pointedly does not look at it again for the remainder of the hour.

It’s not until mid-afternoon that he finally gets a response.

V: Sorry to get back to you so late.

Yves sits upright, fumbling with his phone to get it unlocked. The text bubble pops up again, somewhat intermittently, to show that Vincent is typing.

V: If it’s not too much trouble, there’s a blue folder on my desk labeled 2-A.

Yves blinks at this, a little disbelieving.

Y: you’re asking me to bring you work files? Y: arent you supposed to be resting 🤨 Y: paid sick leave, remember? as in, leave your work at work??

V: I meant to pack them yesterday.

Y: that’s like a genie grants you 3 wishes and you ask for an extra day of assignments Y: terrible waste of a wish if you ask me

V: As a genie, you’re quite judgmental

Y: ok ok Y: as your loyal lamp dweller i’ll be over around 8pm with folder 2-A  Y: you need anything else? 

V: Nothing else V: You can just leave them outside my door 

A beat. Then Vincent sends:

V: Sorry to trouble you

Yves thinks of twenty responses he wants to send to that text. Then, thinking better of himself, he shuts his phone off and gets back to work.

—

It’s a little past seven when he finally checks out of the office.

Outside, the rain hasn’t even begun to let up—it falls, straight and heavy, in large, globular droplets. The streets gleam with water. Yves leaves his umbrella in the trunk, tunes out everything but the static of the rainfall, and drives.

Yves has only ever been to Vincent’s apartment once—to pick him up for the New Years’ party Margot hosted—and even then, Vincent had met him at the door. But he recognizes the unit, nonetheless.

For a moment, he considers leaving the folder of files outside of Vincent’s door and taking his leave.

But it’s windy, and he’s afraid the papers might fly away, torn up by the biting wind, and get lost face down in a puddle somewhere, which would defeat the purpose of him coming here in the first place, and would probably also breach some employee confidentiality policy. So instead, he knocks.

It’s silent for a moment. Rain beats down on the slanted rooftops, a constant thrum. 

Yves is about to reach out to knock again, when the door swings open.

There stands Vincent, in a pale blue hoodie and loose-fitting pajama pants, with neat rectangular cuffs.

He looks tired. It’s the first thing Yves registers—the unusual fatigue to his expression, which he can’t quite seem to blink away; the flush high on his cheekbones. The way he holds himself, his shoulders stiff, carefully, defensively; as if despite his exhaustion, there’s a part of him which wishes to appear presentable still.

It’s only a moment later that he’s taking a halting step back, ducking into a hoodie sleeve. Yves catches the shiver of his expression, his eyebrows pulling together, before it crumples, and his head jerks forward with a harsh—

“hHihh’GKkTT—! Hh-!! iHH-’DZZSCHh-uuUh!”

The second sneeze sounds louder and harsher than usual, even muffled into the fabric of his sleeve. It betrays his congestion all at once. 

“Bless you,” Yves says.

Vincent emerges, sniffling a little. When he speaks, he sounds a little hoarser than he did yesterday. “I thought I said you - snf-! - could leave them on the front step.”

“You did,” Yves says, glancing down at the folder in his hands. “But it’s windy, and it’s raining. I figured you’d prefer to have your files intact. How are you feeling?”

Vincent blinks at him. He’s leaning heavily against the doorframe, Yves realizes, one hand gripped tightly around the frame, his knuckles white from the pressure, as if it would take him too much effort to stay upright otherwise. 

“Alright,” he answers. “Thanks for making the trip here. I… it must’ve taken longer, in the rain.” He squeezes his eyes shut, as if his head hurts, as if the light coming from outside is exacerbating his headache. “If you ever need me to pick something up for you, I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Yves says. Despite himself, he reaches up to press his hand against Vincent’s forehead.

The heat under his fingertips is alarming, to say the least. Yves blinks, lowering his hand, and tries to keep the worry out of his voice. “Have you taken your temperature?”

Vincent shakes his head. “I don’t think I have a thermometer.”

“Have you eaten, then?”

Vincent averts his glance, looking sheepish. “I… was planning to stop for groceries, yesterday,” he says. Planning to.

Yves thinks back to the elevator ride yesterday. Vincent had probably already been feeling very unwell, then. And yet, he’d talked with Yves as if nothing was out of the ordinary. I’m feeling a little off, he’d said, as if anything about his current affliction could possibly be characterized as “little.” I will see you tomorrow—as if he had really, genuinely been intending on showing up at work. 

“So I take it that there’s nothing in the fridge, either,” Yves says.

“If it’s any consolation, you’ll be pleased to know that I slept,” Vincent says, in lieu of answering.

Then he shivers—the sort of concerning, full-body shiver that is a little concerning, coming from someone who is usually unaffected by the cold—and Yves is immediately reminded that the door they’re speaking through is open.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

“You probably shouldn’t,” Vincent says, before his expression scrunches up, and he’s ducking away with a— “hh—! hHih-II—TSSCHHh-UH! snf-!”, smothered hurriedly into the palm of his hand. He sniffles, emerging with a slight wince. “This came on pretty quickly. It might be the flu.”

“It’s fine,” Yves says. “I got my flu shot in the winter. And anyways, I’ll be careful.”

Vincent is quiet, for a moment. Then, frowning, he says, “I’d feel terrible if you caught this.”

That’s the least of Yves’s worries—he doubts he’s going to catch this. Even if he does, it will just mean a few days off of work. Not the end of the world, by any means. Nothing to warrant the expression on Vincent’s face—Vincent looks upset, as if he’ll really can’t think of anything worse than Yves catching this. Like even the thought of it is worth being upset over.

Yves shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, seriously.” He pushes past Vincent to step inside and shuts the door behind him. “Here, I’ll set these down on your desk. Where is it?”

“Down the hallway, to the left,” Vincent says.

Yves takes the folder, leaves his shoes at the door, and heads inside. 

Vincent’s bedroom is small and organized—it’s the kind of bedroom that’s tastefully minimal, in the sort of unified manner that implies that everything in it has been carefully arranged. There’s a small white desk in the corner, a stack of files arranged neatly next to Vincent’s laptop, its lid halfway to shut. There’s a bookshelf, leaned up against the wall far; the bottom shelf looks to be filled with textbooks; the top shelf lined with books, both in Korean and in English. The walls are painted slate gray, the carpets lining the floorboards picked out to match, and there are pale blue curtains hanging from the windows, pulled tightly shut.

There are signs here, too, of his illness, but they are subtle. A tissue box, nestled between his pillow and the headboard, half empty. A waste bin at the foot of the bed, conveniently in reach. A small bottle of aspirin on the bedside counter; an empty packet of cough drops sitting at the edge of his nightstand.

Yves sets the folder at the end of Vincent’s desk, next to the rest of his files, and turns to face him.

“You’re not going to work on these until you’re feeling better, right?” he asks.

“Only if I can’t sleep,” Vincent says, which Yves supposes is a satisfactory answer. Then he twists away, his eyebrows furrowing, lifting a loosely clenched fist to his face to cough, and cough. 

The cough is harsh and grating—his entire frame shudders with the force of it, his breaths shallow and raspy. He really sounds awful. This must have come on quickly, Yves thinks.

If it’s upsetting, seeing Vincent like this, it’s even worse to be standing here, in his room, doing nothing. So—if only to make himself useful, if only to convince himself that there’s something he can do—Yves ducks out into the kitchen.

The pantry is meticulously organized—glasses lined up in neat rows; stacks of bowls sorted by size. He fills a glass with water, shuts the cabinets, and takes it back to the bedroom. 

By the time he gets back, Vincent is sitting at the edge of his bed. His glasses are folded neatly, left at the very edge of the countertop.

“Here,” Yves says, crossing the room, holding out the glass for him to take. 

“Thanks,” Vincent says, taking it gingerly from him. He takes a small, tentative sip, and then another—his hands are a little shaky, Yves notices. “You - snf-! - should really go.”

“I’m not entirely convinced you’ll be fine on your own,” Yves says.

“Of course I will be,” Vincent says, with all of his usual certainty. He lays down, pulling the covers over his body. “I have been fine on my own for years.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, Yves supposes. But he doesn’t feel reassured in the least.

“Thank you again for bringing me the files,” Vincent says, at last, shutting his eyes.

“You could’ve asked me to get you groceries,” Yves says. “There’s a supermarket not far from here, right? And you’re out of cough drops.” He takes a few steps over, towards the desk in the corner of the room. “These—” He examines the bottle of ibuprofen on the table. “—are expired.”

“Just because you’ve extended this kindness to me,” Vincent tells him, “doesn’t mean I should take advantage of it.”

Yves blinks, a little taken aback. “It’s only groceries. I wouldn’t have minded, really.”

“See,” Vincent says, with a note of—something in his voice. It sounds a bit like resignation. “That’s just the kind of person you are.”

Yves doesn’t know what to say, to that. 

Before he can think up a fitting response, Vincent’s breathing evens out. Yves lets himself listen to the shallow, steady cadence of it. Lets himself acknowledge the heavy, painful feeling in his chest for just a moment. Then he shuts the lights off and heads back out into the hallway.

[ Part 2 ]