#the reason you only ever saw america calling him that is bc that's the only person ppl made him INTERACT WITH | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chrisevansgoodgirl · 4 years ago

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i can be your china doll if you want to see me fall. boy, you’re so dope, your love is deadly

summary: sugar daddy series: steve. so, i asked for help and you guys delivered, thank you! anonymous asked for wife/domestic kink. (the rest of your prompt might just be put in a part 2...) anonymous 2 asked for artist reader and a lovely cute meeting at an art gallery. anonymous 3 asked for a respectful, gentleman steve never pushing boundaries and some vintage lingerie (@themaskismyface, I couldn’t put your request in this part bc I was already over 10,000 words in and I seriously had to cut it before I made another 25k word fic, but it was an amazing idea and I promise I am making a part 2 to this fic bc I really want to write that storyline bc I’ve never seen it in any other sd fic either!)

warnings: honestly, pretty vanilla shit in here. steve has a domestic kink for no damn reason (but we all like know he’s that bitch). so sex, vaginal, oral. mentions of bondage. that usual daddy shit that I always write.

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: a bit over 12,000 🙄 (bc i have issues)

a/n: guys! i wanted to write an innocent reader bc like when have i ever? reader does not say fuck once so i think i succeeded. an exasperated gif of steve bc a bitch rewrote the beginning of this fic 7 times!

a/n 2: @donutloverxo finally, a steve sugar daddy storyyyy!

You were never reckless. Ever. You never did things just because someone had talked you into them, you never did things if you weren’t 100% sure that it was the right thing to do. Well, that was your attitude with men. Natasha Romanoff had found one hell of a loophole when she asked you to do…this.

You had had no desire to go to some expensive restaurant, so you had a date set—your first date, in nearly two and a half years—at the tiny diner, a few blocks from your apartment. You’d shown up almost a full hour before you were supposed to because you always did that and just watched the diner.

You were already two cups of coffee in after twenty minutes. You always resorted to coffee when you were nervous. And you certainly had reason to be. It wasn’t every day that you were set up on a date with the Captain America, by his trusted friends the Black Widow, the Winter Soldier, and the Falcon.

You were working at this casino-themed restaurant when they found you—which had since been shut down, to your great pleasure. (Sometimes, you wondered if Steve was responsible for that.) You were in a bodysuit, pink in a sea of black, red, and white—Bucky said that was what made him see you. Topped this outfit off with miserable bunny ears—and Sam would say that was what drew his attention in, however, everyone was wearing bunny ears, so you weren’t so sure about that.

Natasha hadn’t originally been with Bucky and Sam, but she would later tell you that they had called her before they spoke to you because they didn’t want to seem like creeps. Bucky and Sam then liked to argue who saw you first, and who knew you would be just perfect for Steve. You couldn’t say, but it was Bucky that was bold enough to speak to you first.

You noticed when Natasha arrived because there were few women around who didn’t work there. You saw her red hair but forced yourself not to stare as she went to join them. Besides, they weren’t even your table.

Well, not for a while, at least. One of your coworkers came to you in a huff, anger slightly quelled by the two hundred dollar bills she was holding. “That table wants you.”

You were confused. No one traded servers like that. You were all naked, it was a dimly lit room, and everyone was always drunk. It made no sense that they wanted you, but you rushed over. If they had tipped you like that, you might have been able to pay all your bills for the next month.

They ordered a round of drinks from you and said nothing else. You were relieved. Though the switching thing had never happened, you figured in a place like that, there was only one reason it would happen. And it made you wish you were wearing a lot more than a stupid bunny costume.

As you were bringing them out their food, you felt them all watching you. You didn’t want to cower, but you certainly didn’t look as confident as you had wished you could. You stepped back after setting their plates down and asked if they needed anything else.

Bucky took that cue. “How old are you?”

Oh, you dreaded those personal questions. “Why?”

“Because you’re working in a place like this, so legal, I assume. But you don’t look as bitter and cynical as your coworkers, so I’m assuming there’s probably about an average 7-year age difference.”

“You’re correct.” He was, but you tried not to be thrown off by that. You glanced off to your other tables. No one was calling for you? You turned back. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Are you single?”

Natasha and Sam both sighed.

You started wringing your hands, clearing your throat softly. This would probably be at the cost of your tip. “I don’t think that’s relevant, sir.”

“Not for me,” he claimed. “But you know who we are, don’t you?”

You knew. You weren’t sure anyone else did. You babysat for your sister and her daughter was currently going through her superhero phase. If not for Natasha, however, you would probably be just as in the dark as everybody else.

You nodded.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Natasha asked. “You acted like you didn’t.”

“I didn’t want to be rude.”

They all smiled immediately.

“My friend, Steve,” Sam began, “would love a girl like you.”

Steve, as in Captain America? You scoffed. “Now I’m cynical.”

Natasha smirked. Mouthy, she always thought Steve needed a woman like that. Someone to keep him honest and on his toes. He would like the challenge, and she knew how much Steve liked his time, but loved women who were very much not of that time.

Later, after she decided that she officially liked you as her best friend’s girl, she would tell you the reason she thought you were perfect for Steve was because of the way you moved on the floor. You didn’t want to be touched and it seemed that you were the only one cunning enough to not let it happen. Your coworkers did so at the risk of not getting tipped. You played on your naive and innocent look, so when you skirted away from men with that sweet smile, they never suspected that you’d done so intentionally. You seemed smart. You seemed like a girl who could take care of herself. She reasoned, to be in Steve’s life, you had to have both those qualities.

Bucky tilted his head. “Now I’m more convinced. I think you should let us set up a date.”

“I’m not dating right now.”

“Why not?”

“I’m just not.”

He turned to his friends on his right. “Bad liar, Steve will like that.”

“I should get to my other tables—”

He faced you again. “We are going to stalk you if you don’t say yes.”

At first, you were sure, utterly hopeful, that you had heard him wrong. You checked with Natasha and Sam who looked as horrified as you felt and realized you hadn’t.

“You’re not in any danger,” Bucky promised. “We just have to figure out how to set Steve on the same path as you.”

“Okay, you didn’t need to say that, you blockhead,” Sam told Bucky.

“I didn’t want her to be scared. Don’t call me a blockhead.”

“Mission failed,” he hissed back before looking at you again. “But…he wasn’t lying. We think you two would hit it off.”

“I’m gonna go.” You didn’t wait for a response that time and told your floor manager that they were creepy and had been served. Your coworker would give them the bill, but that you were not going back to that table. He didn’t much care if there was no scene caused.

When your shift was over, you walked outside in the freezing New York weather in nothing but a trench coat and your stupid costume. Waiting for you was Natasha, and she saw you hesitating to move further out of the building.

“Can I walk you home?”

You wanted to say no. Not in a million years, but she smiled, and you didn’t want to be rude to her. You didn’t want to be rude to anyone, ever. It was a flaw.

“Look, I won’t tell my friends where you live. And I’m sorry about earlier, but if I could just explain, I think you’ll understand their social awkwardness. Besides, I’m an Avenger. You’re safe with me.”

That was true. “Okay…thanks.”

She scoffed. “You don’t have to thank me.”

You felt compelled to explain as you both started down the sidewalk. “I don’t usually walk home dressed like this. I was scared so, thanks for being here. That’s what I meant.”

“Why are you dressed that way now, then?”

“Someone stole my clothes.”

She arched an eyebrow.

“They always turn up eventually, but some of the other girls don’t like me too much. I’m quiet, so they think that I don’t like them. That’s not true. I don’t judge anyone for working here, and some of them are strippers as well. I don’t mind that at all, but they’re used to a lot of hate, so I understand.”

“Are you always this nice?”

You scoffed. “Yeah, unfortunately.”

“No, that’s just not something I’ve seen a lot of. You know, except for Steve.”

“Right, so…?”

“Ever since things have calmed down for us—wait, did you get snapped?”

You shook your head. “No.”

“And you’re still this nice? Did anyone you know?”

“Yeah, my whole family, basically. Except for my dad.”

She eyed you for a moment. “Well, ever since things have calmed down, Steve has been on edge. He seems restless, like…like he needs something to take care of. We thought you were perfect for that. An arrangement. Kind of.”

“An arrangement?”

“He doesn’t like the exact terms; he’s disgusted by this concept. But basically, a sugar daddy.”

You stopped walking. “You want Captain America to be my sugar daddy?”

She smiled, linking her arm in yours and pulling you down the sidewalk again. “I know it sounds weird—”

“It sounds more than weird. I’m sure he doesn’t need to pay someone to spend time with him.”

“No, of course not. We only just talked him into this. Our thought process is that he’s a tad cynical. He doesn’t like modern dating, but you don’t strike me as modern. I bet you’ve never even been on a dating app.”

You made a face. “That’s how women end up dead.”

She smiled. “You’re adorable, I think he would adore you. But my thought was also that if he had even just one bad date, he would throw in the towel. See, he’s kind of insecure. Hasn’t done the whole dating thing since he got out of the ice…and he still remembers how things used to be. Before he was Captain America, and skinny and weak, and in his words, a burden, and how all the women just wanted Bucky. I think he still feels like a burden, so the money is kind of an incentive. That makes sense to him.”

“Well…it doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Well, I hope this will. You could quit that job. Come on, you know you hate it.”

“It’s good money.”

“This is better.”

“I don’t want to take Captain America’s money.”

“That’s why you’re perfect for this. I’m not worried about you leaving after getting some expensive diamond that you’re just going to sell off later. Please consider it.”

You were silent for a while, until you reached the crosswalk and had to wait for the signal to turn. “Was he being serious when he said he was going to stalk me?”

“He loves Steve so much,” she explained. “He hates to see him without a partner, without someone who sincerely appreciates him and knows how great he is. We honestly just think the two of you would hit it off.”

“I’ll meet him,” you decided. This was Captain America, it wouldn’t be the worst date you’d been on. Besides, you doubted he would be interested in someone as quiet and soft as you, he was a superhero. But what was the worst that could happen? You figured there would be no chemistry, and then Bucky wouldn’t have to stalk you. “But I’m not quitting my job.”

“No, of course. That’s totally up to the two of you to discuss.”

Three mornings later, and there you were. This was stupid, and you were never stupid. At least, not often. You weren’t sure that this could all be explained away by being scared of Bucky’s threat. Maybe you were tired of being single, too.

When Steve showed up, you didn’t immediately recognize him as the man whose face had been scattered across magazine covers and all the news channels. No, you had seen this man a mere three nights prior.

He looked surprised when he saw you at the table, but pleased. Very pleased.

You stood up immediately. “I’m sorry, what?”

He smiled and held his hand out to you. “Steve Rogers. Nice to see you again.”

You didn’t take his hand. “What the hell is going on?”

He gestured for you to take your seat again and after staring one another down and realizing that he wasn’t going to budge first, you did so. “I’m not overly romantic enough to believe in fate, but this is a little coincidental.”

“You look like you need a shot.”

You needed probably at least four. This was your first official showing, with your paintings in a real art gallery. There were so many people walking all around, staring. Judging. So yes, you needed a shot.

The unfortunate part of your life was that you had to go to work soon, and you couldn’t call in. There was undoubtedly already someone waiting to replace you on Friday nights. Your manager wouldn’t hesitate for a second. If you weren’t a person who relied on every cent of a paycheck, then maybe you wouldn’t care so much.

But that was not your story. You were a broke art student, struggling to pay for anything. Well, that was the case before this job. Now, at least you had money for coffee a few times a week, meaning you couldn’t lose this job. Finding something else like this would be impossible.

Your friend honestly was trying to help. It wasn’t her fault that you couldn’t drink to get rid of some of these nerves. But she never had to deal with this. Her parents supported her career path and helped whenever they could. She didn’t have to work while she was in school.

Now, she had her gallery and tried to help as much as she could. You were a sophomore and she practically forced you into handing over some paintings so she could sell them. You were immeasurably grateful, but still, she just didn’t get it sometimes.

“I have some in my office.”

You shook your head. “No, thanks.”

“Fine, how about just a glass of champagne?”

“That’s okay,” you declined. “I don’t think alcohol will make me any less nervous. And I have to work.”

“Really?” she frowned. “I wanted to go out to celebrate after this.”

“I’m sorry, there’s no way I can get out of it. Friday is good for tipping. On average, I make $564 these nights. And I need every cent of that.”

She sighed. “You told me you would be fine.”

“I will be,” you assured. “I just can’t miss work.”

“What if you got sick?”

Your eyes widened. “That cannot happen.”

“That’s not fine, babe. Look, you need to start selling your work here all the time. It was an open offer, okay?”

“I know, I will,” you promised. “I’m just a little busy with finals right now. I promise I’ll settle in for the summer and I’ll paint something that I won’t make you put in the back.”

“Fine, but then I must kindly request that you stop looking so nervous. No one is even looking at your stuff because you made me put it in the back. Just that one,” she gestured off to the wall at your side. “And I’m pretty sure they can all sense that you are looking at it and they are too scared to go over there.”

That did make you feel better, somewhat. You were a bit of a perfectionist when it came to your art, but you were also a people pleaser. It was on short notice that she told you that she wanted to sell some of your work in her gallery and you had absolutely no time to do anything new, but you didn’t want to tell her no because you didn’t want to disappoint her. So, you said yes, but asked her to put it in the back, and now you were sure you were about to have a heart attack.

You were probably about to apologize, worried that you were getting on her nerves with your anxious behavior. You were naturally a nervous person, which wasn’t exactly a quality that made you a lot of friends.

But before you had the chance to say anything, a man was standing right next to you both. He was speaking, not that you could process his words after you saw his face. He had longer blonde hair and a dark, trimmed beard that did not hide how chiseled his jaw was. Who looked like that? Why was he here? And not that you had a lot of experience with expensive clothing, but his suit was expensive. It was odd because he didn’t look like the rest of the men at the gallery in these suits, he was just a tad more…rugged.

Your friend cleared her throat and you looked at her. She arched an eyebrow, and your stomach was immediately twisting. Oh, god. He’d said something and you, like the idiot you were, had no idea what it was.

“I’m sorry?”

“I was asking about a painting,” the man answered. “I believe I just heard that you’re the artist.”

Oh, no. No, no. You were seriously about to have a heart attack.

“She is,” confirmed the person that everyone knew was the gallery owner. You couldn’t even accuse her of lying.

You turned to the wall where your painting was. Why hadn’t you just said no when she asked? You should go to therapy and learn to create boundaries for yourself.

“I really like it,” he elaborated.

And just like that, you were sure your face was literally on fire. “Thanks.”

“Are you an interested buyer?”

Your eyes widened at her. He looked rich, so no, he was not interested in your incoherent assignment from last semester that you’d completed under the influence of a lot of NyQuil. You’d been sick all week and art professors were surprisingly unwilling to give extensions.

“I am,” he claimed, reaching into his jacket pocket.

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

He pulled out his card and handed it to your friend.

She smiled as she swiped it away. “Great, that’ll be $564—”

“No, please, it’s not that much.”

“It is,” she asserted, sauntering away.

“I’d pay more,” he promised, gaining your attention once more. “Trust me when I say that you’re underselling your work.”

Unlikely. “You don’t have to pay that much. I’m a second-year art student. My friend is just…trying to look out for me. I’m going to tell her that is too much.”

He caught your arm before you could move. “I was an art student once. Time at a university means nothing when you’re talented, and you are.”

That was nice to hear, even if you didn’t necessarily buy it. “Thank you… I felt completely invisible here tonight.” Oh great, this was the part of your nervous process where you were going to start talking and not stop. “You’re the first person to ask about anything I’ve done.”

“I was standing there for nearly half an hour, I’m sure I scared everyone away.”

You doubted that someone who looked like him would scare anyone away, you couldn’t believe you hadn’t noticed him before.

“Do you have anything else here?”

“Oh, no, please. You’ve already spent so much. She charged you nearly three times what I was selling it for. And she talked me into that high of a price in the first place, she’s very pushy when she wants to be.”

He scoffed. “Something tells me you respond to that better.”

Before you could ask what that meant—and you would, your mouth currently had absolutely no filter—your friend was walking back with his card. “She does.”

He never took his eyes off you as he tucked it away, smiling when he got his answer.

“She made me hide it away in the back of the gallery in a terribly lit hallway so no one could see it.”

“Will you show me?” he asked you.

How could you say no to him after what he just did for you? But you hoped he wouldn’t try to buy anything else. Clearing your throat a little, you nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”

He held his arm out to you and you linked your arm through his. He was a little pushy, but not in any way that had you wanting to call the police or anything. Admittedly, that might have just been his eyes tricking you. They were so blue.

Like a proud mother, your friend watched with a huge smile as you led him toward the back of the gallery.

“I’m Steve,” he informed.

Oh, right. Normal people introduced themselves when meeting someone new. Especially if that someone just paid all your bills. You told him your name back, even though you were sure he knew because it was on the stupid painting. You were just talking for no reason at this point.

“Well, here they are,” you gestured down the hall, pulling away from him. If you went to look at your paintings, you would notice one billion flaws, and then you would make a fool of yourself probably.

He walked along the row of paintings. “Why paint things you don’t like?”

It wasn’t judgmental, it seemed like something he could sympathize with given his understanding tone. “Assignments… I didn’t have time to paint anything new. She kind of just threw this on me, and I have this bad habit of not wanting to disappoint people. I think she knows that by now.”

He hummed.

“I don’t hate them,” you promised. That probably wasn’t a good selling point. “This just isn’t what I want to do. I like…darker colors, less…pastels.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, I see they still prefer their pastels.”

“You were a student here?”

“It was quite a while ago,” he confirmed. Abruptly, he turned to you. “Would you like to get coffee with me? I have a business proposal, sort of. But to be clear, I am asking you out on a date.”

“Coffee?” you repeated. “Me? With you?” Why was someone who looked like that asking you out? “Oh, um—” Your phone started to ding like the clock in Cinderella. The ball was over, it was time to get in your pumpkin carriage and go straight to hell. Or work if you were being technical.

He moved closer to you, still glancing at the paintings along the way.

“I’m sorry, I would like to…but I have to go to work.”

His eyebrows pulled together slightly. “Right now?”

And this was why you didn’t date. When they asked what you did, that was usually when the conversation was over. “Yeah…I’m a server at a bar, late hours. But thank you for asking. And thanks for the painting.”

He smiled a little. “No problem.”

You had had no idea who he was that night. All the things you’d seen or known about Steve Rogers did not match the image of the man that you met at the gallery opening or the man standing in front of you. His hair was longer, a tad blonder than you had thought. He also looked older. At the time, you weren’t even sure Captain America could age.

“You said you worked at a bar…” he reminded.

“I don’t normally tell people that I just met where I work.”

He hummed.

“I didn’t know…you didn’t tell me, at the gallery, who you were.”

“I don’t normally tell people that I just met who I am before I ask them out.”

You narrowed your eyes. Wow, Natasha wasn’t lying. Who wouldn’t want to date Captain America? Well, you could list a dozen reasons, but you were not normal. He probably didn’t even know that all the people in their right minds would kill to date him if given the chance.

“I apologize if I’m late…” he began, eyeing the mugs in front of you.

“No, I’m just always early,” you informed. “Like, always. I don’t know why.”

He smirked, showing the time on his phone. “Yeah, that makes two of us. I’ve never met someone who is earlier than me, though.”

“Yeah, it’s just a weird habit of mine.”

“No, it’s…it’s okay.” He didn’t want to be too forward, but Natasha was right. You were cute.

You noticed that he had folders in his hand then. A lot. That had you thinking back to the gallery and his phrasing when he asked you out. “Wait, was this the business proposal that you had for me when you asked me out the other night?”

“Yes.”

“So, you just meet someone and then immediately ask them to do this…like, arrangement…thing with you? But you had no idea that it was me when Natasha set this up. So, not even 5 days later and you were already going to offer your “business proposal” to someone else?”

“You are correct. Why?”

“That seems so fickle.”

He scoffed. “Well, I—”

“And okay, that whole ‘I look like I respond better to pushy people’ thing is so condescending now.”

“I did not mean it in a bad way, and I apologize for coming off condescending.”

“How did you mean it?”

“You just look like a sweet girl, that’s all. You look like you like to be…helpful. To whoever, however you can.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Well, I’m not sweet.”

“Natasha thinks you are and what Natasha thinks, I tend to agree with.”

“I’m not sweet,” you insisted.

“I disagree,” he countered easily. “If not a tad bratty, but that’s okay. That’s how I like my women. If I wasn’t worried about scaring you off by being too forward, I would tell you exactly how I intend to make you behave.”

Okay, in your defense, it had been a very long time since you had sex. You crossed your legs and he smirked, he knew why. No, this couldn’t happen. You wouldn’t let it. You knew exactly how to put a stop to this. “Well, I’m possessive. You can’t be seeing other women.”

“I’m not interested in an open relationship. I’m interested in you.”

Or not.

He noticed that you no longer looked completely argumentative and gestured to the folders he’d set on the table. “So, I’ve done quite a bit of research on this.”

Oh. Right. Should you have done research? You were too mortified to even google “sugar daddy”.

“I don’t want to waste anyone’s time,” he elaborated. “I think we should talk about a lot of things before we decide to proceed with this. If that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.” Still, this would not be the worst date you had ever been on even if it did turn into an interrogation. You weren’t sure why you were so bothered. You weren’t even here for serious reasons. You just wanted to prove that nothing could come of this so Bucky wouldn’t stalk you.

“Have you ever done something like this before?”

“No, never.”

“And what are your expectations from this?”

“I honestly don’t have any. I know that’s weird, and I know I’ve had time to think about it, but I don’t expect anything from you. I just told Natasha I would meet with you. I didn’t want to get ahead of myself.”

“Okay. That makes sense.”

“Have you? Ever done this?” You figured Natasha wouldn’t share that detail with you.

“Uh…I went on a date. Once. It was a learning experience. I kind of just jumped into it, that’s a bad habit of mine. And I don’t expect anything from you, to be clear. I don’t expect you to act a certain way, dress a certain way. You don’t ever have to do anything you don’t want to do. Okay?”

Well, that was relieving. You nodded. “Okay.”

About an hour in, the table was covered in papers. You both had had too much coffee and you were simply too nervous to eat. He insisted on at least ordering you some toast, and you’d eaten most of it, so at least you knew he was a considerate person.

He’d asked about your family. You figured he didn’t want an unstable partner just trying to work out her issues with her father. Your parents were…something else, but you certainly weren’t trying to date anyone like your dad, or anyone that was going to try to fix all those insecurities courtesy of your mother. Your answer must have pleased him because he continued.

He wanted clarification on your job, exactly what you did. Natasha told him the other girls didn’t like you, so he wanted to know why. He also wanted to know if you ever did anything about it. You could tell he was amused, if not also confused, by the fact that you hadn’t ever sought out any type of revenge.

“Do you like working there?”

“I hate the outfits, the people, the staff. But I’m able to pay my bills, so I don’t like to complain.”

“Can I ask why you said yes to this?”

“Um, well, partially because Bucky told me he was going to stalk me if I didn’t.”

His mouth dropped slightly.

“So, I just said yes…to save him the trouble. You know, I’d hate if he went out of his way and there was no connection. Or whatever.”

“He said he was going to stalk you?”

“At least he was honest about it. He didn’t want me to get scared, like, if I noticed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you scoffed. “It’s not something any woman wants to hear, but at least you know he cares about you.”

“He’s…”

“Antisocial, Natasha said.”

“To put it lightly. He’s…had some problems in the past. That’s not as public as the rest of our lives.”

“It’s okay,” you promised.

He sighed. “Bucky is kind of my top priority, sometimes. Sometimes…I have to be distant because he needs my complete attention. Could you handle that?”

“With an “I’m not dead” text every now and then, yes.”

“And what are you getting out of this? What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Your friends made a compelling case. I’m just a little confused.”

“Yes, sorry. Please, I’ve asked a million questions and you’ve hardly asked any. Whatever you want to know.”

“Why would you ever need me?”

“Well, that has to be answered after I ask one more question. I know you said you’re possessive, but I think you thought that might be a deal-breaker for me. So, honestly, do you want no-strings, or could this possibly be a relationship?”

“I’m not exactly a no-strings person.”

He smiled crookedly. “That’s what I need. I want to be with someone, I guess. I never have been. Thought it was time I tried it.”

“But why an arrangement?”

“I thought it would make me feel better. I feel like I’m not great in a relationship. I’m asking you all these questions and I can’t imagine what I could possibly provide for you. Except for money. You hate your job, I would pay for everything. You could quit. You could work on your art. Whatever you want.”

“How often would I see you, Bucky-times aside?”

“Regularly,” he assured.

“Dates?”

“Stark has his parties. I would ask you to be there.”

“How available do you need me?”

“That might…change after some time. It might also fluctuate. We can always reevaluate.”

You eyed the papers. “Are you going to have me sign something?”

He smiled. “No.”

You turned your attention back up to him. “So?”

“So, if you’re willing, I’d like a trial. Three months. You can take time to think about it.”

“I don’t need time.”

“No?”

“You seem nice. Where I work, I rarely meet nice guys.”

He scoffed. “Okay. I do feel the need to inform you, I am possessive. I will ask you not to date anyone else. Are you okay with that?”

You had actively avoided dating up to that point, but that was a choice. The idea that someone else would be in control of that made you hesitate. “I’m not sure.”

“You ever had a boyfriend? Girlfriend? Anything else qualified as a relationship?”

“Yeah. A boyfriend. It was a while ago.”

“He wasn’t possessive?”

“No. He never had reason to be.”

“I find that hard to believe. Someone as beautiful as you, you must get attention.”

Your face felt hot, and you hoped you didn’t look as caught off guard as you felt. “I guess he just didn’t care.”

“His mistake. From the looks of it, he made a few…”

You weren’t sure what that meant, but you were okay with that. He was looking at you differently now. More critically, not in a bad way, but in a serious way. Something changed. Something made him want to proceed.

You wouldn’t lie. Month one had you wanting to throw in the towel often. It wasn’t so difficult to speak to him, to text him any chance you got, and you genuinely did like his company. He was nice and funny, and smart but it seemed like he was completely unaware of that. He just wasn’t like other men.

But the first snag was the credit card. See, first, he needed to know where you lived. That was a huge compromise itself, you didn’t like men knowing where you lived. Your experiences had been made up of pushy men with no respect for consent. You had an alarm system and were on a first-name basis with campus security and many police officers that worked in this area.

The moral of the story was that you were secretive. You didn’t like to jump into relationships, but Steve asked you to be open. You agreed to this trial just the same as he did, you could at least match his energy. So, you showed him your apartment.

Before he was about to leave, he handed you his credit card. You were blurting out refusals for at least three minutes before he got you to calm down enough that he could speak. That was also non-negotiable on his part. He promised it was only for emergencies. For now. But it was a requirement that he knew you would be taken care of even if he had to be out of town or tend to Bucky-related issues.

He would be depositing money into your account otherwise. What he felt was a necessary amount. You checked once, really fast, and felt sick for the rest of the day. You’d told yourself that you would never see that much money, so for it to just be there, was unsettling. Sometimes. Not exactly in a bad way. It just took some getting used to.

The second month was easier. There was a shared level of comfort there. That was why he started to accompany you on these shopping sprees. Every Tuesday. He didn’t try to push you into going to the more expensive stores but insisted that you buy everything you even glanced at. You were frequenting your usual spots and spending until he was satisfied.

He took you to dinner at least once a week, those were mostly the Bucky weeks where you didn’t see a lot of him. But at least one evening, he was all yours. His phone was turned off and he was very present. That was what made you start looking at Steve differently.

You still weren’t sure why you were in this. The money was great, but because you were on trial, you were still working. Essentially, nothing in your life had changed, but the closer you got to Steve, the more you thought you could end up liking him.

Was that allowed? He was your sugar daddy, or he would be, and you just weren’t fully aware of what that was supposed to mean. You certainly didn’t want to ask him out of fear that you would sound like you were getting way ahead of the plan, so you simply took it day by day.

This was a plan that was getting increasingly difficult the more you realized how genuinely beautiful Steve was. And what was the extent of your physical relationship with him? Kissing. And never even long enough that you would classify it as making out. He put his arm around you, he held your hand, you sat very close to one another when you were spending the night at your apartment.

But obviously, no sex. You’d gone extended periods without sex before, that wasn’t new, but you had never been in the constant presence of a man that looked like Steve. It was confusing also, no man you’d ever spoken to this long hadn’t already tried something.

By month three, you were worrying. Sometimes.

On one hand, he was talking to you a lot more. About him, his life. Work. Bucky. He’d even opened up to you about Peggy a little. In return, he did want to hear about this former boyfriend of yours. That was when you realized he hadn’t been exaggerating about being possessive. You were on his lap during this storytime and his hands lingered, he kissed your lips, your face, your neck. It was meaningful, meant to convey something. What, exactly, you were not sure.

But that was it.

You went to the first Stark party with him around two weeks before it was time to reevaluate whether this was going to last. That put a lot of pressure on you. You knew that if you couldn’t hang out with his friends, that this was going to be over.

Sam and Bucky were nice, the most talkative. They kept insisting the entire night that Steve thank them, and that would prompt the argument of who saw you first. Steve promised this would be a fight that he wouldn’t hear the end of until the day he died.

Wanda was sweet. Steve warned you that she could read minds. That made you doubly nervous, but she smiled enough that you were sure your internal ramblings weren’t making her dislike you.

Peter was there for a while before he had to get home to his aunt, super sweet and made you feel a lot less out of place due to his apparent nerves. Clint was with Natasha for a couple of hours, he never came over to see all the fuss surrounding Steve’s date before he had to get home as well.

And Tony himself wasn’t too bad. He thoroughly enjoyed poking fun at this entire situation, which you had not been prepared for.

Steve stayed close and you felt protected, his arm around your waist almost the entire night, so a few jokes from Tony weren’t too unbearable. Besides, he didn’t mean it in an unkind way, that was just his sense of humor.

You were most surprised by Natasha. She had greeted you, but that was it. You felt the rest of the night that she was eyeing you and Steve. There were no conversations, and she didn’t get too close to the group.

When you asked Steve about it on the drive to your apartment, you wondered if you had done something to make her dislike you—that was your biggest worry of the night, that you would do or say something stupid. It was so unlike the way she spoke to you the night she had convinced you to meet Steve.

He assured you that Natasha was simply protective of him and you didn’t want to be annoying, so you let it drop.

You invited him into your apartment, but he had things to do back at the office. He promised to take you to breakfast, so that was enough for you. You were just insanely insecure for a long time after that, and it didn’t help that he wasn’t touching you.

The final two weeks sped by and there was a lingering heaviness in every single conversation you had with him.

Was this about to end? He mentioned it only once. He wanted to go out to dinner that night to discuss how you both felt. With that approaching conversation, you analyzed just about everything he did and said. You looked for any hints that you could get, which were nonexistent but kept you up until 4 in the morning all the same.

The morning of, he had a dress delivered to you. It made you smile, but you did stop to consider that it might be the last time you experienced that. Steve was so kind and spending time with him didn’t make him seem any less perfect than the media had convinced you that Captain America was.

He was genuinely perfect, and you couldn’t imagine a single reason why he would choose you over all the women who were throwing themselves at him. You saw how everyone stared when the two of you went out, you noticed the flirting staff and you didn’t blame them at all—you would probably do the same if a man looking like that walked into the restaurant.

But you had resolved that you weren’t going to let him dump you without sex. It wasn’t fair to judge an entire relationship without the physical aspect. He should know the entire story of you before he made any huge decisions.

So, you put on the dress. It was a tight, long slip with cutouts at the waist in a dark wine color. Underneath was the lingerie set that you had all but scoured the entire internet for in the entire past month. The lingerie from Steve’s time wasn’t particularly beautiful, but lingerie inspired by his time was.

In nude satin with black lace detail, the bra, the panties, the garter belt, and the stockings. You felt like you were a burlesque dancer, but hey, if that was what he was into. And if he wasn’t, you were going to cry. You had never used a garter belt before and you were running late—long story short, you had snapped your skin several times.

When Steve picked you up, it was just like any other time. It wasn’t his fault; he wasn’t doing anything wrong. You just wished he would give you some idea about how he was feeling. However, he didn’t.

By the time the food was brought out, you felt like a pile of nerves. He filled the silence, told you about his day, his entire week since you’d only seen him twice. It was a Bucky week, and you didn’t mean to sound insensitive, but it was the most inconvenient week it could have happened.

Dinner was nearing its end and he hadn’t said a word about the arrangement. You realized then that he was searching for something. From you. An indication that you wanted to continue. Of course, always the gentleman.

“Are we doing dessert tonight?” he questioned.

If you did, you would talk yourself out of this. You shook your head.

“Oh…okay…I’ll get the check the next time I see our server.”

“Okay.” You moved your purse onto the table so you could slide around the booth seat next to him. He had the booth for the Avengers usually, but he liked bringing you, too.

He looked confused, but then you moved closer. You grabbed his arm, both hands wrapping around one of his. He smiled then, assuming this was the end of it. “You’re beautiful, and in that dress…”

You glanced down. “I like it, thanks.”

“Knew you would look perfect in it.”

“I like the high slit,” you informed.

“Yes, I enjoy the view.”

You hummed, dragging his hand in yours up the opening of your dress. You felt him tense up the second he felt your stockings.

“We should probably discuss a few things first.”

“Or we could wait.”

He shook his head firmly. “No, we should do this first.”

You figured you knew why and let him go. “Yeah, okay—” You were just about to slide away back to your seat when he wrapped his arm around your waist.

“A new contract is in my car.”

You were surprised that he had already done this on his own. Normally, he waited for your input on everything, that was why, you assumed, that he had yet to have sex with you. “Now you want me to sign something?”

He nodded.

“Why?”

“Because if you don’t follow the agreement that you signed to, I get to creatively punish you.”

Your eyebrows shot up and he smirked. Steve Rogers had you at dinner, in a dress that wasn’t the most revealing thing he’d ever put you in but certainly wasn’t modest, and was talking about punishment. Like…sexual punishment. That quickly took a turn.

“Drop the innocent act. I have it on good authority,” he settled his hand on your thigh, thumb teasing the skin under the slit of the dress, “that you’re not that innocent.”

You felt your face get hot and he smirked at your silence.

“I want to change a few things. First, new apartment. I don’t like how far yours is away from me.”

“Fine, but I’m paying for rent with my allowance.”

“Fine, then I’m raising your allowance.”

You gave him a flat look and got a smirk as a response. “What else?”

“Second, quit your damn job and spend this weekend with me at your new apartment.”

You scoffed. “It’s extremely unprofessional to quit without giving two weeks. I think I’m going to need more incentive.”

His hand moved up as he leaned in close, lips at your neck and fingers sliding over your cunt through your panties. You shuddered and he kissed and licked your skin. “I have a small proposal, what if I just took your underwear off now, no one would even know—”

“No,” you whined, pushing him away with the side of your body before you leaned away. “You have to see what I’m wearing.”

His hand had slid back down to your thigh. “Why? What are you wearing?”

“Lingerie.”

“Obviously.”

“Took me forever to find.”

“Why?”

“’Cause it looks a little 1940s inspired—”

He stood up, pulling you out of the booth with him. He moved around to pick up your purse and placed it back in your hands along with the keys. “Wait in the car, I’m going to pay the bill.”

Steve was speeding. You had never seen him drive even kind of recklessly. He was completely focused on the road and getting to this new apartment as quickly as possible. You would have laughed, if you didn’t have a reason to do just the opposite.

You were in the seat next to him, looking over the contract. It was one terrible thing after another. It was a major compromise in terms of your independence and autonomy. “You want to hire me a driver?”

“For safety.”

“What kind of safety?”

“Are you familiar with Princess Diana?”

You made a face. “Why are you familiar with Princess Diana?”

“Sam and Bucky were watching the Oprah thing, never mind that. It makes sense. You’re going to be spending more time with me if you sign, people will see us together. I’m not always going to be here. I just need to know that you’re safe.”

“Steve—”

“So, you haven’t made it to that point yet,” he muttered.

You briefly narrowed your eyes at him before turning back down to the page and skimming madly. He wasn’t only giving you a higher allowance, but a minimum of what you needed to spend monthly. You were going to argue that.

He gave you a list of prioritized emergency contacts. If he was unreachable for some reason, the list went Natasha, Sam, Wanda, Tony, Bruce, try the list in order again, then Peter, try Bruce one more time, and still, if none of them were available, he wanted you to try to reach him through Bucky. He needed your approval to give his friends your number, and you hated that anyone would think of you as weak or fragile. Was that what being in a relationship with Steve Rogers reduced to?

He wanted holidays with you. After discussing your family situation, he realized quickly that you wouldn’t be going home for those days. New Years’, Valentine’s, the 4th—you accidentally snorted when you read that—Halloween, and Christmas. He left open the opportunity for more days if you celebrated something that he did not. And though he did not require the day of your birthday, he would get one weekend that month to spoil you as he saw fit.

He wanted your acknowledgment that these rules were mostly for your safety and if you didn’t meet them, after signing this contract, that was a violation. He would then be allowed to punish you. Below that was a small list of punishments that he preferred, and you needed to check off which ones you were okay with. Spanking with his hand, belts, or paddles, bondage, choking, edging, orgasm denial for extended periods, forced orgasms/overstimulation. This meant that a safe word was needed, and he wanted it documented.

If he happened to mess up this relationship, for the remainder of the contract, he is allowed to try to convince you to give him a second chance. If he failed by the end of the one-year mark, he would willingly let you go.

Well, that one was odd, but typical Steve. He was always so concerned with how he would ruin this by not being available, not keeping you interested. These insecurities were completely unfounded.

The last rule, he wanted you to call him daddy. Non-negotiable in the bedroom, encouraged outside the bedroom but not if it made you uncomfortable. That one was… Yeah, okay. You hadn’t given that much thought before.

You set the contract on your lap and glanced out the window. He was taking you closer to the tower, but Steve didn’t stay there full-time, so you could only assume his apartment was nearby. You were rarely ever around this part of town, but there were several gyms, several cafés, and many shopping centers.

“Problem?”

You turned back to him, just watching. He continued to stare at the road. His hands were tight around the steering wheel, you worried it would break in his firm hold. He was nervous, not meeting your eye but pretending that the reason was that he was driving.

“Blueberry.”

His eyebrows pulled together but he didn’t voice his confusion.

“That’s my safe word,” you asserted. “And I’m into all possible punishments, but I’m hesitant about the bondage part. I want to feel like I’m close to you, and I’m not sure how I can do that if I can’t touch you.”

“We’ll take that one slow. But, I must point out, if you follow the rules, you’ll never have to find out.”

You snorted. “Cut my spending requirement in half.” He opened his mouth to argue but you quickly cut him off, “And you can buy me anything you want, I won’t complain.”

“Okay, fine. Anything else?”

“I want to spend one week a night at your apartment. We will stay in, just a calm date night. Once a week. Minus Bucky weeks.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

The apartment was huge and cold, exactly what you thought of most over-priced living spaces. He turned on the lights for you but then he was off scurrying about the entire place. You were left alone to explore.

The floors were hardwood, that was why you could hear every step he was taking. The windows were ceiling to floor, at least ten in the living room alone. You knew it would look beautiful in the fall and winter, whenever it rained or snowed. He hadn’t bought any furniture, of course, he would want to make you consciously pick things out and spend his money.

The kitchen was massive, enough room to cook, enough room to spend time in. There was a fridge, a microwave, and an oven all in black. You wondered if you could talk him into buying new ones in different colors.

He had disappeared down a long living room to the right. Off to the left was a bathroom. You made your way to it, turning on the light. The countertops were marble, the tub was big enough for the two of you, which you were looking forward to.

You heard him moving again. “Steve? What are you doing?”

“There has to be a pen here somewhere!” He made his way back out to the kitchen and started looking in drawers. “I set you up an art studio, I know I bought pens, too. Everyone needs a pen, you know?”

“Why do you need a pen?” You turned to the mirror, eyes moving over the length of your dress. You wanted him to tear the stupid thing off, but you were now starting to wonder if you were going to have to do that yourself.

“I want to sign it before we do anything.”

“You think sex will change my mind? Or your mind?”

“No, no changing minds… Look, call me old-fashioned but I want to sign before we have sex.”

You sighed as you yanked your dress down your body. You kicked it off to your side and reached into your bag for your red lipstick. You rarely ever wore lipstick; it was so hard to get off yet smudged easily. Next, you grabbed the pen you kept stashed there. Your heels clicked loudly as you made your way back to him.

“Here.”

He quickly turned to you, determined expression immediately going blank. He blinked several times before he cleared his throat and took the pen. “Where did you find this?”

“I always carry a pen. And paper. I’m a terrible driver and I’ve had to leave people notes after I hit their car.”

“You’re not allowed to drive anymore,” he blurted out. “I’m adding that to the contract right now.” He turned away, brow furrowing as he looked over the contract again. You could see how tense he had suddenly become in the hard line of his shoulders and his clenched jaw.

He scribbled his name over the pages several times before holding the pen out to you. Once you took it, he stepped aside several feet. He was trying to keep his distance, worried he might not be able to wait if you got too close.

“I don’t know…” you began.

His eyebrows shot up. “You don’t know? You don’t know what?”

“Maybe I want to negotiate on a few things.”

“Anything you want, just tell me.”

You laughed a little. “Are you only saying that because of what I’m wearing?”

“Probably, yeah. Take advantage of me, I’d do anything you asked right now. Just please sign the god damn contract.”

“A year?”

He nodded quickly. “Just a year.”

“Then what?”

“Then we’ll talk. We’ll reevaluate again.”

“Okay.” You turned forward and signed the point acknowledging you were giving yourself to him for a year. A few things were the same, no dating anyone other than him being the most important. That had seemed like such a heavy commitment originally, and that was only three months. Now, you were happy to give a year of your life to Steve.

The next page questioned your safe word, you tapped the pen to your bottom lip.

“What?”

“Safe word.”

“You said blueberry,” he reminded. “Not sure why.”

“It does seem odd. What if I forget it?”

“Who would forget a safe word like blueberry?”

You shrugged. “What do you think it should be?”

“Please just write blueberry.”

You smirked as you wrote it down.

“You’re being mean,” he accused.

“No,” you scoffed, “I’m just making sure that this contract represents my best interests.”

“No, you’re trying to push me. If you continue to push me, I’m going to have to push back.”

You looked back over your shoulder at him, arching an eyebrow. “And what are you intending to do to me?”

“I haven’t decided yet… Admittedly, I’m having problems thinking straight right now.”

You laughed and looked back down at the contract. You checked all the boxes next to punishments. “How, exactly, are you planning on ruining this arrangement? Do you have another arrangement on the side?”

“No, of course not. I don’t know, okay? I promise I had no specific examples, I just wanted to be sure.”

You turned back to him and he sighed, groaning your name. “You are going to have to work on your patience.”

“I have wanted to fuck you since the day I met you,” he asserted. “Please, sign the contract.”

“First, I want you to acknowledge something.”

He huffed. “What?”

“I like you.”

He waited, then his brow furrowed once more. “What?”

“That’s it, I just want you to tell me that you know that, that you believe me when I say you’re doing a lot better than you think you are. I’m very happy, Steve, I like spending time with you, I like the arrangement that we have. You haven’t messed up yet and I doubt you ever will.”

“Okay, I believe you,” he assured. “But I’ll believe you more if you put me out of my misery now.”

You smiled, turning back around. “All right, my name here.” You signed underneath his. “And then what—”

He grabbed your shoulders and spun you to him, lips crashing down on yours. He held you tight, his hand spread out on your back to keep your chest pinned to his, his other hand on the side of your face. He didn’t mind that your lipstick was getting everywhere, smearing over your skin and his.

When he pulled away and looked down at you, you were both breathless, panting, staring into one another’s eyes. It was the most intimate moment the two of you had shared yet. He allowed you to push off his jacket and yank open his dress shirt, buttons scattering all about. His belt was next, and you remembered that it was one of the items listed on the contract.

“Out of curiosity, what does a girl have to do to get spanked with a belt?”

He grabbed your ass hard, pulling you forward to kiss you again that he didn’t pull away from until your lips were swollen and his were stained thinly in red. “Don’t worry, sweet as you are, I know you’re a brat. You’ll find out soon enough.”

You smiled and pulled his pants open as you lowered to your knees.

He gripped the counter with both hands and stared down at you, lips parted, chest moving with his deep breaths.

“Daddy?”

Surprise flickered across his face and he was stunned silent.

“Don’t damage my counter,” you joked.

“See? Bratty as hell and the ink hasn’t even dried.”

You scoffed, pulling his pants down. You’d noticed the sizable bulge pressing against you when he was kissing you, but you hadn’t anticipated how big he was going to be. His cock was right in your face as soon as he was free from all layers of clothing, and you wasted no time opening your mouth for him. He pushed his cock in slowly, only pausing when you gagged, until he was sure you couldn’t take any more of him.

This color of lipstick did something to Steve. Seeing your red lips wrapped around his cock was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen. “Baby, you are so fucking pretty like this.”

He used your mouth, but he really was the sweetest about it. He kept cooing praises at you, petting your hair, pulling away quickly any time you were choking on him. He didn’t intend to finish like this, and the moment he worried he was too close, he was pulling you back onto your feet.

He picked you up to drop you back down on the counter. His fingers pulled your underwear aside, feeling through your folds to check if you were wet enough to take him. Of course, you were. Of course, you were such a good girl, just so eager to take his cock that you would get wet just from having him in your mouth.

He kept the material of your panties out of his way and pushed into you. His free hand gripped your hip hard, it was almost unbearable how tight you felt around him. You laid back, propped up on your elbows because you wanted to watch him.

The panties were a lost cause, your arousal mixed with his would stain the delicate material, and when he finally finished inside you… His hands touched you everywhere, through the material of the overpriced set that you now were happy you had worked so hard to find. He looked entranced by you, like he was lost in your existence. If some ugly 40s themed clothing did that, you would make this a habit.

Shameless noises poured out of your parted lips, moans, gasps, mewls, and he loved every single one. Steve wasn’t huge on verbal praise, ever since he’d been having sex, he much preferred the uncontrollable praise. He preferred the babbling, the crying, the coming. The things that only he could pull from another person, and he knew that was the case with you. He knew you’d never been appreciated like this, worshipped. And he would, every day you let him, he was going to devote all the time, money, and energy he could on you.

You reached out to him when you were coming and he pulled you up, arms wrapped tight around your waist. You set your forehead in the curve of his neck, hands gripping his biceps desperately.

“Who’s making you feel good, baby?” he urged.

“You, daddy,” you whimpered.

“Wanna come, gorgeous?”

You nodded quickly. “Please, daddy. Please make me come.”

When you fell apart, your nails dug into his skin, and he didn’t mind one bit. The way your entire body tensed up, the small noises tearing from your throat, and the way you got even tighter around his cock were indescribably beautiful. It didn’t take long for him to follow you, and like the good girl you were, you continue to grab at him, plead with him to come inside you, and your hips always angled up just right to get him in even deeper.

It took him several minutes to come down, and you were patient the entire time. You ran your hands through his hair, or down his arms, his stomach, appreciating the muscle there. You started to kiss his neck, along his collarbone, up his throat and to the underside of his jaw.

He pulled back to look at you, sighing. “This was very poor planning. There’s no furniture here.”

You laughed. “The tub is pretty big.”

His eyebrows rose. “The bathtub? You want to sleep in the bathtub?”

“I just want to sleep with you. Location isn’t that important.”

He hummed. “We can try it until it drives me crazy, then I’ll drive us to my apartment for the night.” He pulled out of you carefully, kissing you as he did so. He pulled his pants back up and then picked you up again. He carried you to the bathroom and somehow managed to get both of you in the tub without ever letting you down.

“I think it’s comfortable,” you insisted.

“That’s because you’re laying on me,” he pointed out.

You smiled up at him, very happy in your place on his chest, curled up with your legs reaching the middle of his thighs. He was right, the only reason you liked this situation was that you were using him as a body pillow.

One thing you had quickly learned about Steve Rogers was that he had this insane domesticity kink. It had started with just cooking, it was one of the most natural actions you could think of. Nope, Steve felt much differently. He never let you finish, he always had to have you right there in the kitchen. Cleaning was similar, you never managed to finish your task before he had you bent over the edge of the bed, the couch, the table.

You would admit, you started to take advantage of this when you had finally put your finger on exactly what it was. Before that, it had seemed so random, it seemed that he just wanted you every day, at least three times a day—that took some getting used to, having sex that much. You’d never been with someone who wanted you like that, so unconditionally, so pure.

Three more months flew by without a single issue. The two of you easily fell into this pattern. He was at the apartment more often than not, and when he couldn’t be, you worked on your art. And when he came back, he never failed to bring presents.

Steve liked to spoil you with jewelry, and he liked you drowning in diamonds. He liked watching you moved around the apartment without a scrap of clothing, but covered in necklaces, rings, bracelets, that one pair of diamond rose earrings he got you after you let him tie you up the first time—not punishment, just experiment.

He obviously liked to dress you. He liked watching you put on whatever it was that he bought you. Depending on how the following date went, he would either peel your outfit off slowly or watch while you did it. He loved you in white and pink, but there was just something about red and blue that did it for him. Seeing you in colors that everyone related to him, seeing you marked even if it was subtly, was heaven.

He liked to give you bags because you liked getting bags. You had just about every color by now, he was starting to bring home patterns. He usually brought those to you when he had to leave the country, which didn’t happen often, but enough that you decided you wanted a collection.

And the shoes, that was all him. He could pretend that it was for you, and you obviously loved when he brought you shoes, but it was mostly for him. The only evidence you needed to prove that was that he liked to have sex with you immediately after you opened the shoes. He tried to be discreet about it, he would want you to try them on, “to make sure they fit”, and then you would be naked underneath him.

So, three months later, you decided it was time to spoil him a little. He loved eating you out, but you didn’t always let him. The only reason being that he was utterly insatiable. There was a behavior mishap, it was completely unimportant what you did, but either way, you ended up on the bed with his mouth at your cunt until you were pushing him away. Then, because he was not done, he had to tie you up. Your wrists were handcuffed to the headboard and he went back to devouring you. In the moment, it was overwhelming and painful. When you woke up the next day and couldn’t walk right because your legs were still shaking, you knew you liked it a lot more than you let on.

You made dinner, and you started early enough that he would not be able to come home early and interrupt your plans. The outfit for the night was a floor-length nightgown with long puffy sleeves, a faded yellow shade, completely sheer. Steve had appreciated the 40s gesture, and you were waiting ever since for the opportunity to do it again.

When he came home, he had a shopping bag for you. Typical.

“No, put it away,” you protested before he set it on the kitchen table. “It’s about you tonight.”

“You can either open this bag now, as you know how much I enjoy giving you gifts, or I’m going to have to take pleasure in something else. Which, hint, includes me ruining your elaborate plan and fucking you right now.”

You sighed. “You’re getting less and less patient by the day.”

“Maybe because you’re getting more beautiful by the day.”

You tried to give him a flat look as you approached the bag, but he still gave you that fluttery feeling when he called you anything of the sort. Gorgeous, stunning, the words just fell from his lips so sincerely that you were starting to believe him. In conclusion, Steve Rogers was not doing your ego any favors.

“What is this even for?” you inquired.

“Three months.” He beamed. “Great minds, apparently.”

“Apparently,” you agreed. Sighing, you turned back to the bag and peeked inside. You were never surprised when you saw a flash of pink, it was his go-to whenever a Stark party was coming up. The thin slip you pulled out of the bag was the glitteriest piece of clothing he’d ever brought you, made complete by diamond straps. “Daddy, what could I possibly need a dress like this for?”

He got closer to you, arms snaking around your waist.

“Behave,” you warned. Carefully, you set the dress down and grabbed both arms to keep them from wandering anything strategic.

“Well,” he kissed your cheek, then nuzzled his face into your hair, “I was thinking we should take a trip.”

“Where?”

“Paris. Every artist needs to see Paris.”

Yes, everyone who went to an American art school had had that fact hammered into their brain. The art around the city, the museums, you’d wanted to go to Paris since you were 16. You quickly turned back to him, eyes wide. “Paris?”

“This weekend?”

You nodded, throwing your arms around his neck. “Yes!”

“Good, don’t pack any clothes, I’m just going to buy you whatever I please anyway.” He pushed you back with his hands on your waist. “Now, baby doll, what did you have planned for me.”

“Dinner.”

“Hmm. You mean you?”

“No,” you scoffed. “Dinner, actual food—”

“I think I’d prefer you.” He picked you up only to set you back down on the table, pushing the bag out of your way.

“No, you should eat first! It’s going to get cold!” But he was already sitting down, and you were already pulling up the sheer skirt of your dress over your legs. You laid back as soon as you were exposed to him and he finished adjusting his chair. “Honestly, I slaved over a hot oven all day for you.”

He scoffed. “We can reheat it.”

“Well, fine.”

He grabbed your calves where they dangled over the edge of the table and placed them on the table, spreading your legs wide. He started by kissing your thighs, teasing you by getting within centimeters of your cunt. His mouth laid open, wet kisses all along your skin until you were squirming. “What do you want, baby?”

“Eat my pussy, daddy.”

He smirked. “Remember when you were such a good girl that even getting you to say that was impossible?”

“I’m still good,” you pointed out.

“You are the sweetest, baby, but I like to think I’ve corrupted you at least a little.”

And wasn’t that a hilarious concept? Captain America corrupting someone? If you weren’t living it, you wouldn’t believe it. He had given you such a shameless, wanting attitude about sex. It wasn’t that you were ever ashamed of your sexuality, but you had never been so reliant on it. The two of you, since signing that contract, had a record high of eleven hours without sex.

He woke you up in the middle of the night hard, and sometimes you would wake him up after a particularly vivid dream. He joined you in the shower when he could, and sometimes you got up early just to meet him after his run. You would separate most days because he had to work, but he was always home for lunch and dinner. Like you said, insatiable.

Finally, he buried his face in your pussy and your hands pressed to the back of his head. He kept his hands around your thighs just in case you tried to pull away from him, he wasn’t taking it easy on you tonight, he rarely got to do this, and he was going to taste you until he was satisfied.

chris tags:

@onetwo3000 @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @kleohoneyao3 @cevans-fics @gotnofucks @sweet-pieces-of-nothing @dbnightingale24 @first-jumper-tris46

#steve rogers x reader #sugary4kchallenge #my writing

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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years ago

Text

“sorry to bother you”

Summary: Y/N meets Harry in a little shop in France. It was a lovely meeting between the fan and the rockstar, but when Y/N realizes she’s lost her phone, will she see Harry sooner than she had ever thought possible?

AKA Harry meets a fan and accidentally steals her phone

vibes bc they snack and she walks up to him while he’s looking at the sky lol ^

Ok so I just wanted to preface this: this was initially just going to be a short blurb about a respectful meeting between Harry and a fan because of the terrible stories I’ve been hearing lately about rude people being inconsiderate of Harry and his privacy and I wanted to showcase that you can treat Harry as a human being rather than an object when you see him irl. But then my writer brain wanted more and so it turned into more. All I have to say is if you ever meet Harry in real life, please be respectful and kind. Also there is a 0.00001 chance that this would ever actually happen as most fiction goes so please don’t expect more than a short convo and maybe a photo from him. For him to even speak with you is more than enough, he really isn’t a disneyland attraction.

Also not proofread bc apparently its long lol, I’m not super in love with this but I think it’s good-ish the end is meh - pls lemme know what yall think :)

Word Count: 10.2k (wait im actually so confused how this got so long omfg) | Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, idrk its long but it’s sweet?

She saw him long before she approached him. She was truly unsure of herself, not wanting to bother him or upset him. She had been a fan for so long and couldn’t pass up the opportunity to meet someone who meant so much to her.

In the small Bayeux shop, she hesitates as she risks another glance at the tall man. She whispered to her mom minutes ago about how Harry Styles was in the same shop as them. Her mom was texting her non stop telling her to go up to him or she would do it herself. Y/N shook her head, distrusting her mom and feeling self conscious. No one else was in the store and her interaction with him wouldn’t disrupt the rest of the store, but for some reason she felt a tinge of discomfort about going up to him.

Harry leafs over a tablecloth, not paying attention to the other patrons in the store or anything else for that matter. He was staying on the coast of France for the week and he hadn’t run into many fans, so he was feeling at ease. Mitch was somewhere else in the store, but Harry felt comfortable on his own. He feels a soft, small tap on his broad shoulder. He turns expecting the quiet Mitch, but is presented with a short, sweet looking woman.

“Excuse me. Um, hi...Sorry to bother you,” she starts, eyes wide as she works to maintain eye contact with Harry as she looks up at him.

His green eyes are widened, realizing this isn’t someone he knows.

“Hello,” he says simply.

“I-” she pauses, her hands fiddling, “I’m sorry to bother you, honestly. But, your music means so much to me and I’d kick myself for the rest of my life if I didn’t say something before you left.”

He smiles, his expression softening at how genuine she sounds. “It’s quite alright.”

“It’s not though. I’m sure you’d appreciate not being bothered for once.”

“No,” he cuts her off, “I love talking with fans.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure there’s days where you wish you could just go to a random store on the coast of France - so out of the way - and not be walked up to by a random person.”

“I mean, I guess, but you seem rather nice.”

“Thanks...I’ve been a fan long enough to know that there’s people who don’t always treat you with that kind of respect. I really wouldn’t have bothered you if it wouldn’t have changed my life.”

“Don’t feel like you’re a bother, please,” he pleads lightly as he grasps her hand out of instinct, dropping it immediately when he realizes what he’s done. “It’s the people who don’t actually come up to me and treat me like an animal that are upsetting. Or the people who are only after a photo and aren’t very nice to me. You… you’re treating me like a human being. Being overly courteous -- if I’m being honest.” He chuckles lightly at the end.

She blushes at his words and smiles up at him, mirroring the soft smile on his lips. “I’m only treating you how I would want to be treated if I were in your shoes.” She glances down at his feet and notices the Gucci boots and smiles to herself, laughing lightly.

“What?”

“We’ve got the same shoes on actually.”

“No way!” His voice is playful at first as he glances down at well and realizes she’s right. He laughs at the weird little coincidence.

“I’ve had these for years, my favorite shoes…” She mumbles, seeing the ways his eyes shift with a flash of concern. It’s what she fears he would think of her, why she was so hesitant to approach him in the first place. It’s why she had tried to hide her laugh from him when she noticed the similarity. She just wants to interact with him in a normal way. He again softens at her words, her sincerity, realizing it really just is one of those random things.

“They’re good shoes,” he laughs again, kicking his left heel with his right foot. The way she barely touched him to get his attention and the way she stays a safe distance from him is reassuring. She’s aware of his situation, yet she’s treating him with the utmost care and respect.

“So what brings you to Bayeux?” He asks, deciding he wants to continue the conversation with her. Y/N flits her eyes behind her shoulder and sees her mother watching their interaction out of the corner of her eye. She sighs and runs a hand through her hair, leaning against the counter her and Harry are at.

“Vacation, I guess. My family and I love to travel and ever since the pandemic settled down - finally, we’ve been jetting everywhere we’ve ever been or wanted to go. Seize the day vibes.” Her voice is serious, but she falters and laughs at the end. Her words are honest and she’s happy to actually get to talk to Harry more than just hello and a picture.

“I get that. You’re from America, yeah? It was really rough there for a long time.” He says solemnly, mirroring her figure, leaning against the counter, getting comfortable with her.

She laughs again, smiling up at him, eyes sparkling, completely in love with her idol, but desperately trying to play it cool. “The accent gives it away, huh? I’m trying to fix that, get a job out of the states and never go back.”

“Hey!” Harry interjects, throwing his hand out from his stance in her direction, like he might touch her, but this time being careful to not actually. “It’s not that bad. I like your accent...And I love LA.”

She can’t stop laughing with Harry. It feels so simple and common to just be talking with him. He doesn’t seem like he’s in a rush anywhere, but she also fears to take up too much of his time. “I’m originally from up north in California actually. Living in LA right now, though. But I don’t know, I’ve just always felt like I was meant to live somewhere else. Do you know how that is? Just feeling like you’re meant for something different?”

He watches the way she moves her hands and works through her thought process. He feels like in another world they would have been close friends. The way she talks about things is so familiar to him. It’s like she’s read his mind, even though he knows for sure she hasn’t. She’s funny and laid back, yet mature at the same time. He wonders how old she is, out of college it seems if she’s trying to get a job out of the United States. He wonders what she plans to do and who she wants to become. Her aura intrigues him to no end. He thinks he could talk to her for hours.

Realizing he hasn’t made any sort of response to her somewhat philosophical question, he nods quickly, eyes blinking rapidly, his body straightening up back to his full height. “Yeah..I mean that’s how I felt about music. Like, I always felt like I was meant for something more… Turns out I was!”

They smile together again, knowing the conversation is ending. She knows he won’t keep asking questions and she doesn’t want to keep him.

He knows he can’t completely turn himself over to this stranger, she’s obviously younger than him and even though he feels connected to her, she could surprise him still. He knows he can’t talk to her forever, the cashier glancing at the pair of them every so often since they haven’t been looking at any merchandise for a while now. He knows he shouldn’t flirt with her, ask her out for coffee or anything of the sort. He simply knows this must come to an end any moment now.

“You should definitely follow your heart,... I didn’t catch your name?” He realizes when he can’t finish his sentence by calling her name.

“Oh!” She says surprisedly, not realizing she never gave her name, “Y/N. And thank you, means a lot to hear encouragement come from someone who’s been such an inspiration to me. Honestly, thank you.”

He perks at the way she says her name, again feeling like he’s known her for much longer than these five minutes.

“It’s me who should be thanking you, Y/N. Your support is what makes my life the way it is. It means a lot to me - and you truly seem like a lovely person, genuinely.”

She throws her head back in laughter at all of the words he’s saying. The way he’s trying to convey his sincerity is earnest, but his word choice is simply funny to her. Without realizing what she’s doing, she throws out her arm and her hand lands on his bicep to steady herself while laughing - something she would do with anyone normally. He doesn’t shift from her grasp when she opens her eyes and even widens them at the sight in front of her. Her hand on Harry Styles. How is this happening? She thinks as he doesn’t disintegrate underneath her touch. He’s definitely real as she feels the coat fabric and the muscles beneath it. He smiles down at her, so sweetly that his dimples pop out. She’s in awe, but has to contain the slight sense of coolness she’d been maintaining during their conversation.

She removed her hand, gingerly, “I won’t keep you any longer, Harry.” She blushes when she says his name. “If you don’t mind, I’d love to get a picture with you, but I totally understand if you’re not okay with that. I wouldn’t post it anywhere, it’s more just for me to remember this.” She rushes the last bit, feeling nervous and shy yet again. He was so big physically, but his presence was also so strong that she felt even smaller around him.

His smile calms her immediately and this time it's his hand to touch her, his hand landing over hers that’s been resting on the counter during their conversation.

“Of course,” His lips are soft and plush as they maintain his sweet smile. “Hey Mitch!” He looks over his shoulder as he calls to Mitch who has returned from the upstairs part of the shop.

Mitch blinks at the sight of Harry with a stranger before coming over, “Yeah?”

“Do you mind taking a picture of Y/N and me?”

Y/N is still in disbelief of what is going on, completely awestruck that Harry just said her name again to Mitch Rowland. And that Mitch Rowland was even in this shop with her as well. She hadn’t realized that at first. But now she was going to be forever grateful to her father for insisting they come back to Bayeux during this trip.

Mitch nods and takes her phone once she slips it out of her pocket, fingers fidgeting to get it open quickly. Mitch smiles at her reassuringly as she lets go and moves to stand beside Harry against the counter. He pulls her into his side gently and her hand goes around his waist, feeling his warmth and substantiality for the first true time. She tries to ground herself in the moment, memorizing every detail of right now. His cologne that emanates from his neck, the way the material of his jacket feels against her bare arm, the way he puffs out a slight laugh as Mitch shifts around to get most of their bodies in the frame. Oh and the way he looks when he tilts his neck to check on her and he even risks a wink of one of his emerald eyes and she promises herself she’ll never give away any of the clothes she’s wearing right now. Her nonchalant response is to wink right back and then they both smile, turning back their attention to the phone in Mitch’s hands.

Her mom had gone up to the cashier, effectively distracting them from the photoshoot that had begun to take place. Y/N never wants Harry to let go of her, but again she knows this can’t last forever. Mitch takes a couple of photos before handing the phone back. Y/N assumes that’s it and is about to thank Harry, but he speaks over her and her words die in her throat.

“How do they look?”

“Oh?” She flips through them and Harry leans over her shoulder, respectfully. “Pretty good,” she sums up, she loves them and she’d love even more, but she’d obviously never ask Harry for that.

“Pretty good?” He echoes, unsure of her response, looking from her to the photos, “Do you want to take more?”

She thinks on his offer, already knowing the right answer, “No, no. It’s all good. Thanks.”

Then turning to face Mitch, who’s been watching the pair of them converse, “Could I actually get a photo with you, Mitch? Sorry if that’s super weird, I just think you’re really cool. I had no idea you were even here until, uh, Harry called you over.” She laughs nervously, blushing yet again.

Harry laughs under his breath at how both her and Mitch blush at her words. She’s more unsure with Mitch, which he finds interesting. She had carried their conversation easily and maintained eye contact casually, but with Mitch, it was like he was her schoolyard crush, nervous hands and fleeting glances. He wondered if she genuinely only liked Harry for his music and didn’t find him physically attractive. This nagging feeling at the back of his mind perplexed him, he twitched trying to shrug it off. Why did he care if this woman found Mitch attractive and not him?

“Yeah, of course. It’s not weird, have had plenty of people say much weirder things to me than that…” He smiles at Y/N and she mirrors his expression, but then she bites her lip. Her expression falters slightly as she processes his words. “I’m sorry if you’ve had similar experiences as Harry with so-called fans being disrespectful and inconsiderate.”

“No need to apologize, you’ve been nothing but kind and respectful,” Harry interjects

She only fidgets at his words. She’s growing slightly more nervous, being in the presence of both Mitch and Harry was starting to wear on her calm exterior. Still, Mitch trades places with Harry and Harry plucks her phone from her hands. He takes more photos than Mitch, doing close ups and full shots, causing Mitch and Y/N to laugh as they hold onto each other. He gives them little instructions on what to do in the photos and soon Y/N is rolling her eyes at Harry like she’s been best friends with him for ages. She feels like she’s just out with a couple of her friends and they decided to stop and pose for photos randomly, rather than meeting rock legends that she had only dreamt of ever seeing in real life.

When Harry is finally satisfied and comes up to the pair of them, she moves away from Mitch first, his long hair shifting as she pulls away from his side. She turns to face him immediately and starts to gush, “You’re an amazing guitarist, by the way. I forgot to say that. When I heard ‘She’ for the first time...I was blown away. The guitar on it...Feels like you’re in another universe. And it follows up ‘To Be So Lonely’ which your guitar on it is also like crazy epic. ”

Harry and Mitch laugh, but Mitch’s smile is appreciative, like he’s about to speak, but Harry speaks first, “That’s because he was in another universe. You know the story?”

She smiles and nods. Harry nods in approval. Mitch interjects, “Thank you. Also, Y/N,” he stares intently at her face and she meets his gaze this time, “You’re truly one of the kindest people - maybe the kindest - who have come up to us. And I’m not just saying that because you complimented my guitar playing.”

“He’s right,” Harry nods solemnly. Her face beams up at them both, now she really felt like this was too good to be true. Meeting her idols and having them both say very complimentary things about her, she’d cherish it forever.

“You both are amazing people and deserve to be treated as such.” Her tone is the sincerest she’s ever been, meaning every single thing she says. Then she rushes out her next few sentences, “But thank you again, seriously, you both mean a lot to me - I’ll let you get back to it...Have a nice day!”

After they say their farewells swiftly, she turns to leave and bounces over to her mother who is grinning with pride for her daughter. Before she exits completely she risks a glance over her shoulder and throws a peace sign up, Harry returns it. Then she walks out of the shop, her mother finishing up her shopping minutes ago. Mitch and Harry stay back, talking and continuing to look around the store.

Y/N tries to keep her cool until they’re out of sight of the shop. Once they round the corner and are on the next street over, she’s jumping up and down and squealing to her mom. “Can you actually believe it? What the fuck just happened? That was real right? I wasn’t hallucinating?”

Her mom laughs and reassures her it was real, “You did that, I’m so proud of you. You handled yourself very maturely”

“Well I tried! I can’t believe Mitch was there too!” She interjects, cutting off her mom, completely ecstatic from the previous experience.

“So how did the photos come out?” Her mom asks once Y/N had stopped rambling about Harry’s outfit and their matching shoes and their conversation and basically anything that had happened in the last ten minutes. They were blocks from the shop now.

“Photos?”

“Yeah, the photos you took with them. How do they look? I was ready to come over, but then that other man popped out of nowhere.”

“He’s smooth like that,” she says wistfully, her little crush on Mitch being nowhere near her love for Harry, but still present, and pats for her phone. “Oh.” She says, stopping in her tracks.

Her mother stops with her, “What?”

“I...I left my phone in the store, I guess.”

“Y/N…” Her mom drags out her name in exasperation, in awe of her daughter’s ability to be so smooth with her own idol yet how forgetful she could still be.

“Shit!” She confirms that her phone is nowhere to be found.

“Really?” Her mother sighs, hands sitting on her hips in the center of the French street.

“Sorry?” She asks sheepishly. In her starstruck stupor she had been too transfixed on Harry and Mitch and must have placed it down on the counter.

“Well, let’s go back,” her mother states, tired but also not completely mad. She lost her phone plenty of times and it was usually because of less acceptable reasons. Meeting your idols warranted a spacey head.

The door chimes as Y/N reenters the store, she walks quickly to wear she had her conversation with Harry almost twenty minutes ago and her mom goes to ask the clerk if they had grabbed it. It’s not on the counter where they had been leaning. She glances around checking to see if it had fallen on the ground or if by some grand luck Harry and Mitch were still there. Due to her luck, neither of these hopes came true. Her mom joins her in the area and shakes her head, the clerk hadn’t gotten any phones turned in since they had left the first time.

“Give me your phone,” Y/N says suddenly. “Find my iphone,” she explains when her mom looks at her questioningly. Checking the phone, she sighs in exasperation, silently cursing herself for not sharing her location with her mom when her phone icon says ‘location unavailable’. She rubs a hand over her face in disappointment.

“Don’t click the sound button!” Her mom says quickly, “If someone stole it, they’ll turn it off when they hear it.”

“But how am I supposed to find it? It could be here and I just can’t see it.” Her finger hovers over the ‘play sound’ button, hesitant, but desperate. She had met and gotten photos with Harry Styles and they were already gone - oh and she’d have to replace her phone, which would be terrible, as well.

“Maybe Harry Styles has it?”

“Mom, don’t be dumb.”

“Hey! Watch your tone. I’m serious. Did he ever hand it back to you after he took those second round of pictures?”

Y/N scratches her head nervously and hands back her mom’s phone. She places both over her face and presses her fingers harshly over her eyes trying to think. She hadn’t been paying attention to her phone at the time, too busy trying to commit everything about Harry to memory in her mind so that she’d never forget it. She was sure she’d never forget today, now, even if she ever stopped loving Harry, which she was doubtful of. Hey kids, I met a rockstar and I was so starstruck I lost my phone in France! She groaned. “Oh my fucking god!”

After a few deep breaths with her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose, she composed herself, “We need to play the sound. Either it’s here and we’ll find it. Or - worst case scenario - it sounds and Harry Styles realizes he has my phone and we go from there… Well, I guess in the worst case scenario some jerk stole it and they turn it off and sell it for parts, but I just don’t think that’s what happened.” She bites her lip and stares at her mom, who hesitantly raises her finger to press the button that sets off the alarm on the lost phone. She clicks it after an overly dramatic pause. Y/N prays to anyone who’s willing to listen, she says in her mind, please sound the phone in here. Life would be so much simpler if it worked out the way we wanted. But, in place of the annoying echoing ring of the Find My iPhone tone there is only silence. At least there’s silence in the little shop in Bayeux.

In a tiny taxi cab that was headed to a small chateau outside of the town of Bayeux, the phone sounds and causes Harry to furrow his brows. He was sure he had his phone on ‘do not disturb’, but he pulls it out anyway to see why it’s making this annoying sound. What he pulls out of his coat pocket is not his phone he realizes immediately.

“Shit,” he says under his breath, still loud enough for Mitch to look over from the opposite passenger seat.

“What?”

“This isn’t my phone.”

“What?”

Harry rolls his eyes at Mitch’s repeated question and opens up his purse digging out his actual phone and holds up his and the one he had apparently stolen.

“Oh, yeah, that’s not your phone. That’s not good.”

Harry huffs as he turns the unknown phone over in his hand, the screen was a scene of a city he didn’t actually recognize - San Francisco maybe - the lavender silicone case is smooth in his hand and he notices a little sticker, it’s of Y/N and two other women. His eyes widen at it and it makes a little more sense to him. He hadn’t really stolen a phone, he just forgot to give it back. It wasn’t much better, but it was how he was going to comfort himself. Dropping his own phone in his lap, he runs his hand through his hair, rings slightly tugging at his mused curls. Then he turns the sticker to show Mitch, “It’s that girl we met, it’s her phone.”

“You stole her phone,” Mitch states. Voice deadpan and eyes boring into Harry’s.

“No!” Harry defends, but quickly slumps, “I mean, technically? Yes...But-” Mitch’s laughter cuts him off. “You’re an idiot, Harry, y’know that?”

“I feel like I’m on punk’d right now…” Y/N grumbles as it becomes clear that the phone is not in this shop. “If this is punk’d, at least my phone’s not actually gone,” she says to no one really. Her mom is pacing the store and stops to look at her daughter, “This is most definitely not punk’d for so many reasons, dear. Mainly because the show got canceled but also because we are in Bayeux, France not Malibu.”

“Fuck…”

She walks out of the shop, barely paying a glance to the shop keeper this time, her usual kind demeanor nowhere to be found under the piles of distress and anxiety plaguing her body.

Back out on the street she looks around, again hoping that with any luck Harry is still around and will come running up to her to give her back her phone. Again, no such luck.

“What the fuck am I going to do?” She looks to her mom helplessly, her arms flapping by her sides, defeated.

“What the fuck am I going to do?” Harry asks as they get out of the taxi, glancing at the purple phone in his hand.

Mitch shrugs, “Hope she has her location on?”

“Then she’s going to come here...But wouldn’t she have tried to track it first instead of playing the sound?”

“Dude, I don’t know.You can try to unlock it and find her mom’s number, get in contact with them.” Mitch sighs as they walk through the front door. “Or we can go back to town, see if they’re still there? Did you get her last name? You could find her on social media maybe?”

“I feel terrible...She was so nice.” Harry throws his bags down on the entryway couch and begins to pace, Y/N’s phone never leaving his hand. “Could go back into town tomorrow, maybe we’ll run into each other again.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Mitch sits and runs a hand through his hair, “Just calm down, right now, Harry. There’s not much else you can do.”

He’s right and Harry tries to not fixate on the phone, but he fiddles with it for the rest of the day. He doesn’t let it leave his sight and sets it beside his bed when he gets ready to go to sleep. As he shifts in the bed, unable to fall asleep he takes the phone and begins trying to unlock it, guessing random numbers and failing miserably. Eventually, he decides he should go to bed and drifts off into an uncomfortable sleep.

After being unsuccessful in town, Y/N and her mom went back to the little villa they were staying at on the outskirts of Bayeux. It was located next to some vineyards that the villa co-owned with the private chateau that sat on the other side of the vines. It was beautiful and she had been so excited to be staying there. But after the events of today, she was not in the mood to join the rest of her family for dinner among the grapes. She lays on her bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering how she had been so stupid to forget to ask for her phone back.

In the middle of the night, she wakes up in a cold sweat. She’s still in the clothes she had worn out and was laying on top of her covers at the end of her bed. All the windows of the room were closed and her shades weren’t drawn. Groggily, she rose from her uncomfortable position and changed. Moving to the window to let some air in she sees the lights flickering in a room of the private chateau across the way. She wondered why someone would willingly be up at this hour, even though she was unsure exactly what time it was without her phone. Her phone. That’s what had woken her up. She had dreamt that her mom had called her phone and the frog from the Frog and the Toad stories had picked it up. That was ridiculous, of course, but the idea to call her phone instead of just pinging it was solid. If Harry still had it, then he could pick up and they could figure out how to meet up. She decided she’d have to do that at a reasonable hour, however and moved on, opening her windows and closing the sheer shades, before getting under her covers to sleep.

Y/N wakes up early the next morning. Her sleep a restless one. Padding down the hall to her parent’s room, she knocks solemnly. She was far from a morning person and it was much to her mother’s surprise to see her standing in the hallway when she opened the door.

“Hey..” her voice catches in her throat, scratchy from lack of use in the night.

“Good morning, sunshine,” her mother laughs slightly, but Y/N only gives her an unamused look and walks into her room immediately searching for her mom’s phone.

“Need to use your phone, gonna call my phone,” she mutters, none of her thoughts being coherent sentences.

“Y/N, it’s 7 am. You’re going to call Harry Styles at 7 am? With your morning voice?”

Her eyes narrow and her lips form a straight line one her face, clearly not amused by her mother’s questions. Even if she knew her mom was right. She clears her throat and rolls her eyes at her mom, who is moving around the room beginning to get ready for the day as her daughter sits on the rumpled bed. Y/N’s father had already gone out to breakfast in the main area of the villa.

“Fine,” she slides off the bed when she realizes her mom isn’t offering her any more words of wisdom. “I’ll get ready for the day and then I will call my phone.”

Pattering back to her room, she slowly begins to dress and liven herself up for the day. Her hands instinctively reach out to her bedside table to pick up her phone to turn some music on, but of course she’s greeted with nothing. She groans loudly, “Of. Fucking. Course.” Shaking her head, she moves to take fresh clothes out of her suitcase.

Exiting her room again, this time far more awake, she walks down the hallway in a babydoll style top that read “Don’t play with my heart” with little girls playing racquetball with a red heart emblazoned over her chest and white jean floods. Her feet were covered in red high top converse today, matching the color of the small heart on her shirt. She liked the contrast of the white pants and the bright red of the shoes and she smiled to herself as she walked confidently into the breakfast area.

Her entire family was sitting around one of the tables, sipping coffee and eating pastries, it was now around 8:45 - a slightly more acceptable part of the day. They were all early risers, especially in comparison to her, and her older sister looks at her curiously. “What are you doing up so early, kid?” Y/N leans down to grab a slice of a peach from her brother’s place, which earns her a slight yelp of protest. She rolls her eyes at her sister and stalks off to the buffet, knowing she’s made her presence known enough.

“Can I borrow your phone now?” Y/N says after finishing a small danish and the lukewarm coffee that was at their table when she arrived. Her mother finally nods and hands it over. As Y/N grabs it, she’s already halfway out the doors that lead into the backyard of the villa.

She stands on the grass that goes for a few feet before a hedge that separates the villa ground with the vineyard. Flipping through the contacts, she settles on hers and sighs, trying to calm her nerves. Her free hand ghosts over her hair and she uses one foot to step lightly on the heel of the other shoe. Please pick up, she sends out a prayer once again. Her last twenty-four hours seemed to consist of dreams, hopes, and prayers and she was starting to realize that she didn’t particularly like any of them. Biting her lip, she raises her phone up to her ear and gets her automatic voice message. Realizing she has her phone on ‘do not disturb’, she immediately rings herself again, knowing that it will go through this time.

Harry strolls out of his bathroom and widens his eyes when he hears a buzzing hear his bed. Seeing it’s Y/N’s phone he grabs it quickly and furrows his brow at the contact. Her mother’s name, but he doesn’t know that. To him it’s just a person’s name, it could be anyone she knew. Still, he thought about the odds of it being just one of her friends or her calling from someone else’s phone and decided to risk it.

“Hello?”

“Thank fucking God!” is all he hears and he’s pretty sure it’s Y/N’s voice.

“Y/N?” He laughs and takes a seat on his bed, staring out his window that opened to the vineyard.

“Yes! Harry? Hi!” She’s ecstatic that anyone picked up at all, bouncing up and down on the other side of the phone. She mutters to herself, once again, “Thank fucking God.”

“Who’s phone are you calling from?”

“Oh, my mom’s,” she says, calming down slightly as she begins to walk around the grass, unable to contain the renewed sense of energy she has.

“You don’t keep her in your contacts as ‘mum’? I almost didn’t pick up.” He tilts his head, trying to think of anyone else he knew who kept their mother’s contact as the actual name rather than ‘mum’ or some other variant of it.

“Well, thanks for picking up,” she laughs at his words, bringing her pacing to a stop to stare at the chateau across the way. “It’s really not that weird,” she insists, her arm going to cradle the elbow of the arm that holds the phone to her ear. “I don’t think any of my siblings have her as ‘mom’ in their contacts.”

“I think it’s a little weird. I’m going to have to start asking people what they’ve got their mum down as in their phones. You’ve got me intrigued,” he muses, only slightly teasing. A smile curves onto his face as he hears her huff over the phone, obviously not liking his ribbing.

“So...you have my phone,” she changes the subject.

“Yes…” he scratches his head and she swears she could hear him awkwardly rubbing at his hair. “Sorry ‘bout that. Guess I forgot to give it back.”

“Not entirely your fault, I probably should have asked for it back. It was like twenty minutes before I even realized I didn’t have it and that was only really thanks to my mom.” She tries to not make him feel bad, because she honestly felt responsible for the mess up.

“Yeah, but I probably wouldn’t’ve realized till I got back to my place and pulled out one phone from my pocket and another one from my bag if you hadn’t tried the ‘find my iphone’ thing.”

“Oh my god, was it loud!? Did you have a hard time shutting it off?” She rushes as all the possible ways she might have annoyed Harry yesterday run through her mind.

“No, no, it was fine,” he reassures her, laughing lightly, standing up now and beginning to pace in front of his window. “Felt like a proper dick, though. Never in my life have I forgotten to give someone their phone back.” He sighs and stops in front of the window, deciding to open it for some fresh air.

Her gaze flits to a movement on the second floor of the chateau, someone opening up their window apparently. The long paned windows flip open and the little sheer curtains flutter in the slight morning breeze.

“So are you still in Bayeux?” Harry asks, hoping her answer is ‘yes’ as he takes in a deep breath of the air from outside.

“Yeah. Are you still here?” She asks timidly, moving her gaze down to her shoes bright red sticking out of the green grass. “Because that will make getting my phone back much easier,” she adds, clarifying that it’s not supposed to be a personal question, just simply a logistical one. Even if her heart skips a beat at the thought of seeing Harry again.

“Yes, I am. Well...just outside the town actually.”

“You don’t say? I’m staying just outside of town, too. At a little villa located next to a vineyard,” She looks around her surroundings again, walking the length of the garden once more. A movement from the same room that had opened their windows at the chateau catching her eye once again. A man, with his arm placed on the sill, leaning out slightly.

“You’re not wearing red shoes by any chance?” He smiles and she can hear the way it affects his words. Looking out of the window, he eyes the villa and the person who was pacing around its patio, seemingly on the phone.

Her brows raise and she stops in her tracks. “Did you just open your window?”

The only response from Harry that she hears is a soft chuckle. But, more importantly, the man in the chateau is waving to her. She grins and waves her free hand over her head, doing a slight jump to make sure he sees her. His laughter only grows, crackling slightly over the telephone line.

“What are the odds?” She breathes out after a moment. Her waving hand fell to her side and she looked at the figure in the window. It wasn’t exactly clear to her that it was Harry, but the way the man was hunched was enough to convince her. She vaguely sees him shake his head in agreement at the serendipitous nature of their current situation.

“Have you had a chance to dine in the vineyard yet?” Harry bites his lip after he asks the question, feeling a little more confident in his flirtation over the phone.

“I have - only once for dinner. Last night I was so stressed I couldn’t eat.”

“What do you think about lunch in the vineyard?” He’s smiling now, the charm dripping in every word he says. His accent is music to her ears and she thinks how could she ever say no to that offer.

“I don’t know...lunch with my phone thief?” She imitates an unsure tone. Her tease is lighthearted and Harry huffs, playfully indignant.

“As an apology for keeping your phone by mistake,” he adds, emphasizing the ‘by mistake’ part.

“As long as I can get my phone back, I’m up for anything you want,” She laughs, but then blushes at the innuendo that could be found in her words. Harry hears it and an amused look spreads across his face, the definition of anything running through his mind as well as his assured belief that Y/N did not mean what she had just implied. “I mean! Not anything, I just...Lunch in the vineyard would be lovely, Harry.” She sighs, a hand trailing down her face at her complete foolishness.

“Great. How does one o’clock sound?” He moves on from her slip, not wanting to embarrass her anymore. Especially when he was the one to cause this entire situation.

“Sounds smashing, Mr. Thief,” She breathes out, but laughs when she hears Harry groan.

“You’re something else, missy.”

“I know.” She rolls her eyes, trying to contain her giggles at their playful back and forth.

“See you at one.” He says finally.

“See you at one.” She echoes, continuing to watch him in the window. Neither of them seem to move to hang up. She’s stood in place and so is he, his head hanging out of the window now, resting himself on his arm. It’s just their breathing exchanging over the line and some gusts of wind crackling the connection every so often.

“Are you going to hang up?” She whispers, after a minute of complete silence, her voice coming out impossibly small.

“Thought you would’ve by now.”

“I don’t know why I can’t.” She admits, but she just feels weird hanging up on him even if they have plans to see each other later.

“Me neither.” His response causes her to tilt her head in confusion. Why would he have trouble hanging up on her?

“Okay.”

Then, it’s quiet again. Both of them shifting their bodies around, yet still managing to stay on the line. Y/N is the one who hangs up the phone after hearing Harry’s breath shake slightly, like he’s steeling himself to actually hang up. She realizes that while she doesn’t want to hang up on him, she’d rather do it than have him hang up on her. If that made any sense. She wasn’t sure, but the way he had invited her to lunch, it just felt like he had shifted their relationship from fan and star to something else. Something she didn’t fully grasp, but whatever it was made her stomach flip.

She informed her family that she wouldn’t be going out with them today and that she was getting her phone back, but not that she would be having lunch with Harry. She had no idea what they would think about it, but she didn’t want to give them the chance to inform her.

Walking through the vineyards, she watches the slight dust from the dirt gather on her shoes, the red converse. She had settled on what she had been wearing originally after changing her outfit upwards of twenty times. Best to be casual, she thought, like it was no big deal that she was about to dine with a musician whom she loved.

There was only one table on this side of the vineyard, it was the part owned by the chateau, a couple rows from where the villa had their tables. The simple cream tablecloth laid across the wooden table that had two matching wooden chairs with cream cushions placed around it. On top of the table was a picnic basket and a bottle of red wine, made from the grapes in the vineyard. And in one of the chairs sat Harry. Big square green glasses perched on his nose as he looked up at the sky. Y/N takes in his appearance, his cream shirt with stitched patterns on it, half unbuttoned to grant a full view of his swallows and butterfly as well as baggy light wash ripped jeans and dirty white vans. His shirt almost matches the tablecloth, but she’s not sure if he would take that as a compliment.

He hadn’t noticed her presence and he rubs his lips together, smoothing the lip balm he had applied before settling outside.

“Mr. thief?” She touches lightly on his shoulder, similar to how she had done yesterday. His head shoots up and he readjusts in his chair, to sit up slightly more upright. A smile curves onto his face and he moves his glasses up into his hair, pushing his curls back behind them.

“Y/N,” he drags out her name, toying with the sound of it. His eyes flit over her figure, taking in her outfit but quickly run back to her beautiful face. He motions for her to take a seat and she complies.

“The red shoes,” he smiles, glancing at her shoes. She laughs and does a little click of her heels.

“Can’t believe my phone was less than a mile away from me last night.”

“Oh! Your phone!” Harry’s eyes widened, “I forgot it in my room!”

Y/N laughs, her smile spreading on her face immediately, but her face falls when she sees Harry isn’t laughing. “You can’t be serious.” Harry says nothing, a blush creeping up his neck. “Harry…” she doesn’t know what else to say, scratching at the back of her head. “I guess stars really are just like us, complete space cadets.”

“I’m sorry! I was..distracted.”

She can’t keep herself from laughing and she places her hand over Harry’s on the table, trying to calm him down. “No worries, seriously, I was just teasing you. I’ve gone this long without my phone, an hour or so more won’t kill me.”

He smiles sheepishly, mentally kicking himself for how foolish he had made himself look. “Sorry ‘bout that. Seems like I’m really trying to keep your phone, doesn’t it?”

“Kind of...but I don’t think there’s anything in particular on there that you’d really be interested in having access to.”

He grabs the bottle of wine and takes the temporary cork off, he had previously uncorked it before Y/N had arrived. He pours the wine and then quirks a brow towards her. “I’m sure you’ve got some funny notes on there, you’re hilarious.”

She scoffs as his look is serious. Picking her glass up, she clinks it with Harry’s and takes a sip. She hums at the taste, judging the flavor and deeming it good. He watches her as she makes her silent decision and smirks at the way she smiles to herself. Coming back to the conversation she makes eye contact with Harry as she sets the glass down and leans back in her chair.

“You barely know me.” A coy smile flits across her features now. Harry’s heart skips a beat at her tone. He had been expecting some lighthearted quip, but this held something far more intense. It’s still teasing, but it’s far closer to flirting than friendly joking.

He begins to unpack the basket and place food onto the table, eyes constantly flickering between his task and Y/N. Her eyes are fixated on his hands, the way they flex and move and the way his rinks clink against the containers he’s moving around.

“Then tell me about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything.” He finishes placing the food on the table and removes the basket from the table so there’s nothing obstructing their view of each other.

“Very specific,” she takes a sip of her wine again, refraining from rolling her eyes. It was easy to talk to Harry, like they had been friends forever.

Harry lets out one of his loud single laughs. “See! You’re hilarious.” His compliment makes her finally roll her eyes playfully. Instead of responding, she puts some food onto the plate in front of her and takes a bite of a peach slide she had grabbed.

“You’re a flirt,” she says finally, her smile spreading across her face.

“That’s a fact ‘bout me not you, love.”

She bites her lip. For being extremely forgetful, Harry was also extremely charming. “Well, I’m not a fan of flirts.”

“I thought you said you were a massive fan yesterday?” He tilts his head to the side and looks at her with an inviting look in his eye, obviously trying to goad her.

She let out a gasp at his words and began to blush. His stare felt like a second sun boring straight into her, its heat traveling directly to her core. Trying to maintain her collected appearance that she had played so well yesterday, she takes a breath and another sip of wine. The liquid ran down her throat, soothing her. Shaking her head she says, “You know what I meant.”

Biting a piece of bread, Harry nods and shoots her a wink. Her legs instinctively shift together. Finishing his chewing, he speaks up, “Okay, but seriously, tell me more about yourself.”

They settle in, getting more serious and having an actual conversation rather than flirty comments shot back and forth. By the end of the bottle of wine, Harry and Y/N are cackling about some story she’s told about her first solo trip to Amsterdam and all the trouble she got into being a twenty year old college student with easy legal access to weed.

“I remember the first time I went to Amsterdam with the band,” Harry easily segways into his own story and she perks at the words ‘the band’. After all the fun they had been having talking and getting to know each other, the idea that Harry was a famous musician had left her mind completely. For the last forty-five minutes he had just been a really nice guy who was treating her to lunch.

She looks at him expectantly. “It was crazy cool, I think I was only seventeen then? But everyone else was over 18 so they bought us a bunch of pot and we smoked it and got high off our asses. Can barely remember what we talked about, but we definitely thought it was the smartest shit ever”

“Do you ever miss that?”

He finishes off his last bit of wine, “Being young and dumb?”

“No, the, like, relationship you had with them. I don’t mean to pry, but I feel like with any close relationship, when you stop being together all the time...it’s never the same.”

Harry sighs, thinking over what you had said, now knowing it was rather serious and not just about being young. He runs a hand through his soft curls before starting his response. “Short answer is yes. But, y’know, they were my family for so long and that bond doesn’t go away, even if we go through rough patches. Like that part of my life is such an essential part of who I am, I could never throw it away or discount it. I don’t know if I miss it all of the time though. I really like who I am right now.”

She nods, finishing her wine now too. Her body is fuzzy and warm under the soft light of the afternoon. Sharing a bottle of wine was enough to make her tipsy, but she felt sober enough to carry on their serious conversation. “That’s good. It’s important to like who you are right now. It’s how you know you’re ready to be there for others.” She says thoughtfully and then adds, “I like who I am right now, too.”

Harry smiles at her, a calm expression maintaining on his face, and twists his rings on his fingers. “That’s good,” he echoes. “Do you want to go for a walk?” His voice is soft and of course she’s going to say yes.

Her response is to stand up from the table and begin putting things back into the picnic basket. Harry watches her for a moment, taking in the way she moves with so much elegance even when doing such a mundane task. He is honestly so happy that he had gotten to see her again. She had intrigued him yesterday, but he had just expected her to be one of those fleeting thoughts in his mind. Now he wasn’t so sure. He had a feeling she would live in his memory for far longer. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll come back later and grab it all.”

“You set this all up, the least I can do is clean up a little,” She looks up at him from her crouched position as she packs up the leftover food into the basket still on the ground. Her hair is slightly falling into her face and she reaches to push it behind her ear while they continue to look at one another. Harry takes his lower lip into his mouth as he continues to look at her, trying to convince himself she’s not the most beautiful woman he’s ever met.

As they walk between the grapes, they continue to talk, further investigating Y/N’s job aspirations and what Harry was planning on for his next few weeks of vacation. He leads them down a dirt path after they cross the street, moving away from both the villa and the chateau. The path has tall grass flanking its sides that pushes around in the cool summer breeze. She mentions the beautiful sound of the birds chirping and Harry agrees. They walk until they reach the small lake that’s about a ten minute walk from their respective current residences. It’s not a lake for swimming so there’s no one around, just more tall grass, some small trees, and the animals.

“It’s really so beautiful here.”

“I love it a lot, I’ve been coming down here every evening and just sitting alone for an hour or so,” Harry motions to the little wooden bench located beneath a shady tree. She looks at him questioningly, unsure if he means for them to sit. He takes her hand in response and leads them over to it. It’s right before the edge of the pond and if their legs were just a bit longer they could touch the feet into the water.

“It’s nice,” She says, turning her attention from the scenery to stare at Harry, who she finds is already looking at her. Their eyes meet and she bites her lip. He’s so close to her. Closer than they were in the shop yesterday and now their faces are on the same level. His glasses are still pushed into his curls and she decides to pluck them from his head and place them over her eyes instead. Harry protests, but she says smugly, “I’m putting them to better use than just sitting a top that head of yours. It’s quite bright out.”

Harry leans into her, extending his arm behind her and resting it on the back of the bench. She sighs peacefully, with her gaze now hidden behind the glasses. She returns her gaze out against the water and tries to shift closer to Harry casually. They stay silent, listening to the rest of the world moving around them. Soon she’s resting nestled into his side and his arm has moved from the bench to rest around her shoulders. She exhales in contentment, but neither of them have said anything for a while. They were okay with it, being held was enough. Her right hand goes up and threads with Harry’s that is hanging limply against her.

After a few more minutes of silence, Harry decides he wants to talk. “I like being around you.”

“I like being around you too, Harry. You’re different than I had expected.”

“Really?”

“Yeah..I mean there’s that sinister quote about how you should never meet your heroes. But still, you were even kinder than I expected and even though you stole my phone,” she pauses to laugh,”it kind of turned out to be a blessing in disguise because I got to see you again.”

“Thanks…” Harry sighs and she turns her face to gaze up at him. “Well, yeah, now I’m sorta glad I did take your phone. You’re really wonderful.” She smiles and he smiles just as wide.

But then her smile falters, suddenly remembering everything. It was like a self-fulfilling prophecy, she mentioned that thing about heroes and it all came crashing down around her. Yes, it was amazing to be around Harry and it was great that he had been so down to earth. But what she had just said was true too. He was her hero, he was famous and their lives didn’t connect at all. Just that one fleeting moment in the shop. If she hadn’t known him they would have never interacted. She had even been on her last legs of being in that store, she was just about to ask her mom to leave when Harry had walked through the door.

She sits up and drops her hand from his and he looks at her confused. “Did I say something wrong?” He asks, concerned. She stands up now and walks the short distance to the edge of the water, pushing his glasses on top of her head. He follows quickly, growing anxious as she stays silent. “I just..” she laughs in spite of herself, “I just feel really dumb right now.”

“What? Why?” Harry’s really confused now, she won’t meet his gaze as he faces her trying to figure out what just happened.

“I can’t believe I fooled myself into thinking for even a second this could ever be something more.” She turns to Harry finally, looking him directly in the eye, even though her eyes are prickling with tears. She’s angry with herself, not Harry. “You’re you and I’m just a fan at the end of the day. All of the flirting and touching, it can’t be anything more. At most, I’m a one night stand. And as great as that would be in the moment, I know how I feel about you and I know it would ruin me. I can’t be a fling for you, Harry. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” he grabs her arm, trying to comfort her, she shrugs him off. “You’re more than a fan to me, I thought that was obvious by now. You wouldn’t be some meaningless one night stand. When I say I like being around you, I mean I like you, Y/N.” His voice is strong yet soft. He needs to convince her that she can feel comfortable around him, but he sees the darkness in her eyes, how scared she is of being hurt.

“I don’t fit into your life, Harry.” She shakes her head, moving her hands more as she grows more anxious.

“That’s not true. You told me you want to move to England, we could see each other there and see if this was anything.”

She knows he’s right, that it was possible, but she had worked herself up so much now that she had a hard time believing it. She takes a deep breath, “Just answer me this. Would you have given me a second glance if I hadn’t come up to you in that shop yesterday? Or a second thought if there hadn’t been the phone mishap?”

Harry is taken aback. Her words had nothing to do with what he had just said. He had thought his solution was actually really great, a plan he had been meaning to tell her if the rest of the day had gone accordingly, which it didn’t seem to be doing. He pauses and if Y/N was anymore distraught that would have been her cue to leave. Thankfully, she had grounded herself enough in the situation to not let her hot head get in the way of this conversation.

“That’s a pretty unfair question, Y/N. It’s not like I’m constantly looking for someone to fancy.”

“Just answer the questions.”

“Probably not, about the first one, I hadn’t even noticed anyone in the shop before you came up to me. I was off in my own world.” She nods, taking his words into account. He continues, “But yes, about the second one, I thought about you in the car ride home before your phone even rang. Like I said, I like you.”

“Okay.” She softens.

“That’s it?”

“I mean you’re right. We could see each other in London and see if this is something. I just had to know about the other stuff, it was racing through my mind and I wouldn’t get over it unless you gave me an answer.”

“Oh, so can I kiss you?” His words broke the uncomfortable tension that had surrounded them.

“You still want to?” Her voice is small and unsure. The most nervous she had been around Harry was right now.

“I want to do so much more than that, darling, you have no idea.” He cups her cheek and wraps an arm around her waist. She giggles in nervous anticipation. Then his lips gently push onto hers and she sighs into the kiss. At the edge of the lake, the pair of them taste each other for the first time. Tongues begin licking into each other’s mouths and the kiss becomes breathless. Her hands are at the base of his neck, tugging him closer to her while he tightens his grasp around her waist. She moans slightly when Harry nips at her lower lip and he smirks, happy with the sound she makes.

“We should probably go get my phone.” Harry whimpers at her words.

“What?” Harry is once again confused by the woman before him, who had now pulled from their kiss.

“My phone is in your room…” She trails off and then eyes widen and he giggles excitedly. Eventually realizing what she’s implying.

“Yes! Yes, we should go do that. Get your phone. In my room. Sounds like a good idea. Mhmm.” He pecks her lips between each sentence.

“You’re so weird,” she laughs and brings down his shades onto her face once again. He pulls her into his side and kisses the top of her head as they begin their walk back to the chateau.

“Do you want your phone or not?”

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry fic #harry fic rec #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot

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stillgirlfrommars · 3 years ago

Text

you’ve got news

So, I already talked about this with @missmorwen and I know I don’t have the time to draw and make an actual comic out of it, BUT I cannot stop thinking about this SamSteve-post-engdame-fix-it story (with a dash of BuckyNat, ‘cause that’s just who I am) which is kinda crack and very rom-com (a bit you’ve got mail) inspired and doesn't make much sense, because... PLOT HOLES but * sigh * I kinda wanna share at least the idea so - bear with me:

So, instead of Nat dying, Steve sacrifices his Captain America powers on Vormir and comes back as Skinny!Steve and starts running a political blog called you’ve-got-news in secret, uncovering all kinds of shady business/corruption and becoming the bane of existence of every politician and greedy CEO - but it takes a while for his friends to figure out it's him who’s running that increasingly popular blog (which the new Captain America is actually a big fan of ;)). And the way that happens is as follows:

So, Steve almost died at the end of Endgame. The idiot (affectionate) of course still wanted to fight Thanos, but even with Thor’s Hammer, he took some serious, serious injuries which led to a tough talk with Sam, Nat and Bucky

Like I imagine, that while Steve would not have any regrets whatsoever about giving up his powers, he would still need some time to come to terms with the fact that he won’t be able to participate in the action like he used to. Even though, he actually wants and knows... it’s time to ... start something new, it’s still a process. So, there he is, trying to figure out who he is without the mantle of Captain America, re-defining the way he can and will fight against bullies in the future (cause there is no way he’s gonna stop that).

And to the surprise of everyone, Steve actually doesn’t press for participating in Avenger-style-fights anymore (he still does some of the practical mission planning and shit like that) but most importantly, he starts taking up new hobbies, like cooking or old hobbies like drawing - and he seems happier than he has in a long time, and yeah maybe it’s a bit too good to be true, if Sam starts thinking about it. But, hey, Steve finally seems to be happy so -

Meanwhile, Sam still becomes the new Captain America, and Steve is there while he is adjusting, finding himself in that role. He is there when Sam needs to talk things through, and yeah, it would still be a process like in tfatws series, but ... a little bit less alone, I guess.

So, the new Captain America fights alongside Nat and Bucky - and it’s good, they work surprisingly well together, but also: those two are stuck right in the middle of a weird assassin!flirting situation (I’m imagening a lot of veeery intense staring at the other while cleaning their weapons or beating someone up, innuendos en masse, dark humour etc.). And frankly, it’s getting on Sam's nerves because they seem to be so oblivious about the whole damn thing. Neither of them is actually admitting to anything, no, they are too busy teasing him about the ‘crush’ he has developed on that mysterious dude who is running the famous political-youve-got-news-blog that gained momentum a while ago and is currently keeping all the corrupt politicians and CEOs on their toes.

So, yeah, Sam might have been caught a couple of times reading or reciting from that blog because - it has actually turned into a pretty efficient way of mobilising people to demonstrate for change and it did give him some tip-offs in regards to who the bad guy really was and yeah. But it’s not a crush... Sam just really likes reading the blog posts, okay. That dude seems pretty cool and they share the same moral code, so... whatever.

What Nat and Bucky and Steve don't know (and he’ll never tell them), is that Sam is actually kiiiiinda already frequently talking with the guy who runs the blog. Anonymously on both ends, of course (because for good reasons both of them are pretty careful about giving away information concerning their identities). And in a way that whole anonymity-thing makes it a lot easier to talk about stuff he finds harder to admit to the people who he knows directly. So, you could say, blog-guy has kinda become Sam's internet friend, but not his crush, no.

Honestly, the crush he is more concerned about (that he also isn't planning on telling anyone about any time soon, cause Bucky would just tease him and Nat would start scheming) is, well, it’s Steve. Because, damn, he likes their get-togethers a lot, the meals Steve's cooking are honestly to die for. They watch baseball together, they do museum-trips... And the way they can talk about (almost) everything... He just feels understood and... yeah, loved (maybe not in the way that he wishes for, but still) and it’s nice to see Steve so happy and okay, maybe it’s getting a bit out of control because Sam took Steve with him to visit Sarah and his nephews and Sarah kinda saw right through his act of ‘hey, this is my best friend’ and ‘what do you mean, I don’t have feelings- okay. Yeah maybe I do’ and told him in no uncertain terms to fucking do something about it and get his shit together.

The thing is, he’s got it bad. But Sam is also torn, because this is the best fucking friendship he's ever had and he does not want to jeopardise that. So, in the end he ends up talking about this with his Internet friend... about how he kinda has this huge crush on his best friend, and his Internet friend is like, ‘TELL ME ABOUT IT, big fucking same here UGH. And I feel like I’m being SO obvious about it all. It’s honestly embarrassing. My other best friend keeps teasing me ‘bout it and tells me to just go for it, but that guy still hasn’t managed to ask out the girl he’s interested in, so, what does he know, right?’. And Sam laughs - at least he’s not alone.

So the days go by (Sam’s pining only increases, Steve took him to a wine tasting the other night and he almost... in his drunk state... almost... but he didn’t) until one day, while blog-guy and Sam are chatting, all of the sudden the blog-guy is like, ‘Shit, I think someone's breaking into my apartment’ and then like, ‘Okay, yes they are’ - and Sam's like, ‘call 911′, and blog-guy writes back ‘mmh think I can handle them’ (and Sam’s like ‘WTF... I know way too many people with zero regards for their own well-being, myself included’)

But then blog-guy is not answering anymore, so Sam frantically calls up Nat who rushes to his flat and Sam says: ‘You need to find out where that IP adress is located ASAP - the dude with that famous blog is in danger.’

And Nat does that multitasking thing where she’s working on the problem while ribbing Sam about the fact that, apparently, Captain America's Internet bestie is that famous blog dude, and- 'Are you sure it’s not a crush?'

But after another minute, Nat sighs and is like, ‘I can't find the location, this thing is encrypted af, it’s impossible.’ Suddenly, she notices something about the setup of the encryption and-, ‘Hang on a second, it was me who set this up for someone back in 2011.′ And as she slips on her jacket, she says to Sam, ‘Come on. I know where we have to go!’

So they make their way to what turns out is Steve's (!!!!) apartment and find him in the middle of a fight against over half a dozen heavily armed people, and yeah - he’s actually doing pretty okay for himself ‘cause he outsmarted a couple of them, but also- they kind of outnumber him, so Nat and Sam get to work.

And Sam doesn't even have time to fully register what that means re:blog-guy until they have successfully defeated the bad guys. After that's done, Steve is like, ‘Thanks guys, but how the hell did you know I was in trouble? Nat... you didn’t bug my apartment, did you??’

And Nat tstsk and then she just laughs because this is priceless and OF CoURSE it is Steve who is behind that blog... (she's a bit mad at herself for not figuring it out sooner, and a bit sad that Steve didn't feel like he could tell her, and that he assumes she has is flat bugged but, also,... kinda impressed.) But then she looks at him with a warm smile on her face, shaking her head, saying, ‘No, I didn’t, Steve.’ Her gaze wanders back and forth between Steve and Sam and she humms- 'That actually makes so much sense oh my god.' So, she leaves them ‘to talk’ ;) and for Sam to explain everything’ - and then it’s just the two of them.

And Sam does explain everything and is like, 'So you're that Blog dude, erm...' He's scratching the back of his neck, cheeks flushed, 'Turns out, we've been talking for months over that blog of yours. I'm (insert-Sam’s-username-here).'- and Steve's eyes go wide and you can literally see him processing that information right then and there and he's sputtering out a light laugh, and he's like 'Hang on a second... I... umm, okay, I gotta ask. So, that best friend you've got a crush on...' Well, it’s now or never -'Is you, yeah..', Sam admits and starts, 'and....' They both laugh again and Steve nods and just says- 'yeah, it’s you, too.'

And then they kiss and yaaay, happy ending!!!

And then the epilogue would be about them having a nice dinner with Bucky and Nat a couple of months later, and the whole time, Sam and Steve are being very much in loveTM. The three guys are standing in the kitchen, while Natasha is in the bathroom and Bucky's making a funny quib about how sickeningly cute Sam and Steve are together - and Sam, well, Sam just raises his eyebrows and is like, 'You know what, you're not allowed to say anything bout that, you and Romanoff have been acting waaaaay worse over the last year. At least we got our shit together in the end, what's your excuse, you are obviously absolutely in love with her!', and of course Nat chooses that exact moment to enter the room, hand on Bucky's waist, dropping a kiss on his cheek and is like, 'What do you mean, we've been dating for 6 months?' And Steve laughs and Sam groans bc .... he loves his friends, he does, but clearly, CLEARLY they ALL have to work on their communication skills!

The End.

#samsteve #buckynat #endgame fix it #Sam Wilson #Steve Rogers #Skinny!Steve #I know it's stupid and cheesy but everything else in my life feels a bit too much at the moment so I needed something cute to think about #Seriously though if anyone wants to use this as a prompt to draw or write... please do

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yehet-about-it · 4 years ago

Photo

Chase Me | Part 17 - Lock The Door Next Time

⇐ || ☆ Masterlist ☆ || ⇒

🎮👾 ~ The Boyz Social Media AU ~ 👾🎮

"Twitching" is a British term used to mean "the pursuit of a previously located rare bird." In North America it is more often called chasing...

Pairings: Changmin x Reader, Sunwoo x Reader

Warnings: 17+, language, some smut in later chapters, fuckboy!sunwoo 😉

Updates Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday & Sunday @ 9pm GMT/1pm PST

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Word Count: 3.1k (I am SO sorry... although I'm kind of not bc I lowkey love this chapter) Warnings: Mature content, may involve maStUrBaTioN, a whole lot of embarrassment and Chanhee having the time of his goddamn life bc its not him in the awkward situation for once 🙃

You sighed, dropping your unreasonably heavy camera bag on the table as you walked into the living room, Chanhee in close pursuit looking equally as tired. You’d spent several long hours at a shoot for a new project you’d been hired to do and had come back to the boys’ apartment to do some editing before you called it quits for the day.

“Should we order food now?” You called out as Chanhee went to his room to unload his gear and fetch his macbook for editing. You knew you needed to work but you hadn’t eaten since the morning and you couldn’t stop the thoughts of takeout food swirling around in your head. “Mm, the Chinese?” Chanhee replied sitting down across the table. “Can you go and ask Changmin if he wants anything while I set this up? He’s probably in his room.”

You nodded happily, perking up at the prospect of food and left Chanhee to upload the photos from the day whilst you went off in search of Changmin. He wasn’t in their gaming room as you walked by so you continued down the corridor towards his room. As you neared his door you could hear a murmur, and coming to a stop outside the room you recognised your name being called by Changmin, only it was ever so quiet, barely audible through the wood of the door, so you figured maybe it was just him registering your presence. Assuming he’d realised you were there, you swung the door open not quite expecting the scene that was presented before you. Changmin was sat on his bed, propped up against the pillows with his lips parted, hair hanging low in front of his eyes, and scanning further down you saw that his sweatpants were bunched low on his hips as his hand gripped what appeared to be a very hard erection. You let out a shriek as you realised what you had stumbled upon, immediately slamming the door back shut and racing down the corridor before Changmin even had chance to react.

“Oh my god, oh my god.” You repeated it like a mantra, your heart pounding from the shock as you slid back into the living room and into your chair opposite New. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” Chanhee asked in bewilderment looking at you as though you’d just committed the 7 deadly sins. “I should have knocked!” you squeaked burying your face in your palms in total, unfathomed embarrassment. You took a deep breath trying to calm yourself, but the image of Changmin’s hand wrapped snugly around his length, pleasuring himself as he uttered your name was well and truly burned into your brain.

“What? Why?” Chanhee asked, a puzzled expression forming from his features. “He- oh my word- he was- touchi- Ugh I can’t say it!” you whined. “He wasn’t…? Oh my god...” Eventually realising what had happened, a hysterical fit of laughter erupted from your best friends throat as you hid behind your hands, your cheeks most definitely flushed with the brightest pink. “Oh my god that idiot” Chanhee cackled, tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes from the sheer force of his laughter. You sank down in your chair a pained smile on your face as you couldn’t help but be affected by Chanhee’s reaction. “Chanhee what am I gonna do? I’ll never be able to look him in the eye again!” You wailed, the howling starting to dye down as Chanhee regained his composure. “Not my problem” Chanhee teased. “I’ll make it your problem” you replied stroppily, whacking him lightly on the arm in annoyance. “Ow!” Chanhee clutched his arm in feigned pain before proceeding to laugh at you once again. “It’s not funny Chanhee! This is so awkward!”

You had by now gotten over the initial shock of seeing one of your longest friends exposed like that, and now you were wondering how the hell you were gonna get over the awkwardness of the situation. But most of all, you were wondering why the hell he’d been moaning your name of all names and what that meant. Not that you were going to mention that to New. That would open a whole new can of worms and lead this conversation down a whole new road that you didn’t particularly want to explore, as well as give Chanhee even more ammunition for further teasing.

“That’s exactly why it IS funny.” Chanhee chided, whipping his phone out, presumably either to tease Changmin or get the Chinese menu up, or both. “Guess he won’t be joining us for the Chinese then?” You rolled your eyes at Chanhee’s teasing (though also legitimate) question. “Well it’s not like I stuck around to ask.” You crossed your arms as you gave Chanhee a warning glare. “Fine, I’ll ask him then.” He said, and your phone lit up on the table a moment later – of course he’d mentioned it in your group chat.

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Changmin had heard Chanhee’s cackling from his room at the other end of the apartment and had been mentally cursing for the duration, his face perhaps an even brighter shade of scarlet than yours. Of all of the awkward things to happen, the girl he liked and one of his best friends walking in while he was halfway to climax thinking about her had to be the most unfortunate. Firstly there was the problem of how he’d ever look you in the eye again, but secondly was the problem that remained below his waistline. You walking in hadn’t helped that of course. If it had been Chanhee or Kevin walking in, his stiffness would have gone in a split second, but despite the embarrassment of what had just happened, his length remained taut against his boxers which he’d quickly pulled back up in shock after your momentary appearance. He was no longer in the mood to continue, too worried about what you might be thinking, so he decided his only option was to go for a cold shower in the hope that that might fix it.

Before he had the chance to hop in however, his phone buzzed, showing a text from New. He groaned as he read the older boys words, knowing that he’d never live this down whining again when he realised the texts were sent not just to him but to your group chat. Thankfully Changmin had already eaten, although he wouldn’t mind a bit of Chinese, but given the current awkwardness he decided to pass up on the offer for food. He would probably be able to face you later but if he ordered food he’d have to sit with you to eat it, and the embarrassment was stilll far too fresh for that to be a comfortable affair, so he quickly typed out his reply and hopped in the shower to deal with the problem beneath his pants.

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An hour or so later you and Chanhee had just about finished your editing for the day and were tucking into your food, but you still hadn’t heard a peep out of Changmin. You sighed, finishing your bowl of jajangmyeon, feeling a little guilty that Changmin wasn’t sharing in the joys of your takeout food, all because you’d been dumb enough not to knock. “Hm maybe I should take him something” you sighed looking across all the cartons of food you’d ordered. Maybe he had actually eaten already, but there was so much, and you were sure he’d like some. “You’re not going to eat all that are you?” You asked Chanhee, nodding to the half full box of kkanpunggi in the middle. Chanhee just shrugged. “You sure you want to go back in there?” He sniggered as he asked the question, deliberately trying to provoke you. “No I am not, but I’m not going to avoid him forever just because I’ve seen his dick” you declared defiantly, making Chanhee almost spit out his boba as he doubled over in laughter. However awkward you were feeling, you’d have to face each other eventually. Normally you wouldn’t be so thrown off by something like this, for instance, you’d once accidentally walked in on Kevin going at it with someone one time when you’d stayed over at Sunwoo’s, but you’d just greeted it with an ew and laughed about it later. The only thing that had you feeling so utterly flustered was the sound of him uttering your name whilst he was clearly having some ‘time to himself’, but since you figured he wouldn’t necessarily be aware you’d heard that, you decided you’d be able to brush it off for now and pretend like everything was just peachy.

“Well just remember to knock this time” Chanhee quipped as you stood up, taking the box of spicy garlic fried chicken with you, picking up some of the spare chopsticks the restaurant had sent too. You grinned sarcastically at Chanhee, your eyes silently telling him he was an asshole, before disappearing off down the hall to Changmin’s room, praying that he’d be fully tucked into his pants this time. “Changmin? Can I come in?” you called as you knocked tentatively on his door. You heard some shuffling and low muttering before he answered with an uncertain “sure”.

Swinging the door open for the second time this evening you were relieved to see Changmin perched on his bed, fully clothed with an xbox controller in his lap and his headset to the side of him. You saw the overwatch character select screen flickering brightly on his tv screen too so you could only assume he was playing online with someone. “Oh you’re playing? Who’s on?” you asked quietly as you walked a couple of steps into the room, the carton of kkanpunggi still in hand. “Uh, just Eric.” Changmin replied, his eyes darting around the room as he struggled to make eye contact with you, for understandable reasons. “Hi Eric!” You sang loudly so he could hear you through the microphone. Though it was quiet, only coming from Changmin’s headset you heard a faint chuckle and Eric’s voice returning the greeting. “I brought you some kkanpunggi, I thought you might like some, it’s really good” you said, turning your attention back to the boy actually in the room.

Changmin’s expression softened watching as you stood there, proudly holding up the box of chicken and chopsticks. Even after what happened you were still thoughtful enough to bring him nice food so he wouldn’t miss out. What he wouldn’t give to be able to just pull you onto his lap and feed one other the delicious food, cleaning up any stray sauce with kisses. In his dreams he thought.

“Awh how come he gets chicken?” Eric whined through the headphones pulling Changmin out of his daydream. “KEVIN-HYUNG CAN WE GET CHICKEN?!” The sudden loudness of the younger boy through the headphones made you giggle, and you shared an amused look with Changmin. As bizarre as it was though, you were rather grateful for Eric’s random inputs which actually seemed to have the effect of relieving some of the tension in the room.

“Yah be quiet! I’m not even wearing my headphones and that hurt my ears!” Changmin called towards his headset shutting the younger boy up with an insincere sorry. “Oh it smells good, thank you y/n!” Changmin smiled sweetly at you as you placed the box down on the side table next to his bed. “That’s okay!” You replied, moving a few steps away again before looking nervously towards Changmin’s headset. You wanted to apologise for your earlier intrusion to get it out of the way, but you definitely didn’t want Eric to be witness to that, so you lowered your voice to a whisper. “Oh um, so I’ll be leaving in a bit, I just wanted to say sorry for earlier, I um- I should probably have knocked before I came in.”

Changmin could feel the heat rising in his cheeks being reminded of the earlier incident and although his hair mostly covered it, the tips of his ears were now definitely a blazing pink. “Oh-“ He was frankly a little stuck for words. He’d been sat in his room for the better part of an hour rehearsing what he might say to you in his head, but now you’d come in here to apologise, with chicken no less, he didn’t really have an answer for you. “Uh- it’s okay,” he mumbled. “Sorry you had to see that.”

Before it could get too awkward however, you snickered as you heard Eric and Kevin clearly having an argument about chicken faintly through the headphones still laying next to Changmin and you thanked your lucky stars that they evidently weren’t listening to you and Changmin’s awkward exchange. “Well I promise I’ll knock next time.” Changmin chuckled, running a hand sheepishly through his hair as you moved back toward the door. “I’ll let you get back to the game if those two ever stop arguing, I’ll see you later yeah?”

Changmin nodded and said goodbye as you slipped out to return to the dining table where New sat, a mischievous glint in his eye as he grinned at you. “On a scale of 1 to Eric talking to girls, just how awkward was he?” He asked, clearly trying to stifle his laughter. “Shut up New” you scoffed as you began picking up the empty food cartons to throw in the trash. This little shit was gonna milk this out for as long as possible and you weren’t here for it. “Well at least you didn’t scream and run out this time” he bantered, only to be met with a look of pure contempt from you as he passed you one of the empty food containers. “I am this close to pouring this black bean sauce all over that new balenciaga t-shirt Chanhee” you threatened holding out a carton that had the remains of some sauce wobbling about in the bottom. Chanhee jumped back covering his shirt with his hands, knowing that it wasn’t an empty threat from another time he’d pissed you off and you threw half a cup of peach tea all over him. It was a waste of the tea, but he’d had it coming. “That’s what I thought.” You proclaimed before disappearing into the kitchen to dispose of the containers.

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On your way home your head was filled with all kinds of thoughts about what you’d unintentionally just witnessed. All you really wanted to do was relax after a long day of work and carrying heavy equipment around, but all you could think about was your name on Changmin’s lips and what the hell it meant. Was it just an accident? Or if it wasn’t, did that confirm everything that Kevin had been telling you? Did Changmin really like you? There had been an undeniable vibe between you for the past few weeks, what with the increasing amount of time you spent together and the intimate moment on the roof last night, but until this weekend, you hadn’t thought about it much, your mind largely preoccuppied with your anger towards Sunwoo.

Your mind flipped through your memories with Changmin as you sat on the tube, trying to make sense of everything, and as you did so, it dawned on you. Kevin was right. Changmin liked you. Perhaps that was even what he had tried to tell you the previous night before Jeju had abruptly cut him off. You recalled all the times Changmin had sat with you and listened to you rant about Sunwoo, the way he’d been so angry the day after that one fateful party, and how he’d always been there waiting for you with a hug when you were down. It was a wonder you’d never realised it before. Perhaps Changmin’s warm presence in your life had just become so natural you never thought anything of it, but it was becoming increasingly clear that this wasn’t just two friends looking out for eachother. No, it was more than that.

You felt a heat in your chest as you processed this revelation, trying to make sense of your own feelings. You adored Changmin, but then who didn’t? The way his dimples made him look like the sweetest angel whenever he smiled, the way his eyes lit up whenever he discovered something really interesting, the way he couldn’t stop himself from giggling even at the most inappropriate moments. It was impossible not to like him. But then not everybody knew him like you. They didn’t have your relationship. Changmin had always been there for you, even though it was Chanhee you called your best friend and Sunwoo he called his. He always seemed to know exactly what you needed – when to give you space, when to give you hugs or when to make you laugh so hard you cried. Upon reflection, there was no one who came close to making you feel as happy and comfortable as Changmin did. You couldn’t think of a single occasion he hadn’t made you smile and you slowly began to realise… Was it possible… that you liked him too?

Then the thoughts of Sunwoo swarmed your mind. Did he know Changmin was into you? No of course not. They weren’t on the best of terms right now but you imagined it would be a hell of a lot worse if he did know his best friend was infatuated with his ex-girlfriend. If anything were to happen between you and Changmin, Sunwoo would be outraged for certain. But maybe that was what he deserved. He’d lost the right to an opinion on your life when he tried to get back with you by sleeping with you when you were drunk. Although perhaps falling for his best friend was a little far…

You leaned your head back against the glass of the subway train, sighing as your mind replayed the memory of Changmin’s breathless expression as his hand gripped his manhood. You kind of wished it would stop, not wanting the embarrassment of getting so worked up in public, but you just couldn’t tear your thoughts away from it. After your newfound revelation, you were getting dangerously close to imagining what had been happening before you walked in, and what sort of things he might have been thinking of doing – you nearly missed your stop in your dazed state but thankfully the announcement pulled you out of your thoughts and you rushed to the doors just in time to hop off before they closed and the train sped off into the distance, away from you and your insurmountable dilemma.

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Taglist: @lovelymultiwrites @shiberrysan @m4rshm4llow @softforqiankun @sktbzc0re @staysstrays @softyfor-sweaterpaws @glxwingstar @chiefturtlebonkghost @faiirybread @lolibaaae @younggwingss @sunqnew @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @mx23 @bbangsoonie @seokgyuu @ateez-babygirl

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shanzodragoness · 3 years ago

Text

On the back of my previous post, I couldn't resist to help fill a gap in fics. Here I am.

Title: An Old Flame

Tags: a bit sad, fluff, but don't worry it gets better

Notes: you work for Stark, after taking the wrong turn you find yourself in the hands of the TVA and promptly pruned. Not saying much else as it'll spoil the fun

My sincerest apologies if this is substandard, this is my first reader fic and the first written in second person. This took me a while bc the feels were intense. Enjoy

Y/F/F - your favourite flower

Words: 1622

----

Your nexus event was confusing. The TVA claimed that you were fated to turn the other way when the Avengers returned to Stark Tower with their newest intergalactic villain. But for some reason you noticed the stare of those blue eyes from across the hall. You noted the muzzle; probably for a good reason. Curiosity carried your feet across the tiled floor and you heard footsteps behind you.

Fast forward an undisclosed amount of time and you were in a court, one that seemed very biased without a juror in sight. You had cocked your head when the judge sentenced you to be reset, what could that possibly mean, could you amend your mistake and simply go back to retrace your steps but as they were meant to be?

It seemed that you weren't getting away with your so-called crime so easily as one of the minutemen approached you with a stick. It wasn't until it was twisted and whirred to life that you realised the gravity of the situation. Did it hurt? The sensation was akin to a quick shock as you saw your body begin to disappear from your stomach outward, the yellow energy dissolving your being.

Your head hurt, your body ached, the light stung your eyes as you attempted to flutter your eyes open. Your eyes fixated on a shadow that eventually gave way to a brightly clothed old man, looking like a costume for a child's birthday party. The two golden horns on his headdress bowed forward and curled back, a feature shared by three of the four beings before you. The old man extended a hand to you as your ears began to tune into the world.

"Y/N?" He asked. Your streetwise nature told you to run, that you didn’t know this man regardless if he knew your name or not. Instinct however, that told you that you could trust this man, that in the grand scheme of things that you knew him, that he'd protect you.

You took his glove clad hand in yours, him pulling you to your feet. "We need to keep moving," he said, his gaze betraying a sadness as he locked his sight with yours.

The four began walking off, counting the pet alligator, and you followed them. In this strange world you doubted that you'd make it on your own anyway, "are you running from someone?" You asked the group. The older one turned his head to regard your query.

"Alioth hungers for the pruned variants that are dumped here by the TVA," he replied. There it was again, this time you could see regret spark his eyes. You'd have to ask later.

After a trek through the wasteland filled with junk from many different ages, you were presented with an open hatch in the ground, "after you," the kid said. You nodded and climbed down the ladder, taking in the large bunker you had entered. A few chairs dotted to one side facing a makeshift throne, many trinkets adorned the living area, souvenirs from the surface. As soon as the click of the hatch reached your ears your heart sank, that rational part of your brain considered that you could've been trapped here. Again, part of you calmed upon seeing the older man.

The kid sat on the throne and seemed to be the leader of this strange place. The dark skinned man sat down first, the others following his lead, and so you sat on a free chair next to the old man. You felt safe. You focused on the chatter of the men

"So, after I vanquished Captain America and Iron Man, I claimed my prize, all six Infinity Stones," the dark skinned man said. The alligator growled from it's paddling pool.

"That's alligator for growling and saying "liar" at the same time," the old man translated.

"At least my nexus event wasn't eating the wrong neighbor's cat." And as soon as he'd offended the animal, the old man pried the alligator off the dark skinned man. They laughed and you cleared your throat.

"What are your names?" You asked, omitting introducing yourself as it had been established that they somehow knew your name. You saw the pain rise to the surface again in the old man's eyes, but it was quickly suppressed.

"I'm Loki, so are the others. We're variants of the same being, from different timelines," he explained. You nodded and took in the information. They drank wine and you even sipped a bit of the hearty red wine offered to you. Soon Alligator Loki closed his eyes and curled up in the pool, Boastful and Kid leaving to different sections of the bunker. The style of the old man's clothes looked very retro, and so the nickname in your mind materialised as Classic Loki. He was watching the last of his wine swirl in the goblet.

"What was your nexus event?" You asked. He looked up from his wine slowly and locked his eyes with yours.

"In my timeline, everything proceeded correctly, my entire life, until Thanos attacked our ship.

"I cast a projection of myself so real, even the Mad Titan believed it. Then hid as inanimate debris. After I faked my death, I simply drifted in space. Away from Thor, away from everything. Thought about the universe and my place in it, and it occurred to me that everywhere I went, only pain followed. So I removed myself from the equation, landed on a remote planet and stayed there in isolation, in solitude for a long, long time.

"To tell you the truth, I missed my brother, and I wondered if he missed me, if anybody else did. But as soon as I took my first steps to getting off the planet, the TVA arrived."

"I'm sorry," you said, it seemed the most appropriate response.

"Don't be," he replied, his watchful gaze lingering on yours.

"Ever since I woke up, I felt scared, but something deep inside told me I was safe. Have we met before? I have a strange feeling that I know you from somewhere," the words came tumbling from your lips faster than you could stop the bumbling speech. You saw a smile grow on his face, and for the first time you saw that sadness turn into a glint of hope.

"Y/N my dear, in my timeline I met you on Midgard, the realm you call Earth. My brother convinced me to wear some Midgardian clothes to fit in for a little sightseeing under his guard, the incident in New York made freedom that tiny bit beyond my reach. You were a beautiful maiden I met in the coffee shop Thor took us to. I found out you worked for Stark, and I spent the next few months courting you, as awkward as that was in a cell. Each time you checked on the prisoner I conjured you a gift, sometimes lavish jewellery that you joked that you'd not be able to hide from the others." He laughed as he recalled the memory. "When I was finally granted free roam of certain floors in the Tower I'd always make sure to conjure a vase of flowers on your desk every morning and find ways to see you. A year later we not so subtly decided to take the next step together. The exquisite diamond ring I placed on your finger whilst kneeling for my queen."

You smiled at him, he spoke of you with a great fondness that it brought a tear to your eye. The man's joy was dampened once again.

"We never had the chance to become husband and wife, I brought you to Asgard, well, SHIELD sent you as a liaison officer. Ragnarok came. The ship. It was supposed to take you with the other refugees, Thanos had you killed first to demonstrate his threat to kill anyone who stood in his way to get the Tesseract. You know the rest of the story."

When you watched his reaction, he looked broken again, and you hated to see him so fragile after everything he'd told you. You stood up and looked down at the gap on the cushioned seat. He knew what you were asking, and so he shuffled to the side to allow you enough space to sit next to him. "Could you do me a favour?"

He looked down at you and a soft smile played on his lips. "Of course."

"Can you show me what the ring looked like?" You asked. His smile grew as his green seidr fluttered over your left hand and a flick of his fingers caused the seidr to swirl over your ring finger. When the magic subsided you saw the most intricately cut diamond you'd ever seen, the gold was woven at its base like flowers holding the stone in place. You didn't see the look of adoration that he gave you whilst you inspected the ring. When you turned you grinned at him. "I never thought that anyone would propose to me."

He moved his arm to hover over your shoulders, "may I?" He asked. You nodded and the adoration was back, he was unsure of himself even when you accepted him. His hold was firm yet gentle, showing how much he didn't want to let you go this time.

"Loki, I'd like to stay here with you. Maybe we can rebuild the life you remember we had."

"I will, dear Y/N. But before that," his green magic swirled between his barely clenched hand and formed a bunch of beautiful Y/F/F. "I must bestow my gifts upon you once more, every one, in the order that I gave them to you."

---

Tag list:

@sonhadoraativa @octopus5555 @stayfabulous @hubert-the-pterabug @russianbutchcrushing

#classic loki #reader #helping filling the gap #loved writing this #fluff #classic loki x reader

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kerie-prince · 4 years ago

Text

We're Worlds Apart (4)

Draco Malfoy x American No-Maj!reader

series m.list | general m.list | previous chp

warnings: a curse word if you squint, sassy Draco

summary: Draco Malfoy is a pureblood wizard. Magic runs through his veins and has been since his birth. You're a Wiccan No-Maj; a non-magical being with ordinary blood through your veins, but practices what you call magick. And this very practice upsets your neighbor.

a/n: a day late bc i got distracted watching game of thrones lmao i have adhd so i honestly should've known better than to have something so attention demanding in front of me :P

(gif cred)

Three more days.

Three more days until your brother and his girlfriend come to your Buffalo suburban home to spend Thanksgiving. You came home from work on a better day than the ones from the week before, only to walk inside and was almost convinced you entered the wrong house.

Your mother took the liberty of decorating your house while you were gone. The place looked like an IKEA catalogue. Green and cream colored throw pillows were on your black leather couch, your small dining table had a fall-themed centerpiece and a blood orange table cloth. New dining chairs, all of them matched, unlike the mismatched ones you had before. And that god-forsaken ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ wooden sign hung in your kitchen. That damn thing is leaving first thing in the morning.

“Ma, what the hell did you do to my house?” The more you looked, you groaned at what you saw. Your grandmother’s tapestry was no longer hanging at its original place, now hung hidden behind the tv. “Oh, don’t give me any grief about it. Y/B/N is coming and I don’t want the place looking like the Spirit store.”

You knew you couldn't really fight her on this. It would be more frustrating to have to argue and still not be able to put everything back to how it was until she left. Taking a deep breath, you walked yourself to your room to get changed into comfortable clothes and light some sage for your nerves.

Three more days.

—

One more week.

In a week's time, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott were to come to New York to spend the month of December with Draco and to say he was excited was an understatement.

He was excited, nervous, and many other feelings that he was too stressed to name. The guest room was prepared for the two of them to share, all he had to do was figure out what to do with them while they were here. He had taken a week off and had no idea what to do. He still hadn’t gone around the city he lived in. He could always ask his friends at Saint Marie but for some reason, he was too shy to.

He could always ask Mrs. Charles for recommendations on what to do. She was a sweet muggle neighbor that he came to like as well as her husband. He could also ask you, but it’s been over a week since he spoke to you in your yards. From glimpses into your window, you seemed so exhausted. Not that he really cared, but he remembered that you would try to get along better and so far, all he’s done was give a nod towards your direction when he walked into his home as you were leaving yours.

His bedroom blinds were always closed now because he knew that if he were to see you doing your… whatever you do in your room just once, he’d change his mind about the whole thing. It still bothered him, but not as bad as it did when he first saw it.

Draco’s stomach growled as he sat on his couch, bringing him out of his thoughts and walked over to the kitchen. To his despair, his pantry, cabinets, and fridge were all empty. Guess I’ll have to grab something. He pondered on what he was in the mood for as he ran out the door. Draco figured he'd just figure it out as he drove around the streets downtown.

Since moving to America, he found so many new cuisines than he had ever imagined. He usually always ate at home, and if his family ever ate outside of home they usually went to the finest restaurants in France. Of course, they were all wizard-owned restaurants. But in New York, he’s been introduced to new things. For one, he had his first ever hamburger with Blaine. Ashley took him to a Chinese restaurant, and Ian bought Draco a traditional New York pizza.

Yes, all these things existed in London. Maybe not so much New York-style pizza, but there was pizza. Draco, however, never had the opportunity to try any of these foods. Lucius was extremely strict about eating out. It was never necessary considering he could afford the best quality foods to be made at home. When they did eat at restaurants in France, it was only because a higher official at the Ministry had invited them for a night out.

Around the streets, the bright lights of buildings and restaurants lit the streets as he drove around them. Draco turned into a street he hadn’t been into yet in hopes to find something else he could find to try. There were a couple places he hadn’t been into; a Greek restaurant, a Brazillian one, and a couple shops. There was one shop close to the end of the street. It was sandwiched between two boutiques and had a neon green and purple sign in the front. Soul Beads. In front of the building was a man with a weird sign in one hand and an even weirder thing that seemed to have made his voice louder in the other. Draco couldn’t make of the rubbish he was yelling into the thing from inside his car.

Draco pulled to the curb to walk around the street and check out the restaurants. A bell jingle caught his attention, turning around to see one person he didn’t really expect to see here. “Draco?” your face showed the same expression as his. He watched as you closed the door to Soul Beads and walked up to him. The weird man that stood in front of the store yelled out, “DON’T TALK TO HER, THIS BITCH HERE WORKS FOR THE DEVIL!”

“Do you know him?” Draco asks with a quirked eyebrow. The stranger kept yelling profanities at you but Draco saw how you couldn’t be bothered by it. “He does this every couple weeks. What brings you out here?” Your hands were stuffed tightly in your pockets for warmth.

“Do you own the street? Can I not be here?” he asked sarcastically. You faced him with a deadpan look as to ask him again without having to say the words to him. Or call him a smartass. Which he is. With a roll of his eyes, he continued, “I’m looking for something to eat but I’ve never been to these places before.”

“Ah,” you started, “Well I don’t know what kind of stuff you’re used to, but I suggest the Greek restaurant right across. Over-priced, but the best gyros you’ll ever have in Buffalo.”

“It’s yee-roh, not jahy-row.” Draco corrected. He couldn’t tell if you were irritated or confused after he said that. Probably both.

“You know Greek?” you asked.

“I studied it when I was a child. My tutor showed me the word once and hit my hand when I had mispronounced it. Learned the hard way to never do that again,” flashbacks to the older woman teaching him the language cursed his mind for a few seconds.

His stomach growled even louder now in the silence between them. Draco blushed in embarrassment, shifting around to look away so you wouldn’t see. You slightly chuckled and tapped his shoulder. “Come on, neighbor’s treat.” And you walked onto the busy street.

This bloody woman is crazy to be crossing a busy street he thought as he rushed to follow you across the street. He got scared as a car got too close and ran to the safety of the sidewalk. “You’re gonna get yourself bloody killed one of these days like that,” he scolded. “If you’re gonna live in New York, you’re gonna have to deal with annoying pedestrians and sometimes be an annoying pedestrian. Be glad you don’t live in Manhattan, they’re worse. A person could be hit by a car and he’d just get on up and keep walking.” you informed.

Draco would be lying to himself if he said that didn’t spook him a little. Sure, he’s seen a few students get hexed, some by him, but they’d never just dealt with it and continued walking in the halls. They’d either have to hope their friends knew the counter curse or they’d end up in the hospital wing and had Madam Pomfrey help them back to normal. These muggles really are just… strange.

The restaurant looked old and desperately needed a remodel but by Merlin, it smelled amazing. “Now, are you getting a yee-roh sandwich or are you getting something else?” you mocked his previous correction with a playful roll of your eyes. Draco looked at the menu but it didn’t matter as he didn’t know the first thing about Greek food. What the hell did my father force me to take lessons for? “Do you want me to just order for you?” you asked as he kept browsing for too long. There were only 12 things on the menu but it still confused him.

He held back a snarl as he agreed to your help. He stood aside as you ordered and waited until it sounded like you were done, then headed up to the window to pay. “Oh, you don’t have to. I insisted I would pay,” you tried to push his hand away and reach for your credit card but he proceeded to hand the money to the cashier. “It’s nothing.”

“Here or to-go?” the lady asked with a thick New York accent. The two of you just looked at each other waiting for someone to say something. “Do you want to just-”

“Eat it here?” He looked at the small space and saw only one unoccupied table by the window. One of two tables. No longer growling, his stomach was shaking nearly violently, indicating that he can’t wait any longer. It was a strange feeling to be starving. Never had he ever had to wait for food at Malfoy Manor nor at Hogwarts. Whether it was house elves or first years, someone always ran to get him food with a snap of his fingers. “Yeah, here’s fine.”

The lady handed your plates to you as he went to claim the small table before someone else did. He looked around the space with a slight disgusted look. It’s not that it was run by muggles, but just because the place looks so old and kind of dirty. Even the house elves at the Manor lived in better conditions. The corner he sat in made him feel slightly claustrophobic. How do they sit and enjoy anything like this?

You sat the food on the table and shook your jacket off on to the chair. Draco watched as you placed the plates as neatly in front of you both. He couldn’t help but notice the rings that covered most of your fingers. Some were simple silver bands, some bronze bands, and some looked like wire that had a wrapped, colorful rock in the center. They were mismatched but coordinated at the same time. If that made any actual sense.

You started some simple small-talk, “So, what brings you all the way out here?”

“I got a better job opportunity,” Draco responded. His voice sounded uninterested, and his eyes stared at the plate. It had three pieces of meat on a bed of white rice, a small salad and a little dipping bowl of some white sauce. He dipped the meat into the sauce and as he tasted it, he nearly groaned in content. The flavors danced around his mouth and he had to hold himself back from devouring the whole plate in a matter of seconds.

He could feel you staring at him but chose not to look up to see judgement in your eyes. Whether it was with amusement or not. The food was so good and he would most definitely order another one to-go on his way out for his lunch break tomorrow. I’m definitely bringing Blaise and Theo here.

“What kind of job do you do?” Draco stopped chewing his food and swallowed nervously. He should’ve expected this kind of question sooner or later, but here he was sitting in silence trying to figure out what to say. He couldn’t just tell you that he’s a Healer because then that would lead to more questions and that’d be more answers he couldn’t give you. “What, you don’t wanna tell me?” you furrowed your eyebrows at him as he continued his silence.

Finally, the word popped in his mind, “I’m a doctor.” Hopefully that ends that conversation.

“That’s cool, what kind of doctor are you?” Shit. There’s more than one kind?

“Uh, I work with people who come into the hospital with major injuries like a broken arm and such,” Draco stuttered.

“So, an emergency room doctor. You work in the ER then,” you concluded with a hand over your mouth as you chewed. “Y-yeah, that.” Draco tried not to sound suspicious. “What about you?”

You cleared your throat, drank some of your soda and pointed out the window, “You see that store over there? Soul Beads? That’s my store.” It was weird how coincidental it was that of all streets to drive into and of all people to run into, he ran into you coming out of your personally owned store. Looking back at you, he saw your face relax and smile at the building. “What do you sell? I’m assuming it’s not food seeing as you didn’t invite me in.”

Now it was time for you to stutter, “Oh, just candles and stuff. Nothing too flashy.” You poked at your food and took small bites of it. There was an awkward silence between you two for about ten minutes before you started the conversation before, “Assuming you don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, will you just be working that day?” Draco didn’t know much about the holiday, only that he was getting paid more that day.

“Yeah, I’ll be at the hospital for the night. Probably until four in the morning.”

“Well that sucks. You’ll miss out on the greatest American tradition that is Black Friday,” you chuckled.

“What’s that?” Yet another thing Draco didn’t understand.

“Black Friday is when people fight to the death for a discount on things like appliances and tvs. It’s quite amusing to watch,” you slightly exaggerated. Keyword slightly. Draco had wide eyes as he heard the description. “I’m sorry, to the death?”

With that, you laughed so hard you placed one hand flat against your chest and the other held the table with a tight grip as if you were to fall from your seat. He then realized you actually didn’t mean to the literal death and mentally scolded himself for being so gullible. You continued laughing and he rolled his eyes before chuckling to himself. You leaned back up and wiped some tears underneath your eyes, “Oh my god, I needed that laugh.”

A shiver went up Draco’s spine once he caught a glimpse of your smile. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you smile at all. Before your little argument, you would smile towards him and all the other neighbors all the time. But this never happened before. He looked away from your eyes and tried to find anything else to look at. Tilting his head up, he saw an air conditioning unit. Oh, that’s why.

Small talk ended there with a clear of his throat and proposed to go home. Draco saw how you looked a little disappointed and forced a small, kind smile on your face, “Yeah, it’s getting kinda late and I don’t want to keep my mother waiting. God knows what she’s done to my house while I was gone.” He wasn’t going to keep pressing on the matter as he figured they still weren’t close enough for that. One dinner didn’t make them friends in his book. It wasn’t terrible, though. Maybe he would do it again.

Walking to their own cars, she said “See you around, neighbor,” and got into her car and drove off. He just nodded his head as he always did and drove off as well. They arrived home at the same time and walked inside without looking at each other, thinking that it would just be weird to keep saying goodbye.

—

It was finally Thanksgiving, and Y/B/N and Stephanie were going to be over around three in the afternoon. Your mother was more of a pain than usual, waking you up at six in the morning to do last minute cleaning, grocery shopping, and starting on roasting the ham. The loud argument over ham or turkey in the grocery store the week before lasted for an embarrassing two hours after your mother caved and let you pick the main entree for dinner.

Once you got an hour to yourself, you went to your closet in the hall and grabbed a small glass jar then walked to your backyard for some lavender. You walked to the kitchen for a stick of cinnamon, placed the items on the kitchen counter and walked quickly to your room for something small. Your eyes found a loose ribbon on the floor and grabbed it then went back to the kitchen.

You put all the items into the jar and browsed the kitchen for one more thing. There was a bouquet of flowers on the dining table that your mother bought. Perfect. You grabbed a couple flowers and took the petals to mix in the jar. Once you were done, you chanted to yourself three times:

“Goddess, please take the negativity out of this kitchen.

Replace it with positivity and love. So mote it be.”

You heard your mother waking up from her nap from the guest room and ran into the kitchen to hide the jar somewhere she couldn’t see it. The spell can’t exactly work if she sees something to nag about. She walks in the kitchen and sees you looking suspicious.

She looks at you with squinted eyes - mainly because she had just woken up - but said, “I’m not gonna ask what you’re up to. Can you make the potato salad? I like the way you make it better.” You silently agreed as you looked for the things in the fridge and grabbed a large bowl to mix it in. Your mother walks up to one of the cabinets to grab a pot to boil the potatoes with, only to find the thing you tried to hide. “What’s this, honey?”

You stammered over your words trying to find an explanation before she cut you off, “It’s pretty with all the things in there. You should keep it out.” She placed it beside a photo on the countertop and walked away to fill the pot with water. You were surprised she didn’t ask any further questions. You continued cooking and had a hopeful smile on your face. Maybe it won’t be so bad tonight.

The doorbell rang and you both looked at the clock on the wall. It read 1:55 and you looked at each other in confusion. “Y/B/N must be early,” your mother guessed and went to the door to let him in. The greeting was loud as she greeted him in. You could hear your little brother’s laugh with enthusiasm as he walked into your kitchen, “What’s up, big sis?”

You placed the utensils down and ran up to him with your arms up, “I’ve missed you too, baby brother.” He was much taller than you as he picked you up and hugged you tightly. You slightly swung your legs to give him the signal to let you go. He got his height from your dad, leaving you short thanks to your mother. Your brother had a big smile on his face and you reciprocated the smile. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen each other.

“Oh, lemme introduce you. Steph, c’mere!” He looked over his shoulder and called for the special guest. A beautiful woman with long, chocolate brown hair and doe blue eyes walked next to Y/B/N. “It’s so nice to meet you, I’m Stephanie.” She held her hand out causing you to quickly wipe your hands on your apron. “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

“Y/B/N has told me so much about you. I was so nervous to meet you,” Stephanie admitted with a slight blush on her cheeks. “I wonder what this dummy told you. I bet you I can tell you more embarrassing stories about him,” you jabbed his arm.

“That’s not fair, I didn’t say anything all that bad. You’ll hex me or some shit,” he had his hands up in defense.

“Y/B/N!” Your eyes widened and you laughed nervously, “Don’t listen to him, he’s an idiot.”

Stephanie looked back and forth at the two of you and finally settled on you, waving a hand, “Oh no, that’s okay. I practice, too.” Wait, what? It seemed your mother thought the same exact thing, only out loud. “Yeah, Stephanie also does the same thing you do. Crazy, right?”

Your mother stood shocked before them, not saying anything. Your brother had a smile that wasn’t exactly fitting the situation. Stephanie had a kind smile, and although you were visibly surprised that your little brother’s girlfriend was, of all things, also a Wiccan, you were laughing inside at your mother.

This is gonna be the most interesting Thanksgiving ever.

—

next chp

(っ◔◡◔)っ taglist: @beiahadid @malfoy-styles-wife @fivenightslaughter @juneballoon999 @leydileyla @fangirlanotherjust @originalsoulcollector @opiomancy @lipstickandloveletters @ninacotte @daedric-sorceress @frecklesandfirecrackers

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy au #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy x muggle!reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x female reader #draco x you #draco x y/n #draco x muggle!reader #draco x female reader

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siancore · 4 years ago

Note

Hey, sorry about your shitty day :/ I hope this hc soothe you a little bit. I believe when Bucky stayed in the Wilson's household, he once went to Sarah to ask her about how to cheer Sam up, bc it's "his job" to know as his "partner" and it's only for profesional reasons. And Sarah looks at him with that "You're full of shit, Barnes" look that apparently runs in the family, but helps him anyway. And next time Sam is having a hard time, he's in awe to find Bucky just know what to do to help him

Thank you. You’re sweet. I love this headcanon. Here’s the tiny fic:

Sarah Wilson gave Bucky Barnes a dubious stare.

“What?” he replied, growing nervous.

“You’re full of shit,” she said crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes. Gosh, she looked like Sam when he was unimpressed.

“I just wanna know what to do for Sam when he’s havin’ a hard time. Y’know, as a good partner and friend.”

“Right,” said Sarah. “A friend. Got it.”

“You don’t think we’re friends?”

“I think you are, I just think you wanna be more than friends,” she said, eyes softening when she saw the look on Bucky’s face.

“Yeah, maybe I do. No, actually, I do. I want Sam to be my best guy, but if that’s not what he wants, then I’m gonna be the best friend he’s had. So please, Sarah, tell me what to do to help him.”

Sam was dealing with being snubbed for the Captain America mantle by the US government. Sure, it had left him feel shitty, but he was getting by. He was lounging on the sofa reading when the opening skit and sounds of Janet Jackson’s “What Have You Done for Me Lately” came on.

Bucky stood close, smiling down at Sam, before saying, “Dance with me Sam-Sam.”

Sam narrowed his eyes and gave Barnes a questioning look before getting to his feet, stretching a little, and asking, “What you know about Miss Jackson?”

A few days later, after watching news reports about US Agent being sworn in as Cap, Sam was feeling down again. He let out a sigh and was about to change the channel, when Bucky turned off the TV, picked up a small cushion on the armchair, and whacked Sam about the head without much force.

“Pillow fight!” yelled Bucky as he took up a defensive stance.

“Oh, you are on,” said Sam, grabbing a larger cushion before swinging it at Bucky. “I’m gonna kick your ass, Barnes!”

A few weeks later, news came through that Bucky was being called back to the action as Helmut Zemo had escaped. Sam was quiet for a few days; he wore a forlorn expression on his handsome face. Bucky hated seeing him upset. He thought back to what Sarah had told him.

“What’s going on, Sam-Sam?” asked Bucky as he flopped down beside him on the porch.

“Hey, Buck. You good?”

“Yeah, I just remembered I had these stashed away,” said Bucky as he handed a bag of gummy bears over to Sam. Was the same brand he, Sarah, and their brother Gideon loved as children. He took the bag from Barnes and offered him a sad smile.

“Thank you,” he whispered, before placing the bag next to him.

“Sammy? What’s wrong?”

Sam let out a loud sigh and said, “Everything. These past few weeks haven’t been great. But you. God. You’ve been so great, Buck. And now you have to go. But I get it. It’s part of the job. I just — I’m gonna miss you.”

Bucky felt his heart clench in his chest.

“It ain’t gonna be forever, Sammy,” he replied. “And I’m gonna miss you, too.”

“Not how I’ll miss you,” said Sam, as he glanced sideways at Barnes. “And these last couple of weeks have really made me realize something. You don’t feel the same about me as I feel about you.”

“Sam —“

“No, Bucky. It’s okay. You’ve been amazing. You’ve helped me get outta my own head. Done things that made me feel better, instantly. Like I don’t know how you knew I love old school Janet Jackson; or how pillow fights always made me feel better; or how gummy bears were my favorite candies when I was a kid. You’ve been an amazing friend, more like a sibling.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, like even calling me Sam-Sam instead of Wilson or Sammy. It’s sweet, but it put things in perspective for me,” said Sam as he took another breath. “You see me as a friend, right? More like a brother or something. And I don’t see you like that.”

“Sam, I — I don’t. How do you see me?”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Sam with a plaintive little chuckle. “You see me as a sibling. You do everything my own siblings do to cheer me up. And that’s great. But it means you’ll never see me how I see you.”

“Sammy, please,” said Bucky as he placed a hand to Sam’s arm. “How do you see me?”

“You’re leaving. It doesn’t matter.”

“It does, because I don’t see you as a brother or anything like that,” said Bucky, finding his courage. “I look at you and I swear my heart’s gonna jump outta my chest. You’re the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever seen. I just wanna make you happy. I wanna give you the world. I can’t even put it into words how I see you, Sam. But it’s somethin’ else. You’re somethin’ else. You’re everything. And I know I don’t have a chance with you; a chance at bein’ your man. But if you just wanna be friends, that’s more than I could ask for.”

Sam looked at Bucky with wide eyes and a racing heart.

“What?” asked Sam. “What’re you saying?”

“The things I did for you, I asked Sarah what she did to make you feel better when you were down,” Bucky explained. “I wanted to make you feel better. I didn’t want it to come across as me trying to be a sibling to you. I wanted to be a good friend to you, because I care about you, Sammy. So much. I want to be more than a friend to you, it’s why I wanted to do nice things.”

“So, hold up. You like me, like me?”

“Yeah, I’m sweet on you, Sammy. Are you sayin’ you’re sweet on me, too?”

Sam took another deep breath, closed his eyes a beat, and then said, “Yes, Bucky. Yes.”

“Oh, thank God,” said Bucky with a laugh and a wide smile.

The pair laughed and looked at one another shyly, before Bucky took hold of Sam’s hand.

“I want to be with you,” he said softly. “I want you to be my best guy.”

Sam bit his lip and nodded his head before saying, “I want that, too.”

They shared a chaste kiss before pulling apart and smiling once more.

“You’re leaving soon.”

Bucky cupped Sam’s face and said, “Yeah, but I’ll come back to you. Promise you’ll be here and save me some gummy bears.”

They kissed again and then Sam smiled and said, “I will and I promise.”

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sarah wilson #sambucky tiny fics

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sheisbeautyweareworldass · 4 years ago

Text

today's the official 'simon lovelace appreciations day', so here's a bunch of random™ stuff he did:

stepped into a pentagram with a prince of hell inside of it without a second thought coz chairman meow was in danger

participated in a lot of anti-gun protests as a mundane

annoyed raziel so much that he decided to give simon a heavenly sword just so he didn't have to be summoned and deal with him again

saw max and immediately thought of captain america

when he stopped feeling sore from the academy, he thought it was because he was dead inside

killed a greater demon while still being a mundane

refused to drink cat's blood because he's a cat person

has been kidnapped so many times that he isn't even bothered anymore

got drunk and quoted rapunzel

dreamed that when he finally said "i love you", the girl would answer him with "i know"

is amazing at comforting confused mundanes

refused to be rescued from the gard because it would draw attention to the lightwoods

gave up on one of his own memories with his father to try to safe jace

stood up for downworlders and mundanes, not caring with who he'd to fight, and caused a revolution in the academy

examined a teaspoon with max

dated clary, maia and izzy; had maureen, julie and beatriz crushing on him

kept a mr. montgomery miniature figure in his pocket

accidentally proposed to izzy after a battle while she was covered in ichor

heard about the lost herondale from catarina herself because she trusted in him

got mad when everyone doubted george's capacity to lead the team

sacrificed himself for his 5 friends even tho only two of them showed him some love, while the other three constantly misnamed him, called him a mundane and, overall, belittle his struggles and importance*

*it's safe to say that i'm still bitter with the only gang (except clary and izzy) for how they treated simon and idk if i'll ever get over it (it's been 5 years, so...)

extra: he's also the only reason why i was able to finish tmi and if it had been any other character with an open ending, i would've gave up on tsc, but since it was simon, i had no choice but to stick with it (so i blame him for my obsession with tsc as a whole bc he's the one who kept me here)

#my original soft boy #happy birthday to him only #simon lovelace #simon lewis #tmi #tsc

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floralseokjin · 5 years ago

Text

;club zombie (m)

In a world overrun by zombies, you’d think everyone was a goner, but the reality is much different. A steady diet of brains lets a zombie exist as a fully functioning human. Just ignore the part where they’re technically dead… In fact, these days, the amount of zombies outweigh the humans. A lot jump at the chance to be turned. Beg for it.

Kim Seokjin controls the underground of Seoul. No one would dare cross him. That’s how most of the world goes these days. You wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of a zombie now, would you? However, you don’t quite see it like that. Spending most nights dancing at the club he owns, you catch his eye. It’s never the wrong side if you’re underneath him, right…?

pairing; kim seokjin x reader genre/warnings; zombie! seokjin, mafia boss! seokjin, smut, oc has a ring kink (relatable), gets angsty two thirds in, some type of romance bc of course it gets fluffy towards the end lol words; 17,113

listen to; friction // 555

⇢ Part of the Deadly Intentions collaboration. With @btssmutgalore, @kpopfanfictrash, @underthejoon, @lamourche , @prolixitae and @taetaetrashhh, who organised the whole thing and created the moodboard!

Please forget everything you’ve ever known about most zombie portrayals in books, movies and tv series, because this is totally different. The idea and inspiration came from the television adaptation of iZombie. If you’ve watched it then you have a better vision of how the zombies in my story are portrayed. If not, then please just give it a go lol. It may sound wacky, but it’s Halloween! So here’s to the 🧟🍆!! I hope you enjoy!

You could hear Seokjin’s footsteps, boots clanking up the wooden stairs, and your stomach lurched in anticipation. He’d made you wait two frustratingly long hours, which was hell considering you hadn’t had time to be alone together all week. You were beyond excited for him to finally get his hands on you. Your body had long got used to craving him down to the very bone.

He came into sight, the image of you draped along his bed rooting him in his tracks. Your robe barely covered your modesty. Nipples visibly hard against the silk. Sometimes there was no need for underwear. Not when it got torn off most of the time. He needn’t waste his money anymore. You let a slow smirk stretch across your face. “How do you want me tonight, Sir?”

No need to greet him with a hello neither. What was the point? He’d told you to be in his home ready for him when he got back. Bedroom. He’d made that very specific. There was no need for pleasantries. Not when you knew greater ways to please him.

Him.

Kim Seokjin.

How did you get here again? So easily. So willingly. Like you’d wanted such a thing from the moment you’d laid your eyes on him. You had. Seokjin wasn’t your husband, nor boyfriend. He wasn’t even a casual hook up. In some ways he was more than any of the above. In others, he was less. It was an arrangement. The most simplest kind. Sex. With the city’s most dangerous man.

No one in Seoul would dare cross him. Hell, this whole country. Maybe it ran deeper than even that. No, what were you saying? It definitely did. You just didn’t want to know. You didn’t want to know the details. You didn’t even want to think about what they could be. To you, the man you shared yourself so openly with could never be what they all described him as. Not when he’d shared so much with you too. It was puzzling to think people actually feared him. He had never frightened you. In fact, you’d only ever known him as gentle. Even when he had his icy cold hands wrapped around your throat, fucking into you so hard his bed, amongst other things, were fit to break.

Yeah. This wasn’t the turn you thought your life would take. But then again, this world wasn’t exactly the same place it had been four years ago. The human race had to grow a thicker skin. Most changed completely. See, Seokjin wasn’t just your average crime lord. He was a rotter. So was over half the population.

Dead and rotten on the inside. Cold and smooth on the outside. The correct scientific term was Undead, but in simpler, more familiar terms, they were zombies. Not your average text fiction kind though. No flesh rots. No foul smell. No incoherent noises, that sent a bolt of terror and dread through your body. No, the undead were able to live as fully functioning humans for the most part. A reality that took a little while to make sense of, but as it did, the world everyone had known began to change. Drastically.

Unsure how it all started, although known to have been caused by some crazy scientist type, the disease, as it was called—now more of a lifestyle—had swept through most of America before their government and medicals could get to grips with it. It was as it was known in fiction. A zombie apocalypse. The whole world went into lockdown, flown into madness. Panic and strife were universal. The infected were destroyed and the potentially infected were quarantined. It was there they began to understand the infection.

The virus still burning through the veins of the innocent would be extremely difficult to handle. The were, by lack of knowledge back then, your “cannon” zombie. Unable to speak, unable to think, and their eyes sunken, black and lifeless. If given the chance, and some had been, they would tear at the flesh of the uninfected, feast on their brains. However, kept under a close eye, locked and controlled in a box room where they couldn’t see out but an array of people could see in, medicals soon discovered there were ways to quell the deep, ravenous need they had inside them. Portions. That was the key. Starved or gorged of human brain just turned them frenzied. The need as a fresh, baby zombie was insatiable but with a controlled diet the world became a little more normal again.

If you could ever call it normal. Human greed was at an all-time high. Who didn’t find it amazing that you could be a certified zombie while also retaining your human life? Who wouldn’t want to be dangerous? Feared? Who wouldn’t want to live potentially forever? The list went on, and that didn’t include countless governments’ motives. Soon the infection had spread willingly throughout the world. It caused fresh havoc. Some countries who hadn’t even wanted to get caught up in the mess, perished because they were too small or undeveloped. But most were smart, scheming. Here in the East a plan was concocted.

Somehow they found the individual who created the virus. Whether they went willingly or were forced no one would ever know. Their identity still remained a mystery even after all these years. Together some of the countries’ top scientists helped mutate the sickness into something “better”. Injected straight into the veins, there was no longer a fear of the infected losing control. The Undead were created. Just another form of human, but with a hunger for brains. It took a total of eighteen months for the world to be okay again.

Now that was all just a memory. Zombies were considered the norm, accepted into society long ago. A recent consensus found that just under 60% of the world’s population were undead. Humans the minority. They lived like humans, worked like humans and had families like humans. Although not in the traditional sense. The undead could still have sex. The men could still cum, by some grace of god, lucky them, but they were infertile. Women too. Reproductive system dead like the rest of them.

Of course, just because there were a lot of humane rotters, didn’t mean there weren’t bad ones amongst the mix. Like you said, humans were greedy. Mostly for power, and being a rotter in the right place, right time gave people tonnes of that. They weren’t truly immortal though. That was well known. A shot to their rotten brain would kill them. Nothing else. That’s where the infection resided.

To be turned there was a system. Applications, interviews, contracts…a waiting list for the injection that would alter your life forever. However, it didn’t work like that most of the time. The world wasn’t so perfect. Corrupt would be a better description. There were other, more simple, ways of turning. A bite or a scratch. Or even sexually transmitted within the first year of infection. There was nothing the government could do about it, and there were many illegal zombies rooming the country. And try all they might, no matter how many times, scientists couldn’t change the way infection took place.

They also couldn’t change the compulsion for brains. Yes, there was no lost control in the beginning, but starved of brains for too long, devolved them into the “cannon” zombie once again. It would take months of starvation, but after the deed was done, it was impossible to be reverted back. Thus they were destroyed. As you could guess, crime levels had not lowered. They had only gotten worse due to gluttony.

Donors now offered their brains up once dead, in a bid to keep portions up. There was complete control when it came to that, but again, that didn’t stop some rotters. Over the years, a lot more murder victims had been found missing a brain. But you digressed. It wasn’t all bad for the undead. They didn’t starve. They could still eat normal food, just oddly needed some extra spice. Their tastebuds has pretty much been destroyed after the turn, so hot sauce was their best friend. Scientists had also created “fake” brain. Think of it along the same vein as fake meat for vegetarians. A substitute. It didn’t give complete satisfaction, but it helped. In fact, they had quite an array of foods now, sold at any local convenience and grocery stores. For some reason brain sushi always made you laugh when you saw it. Surreal. Fast food stores had also caught on. Yes, Big Brain Mac was a thing now… What more did they want? As long as they had the real thing each month, life went on as normal.

They looked normal too. You’d forgotten to mention that one. Sometimes, with the help of hair dye and fake tan, they looked just like their past selves. There were a couple of giveaways though. If they weren’t high maintenance. Their eyes had changed an ice grey after the virus had taken hold, skin pale and cold, and hair turning white. Sometimes fully, but more often than not streaks or wisps of it. Oh, and their heart rate was ten beats per minute. They were dead after all. Pretty much. It was only when they lost themselves, did they turn into something horrific. Eyes black, sunken into their skull, cheeks gaunt, close to rotting. You’d heard they could also fall into a zombie trance when experiencing intense emotions. Depending on the situation it had different levels of severe. You had never seen this though. You knew very well, that was a benefit for certain zombies. A scare factor. Intimation factor. Like you said, there were many who used their rotter status for evil and crime…

Which put Seokjin in a very grey area.

He controlled the underground of this city. You hated using the word mafia, naïve to it all. Something fictional to you, but that’s exactly what was going on. An organised crime syndicate. The oldest son of a wealthy and corrupt family, Seokjin was always heir to the blood soaked throne. He was extremely powerful, even more so than the city’s law enforcement. Actually, you knew for a fact he worked side by side with them a lot of time. Probably called most of the shots. He’d been human in the beginning, when he’d first become in charge, not long before the virus began spreading, but of course that had soon changed. You’d heard stories of how his turn came to be, but you took those with a grain of salt. They were hearsay in your eyes. You’d never been one for rumours and gossip.

As it would have it, you’d only ever known him as undead. You started working at his club just over a year ago. How you got there wasn’t important, you just liked to dance, and dancing was a must at Club Zombie. Cheesy name, but it got the custom. It was almost a sort of tourist attraction. An after dark one. Humans and zombies alike. The dancers were both too. It could be a seedy place sometimes, but you didn’t mind dancing around a pole for men when their money was involved. The day was yours, the night was easy; just dancing, putting on a show. Besides, you were safe. Seokjin never let anything happen to the women that worked for him.

This was the place you could find him at the most, although strictly professional he never brought danger here. The rumours surrounding him were probably what made the club so popular to begin with. He wasn’t stupid. A zombie mob boss, what fiction was made of. Everyone lapped it up. Some nights he sat right up front, quite literally a throne on a podium, surveying the bar and dance platforms. It helped that he was extremely good looking. Got the humans with a kink all riled up. Such soft, movie star looks when you truly studied him. Jarring in a way. A white streak running along the front of his dark hair, parted at the forehead reminded you of what he was. That and his cold, grey eyes.

It was working at Club Zombie where he soon began to take an interest in you. It was glances your way at first. When you made your way to the dressing rooms, or more often than not, when your eyes met as you danced and twisted around the pole. You wouldn’t admit it back then, but it did send a thrill up your spine, fresh confidence washing over you. Even more so when the glances turned to smiles. They could be better described as flirtatious smirks if you didn’t know any better. Because why would anyone like Seokjin want you? He had this whole city at his feet. You were a no one. No, you were imagining the signs. He might’ve not even been looking at you.

But he was. Or course he was. You just couldn’t believe it. Not until one night when he’d asked you to join him for a drink. Halloween night, to be precise. Not that you cared for the holiday. It was just another day.

You were the last one to leave the club. Usually the first, you’d misplaced your cell phone. Took you twenty minutes to find it, fallen behind one of the sofas in the dressing room when you’d flung your jacket down in a hurry not a few hours ago. You were in a hurry when you made your way across the bar, heading for the exit, hand in your purse trying to now find your car keys. You didn’t want to keep Yunho, the barman, waiting any longer. But he wasn’t the one left.

Seokjin was stood behind the bar when you looked up at the call of your name. A peculiar sight. In all the time you’d been here you hadn’t once seen that. The fact he knew your name was even more mindboggling. You opened your mouth to apologise to him, presuming that was why he was asking for your attention, but you got no where. Not when the question he asked stunned you to silence.

“Care to join me for night cap?”

You weren’t one for drinking, never had been funnily enough, but you ended up agreeing. You told yourself it was because he was the boss. You couldn’t say no to him, but the racing of your heart as you sat down argued it was something different.

He drank straight whisky, poured you a glass of rosé you didn’t request. Did he see you as that kind of drinker? Classy. Unless it wasn’t classy at all because you knew nothing about alcohol. You thought he’d stay behind the bar, lord of the house, but to your surprise he came out to meet you. You heart beat even faster when he sat on the stool next to you. You prayed hard that rotters didn’t have an acute sense of hearing. Your knowledge was failing you, but logically, going by that dumb fucking fiction, you’d have to assume they did. He knew you were nervous mess right now. How embarrassing.

He bared his teeth and made a wincing sound as he took a swig of his drink. It was nice to know the burn still affected him, and you watched him tilt the tumbler this way and that, staring at the swirling amber liquid as he did so. Maybe he was giving you time to relax. Maybe he just wanted to sit in silence. Who knew. His rings clanked against the crystallised glass. He always wore them. Large silver bands, dark coloured jewels encased in the centre. He had beautiful hands now that you saw them up close. Wrists too. His shirt sleeves rolled up to the middle of his veiny forearms. The watch he wore was more expensive than anything you’d earn in five years. Maybe a lifetime. You were clueless.

Momentarily distracted, it took you those five minutes to realise you’d never so much as had one conversation with him. He was mostly the untouchable boss who was more like a statue to awe over than a person to share friendlies with. There were other men who worked closely for him here, woman too. Those were who you went to if there was a problem. A drunken customer. A shift you couldn’t make. An emergency you had to leave early for. In fact, even when you had gotten this job it wasn’t by his judgement. So this made the exchange even more awkward considering you’d never said so much as two words to him. You sipped on your wine for something to do. The taste wasn’t all that bad actually.

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

You had been so used to the silence you jumped a little from your seat at the sound of his voice. He sounded curious, and you glanced his way to see him giving you his full attention now. Body angled to you; eyes so intense they made you a little unnerved. Fuck. He’d definitely heard the racing of your heart then. Mistaken it for something else.

“Afraid? No.” You decided to be honest. Or at least as honest as you could be. He didn’t need to know you were even more unsteady now than you had been not ten minutes ago. All because of…thoughts, that had entered your mind upon noticing his long, deft fingers. Not that you knew they were skilled, but it was just a hunch. You shrugged in what you hoped was a casual manner. Voice straining to be very much the same. “My nail technician is a zombie. My running buddy at the gym. My doctor.”

To your surprise he chuckled. Deeply amused by something. “I didn’t mean that.” Oh. Had you misunderstood? How embarrassing. “Are you afraid of me because of who I am?”

You blinked slowly. His status. That was what he was referring to. You slowly shook your head, making sure to hold his gaze as you replied. “No.” You shocked even yourself, because you really did mean it. Maybe you were reckless. Your parents had always said such words. You were drawn to the unknown. The excitement got you giddy, but this—he—was something new.

Your idea of living life on the edge was dancing in hardly anything, not warming to a man who discussed crime over breakfast like it was nothing. Did God knows what when he wasn’t sitting in this club.

He nodded in almost confirmation. “Thought not. Just wanted to be sure.” He spoke with a certainty. Like he already knew this information before you did. What vibes were you giving off here? Or was he always this confident and sure when it came to assuming others’ thoughts and feelings…

“Why?” It came out slightly more accusing than you meant it to.

It took him a moment to answer, taking a swig of his whiskey again. You thought he was going to ignore it all together. In a way he did. “Did you know that any human who fucks a rotter in the first year of their transformation gets infected too?”

You took a moment to let that sink in. The casualness of his tone cut with the crude language took you by surprise. You swallowed. “I did.” Everyone did. It was the largest cause of illegal turning. Even a condom wouldn’t save you.

He scoffed in amazement. “It’s amazing how biology works, even for someone dead like me.”

When someone described themselves as dead it never ceased to blow your mind. It was hard to believe that someone as handsome as Seokjin was rotten to the core on the inside. Black and decaying. You let a wry smile play at the corners of your mouth, replying before you took another mouthful of your drink. “This world isn’t what it used to be.”

He didn’t bother to agree, instead taking a moment of silence before he hit you with another question. “Did you also know that we don’t have any sexual urges for a while after we’ve been turned?”

This time it took you everything to hold it together. The shock close to becoming visible on your face. You suddenly thought of every time he had glanced your way in the past few weeks. Each smile he had given you. Just like the one he was giving you now as he waited for your reply. “I heard it varies from r-zombie to zombie.”

You stopped yourself at the R for Rotter. Yes, he had used the word not moments before, but it was always such a grey area. Mostly used as a derogatory term, by humans—usually the older generation—who couldn’t get their small, little brains around the reality of the world today, it had become increasingly popular over the past couple of years. Now, it was just accepted. Like everything else this day and age.

“Correct.” He continued to smile. If he noticed your slip-up he didn’t care to mention it. “This may be TMI but mine’s only recently appeared again.” Something squeezed in your gut. “A few months ago. Maybe longer. I don’t know. With work and the stress I think I ignored it for longer than I should have.”

“Oh.” That was… Yes, it was fact all sexual desire left when first turned. Most for a couple of months, maybe a little longer. You didn’t know the ins and outs, but three years seemed steep. He was a busy man, it made sense, but… Fuck. Who were you kidding? You were just distracting yourself with nonsense now. Anything to not have to acknowledge what was really going on here. But you had to. “Not to be rude Mr. Kim, but why are you telling me this?”

No one, and you mean no one, called him by his first name. Not anyone you knew anyway. It was easy to see him as none other than Seokjin, your Seokjin, now thinking back, but a few months ago he was just your boss with the intimating aura. The one who wouldn’t dare be interested in you. That all changed that fateful night.

His lips curled. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to be friendly or if he was greatly amused. Maybe both. “Seokjin. Call me Seokjin.”

You swallowed. His name felt foreign on your tongue, but you needed to press on. You needed him to confirm the hunch now coiled in your chest. “Seokjin, why are you telling this?”

A beat of silence followed. He actually glanced away from you as he went to speak. “I’m incredibly attracted to you.” You let out a shaky breath, unsure you could say anything back even if you tried. He chuckled awkwardly. Such a human reaction. You found your heart warming. “Forgive me. I’m rusty at this.”

He sounded way out of his depth, which was incredibly amusing for someone like him. You wondered how long he had been thinking of confessing this. How long he’d been trying… He’d taken his chance tonight.

“You’ve noticed me staring a lot?” His eyes were back on you now. You didn’t know if you were imagining it, but the harshness of the grey had begun to soften. The coldness, warming up.

“Yes,” you murmured. Your throat felt dry. You wouldn’t have described it as staring, but to say you hadn’t noticed would be an outright lie.

“I just can’t take my eyes off you,” he admitted with a slight sigh. “I love watching you dance because it’s the only form of interaction I have with you.” Without realising, you squeezed your legs together. Your face was flushing, you could feel the heat prickle your skin.

“My view gets obstructed a lot of the time, or my attention is needed elsewhere but I always try...” He cleared his throat. “I always try to admire you.”

His words bloomed against your skin, sending a warmth all over you. Call you weak, it didn’t matter. An attractive man was complimenting you. You did not question him. He was short and to the point with his words. No sugar-coating. You admired that.

You smirked his way, confidence washing over you. In a way, you felt like you had the upper hand here. He was the one who had confessed in uncertainty. “You should get better seats for the show.”

His eyes widened a little in shock at your brazenness. You’d surprised him, and his mouth stretched into a grin, a bewildered laugh leaving him as his browline furrowed. It was a glorious sound. “I really don’t scare you? Disgust you?”

“Of course not.” You replied so surely it would be difficult to doubt you. Maybe you were stupid. Maybe this was all part of his masterplan, but there was a small self-destructive part of you that didn’t even care. “Would I be working here otherwise?”

“You got me there,” he silked. Gaze holding yours.

The most deepest of desires began to come alive inside of you. Swirling around in your gut. Desires you’d held at bay because it was laughable to think you’d ever be in with a chance with someone like him. And perhaps a larger part of you was ashamed by your longings. Kim Seokjin was a bad person by definition. It didn’t matter how charming he was. How potentially misunderstood he was, or how secretly sensitive he was. Romanticised theories that should make you sick at yourself. This was wrong, a small voice whispered furiously in the back of your head, but when had that ever stopped you?

You hesitated but went for it anyway. It was too late. You’d made your decision. “If we’re confessing things... You’re way too pretty to be as dangerous as you are.” Half a glass of wine and you were already losing yourself.

He cocked a black, perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Pretty? That’s a new one.” He chuckled quietly before making a joke. “These genes come from my mom.” Such a normal thing to say. You wanted to believe he was just like anyone else. Or maybe you truly didn’t care…

“Mr. K–Seokjin,” you corrected yourself quickly. The concept of being on first name terms would take a while to get used to. You took a breath and went for it, fingers reaching for his hand that held his whiskey. What did you have to lose? His lust for you was real. The ball was in your court.

You circled patterns against the skin between his thumb and index finger. It was stone cold. A sensation you were still not too used to, or maybe it was because this touch meant so much more. Despite the ice, he was marble smooth. You looked at his face. True beauty. He was staring right back at you, holding his breath, waiting for you. Hunger roared inside your body now. You tried your best to keep it under control.

“I know it’s out of hours and I’m not really dressed for it anymore but... I could dance for you right now if you like?”

You tilted your head to match your question. He copied, giving you a small smile, tone teasing when he spoke. Low and oddly soothing. “Private dances aren’t allowed.”

“You’re the boss. You make the rules.” You watched him hesitate, mulling your suggestion over in his head. It was actually kind of cute. Had he not expected you to accept his advances so easily?

He pulled his hand from the tumbler, his fingers gingerly reaching for yours and you clasped onto them. “Mm?” You prodded, watching him all the way. He gave you a tight nod, and that was all you needed to continue.

Rising up from your seat and leaving your purse at the foot of the stool, he followed you as you guided him by the hand to a set of centre red plush sofas. They curled around a small table, in perfect view of the largest stage. Not two hours ago this place had been filled to the brim, this section worth a hell of a lot of money considering where it was placed, but now his club was empty, safe for you and him. The reminder sent a thrill up you.

You slowly pushed him down to sit, hand on his chest before you let go and stood over him. A grin on your face. “Best seat in the house. No obstructed view.”

He didn’t reply, but the look on his face was almost giddy. You spun on your feet, back to him as you slinked away, towards the centre pole, kicking off your shoes. You didn’t get much of a chance to dance with it, this place saved for the ones who had been here longer. So this was an added excitement.

“This would be highly unprofessional in business hours,” he called after you. His laughter fizzling off when you began to lift your sweater over your head. “What are you doing?”

You turned back to him, a shy smile on your face. “I can’t entertain you in this.” You threw the mustard knit to the floor. “Will it do?”

He scoffed. Eyes a little wide, pupils starting to blow out. “You could be in anything. I wouldn’t mind.”

You appreciated the sentiment, but you didn’t know if you agreed. You’d removed the showy lingerie you’d been wearing tonight in favour of something more comfortable; a black cotton bralette, and you still had your leggings on as you gripped the pole with both hands. It wasn’t your best outfit, but you hoped it sufficed.

How odd it was to swing and grind in front of your boss. A man you hadn’t had anything to do with until tonight. Dancing to no music was strange, too. You had to imagine the beats and sounds in your head, praying you didn’t look too wooden, but somehow it began to feel increasingly intimate. Seokjin was a silent spectator, but it didn’t bring you a sense of unease. Excitement coursed through your veins, but you didn’t dare look at him while you moved. This was a reality you still couldn’t get your head around.

You didn’t know how long you were at it for, lost to the soundless rhythm, but soon enough you needed to catch your breath. He was still sat where you placed him but his eyes were fully black now, trained on your figure. As if in a trance It took a moment for him to notice you had stopped. His legs were spread open, giving you a very great eyeful of his crotch. A couple of buttons on his dress shirt lied open that weren’t before. It gave him an almost bedraggled look. You say almost, because his hair was still perfectly parted at his forehead. You suddenly had the mental image of your fingers running through it, tugging at the ends as he fucked you into the very sofa he sat on. You blinked away the dirty thought, taking a few deep breaths.

He also blinked, albeit slowly, outstretching one hand to beckon you. “Come here.” He croaked; voice thick with something that made you burn up.

You smirked. “That’s against the rules.” Private dances were strictly forbidden.

“Am I not the boss?” That was so. You laughed, and obeyed instantly, descending the metal steps to make your way to him. “You move exquisitely,” he complimented as you did so. His voice a little more human now. His eyes however, were anything but. Close now, inches apart, you saw the light grey that ringed the dilated pupils. It made him look unreal. Showed him for he really was. Undead. However, fear was the last thing on your mind.

“Can I touch you?”

“I thought you made the rules?” This back and fore only thickened the desire in the room, but you truly did appreciate his manners. That, and you really wanted him to touch you. You wanted to touch him too.

Straddling him slowly, your knees pressing into the soft velvet of the sofa, his cold hands met your waist and you jumped in shock, giggling in reaction. He did nothing but hold on as you attempted to dance atop of him. You say attempted, because you were basically grinding on him by now. You wrapped your arms around his neck, loving the way his breathing was laboured. Chest rising and falling visibly.

You felt his erection quickly begin to from under you, and it wasn’t long before he acknowledged it. In his own way, of course. “Forgive me for being inappropriate.” He apologised in advance. You held your breath in curiosity. “But have you ever fucked a rotter?”

With a lack of oxygen you replied instantly. “No.”

He swallowed. His dick twitched in his expensive slacks. “Are you opposed to it?”

You replied with only truth, confidence and desire. “Not if you’re the one in question.”

The noise that tore from his throat was nothing you’d ever heard before. A man starved, finally given the chance of relief. He flew at your mouth, movements hasty and rough. You gladly matched them. Everything was cold, something you weren’t used to at all. Not like this anyway. His tongue like ice ran along your own, both wet but drastic in temperature. It was a contrast that sent your nerves into overdrive. Sensitivity at its highest peak. You clung to his shoulders, rolling your palms over the thick flesh and muscle, as you moaned quite shamelessly into his mouth.

His hands found your face, gripping you tight as he continued to kiss you furiously. You were close to burning up, heart pounding in your chest at your new reality. A groan from him puzzled your mind as he tore away. “Not here. Not yet,” he rasped, lips wet because of you. He tried to keep him distance but failed, falling into your mouth once again to taste you. “I won’t fuck you in a place like this. You deserve better than that.”

You clung to him now, deflation beginning to drop to your gut. You were riled up, ready for him, he couldn’t take it away now. Not when he was solid between your spread legs. You gasped when he took your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging it carefully. Everyone knew the dangers of a zombies’ teeth. One false move and it was game over. The risk just seemed to turn you on all the more. You were sick. Sick for him.

“But I want you so bad. I want to make you feel all the pleasure in the world,” he divulged. He sounded so passionate, so desperate, fresh waves of longing and need flooded your body. Heat pooled against his cock. “Will you let me do that right now? Just a little bit?”

“Yes,” you practically exclaimed. Overcome and out of breath. You didn’t know what that request pertained but you would take anything for even the slightest bit of relief.

You had a better understanding once you found yourself under his large, solid body. Spread out on the velvet like your tainted mind had imagined not fifteen minutes previous. He kissed down your neck, lapping at the skin like you could fill him up. A sensation that had your eyes closing, feeling powerless but loving it. Even more so when you felt him between your breasts. It was a wonderful fusion; to be boiling hot but feel his cool, marble touch all over your body. His hands roamed you, familiarising himself with the woman’s body. Every bump, curve and dip, your soft moans encouraging him, until he couldn’t take anymore.

You pulsed when you felt his long fingers curl behind the waistband of your leggings. “Can I take these off?” He looked you straight in the eyes as he spoke, as if he was reading your face for any hesitation. There was none. You nodded firmly, a trembled ‘yes’ leaving your throat.

He pulled you forward in one swift motion, propping you up against the plush backrests. He was out of breath, jaw slack and eyes still practically black as he crouched, beginning to tug down the black fabric, your legs thrown over one of his shoulders. You didn’t realise he’d strip you of your underwear too. You were very naked, very quickly. Your bra the only thing left.

“Beautiful.” He uttered, eyes between your legs before he looked up at you. “You’re beautiful.”

You smiled at him, something he couldn’t seem to be able to bear, because he was on your mouth again in a flash. He kissed you greedily, low moans escaping him in regular sequence. Spoiled, he made his way down your chest, finding the swell of your breasts to flirt between. It wasn’t long before the fabric was pulled down, one nipple in his mouth while he rubbed the other with the pad of his thumb. That had you moaning, your legs wrapping around his hips to keep him latched to you. Cramped on the sofa, cramped under his body, but loving it. Pleasure swirled and grew heavy in your stomach. Arousal beginning to pool between your legs. It wasn’t long before you were grinding yourself against his body uncontrollably, desperate for some relief down south.

He pulled away when you began whining, teeth lightly grazing the flushed peak as he went. You gasped. Maybe it really was the danger that turned you wanton. Seokjin grinned your way as he sunk to his knees on the floor. He knew it too. He was already learning. You watched with bated breath as he spread your legs, giving him a very intimate view. You’d be self-conscious by now, maybe even uncomfortable, but not tonight. Not with him.

You pulsed against his thumb as he touched you, and all you could do was watch as he carefully began to rub at your clitoris, feeling it engorge beneath his cold touch. You moaned softly, hips circling ever so slightly, enjoying the almost cruel pleasure. Your arousal spread, wet noises squelching under his skin, lewd in your ears.

He looked up at you, eyes black, ringed silver grey. They made you shiver. So did his words. “Can I taste you?” His hair had become out of place, finally, falling in his eyes, and you reached for it, running the white and black strands through your fingers before nodding.

He dived straight in, those plump, almost blue-red lips encompassing your clit. You gasped as he sucked, pushing into him and clutching his hair in your fist. His cool tongue laved you almost hesitantly at first, searching for what you liked and what made you moan, until he grew confidence. You forgot he was familiarising himself again after so long. Hazy with lust, his movements weren’t calculated. They were made with haste and a fervent urge; hands wrapping around the underside of your thighs to hold them and pull you closer. Letting him feast until his heart content.

He only pulled away to catch his breath, minutes later, face from the nose down shining with a colourless substance. The same substance coated the heat between your legs and apex of your thighs. Probably stained the sofas too. You were sticky and burning up. Not even the the touch of his cool finger could control it as he ran the digit down your folds. He stopped at your entrance, tip pushing in slowly. You throbbed around nothing, desperate to be filled. He noticed of course, and he made to remove his rings.

You stopped him. “Keep them on.” You’d already felt the cool metal of his rings against the inside of your thigh when he’d been enamoured with your centre and everything it had to offer. You wanted more. A hell of a lot more.

He raised his brows in surprise, pausing before shrugging. “Anything for you.” You tried to suppress your moan as he pushed his index finger inside you, palm up, cold metal pressed against your swollen folds. He shifted closer, curling the digit against your velvet-like walls. He seemed to like the feeling, humming to himself, before he studied your face closely. “When was the last time someone had you like this?”

You cocked an eyebrow, smirking. “What? Like this specifically? In this bar, spread out naked on the VIP suite? Never.”

He gave a low chuckle. It shot through your body. “You think you’re funny.” You tried snarking him back but he slipped a second finger inside you, straightening them as he went. “No but,” he began, slowing thrusting them in and out. Your jaw grew slack as you watched him, the quietest of strained moans leaving you. “I just want to know how many people I have to contend with.”

That made you laugh. But fine, if he was so curious. “It’s been a while. Nearly a year.” You’d been single since then, your last relationship ending badly, and hook up culture wasn’t what it was since the virus. You smirked his way. “So, no one at all.”

“That’s great for me then.” He laughed heartily, almost as if he wasn’t three knuckles deeps inside you, and wasting no time getting intimate between your legs again.

You came hard. Shaking all over when he finally relented his tongue. Covered in a sheen of sweat and out of breath. He continued the movement of his fingers at his leisure, looking up between your body. The tips of his hair were wet and clung together. It wasn’t him—the undead incapable of sweating—but your arousal, which he seemed to be unable to get enough of. In all honesty, it seemed it he was unable to get enough of you full stop. Still determined to please you.

He shot his fingers deep, ripping a moan from your chest as your back curled. “You’re still sucking me in. What a greedy cunt you have.” Your burned at his crude words, squeezing around his fingers. “Do you consider yourself greedy?” He spoke low and calm, but you could hear the slight quiver to his voice. It made you feel powerful. You hated that word. Greed. But for him… It was different.

“If it’s for a pleasure like that, then yes,” you laughed breathlessly.

He tutted, curling his fingers along the ridges of your insides. Coaxing you. Enjoying the way your lower body contorted. “You flatter me. I would say I’ve reverted to novice status again after all these years.”

You didn’t think so. Unless that was the reality of someone like Kim Seokjin between your legs. He got you coming so good, better than you had in a long time, so maybe it was both options shared. “Somethings you never forget,” you told him simply.

He didn’t reply, instead rising up, kneeling on the edge of the sofa instead. You lifted your legs to accommodate him. His fingers got deeper and you tightened around them again. “I’m greedy too, you know?” He almost warned, his free hand gripping the back of your neck to tilt your head. Ice. He was speaking as he held his breath, moaning slightly when you did. “I want you to cum again. Please.” He always remembered his manners, even when impatient.

You faltered. You didn’t know if you could. Yes, it still felt good to have him inside of you, but you were too exhausted to go again surely. He leant over your body, caging you with his solid one as he murmured into your ear. “I want the visual ingrained in my mind forever.” He snapped his wrist hard against you. The pleasure made your eyes roll back.

“O-kay–!” You gasped out, nodding your head eagerly, gripping onto his shoulders. It was a big fuck you to the exhaustion. You wanted to cum again too.

Your body withstood his vicious pace, walls clamping down on him every time he thrusted into you. You were hot and sweaty again, held down by his large build, which only added to your delight. You imagined he was fucking you. Desperate for the real thing.

“You trust me a lot,” he mused, your hands in his hair now. It was surprising to you that he let you touch it like this. You looked at him curiously, wondering what he could mean, and felt his movements slow. You realised just how hard you’d been holding your breath, gasping for it at the tiniest of reprieve. “One accidental scratch and that’s it, game over. You’re one of me.” He spoke in an almost disarming whisper. It did not frighten you.

You moaned at the dragging of his fingers, before smiling lazily. “You’re not so foolish.” You’d already taken note that his fingernails were perfectly trimmed when you’d admired his hands at the bar.

“Maybe not. But in other ways…” he drawled off, lips millimetres from yours. You wanted him to kiss you so bad. “I enjoyed being a fool between your legs. On my knees…” You moaned softly, enjoying his words, eyes still glued to his mouth. It moved away; your chest grew heavy in disappointment.

“Would you get on your knees for me?”

His question had you squeezing again. The smirk told you he felt it. “Right now?” You asked, maybe a little too eager.

“No.” He laughed. “Not right now. Tonight is about you. But next time...”

You took a shaky breath and nodded. “Gladly.”

“Good girl,” he smiled at you. The praise went to your head, somewhere else too, and he let go of your neck, readjusting himself to begin picking up the pace again. You watched down your body, lifting your folded legs nearer your chest so you could have a better look at his hand as it pleasured you. His veiny forearm tensing with the force of his thrusts. You were so wet you glistened in the overhead lighting—so did the dark jewel on one of his rings—and you squelched noisily around his fingers, sucking him in over and over again. Greedy, you were.

“Fuck.” Seokjin cursed under his breath, distracting you, and you found his eyes were locked between your legs too. Mesmerised. “Delectable, as ripe as a peach…” It didn’t take you much longer to cum again. You felt sorry to whoever would sit in the VIP lounge tomorrow night.

Afterwards, once you’d both calmed down—you, dressed but still quite shaky, and he, now composed but hair still in disarray—he asked if you’d accompany him for dinner at his house next time he was free. You agreed quite instantly. You knew what it meant, and you needed it. Needed him. You also agreed when he insisted he’d arrange for a car to take you home that night. You had your own, but you’d had something to drink, regardless how small, and that just didn’t sit right with him. He’d get someone to drop off your vehicle the next morning.

Before you left, he bid you goodnight with a kiss to the cheek and thanked you for a lovely night, emphasising just how much he was looking forward to dinner with you soon. Just the thought had you up for hours when you found yourself in bed, alone, but still warm and sated from your two orgasms.

Seokjin’s house was stunning. A far cry from from your dingy apartment on the tenth floor of an ancient tower block. You were used to it now, but back then you had felt very out of place in such a beautiful home. He arranged for a car to pick you up, very much like the one that had dropped you off home four nights ago. A sleek black thing, with darkened windows. You didn’t know the name, a car was a car, but again, way out of your league. Four days was a short time in someone else’s perspective, but to you it had dragged by. Especially having to see him every night since while you danced in the club. Glances and knowing smirks just made it harder. You understood though, he was a busy man. He called you in the morning, apologising for the short notice, but he’d found a break in his schedule. If you agreed not to be at the club tonight, he could arrange dinner at his place.

You hadn’t hesitated. Had been preparing all day. The longest soak in the bath you could manage without turning into udon. You even brought the wax strips out. Found the most elegant dress you owned in the back of your closet. A blood red, floor length piece.

His phone call had felt very formal, but that was him all over, you had only just started finding out. You weren’t 100% sure, but the 0.1% didn’t matter… You were going to have sex together tonight. The thought made you giddy. It was only the shock of his house that distracted you as you stepped inside. Large and elegantly decorated, it did not look at all like you’d imagined. Not that you’d tried to. It was impossible to wonder what an undead mobster’s home would look like, but as a bachelor, it definitely wasn’t this. It almost seemed lonely to have just one person living here. You kept those thoughts to yourself though and let him lead you into the lounge, where, and you assumed this, a butler of some kind handed you a glass of champagne. This was not your world.

He even had members of staff to cook for him. Food you knew for a fact belonged in michelin starred restaurants. His dining room was grand, the beautifully carved mahogany table able to fit six people. Perhaps this place was once his family home. It made sense. He sat at the head, while you were placed directly opposite him. The distance was a little unnerving, but he was able to converse in small talk exceptionally well. It was lighthearted and casual, and soon eased you up.

You found it intriguing when he doused everything he ate in hot sauce, unable to stop yourself from giggling and he looked up, confusion etched in his features before he realised what had amused you so. You had no idea the need was that bad.

“Nothing tastes good without a little kick,” he explained, putting the bottle down. “Even the brains.”

You laughed. “You must go through hot sauce by the gallon.”

He smiled before reaching for his glass of red wine. “Me being a rotter really doesn’t phase you, does it?” He still seemed to be unable to get over the surprise.

You gave him a small shrug, picking up your cutlery. “It’s the world we live in now.” You sounded like a broken record. That was your explanation for everything.

You waited for him to continue the conversation. There was a pause and then– “Thanks to your father.”

You froze, an instant sense of dread filling you at the casual remark. You swallowed, looking across at Seokjin. “H-how did you know?”

He raised a perfect eyebrow as he brought the glass to his mouth. You watched half the red liquid disappear. The clank as he put it down on the wood made you flinch, and your heart thudded as you waited for his reply. He gave you smile. It didn’t seem fully loaded. “Is that you undermining my power?”

Whatever his intentions were you panicked regardless. “No, I just–”

“Don’t worry, this isn’t some kind of trick. Some kind of revenge...” He interrupted with a quick chuckle. Relief flooded you. Not that you had thought such things explicitly, but Seokjin was the man he was… Your lust hadn’t made you forget that much. He had found out what you’d spent the last three years or so trying to hide after all…

“I have brought you here to fuck.” Despite your alarm, something squeezed in your gut and pulsed between your legs at his frankness. “I’m just curious... You hide it well. Why?”

Unsure what to do, you took a mouthful of food. The chewing letting you think for a moment. Did you really want to divulge your family affairs with him? He was a man of few words and considering what he was—dangerous and undead—you couldn’t be sure to trust his intentions. Maybe you’d made a mistake coming here. Letting his words and actions cajole you.

“Good?” He asked, watching you eat.

You looked at him and nodded. Wiping your face with the napkin placed on your lap you decided to give him some of the details. Not all. “It’s not something I want to be associated with.”

Seokjin frowned. “You don’t agree?”

You shook your head. That had come out wrong. “I don’t agree with my parents’ greed.”

When the zombie virus had hit four years ago your father, a highly gifted scientist, had been one of the first to try and recreate it. To produce something better. For what, you didn’t quite understand. He had no desire to turn himself or his family. No, you guessed it was for the fame, the money…the glory… In the end, it took a number of people to create such a thing, but yes, he’d been one of them… Your mother had been so proud. Sick. That was still what you thought now. Turning the world into undead creatures who needed human brains to survive seemed utterly bizarre. Disturbing… But like you said, the glory seemed to be their fuel…

You hadn’t spoke to either of them in two years and prior to that, conversations were few and far between. To cut them out of your life hadn’t been a sudden decision though. Your whole life you’d always felt like you didn’t belong. Born to the wrong family. Maybe that was a problem with you. An issue you didn’t want to give much thought about, but one thing was for certain, you didn’t think anything like them. You’d spend most of your life rebelling. Maybe you were still doing so… The club you worked at would see them foaming at the mouth. You, surrounded by the people your father helped create. And Seokjin… Seokjin was a man your parents would be horrified to see you with. That thought brought you great pleasure.

“You don’t get along?” You shook you head in reply. Surprisingly it was enough for him. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.” Or maybe he already knew that… He probably knew everything about you. He’d been humouring you all this time. For some reason that didn’t scare you like it should’ve. It was quite reassuring to know that despite everything, you were the one he wanted. Maybe your self esteem was shot to pieces. Maybe you were just an idiot.

You smiled. “Thanks.”

He jerked his head towards the direction of your plate. “Let’s not get distracted for too long. Dinner is getting cold.”

You ate with more small talk. He asked if you’d ever been out the country and when you’d replied yes, he insisted that you tell him all about Japan, like he’d never been there before. Maybe he hadn’t… You didn’t ask. In all honestly, you were positive he was trying his best to relax you again after his slight interrogation. It was endearing.

Once dinner was done and his staff had taken the used dishes away, you suddenly remembered what was to come next. You began to feel a little out of your depth. The night at the club had happened out of the blue, but this was pre-planned. Nerves itched at your skin, just wondering how this would go down now, but that didn’t mean you weren’t excited. Giddy.

“You really do look so beautiful tonight.” He praised quietly, admiring you from across the table. He had already told you that when he’d greeted you at his door, but you would never get enough. “I feel a little underdressed.”

You scoffed. “You look perfect. As always.” He was always found in a suit, so his attire for tonight was nothing new. Apart from the velvet suit jacket he wore. It was fancy, something you could never imagine him gracing the club with, and the cream embroidered shirt underneath suited him beautifully. His hair tonight was swept above his forehead, accentuating his breath-taking bone structure.

He closed his eyes as he smiled in silent thanks. When they opened you noticed they were getting darker, grey almost unnoticeable from where you sat. You suddenly thought about him between your legs. You squeezed them together under the table, trying to quell your dirty thoughts. You think he noticed, or maybe he was remembering back too.

“I’m surprised you can’t feel it,” he mused on cue.

“Feel what?” You sounded slightly shaky. Out of breath.

“My need for you is practically raging from my body,” he explained simply.

Something heavy dropped into your gut. Confidence began to wash over you again. It was nice to feel this powerful. “You hide it well.”

“Do I?” He laughed. “I must have more self control than I give myself credit for. I’ve been agitated ever since that night… Unable to stop imagining getting my hands on you again.”

You let out a tremble of a breath. More images flew around the forefront of your mind. The coldness of his hands caressing your body. The ice of his tongue inside your mouth, against your skin, laving against your… You closed your eyes, unable to cope. He murmured your name softly. As if he was desperate for you to look his way again. You obeyed. “I’m so incredibly attracted to you.”

You could hear your heart thudding against your ribcage. It almost felt strange, like it didn’t belong to you. When you chuckled, it didn’t sound like you either. Your lust for him was taking over. Time was nearing. “You already said, Seokjin.” You liked the sound of his name as it curled off your tongue.

He chuckled back. “Am I boring you? I thought flattery would be first protocol.”

You continued to laugh at his choice of words, shaking your head. “There’s no need. I’m here, aren’t I?”

He held your stare. It was almost like he was staring inside of you. “That you are.” He sounded like he still couldn’t believe his luck. He rolled his shoulders. “Well. I can still say what I like. It’s all true. I’m not trying to manipulate you here.” You chose to believe him. “Although... You don’t look like someone who falls victim to such things.” You shrugged, playing it casual. Maybe he was correct. You’d long stopped giving men the power to get inside your mind. You hoped it would hold with Seokjin.

“I’ll cut to the chase then.” He continued, realising you weren’t going to divulge anything that could confirm his assumptions. “One night won’t be enough. I want to enter a sexual relationship with you.”

Your eyes widened. Surprise visible on your face no doubt. Call you naïve, maybe clueless, but that possibility hadn’t crossed your mind. A one off was all you’d imagined. Seokjin had thirsted after you for months now, it seemed. Until he couldn’t ignore it any longer. In your head, one night would have been enough for him. What was so special about you? It seemed ludicrous he’d want something permanent. Taken aback, all you could do was listen to him.

“These,” he paused, “urges I have, they’ve been suppressed for far too long. I have curiosities. Maybe they’ve always been there, morphing with the passing months...years.” He shrugged, and you wondered why he had stifled himself for so long. You also wondered why you. Why were you so special? “It wasn’t until I noticed you that these thoughts...fantasies, became unbearable.”

You took his words like they were information at a business meeting. In fact, he was talking to you like such. It was strange. He was talking about imagining fucking you most probably, and here you were just nodding your head. You squeezed your legs under the table again. You were hot. Your excitement was building again and you were trying your best to control yourself. This wasn’t normal. You shouldn’t be here, but your desire for him seemed to have crept up and snaked its way around your throat.

“I don’t want to overwhelm you but I need things to be in black and white.”

“I understand.”

“You do?” He raised both eyebrows in surprise. You felt powerful with the knowledge you kept proving him wrong. “Your pleasure is my utmost importance. All of my fantasies include you enjoying yourself. Rest assured. However,” he looked down at the table. Was he flustered? Feeling awkward? How unusual. “There are some things I want to indulge in that aren’t to everyone’s taste. I do not wish to trap or force you into anything. If you don’t agree, then that’s that. No hard feelings. This isn’t a sweet or romantic joining. I don’t know if I’m truly capable of that…”

You puzzled in your head. What an odd thing to say. You hadn’t so much as thought about this being anything about romance. You knew where you stood. You hoped he wasn’t assuming that’s what you thought. You’d given up on love and romance a long fucking time ago. “I don’t expect it to be,” you added, wanting it to be clear.

He paused, smiled slightly and then chucked. “Then you understand I have this animalistic need to take you any which way I’m allowed.” He made sure your eyes were locked when he spoke. So he could see your reaction. It was hard tying to keep your expression neutral as you imagined just as he’d said. The corner of your mouth definitely twitched. Of course he saw. You could tell by the way he tried to suppress his smirk.

“I can be patient if you need more time.” He continued. “I am very much insistent that it’s you—there is no one else—however, if you disagree or discover I bring you no joy, I expect one day I’ll find another.” You admired his honesty. “Also. Selfish of me I know, but if you agree then there must be no other sexual partners during our attachment. Please.” “Seokjin...” You began, guessing he’d finished his proposition of sorts.

“I know.” He interrupted before you could say anything. “This is a lot to take in. You’re overwhelmed.”

“No,” you insisted. “I agree. I’m willing to give this a chance.”

He let your words marinate before swallowing. “What I’ve said doesn’t scare you?”

You scoffed. “No.” You’d already knew sex with him wouldn’t be conventional. You’d found that out from his very brazen attitude and mouth the night you were spread against the club’s VIP sofa. Your only mistake had been thinking it would be just once. You felt giddy knowing there would now be endless encounters. You craved him just like he craved you. It was a new sensation, something that had only been been simmering since you caught his eyes on you as you danced, but it was powerful and steadfast, and needed to be sated. Tonight.

He nodded to himself, seemingly deciding then and there to start taking action. “We’ll take it slow. Learn from one another.”

“That sounds good,” you agreed, unconsciously sitting up straighter, leaning in almost eagerly.

“Tonight,” he hushed. “Tonight I just want to feel you. Pleasure you. To become accustomed with your body and what you like.”

You let out a shaky breath. You could almost feel the impending pleasure running through your veins. You’d had a taste of it a few nights ago. “I feel very much the same. Tonight is just the beginning.”

He exhaled through his nose, jaw tensed before he looked you straight in the eyes. Raising his hand he beckoned you. “Come.” You were beginning to see a pattern, and just like that you obeyed. His tastes were of the dominate kind. You would gladly listen.

Rounding the corner you made your way over and stopped right in front of him. He scraped his chair back, making room between him and the table, and motioned you to slot in between.

“When you said you’d get on your knees for me…” He reminded you. A suggestion of sorts. Maybe it was put that way to soften the order.

Your eyes widened, looking at the door that lead into the kitchen. “Here?”

“Don’t worry.” He smiled, taking your hands. “No one will will come in. They shall be leaving soon anyway. They won’t interrupt us.”

You listened, finding yourself in his lap, dress crumpled around your middle, creasing to no end, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Not when you could feel his erection pressing into you. You took initiative. Rising up to let your palm caress him. You’d been dying to get your hands on him ever since the night at the club. To feel him full and thick and long between your fist, in your mouth, in your– You reached to kiss him. He slipped his tongue inside your mouth like he’d been waiting for it, grunting when you gave his dick one quick squeeze.

“Seokjin,” you breathed, lips sticky as you pulled away. “Forgive my manners. I never confessed my attraction towards you too the other night.” It was easy to let him do all the talking, but you wanted to let him know you were 100% into this because you wanted him too. It didn’t go one way. You weren’t just agreeing to this for the hell of it.

He reached for your face, rubbing the apples of your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “No need to flatter me,” he smiled, dropping one thumb to the edge of your mouth. He tugged your bottom lip down slightly and met the tip of your tongue. “I guess my tongue did the persuading, mm?”

You swiped across the cool flesh and pulled away with a grin. “Trust me, if there was no attraction that wouldn’t have happened.”

He laughed, genuinely amused, before grabbing you by the hips, pulling you into his chest. “Enough chit chat. I thought you were supposed to be sucking my dick?”

Just like the rest of him, his cock was cool. Something you had never experienced before. It was swollen, filled with blood, but ice cold. Impossible, yet here you were. Knelt between his spread legs, laving him against your tongue. You had the intense urge to please him as best you could. Show him what he’d been missing all this time and just worship the beautiful, pretty gift between his thighs. He seemed to be unable to get used to the hot, wet velvet of your mouth, eyes glued to you, watching every move you made with soundless gasps. His hands gripped the arms of the chair at first, knuckles purple, until he decided he couldn’t hold back any longer. Taking your hair in his fists, his rings cold against your scalp, he held on tight, finally letting himself moan when you slackened your jaw and slid him down your throat as far as you could take him.

He liked it when you choked on his dick. He froze every time, digging his fingers into your scalp. He liked when you slicked him with your fist, thumb circling the sensitive slit that pooled drops of precum all over the place. He really had fought off all sexual urges for so long it seemed. You wondered if he’d even attempted to pleasure himself? It wasn’t something you were brave enough to ask, but you were brave enough for other things…

You wanted him to experience all the pleasure he’d been missing over the years, tongue pointing and going south, licking thin but long lines up and across his scrotum. He gasped, the noise choking in his throat as he jerked, chair legs screeching against the tiled floor. You shuffled closer on your knees, holding his cock tall in your hand so you could slowly suck one of his balls into your mouth, softly caressing the cool encasing with your tongue. You made sure to look him in the eyes as you did so, feeding of the reactions he gave you. His mouth fallen open in a soundless groan.

You smirked as you pulled away, pleased with yourself, and began kissing up his length, swirling your tongue across the cool marble, pressing your plush lips in the flesh; getting him obscenely wet. His fingers found their way around the back of your neck, holding you firmly as you popped him back into your mouth, sucking intently on the head of his cock, your fist working the base of him, slick noises filling the air, mixed with his low, staccato moans.

When you began getting lower, hallowing your cheeks to accommodate him, your tongue tracing patterns along the underside of his thickness, his hands flew to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair to stop you. You pulled back instantly, waiting for some kind of response from him. He was close. Dangerously close. You understood that.

“I want –” He cut himself short, voice gruff, and cleared his throat, hips jumping when you kissed the tip of his cock. He tried again, taking one hand to caress your face. “I want to cum on your face.” Your legs squeezed together. Excitement overcoming you. “Please.” He added that as an afterthought, forgetting his manners with the urge to cum.

You smiled, slowly taking his hand from your cheek to guide it to the base of his cock, exchanging yours with his. He gripped himself tightly, and you squeezed your palm over his fist. Giving him permission with a sordid whisper. “Be my guest.”

You waited for it on your knees, between his spread legs and watched as he raked his beautiful hand over his equally as beautiful cock. Slowly at first, exploring the pleasure and then he sped up, jerking the top in tight, quick motions, chair legs screeching across the floor again as raised up, tightening his hold on your head to keep you in place. His breathing laboured before a strangled roar left him.

You prepared yourself, closing your eyes as you felt the first spurt hit your nose and drip down your top lip. The second flew across your left cheek. Unlike the rest of him, this substance was searing hot, shocking you so much you gasped. The third spurt, stronger, landed in your mouth. You swallowed and savoured the taste. It wasn’t over. It just kept coming, coating your face and congealing in the air, as Seokjin furiously tried to get every last drop out. Savouring the pleasure, moaning in sweet relief until he grew weak from exertion, collapsing into his seat.

You peeled your eyes open, cum glooping from your right eyebrow and onto your eyelid and watched him with awe. All that filled the dining room was his rough breaths as he tried to get a hold of himself. He ran his clean hand through his hair, strands of white falling down, and finally took a look at you. He was silent for a long time, eyes still black, the crescents of silver sending a shiver up your spine. He leaned over, pulling some of your hair behind your ear, saving it from the mess that coated your face. He looked at you with wonder and amazement in his eyes, like he was trying to retain the image of you like this forever.

When he spoke, his voice sounded different. Softer, warmer. Weaker… “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on…” Two of his fingers ran along your bottom lip, spreading some of his cum along the way. “Like this…” He awed. “It takes my breath away.”

He reached behind you, his embroidered napkin coming into view. The set was probably more expensive than your outfit. He began cleaning your face up, and you let him obediently, still kneeling on the hard floor. It was all worth it though. For him. For what was to come.

When he was done, he threw the soiled cloth to the table. There was still some cum on his fingers, where he’d rubbed your lip, and he opened your mouth, dotting your tongue with the fluid before he stuck two fingers inside, holding the muscle down before he prodded you to suck them. You did so, mimicking how you had pleasured his cock, letting your tongue trail along the expanse of his rings. He groaned, the other hand cupping your face to make you look at him. He opened his mouth, sounded beside himself. “The things I want to do to you...”

You got no sleep that night. Fucking one another until the sun began to shine through his drapes, and then some more, letting him enjoy getting familiar with the sensation again, but also feeling a pleasure like no other yourself. No man you’d ever been with had been into sex this much, and his stamina, his strength, was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. He fucked you, quite literally, to glorious, pleasure-soaked tears. Three years really hadn’t hindered his skill at all, but he blamed it on his greed, incapable of taking a compliment. Nonsense, but you soon got used to that charming personality trait…

The weeks had rolled into months, and you continued just like that. Meeting and fucking any chance you got. It was him who called the shots. He was a busy man after all. You worked to his schedule. Fucked to his schedule, and luckily for you, you were in a position to drop work every time he called. Direct permission from the boss.

True to his word, you took it slow. Going further and further each time until your body was trained to him. His was trained to you too. What he liked, how he liked it and when to do it. You knew how to read his moods and work with it each time you met up for sex. There was a mutual trust between the two of you, and you would give your all if it meant pleasing him, because it brought you pleasure too.

Sex had always been just something you’d done. The guys got their rocks off and maybe if you were lucky, you’d get one orgasm, probably gifted by your own hands. Even when in love, sex hadn’t been this enjoyable nor exciting. It was all new with Seokjin. You lived for pushing yourself to the limit, finding something new and trying it. Greedy. Maybe that was the correct word, Seokjin had been right. You were greedy for one another. You’d be dammed. The desire and the pleasure you just knew you couldn’t get from anyone else. The chemistry was on a totally different level, and it just kept getting stronger.

Seokjin did have a softer appetite though. It wasn’t all hard and extreme. That was the beauty of it. He wasn’t a one-sided dom who used you as some kind of sex toy. He was gentle and caring, even when he had you tied to his bed, blindfolded and at his mercy. Sometimes he just wanted you. Raw and passionate. An unspoken vulnerable. You think in a way, even though you would never say it to his face, he sought comfort in you. On days when he was tired or stressed, he wanted you. Only you. There was a comfort there. And you gladly obeyed. How could you not? You were flattered he chose you to share this with. Touched, in a way.

Your bond only grew, until any awkwardness was a thing of the past. You could tease one another, joke around. It was surprising at first to find out someone like him could become embarrassed and shy when provoked about certain things. Like how he had been so formal in the beginning. He insisted it was because he was so awkward about his extended inexperience fighting head to head with the raging desire he had for you… It had sent him frenzied, until he had to do something about it. You were so glad he had…

Your relationship for the most part was left undetected. It was chosen that way, to keep things strictly professional at work, but also you suspected it was something more. He requested for you not to tell your friends or family, and the only one who knew about your arrangement on his side, was the driver who took you to and from his home. Seokjin’s line of work came with danger, and even though you didn’t voice it, you guessed that danger spread to anyone he was involved with; family, friends, lovers…

You say mostly undetected because of course there had been a slip up somewhere along the line. Working in such close proximity, perhaps you had been foolish. The club was always packed, someone was bound to pick up on it, and unluckily for you, it happened. Give you a major reality check to go with it.

You had been involved with Seokjin for near to three months when it did, juggling nights at work and nights spent with him. More often than not, both at the same time. That night wasn’t one though. He was away from the club altogether, so you got changed at your usual pace, surrounded by the rest of the human girls as they chatted. That night rotter talk filled the dressing room. There had been one watching one of the girls, Jaeha, dancing. He’d taken a shine to her and asked her out for dinner at closing time. She’d agreed, but now she was getting doubts, some of the other girls laying uncertainties in her head. Of course the conversation had turned to sex. It always did where men were concerned. But this was different. They were talking about having sex with a zombie. It was times like these you were thankful there was separate dressing rooms for the human and undead girls. Although some would probably still carry on the conversation regardless.

“What about you?”

You looked up, realising that Jaeha was directing the question your way. “Hm?” You played dumb, even though you had been listening to every word of the conversation. You just didn’t want to answer.

“What would you imagine it feels like being with a rotter?”

You gave a small shrug, realising you had no choice now and turned away as you replied. “I don’t know.”

“Wait. What was that?” She exclaimed excitedly and you inwardly sighed. You guess something about your body language hadn’t been believable. “You have?!” You gave another shrug but she wasn’t having any of it. “Look me in the eyes and say you haven’t!”

You faced her again, defeated, realising you had about half a dozen other pairs of eyes looking at you too. “Fine. I have.”

A couple others squealed. Maybe it was an age thing. You were a few years older than a handful of the girls. At twenty-two you had probably been easily excitable and naïve too. Scrap that. You definitely had been.

“Who?!”

Shit. She really wasn’t going to drop this, was she? You were hoping admitting to it would have been enough. You did up your jeans as you dismissed her. “It doesn’t matter who. It’s just sex. No different.”

“No different? But they’re cold,” she whined, shuddering at the thought. “Doesn’t that feel weird?”

You opened your mouth but found yourself stuck. This conversation was making you feel uncomfortable. Thankfully, a voice came to your rescue.

“You just get used to it.” You looked to your left to see Yeeun coming into view behind

the group of girls. She’d been here nearly the longest, your age, maybe a year older. She kept herself to herself most of the time, but you guessed she wanted to put this conversation to rest. That, and maybe put you out of your misery.

Jaeha turned and opened her mouth to ask more questions, but Yeeun spoke over her. “Jaeha, just make sure to be careful if you decide to go for dinner with that guy, yeah? Undead doesn’t mean he’s inherently bad but coming to a place like this should make you think. Keep your wits about you.”

Just like she’d wanted (and you) the conversation died. Everyone left soon after that, you close behind, but Yeeun was still getting changed, distracted by her phone. You stopped by the door as an afterthought, wanting to say something to her. “Thanks,” you called, waiting for her acknowledgment.

She slowly turned and smiled. “No problem.” You watched as she shoved her cell into her jacket pocket. “Um, you got a minute?”

You nodded, unable to guess what she wanted. She sighed, almost like she was psyching herself up. “First, this isn’t me trying to get up all in your business, alright?” You nodded again, slower this time. A sicky feeling in your stomach. “Everyone else may be clueless when it comes to who you’re fucking, but I’m not.”

You tensed. Maybe you’d misinterpreted her motives. She was trying to put you out of your misery yes, but it ran deeper than that. She was trying to save your skin. She knew. How? You were always careful to never talk in public with Seokjin. Yet… maybe your reluctance to leave early like you used to do roused suspicion from her. Maybe she’d seen you both leave together… Foolish. You panicked, played stupid. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She stared at you, calling your bluff. “Be careful, okay? You’re an adult, you can do whatever the hell you like, but just don’t forget who he is.” You kept quiet. There was no point denying it. “And I’m not on about him being undead. He’s...” She hesitated before deciding to go for it. “Just don’t forget he’s responsible for a lot of this city’s darkness.”

Unexplainable anger filled you. You didn’t like being judged, but more than that, the idea of someone judging Seokjin made your blood boil. She didn’t know him like you did. How kind he was when you were alone, how gentle… He wasn’t what people described him as behind closed doors. But what was the point? You knew you couldn’t tell her that. She’d just laugh at you, tell you how deluded you were. Maybe that’s what you were scared of... That you really were deluded. In over your head…

You watched her shrug on her jacket, her mind at ease now that she’d warned you. “You don’t have a problem working in his club though?”

She froze before pulling out a cigarette from her pocket and chuckling. “It’s money, babe.” She placed the rolled tube in between her lips and spoke through it. “We all need it, and at the end of the day, I’m not the one fucking him.” She finished with a casual shrug. As if she had no worries. You had plenty.

You swallowed, careful to keep your voice steady. “Well thanks for your concern. I’ll bear it in mind.” And the you left, wiping away a stray tear from your left eye.

You didn’t tell Seokjin about what happened that night, certain that Yeeun didn’t care enough to tell anyone. She wasn’t like that, hated gossip like you. You were also worried that if he found out, he’d do something. You didn’t want her to get fired. She said she’d needed the money after all. Maybe your worry went even further than that… You didn’t know. If Seokjin was as bad as everyone seemed to think, you really didn’t know…

So you kept it to yourself. But you couldn’t shake the exchange. Seokjin noticed there was something wrong with you instantly. You saw him two nights afterwards, seeking distraction in the only way you knew with him. Sex. He was tired after his “business trip” and you went along with it, using it as a way to explain your unusual behaviour, so the sex was quick but indulgent. Definitely needed. You clung to him because you’d missed him. You clung to him because you were beside yourself. Torn and unable to truly feel fine. You’d thought being reunited again would reassure you. But it didn’t.

“Smoking again?” You asked him after you were done, watching him reach for the pack of cigarettes he kept on the nightstand.

He chuckled, knowing you hated the dirty habit. The addiction. Maybe in a way you were a hypocrite. “My insides are rotten anyway. What can it do to me?” He was correct you supposed. Rotten to the core. He was untouchable.

However, to your surprise he put them back, wrapping his arm around you like it had been. Your head on his chest, protected from the chill by a fur blanket. His temperature always seemed to get you after sex, your own levelling out. Plus with the winter months now it was harder. He wasn’t the best to cuddle with after sex, an activity that seemed to be happening more often, so you had to separate your bodies with warmth. You let silence spread over you both, lost in your own head with a whirlwind of thoughts.

“Hey,” he prodded gently after a little while, wanting you to look at him. “You’re lying to me. You’re not tired.” You didn’t bother to deny it. He sounded hesitant when he carried on. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

You stayed silent for a moment. unsure how to begin, but you knew you couldn’t continue like this. You needed some type of reassurance from his mouth. Selfishly, you needed your conscience eased. You explained with a question, at least you hoped you did. “Do you like being who you are?”

Seokjin tensed under you, his expression becoming guarded and you instantly feared you’d crossed a line. He knew you were referring to his status, not his being. Something pretty much off limits. Discussed vaguely in the beginning, your joining was never about that. Now it seemed like a forbidden subject. You understood Seokjin saw you as an escape. He didn’t want to discuss work, and you didn’t want to hear it. Yet, it was looming over you, like an ominous presence. You needed something. You could live with who he was if he was as unsure of it as you were. You were positive. He just needed to be honest with you.

You waited patiently, and just as you resigned yourself to stone cold silence, he spoke.

“It was handed to me. I don’t particularly have a choice. It’s all I’ve ever known.” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that was bitterness in his tone. “My father is frail now. I don’t know how long he has left. I want to make him proud, regardless of how stupid it sounds. It’s fucked up, I know that. Especially with life as it is now.”

You’d long given up trying to make your father proud, but you understood. Seokjin’s experiences were vastly different to yours, but you understood. His was a matter of life or death, you were sure of it. Yours was just the gradual estrangement from the people who had raised you. He confirmed the seriousness of his detriment in his next sentence.

“There’s nothing I can do about it. It’s my life. It’s expected of me. If I refused, said no... Ran away like a coward... God knows what would happen to me.”

Cruel of you maybe, but it was warming, reassuring to know he’d had such thoughts. Soothing to know in a lot of ways, he didn’t want this life. Selfish of you like you’d known. Trying to ease your own conscience, but here in his arms perhaps you really didn’t care. You didn’t care what Yeeun thought, what others would think if they ever found out. Your parents… None of it mattered because you knew that deep down, in his core, Seokjin was a good man. Rotten or not. He was good to you, and all that mattered. Yes, you were selfish, but you didn’t care.

“Fuck.” He cursed quietly, voice thick with emotion before he laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. “What a world we live in. When being a motherfucking zombie is considered normal and the least of your problems.”

You didn’t laugh along but kissed him softly. You think it stunned him, shutting him up instantly when you pulled away, until he exhaled, pulling you into another, longer, even sweeter kiss. He wrapped you in his arms tightly and you’d never felt safer. He got you onto your back, rolling on top of you, the fur separating your bodies, just, and your need for him burnt away inside your chest.

But he pulled away before you could do anything about it, opening his mouth to say something, expression hesitant. You cupped his cold face, trying your hardest to spread some of your warmth through his body, silently encouraging him to speak. He smiled thankfully. “I didn’t choose that either, by the way. This rotter body.”

Your forehead furrowed, trying to make sense of his words. “That shocks you,” he noted. “I know why. You think I wanted this, just like everyone else.” You opened your mouth to deny it, but what was the point? You hated gossip, like you’d said so many time before, never listened to it, but you had let it sink it’s way into your mind without realising.

Greed. You thought he was like all the rest. Seeking power. Your attraction to him overshot your distaste for the ghastly act of will, but maybe deep down, you’d hoped it wasn’t true.

“It’s okay,” he reassured, twisting slightly to kiss the palm of your hand. Then the tips of your fingers as you sought the touch. “I know what people say about me. They’re wrong though.”

“What happened?” You were whispering, asking without thinking. You didn’t want to pry but Seokjin had never shared this much before. You didn’t think he’d ever shared this much before. To anyone.

“A miscellaneous deal gone wrong. I won’t bore you with the details, but I was scratched.” Your eyes widened, heart ached for him. How wrong people were. How wrong you were. “I took it in my stride, still do. I guess in some ways it helped me, in others not so much... But,” he stopped himself, letting his eyes close as he kissed your fingertips again. When he opened them the grey looked sadder than usual. “Who will follow after me? The family name gone. Although maybe that isn’t a bad thing.” He added with an afterthought, chuckling humourlessly. “I would want no kid of mine doing this. I don’t know. What I’m trying to say is, if there was ever a cure, I’d take it in a heartbeat.” Your own heart beat loudly in your chest. “Wishful thinking, right?”

You were stunned to silence now, trying to make sense of everything. You wanted to reassure him. There was adoption, he needn’t have to dwell, but then it seemed like such a human, vulnerable thing to get hurt over. It made your throat tighten, eyes well up. You had never imagined his anguish over being undead. He always seemed so casual, so put together. His human life was stolen from him cruelly and he was just left to deal with it, alone. You didn’t care if that was his by choice or not. It made sense now, that in ways he had hidden from himself, and why. He was ashamed. He wasn’t greedy, he was lost.

“I don’t think so,” you murmured, caressing his face. “If they can mutate the disease and inject people with it, they can find an antidote.”

He smiled sadly. “Do you think they want that? This world is a corrupt place. Everyone has their own selfish reason’s for letting this disease take over.” He was correct. A cure would never be made by any official. But there could be other options. One day. Hope wasn’t lost.

“You can still live a normal life,” you insisted.

“I can never age. Who would want that? Amongst other things. I have everything against me.”

Something strong tore through your chest. It almost took your breath away, but you couldn’t voice it. You were too afraid. “I don’t think so.” You replied instead. It was hard to keep your voice stable. “What’s inside is more important.”

He chuckled sadly. “Angel, I’m rotten on the inside. Maybe on the outside too.”

His pet name warmed your heart, always did, but his words made it weep. You swallowed, coating your dry mouth and squeezed his face, clinging to him, hoping he’d understand what you were trying to say. “Not to me.”

He smiled, his eyes warming up and leant down to kiss you. “Thank you.” You held him close, sinking into his mouth. The cold was unnoticeable. He did understand. You could feel it in his kiss, taste it on his tongue.

He drew back slowly, just before he lost himself entirely. He had more to say before then. “I have never felt more comfortable with anyone than I have with you. More human...” He trailed off and laughed quietly. “Even when I was one.” He kissed you once more. Like he couldn’t keep away. Hands holding the sides of your face, he lingered, your breaths mingling.

“You care for me without judgement. That’s never happened before. I’ve never had that feeling.”

You squeezed his wrists in silent understanding, eyes glassy. You couldn’t speak if you tried. Couldn’t let him know you felt exactly the same, in fear of bursting into tears. He understood though. Of course he did.

And that’s where you were now. This present moment. The aftermath of such a confession only bringing you closer together. There were silent boundaries that had been made that night. Seokjin did not wish to go into detail about his days, nor did you want him to. You were at ease now, knowing you had been right about him, the others wrong. Yes, he wasn’t perfect. No one was. Yes, maybe if you knew the cold, hard facts, you wouldn’t be able to bear it, but you were happy being ignorant to that. It wasn’t greed that drove you, for Seokjin and all the pleasure he could give you. He had been wrong. You made him see that. It was a selfishness, and that was okay. It had to be. They were two different things. You were selfish for the happiness he made you feel, and likewise for him.

For the first time in your life, you were truly happy. Felt truly understood and not judged, and so did Seokjin. Despite your different life experiences, you were the same in your hearts; yours alive, his rotten, but it didn’t matter—and that’s why you’d been so drawn to him. Twin flames in this dark, overbearing world. You knew the weight of such words, but you didn’t care. Not when you had something good, something pure, and you were clinging to it with all your might.

As much as you had put him on a pedestal in the beginning, not quite believing he’d chosen you, wanted you. Potentially put your worth on his choice, it didn’t matter. Because he had done and felt the same. He had always been thankful you’d made the decision that you had. He was thankful that you wanted him. Still, even now. In ways, you had given him certain confidence and esteem that he’d been lacking. Similar to how he helped bloom yours too. Made you feel beautiful, sexy. It was not one sided with you two. It was real, and pure, and shared. Your admiration for one another. Your love…

Yes, this had been a simple arrangement. Sex. But it wasn’t so simple anymore. You both understood that. There would come a day when you’d have to acknowledge it, your feelings… It was potentially soon, or you could just keep hiding for a little while longer, but it would happen. Seokjin didn’t think he was capable of love after his turn. You remembered him saying something similar the first night you spent together, about romance. You knew now it was because he hated what he was. Undead. He had already lost so much of himself over the years, and to become infected only tore away more. But he was wrong. He was capable. You felt the love he gave you every day. Even if it was the silent kind. It shone from him, warmed you up when you clung to his ice cold flesh.

So yes, you were selfish, so was he. But you didn’t care. Not when you had one another to hide behind.

“How do you want me, Sir?” You silked the words, excitement bubbling away in the pit of your stomach. That was your little thing. What you called him sometimes. When he was in the mood for it.

He smiled at you, but it didn’t seem to reach his eyes. You tensed, studying him almost intently now. Maybe there had been a reason he was delayed. You opened your mouth to ask if everything was okay, but he beat you to it.

“No need for that tonight.” He sounded exhausted, beaten. You realised how terribly you’d misread the signs, feeling a little guilty as you sat up, tightening your gown over your chest. He walked over to his bureau, steps heavy on the wooden floor. Long ago had you come to accept his insistence on wearing shoes indoors, but you watched him step out of his boots now. Loosening the red tie around his neck before removing it completely.

You waited politely for him to continue in some way. Not wanting to push an explanation for his depleted mood. He removed his rings one by one, dropping them into a glass bowl. That’s where he spoke to. “Today’s been hard. I–“ He stopped himself, unable or unwilling to go on. You wondered if you should press him. You realised keeping things bottled up like he did wasn’t good. But you were scared. Scared it could ruin things. You bit on your bottom lip, hard, stifling yourself.

He turned to you then, a longing in his eyes. You knew that look very well. It was a yearning for you. “I just need some solace.”

You nodded slowly, outstretching your arms for him to meet you. He rounded the corner of the bed in a few, quick strides and dove into you. His mouth finding yours in a deep, intense kiss. You wrapped your arms tightly around his shoulders, feeling him squeeze his around your chest, like he needed to make sure you were really there. He spoke no more and that was okay.

His mouth and tongue found your neck, kissing the skin like it could kiss back, until he ceased and held his face in the crook, hugging you tightly. You ran your fingers through his hair, unsure what else you could do. Your chest felt sad and heavy, his mood affecting you immediately. But you needed to be strong. You kissed at whatever part of his face you could reach, your turn to make him feel good. Make him feel loved.

Somehow your lips met again, tongues slipping together, going from slow to fast. His anguish over what was unknown to you, turned into an urge to forget. An urge to bury himself so deep inside you, he’d forget the outside world. If not just for tonight. You would gladly give him that. Give yourself that.

Your hands ran along the tops of his arms, squeezing the muscles as you went, moaning softly when his tongue slipped into your ear, the coolness sending a shiver up your spine. You quickly found the buttons of his shirt, undoing them in equal haste, revealing the expanse of his chest. His hands tugged at the tie of your gown, getting it to fall open and reveal your chest. He cupped your breasts softly, like you would break if he tried any harder and slowly got you onto your back. Your gown slipped open fully, rendering you bare to his eyes, and he let out a sweet sound of awe. He loved your body. Always had. Always would.

You tugged where his shirt tucked into his slacks, and he ripped it from his body, desperate to get as naked as you. It wasn’t long before he was, lying atop your body, staring into your eyes as he caressed your face. His heart was beating a little faster than usual, like it did when he was aroused, yet still not that of a human heart. It never would, but it had become oddly soothing these days.

“Not too cold?” He asked, voice thick with something that had you reaching for him, holding him close.

You smiled. “No. I like it.”

He returned the action, rubbing your noses together affectionately. Your heart swelled in your chest. Fit to burst. You closed your eyes and let yourself sink when his mouth began travelling your body. Your chest rising and falling visibly as he found his way between your legs, making love with his mouth.

In fact, out of the hundreds of times you’d had sex, tonight was the closest you’d ever gotten to such an act. It just felt different. More vulnerable than ever before. Sweeter. It filled your hole body, elevated you. Took you to places you’d never been before.

He pushed inside you slowly, indulging in your velvet warmth, and when he began to thrust it was to a tantric rhythm. Your back arched, your toes curled and all that you felt was warmth. No matter how cold his flesh was, his glow engulfed your body. You wanted it to never stop.

“Tell me you’ll always want me,” he rasped into your ear. Silver and black eyes burning into yours when he pulled back to view you. It was the most defenceless thing he’d ever requested of you. Exposed in the darkness, you shone, giving him the confidence to plead for such a thing.

You held his face tight, voice a hushed whisper, but it didn’t make it any less true. You didn’t know what the future held, nor what would unfold. But you were sure of one thing. There would never be a time when you didn’t want him. You were his, and he was yours.

“Always.”

#seokjin smut #bts smut #jin smut #bts fic #jin fic #fic:club zombie #floralseokjin:writings

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ladykissingfish · 4 years ago

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*cue sad Naruto music*

ya’ll ever think that Sasuke left the leaf village after the war not to go on an “atonement journey” but to ensure Naruto achieved his goal of being Hokage? like, it’s weird to think modern day issues like sexuality or politics would play a role in Naruto times but I think it did. I think Naruto would have gotten together with Sasuke. maybe not married, but openly dated/lived with him. and this image of a male Hokage dating another male wouldn’t have flown with the village elders, or anyone else save maybe some rare progressive thinkers ((see: Kakashi)) (((off-topic but I think Hashirama came close to this as well; he almost gave up everything to be with Madara. fuck Tobirama didn’t necessarily hate Uchihas; he hated Madara. specifically, Madara, because that guy would have messed up his big brother’s chance at the future he had been working so hard to create))) no. a male Hokage should be with a woman, and should have a traditional family. or else stay single ((again, see Kakashi)). but Sasuke being around in any capacity would not have allowed Naruto to hide his feelings or even pretend that they weren’t there. hence why he had to physically go as far away as possible, to remove that temptation. look at America; even in 2021 who would people be more likely to vote for as President? a guy and his boyfriend or a guy with a wife and two children? which is where Hinata comes in. Hinata who doesn’t want to be a ninja. Hinata who can cook, clean, raise kids and keep Naruto’s household in order. Hinata who doesn’t argue or contradict Naruto’s wishes in any way. Hinata who I don’t really think Naruto has romantic feelings for. strong friendship, maybe, and gratitude, but not romance. It’s always been my opinion that NO MATTER WHAT if you’re truly in love with somebody you make time for them above any and everything else. this includes the supposed mountain of work that Naruto faces each day as the Hokage. this would mean him coming home more often, eating with his family, sleeping under the same roof as them instead of at his desk like five nights a week — like Sasuke not calling or so much as sending a message to Sakura in, what was it, 12 years? despite having created a literal human being together? kinda feel like he “married” her and gave her a child because, like Naruto with Hinata, he felt both a sense of guilt and a strong obligation to repay Sakura’s kindness to him . I think maybe he even figured that a child was something that she could lavish that love on that would actually be returned, something to keep her occupied while sasuke had no real intention of ever coming back, or even trying to be a real, stable family with her. look not at the anime but in the manga itself. how sasuke looks to be in physical pain when he’s around his wife and daughter. then look at his facial expressions when he’s around Naruto and tell me, TELL ME the difference isn’t noticeable. and you know. people throw a lot of hatred at Sakura. but in my opinion she doesn’t really deserve that. her irrational love for sasuke aside, she’s a good mother, and she starts a freakin’ hospital to care for injured children. but she needed to grow up a little and realize that the person you love isn’t always the person that is best for you. honestly feel she would have been better off with Rock Lee ((but that’s another rant)) also in manga and anime there’s always this concept of “taking responsibility” in a romantic sense. Naruto took responsibility for Hinata’s feelings for him, the way Sasuke ((kinda, half-assedly)) “took responsibility “ for Sakura’s. but I literally think with my entire damn soul that the two of them only LOVED each other. loved each other enough to be selfless enough to stand back and let each other do what would be in each other’s best interests. honestly sasuke wasn’t coming back to Konaha after the war. why the fuck would he? after being public enemy number 1 on top of that lonely life living in a compound echoing with the memories of his slaughtered clan? Konaha with its idealism and darkness and cover-

ups? he would always have gone.

but Naruto should have gone with him.

the two should have travelled the entire ninja world, the world the both of them saved, together.

sasuke had stepped away from konaha and therefore understood the freedom of choice that comes from not being tied to the village and its (often questionable) practices ((like ordering a young boy to slaughter his entire clan, parents included, making him a criminal and outcast and casting him into an eternal pit of depression and emptiness SEE ITACHI)). but Naruto never had that benefit and therefore got snared up in it like a fly in a spider’s web.

everyone looked at sasuke like he was crazy when he said he was going to kill the five kage and start a damn revolution but fuck HE MADE DAMN GOOD SENSE. he saw how fucked up the system was and he knew it needed to be destroyed.

sasuke may not agree with it but he loves Naruto to the extent that he puts his personal feelings aside and takes these dangerous missions in order to help Naruto keep the Leaf protected, aka help him do his job.

it’s like 2:30 in the morning and I’ve tapped this entire thing out with one finger on my phone’s notepad and in the morning I’m going to look back at this and be like wtf were you talking about like this makes no sense bc I’ve never been good with successfully articulating my feelings about something all I know is I ship Sasuke and Naruto for multiple reasons ok not just for a yaoi reason but because I see two humans who have had awful and love-starved pasts that clearly love each other and would probably heal each other’s souls by being together.

also they have matching palm tattoos.

#sns #naruto #sasuke

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hannya-writes · 4 years ago

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Hihihi! I know it's kinda crazy and I just found your acc but I was LITERALLY thinking about a Marvel-SVU crossover and found yoooooou. I mean... The algorithm lead me to you. It's ✨ Destiny ✨ haha So I was wondering if you could write something Marvel-SVU kinda with Carisi x reader (i don't know if you watch agents of shield) where reader has to go UC for Shield and falls in love with him and he finds out she's Shield etc. I don't know if I'm making any sense rn I'm just really happy I found you. And now I sound creepy but it's already too late and I'm sending this.

Dear @lapaquerette : I do not watch Agents of shield, but I did my best! I swear I did! 😭 you totally made sense! But I feel like there's part of this story that are not so good, anyways~ let's get to the story!!

Title: Don't Tell anyone

Fandom: MCU and Law and order SVU

Pairing: Sonny Caruso x Reader

Other characters: no, I think no

Category: romance

Warnings: this doesn't have a happy ending bc I'm bad writing those! This is long I think.

Author's note: for a moment I thought of making this a serie, but my head couldn't stand it! I don't feel like I can picture Carisi in the right way so probably he's going to be very OOC. Also I'm not supper proud of this because I literally did what I wanted with the time line, Captain America: Winter Soldier happens in 2016 however Caruso es ADA in 2020 if I'm not wrong but in this case the events of winter soldier happen in 2020. Also there's like 2 years of difference btw WS and Civil War, and I tried my best! To make everything fit, but you know, you can kick my ass in comments.

• • •

The mission was supposed to last just a couple of days. Y/n had to pose as an assistant to the Junior ADA's why did they need assistance she didn't know, but when Nick fury assigned her there she just didn't dared to ask.

"Find out what's going on there" he had said as if it was a life or dead situation.

Pepto. That's what happened. High expectations was the other thing happening. The Junior ADA's where being pressed, running towards death case by case.

It was boring, the first two days Y/n had played "who's the jerk of the room?" She had found more than one, stress made that to people. Who cares about cordiality when they had to put people in jail? The answer was Dominic "Sonny" Carisi.

Sonny never yelled or snapped at people, he always asked nicely about papers, he said "Good Morning" and "thank you". He was a gentleman, a knight in a shiny armor. He made funny jokes even when he was struggling with a case.

Y/n had felt a weird desire to help him after just one encounter. The puppy eyes, she reasoned. After that day when he was in court she appeared there, sat and suddenly the people being cross-examined poured the truth without control or bursted in fit of rage confessing everything. She wasn't making something bad, she was helping, which she was supposed to do. No one was going to link her to those incidents. No one knew what she could do.

— copies, now — one of ADA's order her and she almost pushed the asshole and told him to do it himself, it was only a copy machine, he only had to push a button! However, Y/n was a trained spy, she had control over every muscle in her face to not make a disgusted expression at the tall and skinny man. 63 ways to kill him appeared in her head in a second.

— Sure thing — she said in a gently tone, entertaining her mind in the more horrible ways to deal with Tommy.

Tommy Parish, a bully in and out of court, linked to the Irish Mafia. He thought he was a big fish, prepotent but surprisingly brilliant. He was like a weasel. He wasn't that important. Shield wasn't interested by his night activities. They thought there was something else, something more important. Y/n didn't think so. The more interesting thing there was...

— Oh, Sorry didn't meant to...— Sonny said as he almost hit Y/n with the door.

— my fault, I was standing here like a creep — she took the guilt with a sheepish smile.

— A penny for your thoughts — he said as he walked outside and Y/n instinctively followed, as she usually followed after director Nick Fury,

— I think I'm being punished — she said while walking aimlessly, if Sonny had walked in the male restroom she would have probably followed him blindly.

— punish? For what? Did Tommy said something mean to you again? — the blond man sounded concerned and for Y/n it was refreshing, people around her tended to be more defensive around her than being worried about her well being.

— no! I think Tommy is warming up to me — Y/n said proudly — it's my umm... Dad, he send me to live here and I think is because he is mad at me —

There was a small silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable.

— why would he be mad? You are amazing! — Sonny sounded so positive and brilliant, he always seemed to have that aura around him, even in the worst cases. Y/n noticed it, and worried her when he started to lose his shine.

— in my last job, I made a mistake and people got hurt — the confession was sincere. She wasn't lying, she was omitting that those people didn't just "got hurt", they died. She had killed them.

— You are human, humans make mistakes — he said stopping in front of an embellished door. — talk later? — he asked and Y/n nodded with a smile.

•••

After a month everything still was normal. No conspicuous action, no weird people. Y/n wondered why was she there? Was she really being punished by Fury? She had made a mistake, she had chose to save a person, she couldn't know that the objective was going to detonate the whole place. She couldn't read every single thought, her brain would melt if she even tried.

— Sorry, I need to... — said Sonny pointing at the copy machine, y/n blushed for being caught spacing out, again for the 4 time in a week

— I'm so sorry, allow me — y/n extended a hand offering to make the copy for Carisi.

— don't worry, I can push a button — he said making her smile and feel weird.

— please Mr. Carisi, let me be of help — she offered tilting her head a little bit, Sonny found that little action distracting and cute enough to give her the papers he needed to copy.

He saw her move, she was so elegant even just making copies.

— thank you — he told her sighing exhausted.

— don't worry Mr. Carisi, I'll do this, get it in a folder and get it back to you, why don't you go rest your eyes a bit? — she asked with a smile, noticing his tired demeanor

— I'll do it, if you start calling me Sonny — he negotiated and she laughed whole heartedly — come on, everytime you call me Mr. Carisi I feel like you are talking to my father —

— fine, you got yourself a deal — she offered her hand and he took her in his bigger one. Sonny felt asleep with the sound of the copy machine working.

— Sonny, Sonny — Y/n soft voice took him out of dreamland, he found out in that moment that his Nickname sounded awesome from Y/n lips.

•••

From Sonny's eyes y/n was an amazing woman who was able to help everyone with their tasks, she made copies, keep archives ordered, got everything for everyone. She made time to know all of the junior's ADA's of "her room", she served coffee when needed, got them food, kept clean clothes for them just in case. She was like a mother. Sometimes she even helped them found the info they needed. She made all of that and made it with a polite smile. She had been there for like a year and their interactions where short, but he was head over heels for her.

Why? Because she got a great sense of humor, she was nice, smart, sassy when needed, had an excellent memory, she made the best black coffee he had ever tasted. She never got nervous no matter the circumstances. He didn't understand how or why was she assigned to be the "mother hen" of 7 ADA's, but he was thankful. Some days became better the moment she gave him a smile and he imagined that smile was just for him.

Sonny pinched the bridge of his nose in pain. It was past midnight and he was still in his office, working on papers. Practicing his opening statement.

— the truth... The truth....— he repeated trying to remember the next point of the speach. He grunted frustrated.

— Sonny? — the sudden voice made the attorney jump and Y/n laughed.

— Geez, doll! — he exclaimed surprised — You should use a bell — added more awake than before.

— doll? — Y/n questioned rising an eyebrow, Sonny turned red.

— Sorry, I didn't mean to disrespect you — he quickly apologized.

— you didn't, I actually like it — she admitted — I'll allow it — added in a solemn voice — with a condition councilor, only in private I don't need more gossips going around—

After saying those words, Y/n knew that she was digging her own grave. She liked Sonny.

•••

Y/n looked at her phone horrified. Nick had send her and encrypted message. Which was resumed to: You are free of SHIELD, live the life of Y/n Veith. The life he had created for her, an identity that couldn't be connected to the Spy agency. Y/n Y/l/n had died in what they called something like the purge of Hydra. He didn't needed her. He had died. Captain america had basically destroyed the corrupted SHIELD. This was her life now. She was what? a secretary? An assistant?

She should had fail with SHIELD, she should had been there with Fury, protecting him. But she didn't. She pretended nothing happened and followed his last order to her: live like Y/n Veith.

She went with the flow. Acted like everything was just fine, made a routine, followed it to the last point. Untill one day out of the blue she broke down crying in Sonny's office. He was her friend.

— what happened? — he asked on the other side of the desk, surprised that in the middle of his speech, y/n started crying. The case was difficult, a father died to protect his daughter. The teenager girl had been raped and her father was killed by the rapist. It was way more complicated but, that were the facts.

— sorry, sorry — she said cleaning her face with her hands, Sonny approached and offered her a handkerchief that she took hesitantly. — I lost, I lost him — she stuttered.

Sonny kneeled by her side, took the handkerchief and cleaned her beautiful face.

— I'm so sorry, doll — he said even if he didn't understand, Y/n felt his consternation.

— my father died — she said with a soft voice — my house burned down — she added and Sonny understood, her father adopted her, he had saved her and then lost it all. The case had hit too close to her.

— Come on, we had enough of this case — he decided getting up, taking her hands to get her to stand — I'll take you home — he said and she smiled with sadness.

— I don't want to go to my department — she confessed getting up and Sonny gave her a soothing smile.

— We can go to my place — he offered without a second intention, she nodded and they walked away from the office, Sonny ordered an Uber.

Outside of One Hogan place with a heavy heart, y/n leaned against Sonny and he hugged her while waiting for their ride, and during the ride.

Y/n fell asleep without nightmares for the first time in the 6 months after the dead of Nick. Sonny by her side, over the covers and behind a "wall" of pillows fell asleep with the image of a peaceful Y/n.

•••

Three months later, Y/n entered Sonny's little office, she said a "sorry to interrupt", the blond man stopped writing and turned to her eagerly, he tried to suppress his desire to look into her eyes but he wasn't that good at that.

He hadn't seen her in more than 14 days thanks to his overflow of cases and her being stole by homicides DA, who had discovered she was very good in investing.

She muttered a "what?" In mockery, as if the distance and time hadn't even happened and added a "I got you a donut!". A donut that he had craved since morning but wasn't able to get. He sighed a laugh, sometimes it was as if she could read his mind.

— you are life saver, doll— he sighed in relief taking the donut from her hand.

— Should I get you some coffee? — she asked with that caring tone that made him feel special.

— I would love that — he accepted as she merrily went to the coffee machine and poured him a cup and then a glass of water.

Sonny wondered about where did those pretty and elegant glasses came from, have they always been there? She left a bag in the table and walked back to him. He pretended to be working but it was hard to act when she was walking towards him with that dark red pencil skirt that hug perfectly the curb of her hips, the black blouse making contrast, hanging a bit loose over her torso.

— thanks doll — he said when she put the coffee and water in a corner of the desk, he looked at her with a smile — water? — he asked with a joking tone, y/n nodded

— yes, sir — she said in the same joking mood — I took an account of the caffeine you ingest by day, this could be dangerous for your health, so for every cup of caffeine, one of water — she explained with as much confidence as a lawyer making an opening statement.

— are you worried about me? — he was almost flirting, she blushed even if they sometimes flirted a bit.

— I worry about all of you — she pointed out and gave a mischievous smile that made Sonny blush.

— thank you, doll — he quipped with a smile, she smiled back and walked away to Parish desk, the man sat there looked down to his papers as Y/n put a bagel by his hand.

Sonny noticed how Tommy's ears got as read as a tomato and turned to look at her with adoration, the same look the other ADA's got everytime she was near. He had seen how things slowly changed with Y/n presence, at first they were rude, condescending, then they realized that she was excellent in her work. She had saved all of them more than once with little actions.

Y/n had a charming aura and some men in the office had asked her out, Tommy included, but she always turned them down, with an excellent excuse. "I'm seeing someone".

Carisi wondered who. Who was she dating?

•••

— Coffee — she announced as she took a folder and put it carefully away.

Sonny smiled and suddenly thought of Y/n lie about she seeing someone. She had never tell him about her boyfriend, he thought of all of those slice of life moments they had, the banters they have, the many times she had helped him. The times she would stay in his apartment so she wouldn't be alone.

Was he the person she was seeing?

— do you have plans for tonight? — he asked abruptly and Y/n looked at him surprised.

— I got a date with my bed, but I can reschedule — she offered with a smile, she could rest later, she had to enjoy every moment with Sonny.

— do it, I'll take you to a wonderful place — He said with all of his confidence, she giggled — after work? — she nodded contently.

— It's a deal — she said before walking away with a big smile in her face.

Sonny felt stupidly happy. It was him. She was dating him unofficially.

•••

That night Y/n tried to look as perfect as was possible in work clothes, she had refreshed herself, use a little more of make up. She was excited, she really liked Sonny and had wanted to go on a date with him, no work talk, no solving ways to state a question. She wanted to know him in a more personal way.

They sat in a table of a nice looking bar, a decent one. It wasn't pretentious, they actually served food and not just greasy fast food. She had told him distorted versions of stories with her "family and friends", (since she couldn't talk about her real life and training) like that time her father had taught her how to use a gun for her homework and she discovered she had weak fingers.

She heard about his time as a Police officer, a detective nonetheless! Sargent Benson seemed to be a very empathic person, Detective Tutuola was definitely a funny man, Amanda was for him like one more of his sisters. And Sonny discovered that she was adopted by a man called Nick, Nick Veith he guessed, since he thought that was her real last name.

She had two "adopted" sister and a brother: Maria, Natalie and Clinton. Maria was righteous, Nat was smart and sassy, Clint was funny and sometimes really annoying. Sonny thought he would get along easily with them.

They laughed between stories, they were getting fun untill Y/n felt there was something wrong. Something was about to happen. Something bad.

— Something wrong? — Y/n barely registered Sonny's voice before jumping over him yelling a "get down". A telekinetic wake made the other around people fall to the ground just in time as a rain of bullets came from the broken windows.

Sonny heard the glass breaking, people screaming in panic. Saw the bullets fly over him and the bottles in the bar breaking in slow motion. He had never experienced anything like that. The light weight of Y/n over him. And his monkey mind thought about how right that felt.

There was a "clank" from a gas' bomb, then a flash and a cloud of white smoke. People stood up and started running.

— Y/n — Sonny pulled her to see her face, he thought she would be scared, paralyzed from fear. However, when he saw her face there was no fear, she seemed confused, puzzled. — come on, we have to move —

Y/n was thinking the same, but she didn't know what was the right move: defend everyone there using her not-so-human powers? Run away and pretend to be a delicate woman, scared of the situation?

— doll? — Sonny sounded worried and in almost panic, a switch turned as boots hit the floor of the bar.

— Stay behind me — Y/n said with confidence getting up, feeling the presence of 8 people surrounding them, circling them. — and... — she looked at Sonny worried — don't get scared — she pleaded softly.

— Y/n Y/l/n surrender yourself — someone yelled and the woman felt her skin crawl, she hadn't hear her name in more than a year. It sounded good.

— is this about the accords? — She thought, aware of the Sokovia accords and what they proposed. She hadn't signed them. No one was supposed to know about her, her powers, she hadn't expected the government to notice her.

Nat? Clint? Maybe Maria had told them.

— That's right, put your hands in the air — the man ordered in a shout. Y/n closed her eyes and closed her hand in a thigh fist, making the fog disappear.

— Sorry, I can't do that— she confessed pushing the man with telekinesis. — I'm not a weapon you can use —

A new row of bullets flew towards Y/n and Sonny. A bright green light appeared in her eyes and all of the bullets stopped in the air, traces of the same light that made Y/n shine seemed to contain the little bullets like tendrills, the bullets turned in the air pointing at the squadron that was attacking her

— Y/n, no! — Sonny made her react, the tendrills disappeared and the bullets fell useless to the ground as the woman turned to see the Attorney.

— Sonny, sonny — she stuttered worried— no, no, no, no, I would never hurt them, I'm not a monster, I'm not! — she said almost in panic,not because of the attack but for the ideas Sonny could get.

Sonny saw the green and now red light form an eyes over Y/n, then monsters from nightmares formed from the light, monsters like dogs, with skulls covering the hideous animals with blood dripping from their snouts, bodies wet with a black substance. The animals roared and jumped to defend them.

Y/n saw fear in Sonny's eyes. She recognized it, a bright tendril started to form in the exact point of her heart, the fear taking form in her presence. Her hand squished the light over her chest, stopping something else to form.

He didn't know what to say. Carisi knew about the avengers, the new york incident had affected his work, he had saw everything about "ultron", he was informed about Tony Stark and the avengers every move. But he didn't know what was he supposed to say? "Sign the accords" was what he wanted to say. It was selfish for him to ask that, he couldn't do it.

— doll, you're not a monster— he finally found his own voice to say that. — but you have to go —

— Sonny, I... — the ADA put a strand of hair behind Y/n ear taking her by surprise.

— If you don't mind, I'll like to kiss you — he said making her blink in disbelief.

— yes please...— she said and Carisi smiled brightly, his large hand caressed her cheek and softly leave a tender kiss in her soft lips. It barely lasted more than a second. When Carisi opened up his eyes, everything was back to normal. Like a couple of minutes ago, right before the shooting.

In the table was a note: "Don't tell anyone" he recognized Y/n writing. He wondered if everything had been a dream, a hallucination. A part of him told him that no, that couldn't be his imagination. Y/n had left.

#law and order special victims unit #marvel fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe #reader insert #marvel #sonny carisi #sonny carisi x reader #sonny x reader #sonny carisi x y/n #sonny carisi x you #ada sonny carisi #requested #law and order svu

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