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colormepurplex2 · 2 years ago

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Till Death Do Us Part | Enigmatic Decisions Of The Heart

↳ Hitman Yoongi x Kidnapped f.Reader ⤜ Enemies/Lovers ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 8,766 ⚠️ Lots of angst, fake virginity loss, mild blood, mild cum play, things get a little weird...but in a good way?

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Happiness, like many other things, is a subjective experience. What makes one person happy may not be the same for someone else. If anyone were to ask whether or not you're happy, you're not entirely sure how you would respond. Happy that you're alive? Sure. Happy that you'll be walking down the aisle to marry someone you consider an enemy in just a few short hours? Not exactly. Happy you have a roof over your head? Only when it's snowing. Snow reminds you of a day you'd rather sooner forget. Happy to have food in your belly? The way the sausage and eggs from breakfast sit in the pit of your stomach right now means the jury is still out on that one, but you'd wager to say yes most times. The point is, you're trying to come to terms with finding your own happiness. There has to be a silver lining. If there was ever a lesson from your father that you took to heart, it was the fact that we are often the product of our own choices. Meaning, you can choose where to find happiness. You just have to want to see it. Even if it's in places you may have once taken for granted. The sun on your face, the wind in your hair; they may be little things, even a little cliché, but they're things that are so common no one would think to deprive you of them. Small pieces of happiness.

You're sitting at one of the windows in your room, staring out over the backyard. There are a handful of men dressed in dark blue jumpers working diligently to set up a few chairs in front of the gazebo in the garden. Others are placing arranged flower pieces of royal purple and black down the makeshift aisle. You can't help but smile bitterly, looking at the colors you chose. It was a surprise when Yoongi gave you that choice, the one thing you've had control over for this entire arrangement. You chose purple because it's your favorite and black because you think it suits Yoongi and his damned soul. You thought it would be ugly. Though, the irony of them blending together so well in the flower baskets is not lost on you. But, it's too late to change it now.

The rest of the reception last night went by in a numbing motion of flowery speeches and forced pleasantries. It was hard to focus on any of the words. All you could focus on was the crawling feeling between your thighs. Cleaning up with Yoongi's discarded jacket didn't exactly give you any peace of mind other than the fact the garment got soiled. It made you grin for a moment before the guilt set in, thinking how it wouldn't make a difference to Yoongi, as he wouldn't be the one cleaning the jacket. You made it a point to locate Mai after the speeches and profusely apologize. She took the jacket with a bit of trepidation but didn't ask any questions, simply excused herself to take care of it.

A soft knock at the door makes the memories fade away, leaving behind just the ache in your chest.

"It's open," you call, as you stand from the seat by the window. The door swings open slowly, revealing Mai on the other side. She has traded in her usual black pants and white button-down for a floor-length, long-sleeve black dress. You give her a once over. "Mai, dressed for the occasion, I see. Funerals, weddings, might as well be the same thing, huh?"

Her steps falter with your words. Large brown eyes meet yours and you watch as the color drains from her face. "Miss, I'm sorry, I didn't- this is just- please, let me go change."

You wave a hand in the air, shaking your head. "No, no. I'm sorry, Mai, I was only kidding. You look great. Please, I love that dress on you. I was just trying to lighten my mood, that's all. Truly."

The look on her face slips a little, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction. "Okay, Miss," she accepts softly. You can tell she's having an internal battle about whether to actually accept your words or immediately go change as she said she would.

"What's first, hair or makeup?" you ask in hopes of drawing the conversation away to something else.

Mai gives you a tight smile with a small nod of her head. "Right. Well, I think it's best we start with both."

"Both?"

Before Mai can respond, you hear the clicking of high heels coming toward your room from out in the hall. A moment later you're greeted with a sing-songy, "Good afternoon, you beautiful bitch."

Miriam struts into the room, bringing with her a cloud of floral perfume. "Miriam," you say in surprise. You weren't expecting to see her here.

"The one and only." She winks and gives you an exaggerated bow. Snapping up and tossing Mai a sweet smile, she smooths her lilac-colored dress over her ample hips. The color of the dress contrasts beautifully with her deep ochre skin and ebony ringlets. "Let's get to it, Mai-Mai, we only have a few more hours before our friend here joins the ranks of us degenerates." Her sparkling brown eyes meet yours and she bites her pink-painted bottom lip. "Ready to enter Hell for all eternity, princess?"

An hour later, Miriam is still working pins and curls into your hair while Mai applies subtle makeup meant to emphasize your eyes and lips. The two features you long ago learned are Yoongi's favorites of your face. "What was your wedding like, Miriam?" you question, taking a small sip of the champagne she had snuck into your room. You weren't allowed to attend their wedding, but you remember the day it happened.

Miriam gives a sharp laugh. "Oh, fuck. Let's see...well, it was similar to this. Only in the fact I was about to marry a man I hardly knew and become part of a family I wasn't the biggest fan of. That's the thing with arranged marriages, though, right? It's so archaic." She takes a step back, drawing your attention through the mirror of your dressing table. "I am man, let me beat my chest and proclaim women as property to trade," she mocks in a deep grumble, smacking her fist against her chest for emphasis. "Bunch of assholes if you ask me. But, daddy wanted in with The Hitman, so here we are." Her shoulders jump up in a quick shrug. "I chose hot pink and lime green, intending to just piss Seokjin off. It didn't really work, the jerk actually complimented them. I'll say, really, Seokjinnie isn't so bad. After I bloodied his nose or lip a time or two he learned I wasn't just some sniveling little girl he could walk all over."

She catches your wide-eyed gaze in the mirror. "Bloodied nose?"

"Pow, right in the kisser," she chortles, punching the air a few times. "You can't let these apes get the best of you, love. You have to give just as good as you get. That goes for all aspects." She gives you a pointed look. "If he treats you right, you treat him right. End of it. Got it?"

You want nothing more than to cling to her words. But, all you can seem to do is give a small nod and hope she doesn't notice the already flowering defeat in your eyes. You're not sure Yoongi will ever treat you right again, so what's the point? After a moment you smile a little. "Bloodied nose," you murmur to yourself. Maybe you'll try that next. What's the worst that could happen?

"You're still a virgin, right?" You gawk at her in the mirror, her question taking you by surprise.

"Miriam, I don't-," you begin but she bursts out into a full belly laugh, cutting you off.

She waves a hand in the air. "I'm only asking so I can impart a little bit of advice where that's concerned." Her right eyebrow arches high up her forehead.

You clear your throat, dropping your eyes to Mai's feet where she stands in front of you. "I am and have it constantly monitored. It's part of the contract, I've never even used a tampon," you murmur, your upper lip curling in irritation. Growing up, your mother would go bonkers anytime you brought them up, saying you shouldn't use such things until you're much older. After everything that happened, you couldn't help but think perhaps maybe your mom was somehow trying to appease whatever future husband you might have gained the interest of. All she really did was manipulate and control your life much the way it's being controlled now, it was just disguised as the love of a mother.

Miriam sighs. "It was the same for me," she confirms, softly. "Look at me," she requests, placing a hand on your shoulder. Your eyes come up, meeting hers in the mirror. "I know it might seem impossible now, but if you can look past the situation and just focus on the good you know is here in Yoongi," she taps her chest gently, "it won't be so bad. You might even enjoy it."

An unattractive snort works its way out of your nose. "You don't have to have the birds and bees talk with me, Miriam. I know what sex is and what it involves. I don't expect to enjoy it, not when I don't have a choice in the matter."

"That's where you're wrong, though," she muses as she resumes teasing your hair into place. "You do have a choice, in a sense. You can choose to own the moment. Don't just slap on a brave face and bear it. Take control, find your own pleasure."

Is that something you're capable of? Miriam makes it sound so easy. But, the more you think about it, the less you feel like that's something you can do. A choice? It doesn't feel much like a choice. Perhaps, when the time comes, you'll be able to see it a little differently.

The only attendees of your wedding, aside from yourself and Yoongi, are his dad, brothers, Miriam, Mai, and Wenton, Yoongi's assistant. The Hitman, himself, officiated the wedding. His words were gruff and to the point, skipping all the fluffy symbolism. You went through the motions, walking yourself down the aisle, handing your purple and black bouquet off to Miriam, reciting the vows, and eventually, became Yoongi's wife. He barely looked at you the entire time, his focus either on the ground at your feet or on his father. A small part of you kept screaming at him in your head, begging for him to just look at you...to see you. He didn't.

It doesn't go unnoticed to you that The Hitman didn't offer up for anyone to make objections. Not that you would expect any of these people to come to your rescue. It's just the principle of the matter, you think. There is no after-party or dinner. Everyone simply goes their separate ways after you're pronounced husband and wife.

"Meet me out front in an hour," Yoongi grumbles, leaving you standing in the gazebo with his father.

His dismissive attitude shouldn't surprise you, but you can't help the way the ache in your chest digs a little deeper. You begin to gather the voluminous skirt of your dress to head toward the house when a hand catches your wrist.

You look back, eyes meeting those of The Hitman. Fight or flight is a serious battle of wills. Right now, you want nothing more than to rip your wrist from his grasp and run screaming. There are no words he could utter to you that you want to hear.

"You're part of my family now, girl. I expect you to act like it, you understand?" When you just blink up at him in silence he gives your wrist a generous shake. "Understand?" he repeats.

"Yes." His eyes narrow and his grip tightens around your wrist. You wince, adding, "sir. Yes, sir."

He gives a jerk of his chin, roughly releasing your wrist before turning on his heel, stepping from the gazebo and heading further into the garden. "See to it that you do," he calls without looking back.

Despite the burning behind your eyes, you stop the tears before they can even begin, refusing to let that man have any control over your emotions. Giving his retreating form one last glance, you turn toward the house and make your own way out of the gazebo.

Mai follows quietly behind you all the way to your room. You half expect Miriam to show up again, but shortly after you begin pulling the pins from your hair, you hear her voice carry down the hall and continue past your door. Miriam once had a room here, too. After marrying Seokjin, though, they both moved to another home on the property. It's not all that far from the main house, but far enough away that you've only seen her two other times since then. You imagine you'll be in your own home with Yoongi soon enough as well. It's hard to decide whether that's a blessing or a curse.

"I know of a precious little boutique that will put this in a shadow box for you," Mai comments, helping you slip out of your wedding gown.

You can't help the scoff that slips out. "I don't know about that, Mai. I don't exactly care that much about it, sorry." That's not exactly the truth, but not wholly a lie either. You didn't get to pick the dress out, but it seems Yoongi has a knack for choosing pretty things for you to wear. It's a painfully beautiful dress, one you would have cried happy tears over if it were for any other reason than marrying him. The sweetheart neckline is adorned with real amethysts that cascade in a light gradient down the bodice. The full skirt flares from the hip with small black roses embroidered along the hem. It's definitely not a traditional gown by any means. You'd almost wager to guess he had it custom-made. But, that seems a bit absurd considering the circumstances.

"As you say, Miss." Mai just nods and scoops up the dress when you step out of it. You know she'll probably have it put into a shadow box anyways. Perhaps that should bother you, but instead, you feel a small pang of gratitude for her putting up with your shit moods, this one included.

Half an hour later, you follow Wenton as he carries your suitcase down the stairs. Mai helped you pack. Or rather, she packed while you sat on your bed and sulked. You're not bringing much, just enough clothes for a week, a few essentials, and a book you doubt you'll actually read. Yoongi is taking you to a cabin in the mountains, one of the properties owned by the family. Mai was instructed to make sure your clothing was suited for snow, as the weather on the mountain is a bit unpredictable this time of year. It's still mild here in the valley, a chill in the air at night, but nothing beyond warranting a light jacket as the sun goes down.

Wenton loads your suitcase into the trunk space of the SUV waiting out front. Yoongi is standing by the backdoor scrolling through his phone. He gives you a quick glance before pulling open the door and waving a hand toward the interior.

Mai whispers a quiet 'goodbye' as you climb into the backseat. The door clicks closed behind you. It's not soundproof by any means, but still, you're only able to barely hear the conversation outside.

"You'll be expected back no later than next Monday," The Hitman barks from the doorway of the house. "We have a flight to Warsaw that we can't afford to miss."

Yoongi scoffs, but you're certain it's not loud enough to carry to his father. "Understood, sir," he calls a little louder.

The other door to the back pops open, surprising you. "Hey there, little mouse," a deep voice purrs. Just as your eyes go to the open door, Namjoon appears. Lightheadedness creeps over you as your heart begins to pound. "You're going to be good for my big brother, right?" Suddenly, he's looming over you, one knee pressed into the seat with a large palm against the driver's seat headrest. He chuckles darkly as you start to fumble for the door handle, trying to get it open and escape.

You nearly go tumbling out of the vehicle when the door snaps open, but you find yourself caught in Yoongi's arms instead. "Fuck off, Namjoon," he growls.

Namjoon turns his lips down into a mock pout. "I was just making sure your wife would be on her best behavior, brother. You know, uphold her wifely duties and all." He winks, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Get. Out." Yoongi snaps, still holding you against his chest.

Finally, Namjoon slides out of the vehicle. Before he closes the door, he gives Yoongi a look filled with so much violence that you're surprised blood isn't being drawn. "Don't make me have to have another little chat with you, Yoongi. Unlike you, I keep my promises." The door slams shut and Namjoon disappears from view.

"What is he talking about, Yoongi?" you ask into the quiet interior.

Yoongi shakes his head before helping you sit back up in the seat. He nudges you until you slide over and make room for him. Which is surprising. You thought he would be riding up front with Wenton, who is now sliding into the driver's seat.

"It's a long drive, we'll stop for dinner in about two hours. You should try to rest between now and then," Yoongi explains before promptly pulling out his phone and ignoring you again.

Dinner consists of drive-thru burgers and fries. You were hesitant to give your order, waiting for Yoongi to gripe about the carbs and saturated fats. But, he didn't say anything to you, just ordered his own burger and a vanilla milkshake.

Wenton is quiet the entire ride, only deeming to speak when spoken to by Yoongi. He listens to classical music on the radio so low you're barely aware of it unless you focus really hard. Yoongi continues to ignore you. After dinner, it's another three hours before Wenton pulls off onto a side road and the terrain changes.

Before long you're jostling in your seat, gripping the handle above the window, and trying not to smack your head against the glass as you peer into the darkness. The sun went down shortly after the stop for dinner, so it's pretty much impossible to make out anything that lines the road at this point.

"Is it safe to be driving on this road at night?" you venture to ask, feeling uneasy as the SUV crawls through a dip that sends your shoulder bouncing off the door.

"Wenton has driven the road many times, there is nothing to be worried about," Yoongi mumbles in response, still glued to his phone. "We'll be there soon anyway."

True to his word, maybe ten minutes later, the road evens out and you catch a glint of iron in the moonlight as Wenton drives through an open gate. The headlights illuminate the cabin as he pulls the SUV to a stop. It's not terribly big, but it looks cozy enough with large windows and a wrap-around porch.

"Do you think it'll snow?" you ask softly, silently praying he says 'no'. You hate the snow.

Yoongi opens his door, steps out, and then offers you his hand to help you down beside him. "Most likely," he finally responds, releasing your hand and turning towards the back of the SUV. Wenton already has the hatch door open, pulling out your suitcase. "Let's get inside and I'll show you around."

The inside of the cabin is much like you would expect. An open concept living room, kitchen, and dining room combo. There is a small mudroom off the kitchen. Through there, there is a door that leads outside and two interior doors. One opens up to a single bedroom where Wenton will be staying, the other to a bathroom that houses the washer and dryer, too.

A large river-stone fireplace takes up almost an entire wall of the living room. The couch and recliner look like they've been well-loved, their beige upholstery faded with use. The oak cabinets in the kitchen are stained a dark chestnut that matches the rugged bench-style dining table. It's a stark contrast to the house back at the estate. You love it.

Family portraits line the wooden staircase leading up to the second floor. You follow Yoongi up the stairs, he has both yours and his suitcases clutched in his hands. Just as you make it to the top of the stairs, one of the photos catches your attention. It's just like all the others, a candid shot of a happy family. You recognize The Hitman and the seven sons. It's clear the picture is old, as the boys don't even look to be more than in their early teens.

But, what really draws your attention is the woman in the photo. She's sitting on a wooden swing in what you recognize as the rose garden back at the estate. Her head is thrown back and her mouth is open wide in a laugh as Namjoon and Jungkook are frozen behind her with their arms extended like they just gave her a good push on the swing. The other sons are sprawled out on a checkered blanket off the side, in the middle of spreading out what looks like a picnic. The Hitman stands almost out of frame, his arms crossed as he looks down at the boys on the blanket. You study the picture, leaning in trying to get a better look at the woman. It's hard to make out her face due to the angle it's tilted back at.

"Yoongi, who-," your question about who she is cuts off abruptly when you turn and find Yoongi no longer in your sight. "Yoongi?" you call, hurrying up the last few steps and down the hall before you. "Where did you go?"

"In here." He pokes his head out from the last door on the left.

You jog down the hall, passing the other two doors in the hallway. Stepping into the room, your feet falter. "Holy shit," you whisper, taking in the view. The entire back wall of the room is floor-to-ceiling glass. There is a large four-poster king bed directly across from it, ensuring the first thing you'll see when you wake up is a view of the mountain and the river that winds behind the cabin. There is scant other furniture in the room, simple wooden bedside tables, and a cushioned chair beside the door leading to the bathroom and closet.

Yoongi's back is to you as he rolls both of the suitcases into the closet. "Just wait til the sun comes up in the morning. It's one of my favorite views," he comments absently. When he turns, the look on his face is one you've never seen before. He looks...sad.

"Is everything okay?" You don't expect him to tell you if there's something wrong, but it's natural for you to express concern for others.

The bedroom is only illuminated by a bedside lamp. It casts his profile in shadows as he closes the distance to you. He stops just a few inches short of you. This close, you're able to see the thin sheen of perspiration coating his forehead. "It will be," he whispers, barely loud enough for you to hear. In a louder voice, "best get this over with."

"Get what over with?" Your words turn into a small gasp as his hands grip the bottom of your sweater and begin to pull it up. "Yoongi, wait. Can't we wait?" He continues trying to tug the top over your head. "Please!" You swat at his hands but they get tangled in the material as he finally pulls it over your head.

Your arms are yanked free and he tosses it to the side. Before you can take a step back and put space between you, his arms are locking you in place. The whooshing sound of your blood pounding echoes in your ears. It makes it hard to hear his words. "I know you hate me, I know you don't trust me. I get it, I expect nothing less. But, please, please, just trust me this once. I promise I'll explain, I promise I won't hurt you." You can hear the plea in his voice, the way it cracks with emotion as he makes that last promise. His lips are so close to your ear that they brush it with each word.

He's scaring you, the words just adding to the feeling. Finally loosening his hold, he puts a few inches between your bodies. "Yoongi, I...," you begin to question him but your words trail off when his eyes fill with anguish. His chin jerks just slightly, like he's wanting to shake his head no but stops himself. It's like he wants to say something but can't. There is no reason for you to trust him, he said as much himself. But, the ache that's been sitting in your chest for days now is turning into an ache of sympathy. There is clearly something going on with him, something he isn't able to express. It's a leap of faith, but you roll your lips between your teeth and finally try to relax. It's not like you didn't know this would be happening anyway.

Lifting one of his arms from around you, he grips the back of his shirt and pulls it up over his head, discarding it next to yours. You've never seen Yoongi without a shirt on. Surprisingly. Any time you found him in the pool room or he took you to the lake, he was wearing a rash guard top. Scars litter his chest and stomach. Some are faded, barely there, but others are thick and puckered, still pink like they're recent. You don't realize you're running your fingers over one across his chest until you feel him flinch away. "Don't," he whispers. "Come on," he takes the hand hovering over his chest and pulls you toward the bed.

His movements are slow, deliberately so. It's like he's trying to soothe you even though he's stripping your clothing off. With each article he removes, his fingers skim over your skin in feather-soft brushes. By the time you're completely naked, your body wears a coat of goosebumps instead. All you can do is stare at him, his eyes locked on yours, as he slips off the rest of his own clothes. For a moment you think maybe you should be the one to do that, but you can't seem to make your limbs function anymore. His throat contracts as he audibly swallows. If you didn't know any better you'd think he was nervous.

You don't even have to look down to know something is mildly wrong, but you do anyway. Just a quick flick of your eyes and you confirm it. He's not hard. You have a moment of panic, a self-conscious drop of dread that there's something wrong with your body. Though, you quickly realize it's not you, it's not that you're not attractive or that he doesn't like your body. You know he does, it's gotten him hard before. But, it's the anguish that is still evident in his face, the hollowness in his eyes. It's like he's not all here, his mind somewhere else outside of this bedroom.

What needs to happen obviously can't if things stay how they are. You reach out and cup him, trying to coax him into a state of arousal. "Is this okay?" you ask softly. Is this part of the choice Miriam talked about? His brows pinch together but he doesn't move to stop you. It works. You can feel him growing against your palm, the rise and fall of his chest quickens. His hand is suddenly on yours, halting you from going further. Maintaining eye contact, he reaches out and pulls back the sheets on the bed.

You crawl backwards onto the bed and he follows. There is a tremble to the way he moves like he's fighting not to shake like a branch in a windstorm. "Leave it on." He stops your hand from reaching out to the bedside lamp to turn it off. "I, uh, I ne-...want to see you." There is definitely something wrong. Warning bells are sounding in your head.

"Yoongi, what's-?" He cuts your question of concern off with a finger to your lips.

He gives you a look that only lasts a brief second, but in that second you see his vulnerability. Gone is the monster from last night. The man you stood across from in the gazebo just hours ago has disappeared, in his place is a scared and lost soul. You begin to shake your head and push away from him, intending to get out of the bed.

"Stay," he barks, the tone reminiscent of the man you just thought lost. Yoongi grips your ankles and pulls them until you're laying flat on your back before him. Like donning a mask, the vulnerability and anguish from before are covered with cold indifference. Oddly, he leans back and casts a glance over his shoulder, his head angled like he's glancing into the far corner of the room. He brings his attention back to you and sucks in a sharp breath that he lets ease out slowly. "Touch me," he offers, settling back on his heels between your spread thighs and gesturing down.

When you hesitate, he grabs up one of your hands and presses it to his half-hard length. A soft strangled sound leaves his chest and his lips twist up in what looks like disgust. Despite how much his face says he doesn't like it, he grows hard all the same. He's still guiding your hand, forcing your fingers to squeeze around him, to the point you're sure it's causing him pain. Is he punishing himself? The thought disappears just as quickly as it came, your focus being drawn to the fingers of Yoongi's free hand skirting up along your inner thigh. You've experienced so much whiplash within the span of the last few minutes that your body isn't even sure how to respond. There is no arousal, no tingling sensations or warm fuzzies. Just confusion. It's even more confusing when Yoongi presses two fingers just mid-knuckle deep into you, gives them a small circling, then withdraws them and rubs his fingers on the sheets just below your ass.

He's suddenly pulling your hand away and dropping his weight onto you, propping up on an elbow and fitting his hips between your thighs. "Yoongi, wait, I'm not ready. Please, kiss me or something," you mumble, your hands skirting over his arms and pressing against his chest. He doesn't move, or speak, he just grabs a handful of the sheets and pulls them up over his own hips, covering you both from the waist down. His breath shudders from his chest, his hand that's still between your bodies hooks under your knee and lifts your leg until your thigh practically rests on your stomach. With more shifting of his hips, you mash your eyes closed and try to brace for what you know will come next, but they fly open in even more confusion. Instead of feeling his cock probing your sex, you feel the velvety skin slide along your thigh before lodging itself in the gap between your thigh and stomach. "What are you-?" His hand clamps over your mouth, effectively silencing your confusion.

Yoongi leans in so close you feel his warm breath stir the hairs around your ear. "I said trust me." His hips subtly shift, rocking a little from side to side. He works his free hand from between your bodies and slides it under the pillow beneath your head. You can faintly make out the sound of something sliding against the sheets as he draws his hand back out. You're both breathing so loud, you're sure you would have missed it if it wasn't right by your head. Something cold presses against the underside of your thigh, surrounded by the warmth of Yoongi's hand, like he's palming something to your skin. "Do you know what this is?" he whispers, just as close as before. You focus on the feeling of it, the shape of it pressed into your skin. It almost feels like a...your eyes go wide and press back into the pillow until you can meet his gaze. His hand is still firmly pressed over your mouth so it's hard to shake your head, but you do vehemently. Not saying you don't know what it is, but saying please don't use it. Because you definitely know the elongated and rounded-edged feel of the hilt to his pocket knife. His hips pull back, you almost forgot the fact he had wedged his cock between your thigh and stomach, just a bit. He dips back down until his lips brush your ear, then simultaneously he removes his hand from over your mouth, clicks the button to extend the blade on his knife, and whispers, "scream for me," as he snaps his hips forward.

Shock, confusion, fear. One of those drives the sound from your throat, a shrill screech rending the air. It's like you're watching everything happen from across the room, it's so surreal. It takes you a moment to realize the blade of the knife is only pressed flat-edge down against your thigh instead of piercing your skin. To add even more to the odd sensations, his cock is moving against your stomach and thigh, his hips working like he's fucking. "What the fuck?"

"Shut up," he snaps into your ear with a low hiss. "Make it believable, they have to believe it. Spit in your hand and help me out," his voice turns into a soft plea, breaths panting between his words into your ear. Rearing back just a fraction, putting about an inch between your bodies, he gives you a look to accompany his plea. It's the softness in his eyes, the way his lips are slightly parted, and the pinch between his brows.

You find yourself spitting into your palm and sliding it between your bodies to grip his length. He pumps a few times, letting you work the moisture into his length before he grunts and jerks his chin up like he's dismissing your hand. None of this makes any sense, but the more that happens, the more the pieces start to fall into place. He's faking this. For some reason unknown to you, he's faking it...and he wants, no-...needs, you to play along. They have to believe it? His words from a moment ago are just now registering. "Yoongi?" His name comes out on a rasp as your eyes frantically flick around the room. Did someone come in while you weren't paying attention?

The hand that was covering your mouth slips into your hair and pulls your attention back to him. "Stay with me, princess, focus on me." He nods, eyes open and pleading for your understanding. You only manage a small, almost imperceptible nod. Relief flicks across his features before they morph back into a careful mask of indifference. He turns his head to the side, his chin dipping down to his shoulder like he's looking back toward the other side of the room again.

It becomes sort of a dance, a mockery of intimacy. Each time his hips snap forward, shoving his length between your thigh and stomach you feign pain, crying out or thrashing under him. He grunts out his own displeasure, calling you names and even going so far as to place his hand around your throat though he doesn't apply any pressure. The knife is still pressed against your thigh, a small reminder that anytime you need it, he can still hurt you, that maybe he still intends to. It's hard to think he's capable, considering what he's doing...faking this.

You rewet him a few times, trying to help ease the pass of his cock against your skin. All thoughts of arousal for you have gone out the window, you're solely focused on keeping up this illusion for however long is needed. You wish you knew what was going on, why the need for the theatrics. Wouldn't it have just been easier to do the real thing? You're trying to reason out the possibilities when there is a shift in Yoongi's demeanor. His eyes are shuttered closed, brow pinched tight, and his hips are losing their rhythm. "Please," you plead in a faux attempt to stop him, but you tighten the space he's pistoning into instead, encouraging him with your body.

"One more scream, princess," he grunts into the side of your neck. You can feel slick sweat from his forehead smearing onto your shoulder as he tilts his head down, bowing his body. You open your mouth to give him your best impression of a fearful yelp but it turns into a full-blown tearful bellow as he presses the tip of the knife against your thigh. It's just a small prick, but it stings. You grit your teeth and slap at his arm but you might as well be just a fly for as much as he pays attention to you.

The knife leaves your skin and you can feel a warm wetness bubble up. It's like a shock to the system, adrenaline pumps through your veins and you break out in a cold sweat. He actually cut you. You had thought the knife was just a pretense, something to get you to play along. A flare for the dramatic, sure, but you didn't honestly expect him to use it on you. He gives one last heaving grunt, his hips pulling back before another rush of warm wetness is on your body. You feel his fingers wipe across the small knick on your thigh before it smears across your core, mixing your blood with his cum. He had to fake it. The cold reality of that hits you like an ice block to the chest. The blood, the cum, it's all part of the act.

Yoongi finally heaves himself off your body, throwing back the blankets that were covering you. You catch the faintest glimmer of metal as he pushes the knife further under the blankets and out of sight. His gaze is locked between your thighs, drawing your own attention there. It's not as bad as you imagined in your head. There is far more cum than blood, just a soft swirl of pink and red. You can see that he rubbed it on himself, too, red dots his pelvis and pink-tinged moisture coats his now spent cock. You drop your knee, noticing the subtle chaffing blush on your skin where he fucked it.

If you didn't know any better, you'd think the sight between the two of you represents what you'd have expected it to be. But, it's not. For a reason still unknown to you. A reason you'll soon know, you'll demand it. He said he would explain and you're not going to let him go without doing so. "What-?" For what seems like the hundredth time tonight, he cuts off your questioning. All he does is raise his hand, palm out toward you, in a request of silence.

"Get cleaned up," he says to you, rolling his shoulders back. As he shifts his weight to throw a leg over your hips so he can roll out of the bed, he leans forward and whispers, "meet me out by the river." He's already sliding off the bed by the time his words truly register.

Yoongi grabs his jeans and pauses for a moment, glancing toward the far side of the room, then disappears into the bathroom. A moment later he's walking out, jeans on and snagging his sweater off the floor before exiting the room. You're left there, in a growing pool of wetness as the cum and blood mixture drips down your ass and onto the sheets.

Mind still reeling, you make your own way out of the bed, snatch up your clothes, and head into the bathroom to clean up. There is a small first-aid kit and fresh washcloth sitting on the sink. There is an already wet cloth discarded into the wicker hamper beside the sink. You clean up in a daze. Those puzzle pieces that were falling into place don't seem to fit nearly as nicely as you were starting to think. There is an ugly truth being revealed here, one you're not sure you want to know. The small cut on your thigh is mostly superficial, like Yoongi's intention was only to draw the smallest amount of blood that he could. It hardly requires a bandaid, having already clotted. You add a small one just for good measure, not wanting your jeans to scratch and irritate it.

By the time you exit the bathroom, Wenton is in the room, stripping the sheets from the bed. "Oh, shit!" You jump back in surprise, not expecting to see anyone, much less him, standing there.

"Sorry, Miss," he mutters, continuing with his task. "Just going to change the linens for you."

A queasiness settles into your stomach thinking about what's on those sheets. For a moment you think about the pocketknife. You step forward, intent on telling Wenton to watch himself, but you catch a glint of metal out of the corner of your eye and see the knife sitting on the bedside table like it was never anywhere else to begin with.

You can't make it out of the room fast enough. Flying down the stairs, you make a beeline for the mudroom and door to the patio out back. Cold air slaps you across the face, helping to cool your heated cheeks. You hadn't realized how flustered seeing Wenton wadding up the soiled sheets made you until now.

There is a winding stone path that leads down to the river. This stretch of the water is wide, serene as it meanders through the mountain. Yoongi has told you many stories about this cabin, about how all the boys would dare one another to swim across. The river isn't very dangerous here, but you know just down the way and around a bend it turns into rushing rapids that bleed into several rocky waterfalls. If you listen closely, you can hear the rush of water over stone in the distance, like a hushed whisper of darkness.

With no city lights nearby, the light pollution is next to nonexistent, leaving the stars and fat, near-full moon to shine brightly overhead. You catch the silhouette of Yoongi against the shine of the moon on the water. His back is to you as you approach the end of the stone path.

He turns toward you, waiting until you're right in front of him before he reaches out and begins to pat down your pockets.

"What are you doing?" You try to take a step back but he snags a hand in your sweater, stopping you from retreating.

"Your phone, it's inside?" he asks, bringing his eyes up to yours. You give a nod and he finally releases you.

You do take a step back now, putting a bit more space between the two of you. "Now, are you going to explain?"

He takes a deep, slow breath. "First, I want to apologize," his voice is soft but carries over the softer burbling from the water just a few feet away. He crosses his arms over his chest, his face unreadable in the dim light. "Second, I want to thank you for going along with...that," he flicks his fingers back towards the house before shoving them back into the crook of his elbow.

"What exactly was that?" you push, mirroring his cross-armed stance. Yoongi opens his mouth to speak but then his teeth click shut and his lips form a thin line. "No, you don't get to shut me out this time, Yoongi. Fucking. Speak. Now."

He lets out a frustrated grunt, his arms unfolding so he can mash the heels of his palms against his eyes. He grinds them before his hands slide down his face like he's trying to wipe away his stubborn hesitancy.

"There are things, big things, that you have no idea about," he begins. "Things that are bigger than both you and I. This," he gestures between the two of you, "is just a small piece of a much bigger, and darker picture. What I did in there, what we did in there, was for you."

You raise a skeptical eyebrow. "Keep going."

"We're married, it's what's expected...it's what they expect to happen, regardless of whether or not you want it. I've done nothing but fight on your behalf the last year. Relentlessly working toward a way to make things different. But, my hands are tied, have been tied...by that bastard." Yoongi begins to pace, shoving his hands in his pockets. "There are cameras everywhere, tracking devices, your phone," he gives you a quick glance before resuming his pacing, "we're both being watched. If I didn't make it seem like it happened, then we'd both be in big trouble."

"Why fake it? Why not just do it?" He's still not giving you the answers you need, he's holding back.

His face is pinched when he looks back at you. "I didn't want your first time to be like that," he whispers. "I couldn't take that from you, not like that."

"I don't understand."

Yoongi huffs another sigh. "I'm going to start from the beginning, I'll try to explain the best I can, okay?" You nod, relaxing back on the heels of your boots. "I never expected to have a happy or love-filled marriage, that's just not part of the deal when it comes to these things, right? But, I did try, in the beginning...and after a while, I started to care about you. Then...Namjoon came back from that assignment in Tokyo and everything changed."

The fact he's bringing up Namjoon throws up a red flag for you. "What does Namjoon have to do with this?"

"Everything." The word is so quiet you barely catch it. "He has everything to do with this. He's the one watching, he's the one that Wenton has been instructed to send our bedsheets to for testing, he's the one that forced me to be a monster to you, he's the one who has threatened your life if I don't make it a living hell," he finishes on a whisper, his voice thick with emotion.

Each new revelation is like a punch to the gut. "But why?" you sputter. What the actual fuck? You know Namjoon is an evil man, but what on earth did you do to earn his scorn to the point of death?

"It's not you, not really." Yoongi stops his pacing and comes to stand before you. He untangles your arms and clasps your hands in his. "While Namjoon was in Tokyo he found out something, something that derailed him." There is a sadness in his eyes as he continues, "What I'm about to tell you won't make you happy, but please know that it's true and I have proof if you need it."

He waits for you to acknowledge his words. "Okay," you agree, chewing your bottom lip, suddenly filled with trepidation.

"Your father is the reason our mother died."

Air leaves your lungs in a whoosh. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Please, I said it wouldn't make you happy, but you need to trust me. You wanted an explanation, this is it." His tongue darts out and wets his lips. "My mom was in love with your dad before she was forced into an arranged marriage with my father. They couldn't have children of their own, so that's why they adopted. She was always so happy on the outside, full of laughter and smiles. We lost her seven years ago. Father said it was an accident, she slipped and fell down the stairs. We were all away, either in school or working. We never got to see her body, just the blood in the foyer before it was cleaned up."

"They were in love at one point. So what? All of this just sounds like an excuse for you and your family to do shitty things."

Yoongi gives your hands, still held in his, a small squeeze. "Just, let me explain. They continued to see one another even after they both married. Your mother was just as unaware as my father, at least, as far as I know, she was. When Namjoon was in Tokyo, he came across some old files that had my mom's name on them. Her death nearly destroyed him, what he found was the last straw needed. The files lead to a small apartment, old and abandoned. It was filled with some of her things, bottles of her perfume, along with men's cologne and suits. Tucked away in a small box were two letters. One was a suicide letter, addressed to your father. The writing is unmistakably my mother's. The other was a letter signed by your father to our mother, essentially ending their near twenty-year tryst. My mother was heartbroken, so she took her own life."

A shiver runs through you, one not from the cold air seeping beneath your sweater. "I don't know what to say," you whisper, blinking back the emotion threatening your lash line. It's the whiplash from the bedroom all over again. He's treated you so horribly over the last year, all for what? Because Namjoon is holding some sort of grudge for something you had no part in...is that really a good enough reason? Part of you is melting with sympathy, begging your mind to wrap around this as an act of kindness; the lesser of two evils. But, another part of you is disgusted and outraged that Yoongi didn't bring this to your attention much sooner. Instead of making you aware of what was happening and making a plan with you, Yoongi took it upon himself to play into Namjoon's hands, let his strings be pulled, and turn him into a macabre puppet of some kind. "Did the proposal even have anything to do with how you've acted? Or was that just a coincidence?"

"That was me...all me. I thought I could use that as a way to get you out, a way to speed up the process. I thought, maybe if you said yes and had shown a desire to get married sooner, then dad would have allowed it and we would have been out of the house and away from Namjoon, giving me more space to be able to come up with a better plan. The anger from your denial was real, that was me...acting like an insensitive jerk being rejected by the pretty girl." He at least looks ashamed, the way his cheeks pink a little and his brow scrunches. "I never should have taken my frustrations out on you, but it made the transition into my compromise with Namjoon seem authentic on the outside. Everyone thought I was lashing out because of that, so no one suspected anything different."

"So, no one else knows...about any of this?"

"No one. Wenton knows a little, he knows he needs to do what Namjoon requests, but no more than that. My father doesn't know, won't know. Namjoon doesn't want him to know because he's worried he'll take matters into his own hands in regards to you. He came directly to me. He wanted to take you away, make you suffer for what your father did. I tried to make him see reason, that the sins of the father couldn't be blamed on the daughter. He wouldn't listen, so I finally compromised with him. I agreed to make your life a living hell, make you suffer, as long as he kept away. The more I push you, the more I hurt you, the more satisfied he is with keeping you alive...if only to see you hurt more. I've tried everything, ignoring you, leaving you for weeks on end, but every time I was gone for too long or spent too many days letting you live in peace, he'd swoop in and remind me of his threat," his voice breaks. "I've spent the last year protecting you from a different kind of evil...but, I don't know how much more I can take. I don't know how many more days I can look into your eyes and see hate staring back at me. So, I've been working on a plan to get you away from here...to finally set you free."

Freedom. Is that even possible? For that matter, is Yoongi even telling the truth?

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lily-drake · 3 years ago

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Death

Death was nothing new in Marinette’s life. In fact it played a large role. Her friends and city had died a hundred times over. Her brother. Her funny, smart, loving, dramatic brother had died at the hands of a mad man. She didn’t think it was wrong for her to use the horse miraculous to visit her brother's grave. It was officially five years after all. He would be 20, he would have loved to plan out her 16th birthday this year. She sat down and read Pride and Prejudice out loud, only a few tears falling as she glanced at the grave every so often. She had also brought a bouquet of white lilies, statices, red carnations, and white daisies. Soft grass laid over the dirt, the sun gleamed above, and sometimes when she would lean against the grave it was almost like she could feel him.

Dark storm clouds began to cloud the sky, and she knew she would have to leave soon, though she didn’t want to. Dad would be upset if he caught her, though considering how many weeds she had to remove from the grave and how abandoned it looked, she doubted anyone had visited any time soon. Suddenly the rain began to pour down and it felt like the earth shook. She felt a great imbalance, but where, and how? She touched both of her ears and she could feel her miraculous still there, Tikki even poked her head out from her bag with a look of fear. A shiver ran down Marinette’s spine as rain came pouring down soaking everything in sight. She looked around, and she kept spinning searching for something, anything that could have caused or been affected by the imbalance. She waited there for many minutes just waiting, when she felt the dirt beneath her feet begin to shift a little. She quickly moved away and watched as the dirt slowly moved and shifted. She felt sick, because the dirt moving was directly where Jason was lying in eternal rest. This couldn’t be right, this must be some mistake! Her brother had died, she had seen the body, it haunted her nightmares for so many nights. He’s been gone for five years! This can’t be possible without some type of wish.

The grass began to move and shift away, and a fleshy mud covered hand raised from the ground causing a scream to rip from her lungs. Her body sprung into action before her mind caught up to her beginning to help dig up her brother's grave, and when she saw the jet black hair covered in dirt and mud she knew that it was him. She heaved him out from the hole and stared in shocked horror as he just sat there staring at her. His eyes were the same blue she remembered, but they were so clouded. Fear, confusion, and nothing shown in his eyes, like he wasn’t even truly there. This must be a dream, it has to be, no, a nightmare. Her brother shouldn’t be back, he died, she saw his limp body in dad’s hands, even if Alfred and bluebird tried to stop her. But the imbalance was real, she could tell, and he was affected by it.

Slowly she raised her hand and hesitantly placed a hand on his cheek. He leaned into her hand, though his eyes were still clouded and void. He may be alive, but he wasn’t fully…alive. She tackled her older brother into a hug and began sobbing onto him, but just sat there, head leaning against hers. Pressing her ear against his chest she could hear his gentle heartbeat, and just for a moment everything seemed like it would be ok. Then she felt a sharp prick in her neck and the world faded to black.

________

Marinette awoke to darkness. She tried to sit up and felt her hands held behind her back being held together by something cold and thick. Memories flooded back into her mind and she snapped into awareness and looked around. It was dark, though there was a small light coming from a window far above where she could not ever reach. The walls seemed to be made of thick stones and there was a heavy iron door a few feet in front of her. Jason wasn’t there though, he wasn’t in the room, she didn’t understand. Suddenly the door opened and she looked up and saw her mother’s green eyes. Her panic grew again, how did she get here, was she captured too? She had visited her often in Paris. She was very vague about her job, and she knew it was probably sketchy, but could it be bad enough to be captured?

“Marinette, My Darling. I apologize for your treatment, I did not realize that you were part of this.”

Talia rushed towards her daughter and unlocked the chains. She was pulled into a tight hug that Marinette quickly returned. After a few moments she pulled away but held her shoulders gently.

“I must show you something, come.”

Talia quickly stood and helped her daughter to her feet and walked swiftly through the calls of Nanda Parabat.

“What is mom?”

Talia smiled at that, she had always loved when her daughter called her that.

“It’s a surprise, My Flower.”

A few more twists though hallways and they stopped in front of a thick wooden door.

“I want you to meet someone.”

The door was pushed open and there sat a small baby in a crip with dark black hair, tanned skin, and dark green eyes. Marinette gasped and covered her mouth,

“Meet your brother, Damian.”

Marinette slowly walked over and stared at Damian through the top of the crib. He silently watched and studied her without making a sound.

“He’s about 3 months old.”

Talia said, smiling happily as she watched her daughter run her fingers through Damian’s small tresses of hair. With a snap of her finger one of her shadows stepped next to her.

“Bring Jason.”

And with that order they were gone returning a few minutes later with a boy who was alive physically, but was mentally gone. She could fix that though, it would be the last resort if all else failed, but she could fix it. Marinette looked up when she heard Jason’s footsteps and her bright smile fell slightly into a small sad one.

“Jay-Jay.”

She whispered softly as she took slow steps towards the boy. She quickly ran and hugged him again. He no longer smelled like mud and he wasn’t wearing his suit, and he was….he was alive again! Tears fell down her cheeks, because she missed him so much.

________

Marinette stayed with her mom in what she learned was Nanda Parabat. She trained with Jason, but he was catatonic, just going through the motions blankly. It worried her, especially as she watched her mother grow more anxious. She cared for her little brother, and wondered if her dad knew, or if he would even care. She often looked at Paris news for when she needed to go for Akuma attacks, but if her host parents even realized she was gone. They hadn’t, nor had any of her “friends” apparently as they hadn’t sent her a single thing from the weeks she’s been gone.

Marinette knew that Nada Parabat wasn’t a good place, knew that the people were bad, knew that her grandfather was the head of it. He didn’t seem to care who she was, he just thought she was some nurse for Damian, and she was thankful for that. She knew that the Lazarus Pits were here, what they did, how they were made, how her grandfather used them for selfish purposes. She didn’t do anything though, she was mad at her father for sending her away, mad that he adopted a bee kid only a year after he sent her away, mad that he never talked to her, mad that Dick never fought for her or looked for her, mad that Jason was forced to wake up and climb his way out of his grave only to be practically brain dead, mad that her classmates believed lies over her, mad that her host parents believed them and treated her like dirt or an invisible object meant to seen and not heard, mad that Chat Noir would leave her during battles because she didn’t return his affections, and mad that no one cared that she was gone! So she trained as hard as she could, made sure that she perfected everything her mother threw at her. Took care of her family and made sure they knew how thankful she was for them and loved them. Then when she finally got a text from someone it was insults for being a horrible person and hurting Lila when she hadn’t been there for weeks!

She threw her phone at the wall and the crack echoed around the room. Her breathing was harsh and ragged and then the tears she had been holding back finally fell. Sobs wracked her body as she bit her lip to keep silent. She tried to take in deep shuddering breaths, but it was no use and the sobs came out. Her knees felt weak and she crumpled to the ground. The door burst open and she saw her mom there knife in hand looking around the room with swift deadly eyes. When she didn’t see any visible threats she kneeled in front of her daughter and looked directly into her eyes. Eyes a storming blue that flooded with tears and made her heart ache and her want to murder whoever made her precious daughter look so broken.

“My Flower, what’s wrong?”

“N-nobody cares ab-about me! No one cares that I’m g-gone. Everyb-body hates me, and I’m so tired of it! I’ll n-never be enough for an-anybody and I’m t-trying so h-hard to do wh-what everyone needs or exp-ects me to be!”

Marinette stuttered out between sobs. Talia glared at that and felt anger at Bruce. She thought that he at least checked in with her every once in a while. She had guessed wrong then. She pulled her daughter into a hug and let her cry against her shoulder.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay. You are perfect the way you are Marinette. You don’t have to prove anything to me. You’re such a good sister, you train so hard, and you have so many amazing skills and talents. You are enough, don’t let anyone say anything different.”

Marinette gripped onto her mom and they both just sat there in silence as Marinette finally just cried. After who knows how long Marinette gently pushed away and looked her mom directly in the eyes with complete seriousness said,

“I want you to help me fake my death. If everyone wants to pretend I’m gone or wants me to disappear, then fine. I will. I don’t want to be seen anymore.”

Talia stared at her daughter in shock for a moment then gave her a small smile.

“It will be done my dear, you will be free.”

“Thank you mom.”

Taglist:

@queenz-z @aespades @fandomsaremylifeline @stainedglassm @toodaloo-kangaroo @prettylittlebutterflie @trippingovermyfeet @liquid-luck-00 @unoriginalmess @buginetye @miraculouslydumb @laurcad123

#maribat #BDBWM2021 #marinette dupain cheng #marinette al ghul wayne #talia sugar #class salt #tom and sabine salt #day 13 #death #sibling au #sibling jasonette #sibling daminette #damian is a baby #angst #fluff

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live-the-fangirl-life · 3 years ago

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When a Book Beckons

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn - Bookshop

When Aelin finds a flyer advertising a strange bookshop, she can't help but follow its cryptic directions. Why does she feel called to it? And why does the mysterious, silver-haired bookkeeper feel so familiar?

Written for Rowaelin Month 2021. Day 28: Bookshop

Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Rowaelin Month Masterlist

Warnings: Language

4146 words

*******

The wind whistled through the narrow cobblestone street, carrying with it the sweet, honeyed smell of candied nuts, and lifting golden blonde strands of hair to dance around Aelin’s face. It blew between tilting buildings and colorful vendor’s carts selling everything from freshly cut flowers to beautiful watercolor prints.

Aelin grinned as a small group of children ran through the street playing a game and laughing as they chased each other. Finishing her last chocolate-covered hazelnut she’d bought from one of the vendors, Aelin threw away her now empty bag, and pulled out her local guidebook. It was her first time visiting this part of the country and she was determined to make the most of it. Aelin flipped to the pages about out-of-the-way, hole-in-the-wall places. She wanted to find a bakery, or a mom-and-pop general store, or a local second-hand shop, maybe?

She’d barely dragged her face out of the guidebook, trying and failing to pronounce the name of one of the local patisseries, when she noticed a folded piece of paper had gotten caught beneath her shoe.

Leaning down and brushing a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear, Aelin picked it up expecting it to be an old receipt someone had dropped. She turned the crumpled piece of paper over and read the faint writing.

It was a handwritten flyer advertising a local bookshop.

Aelin loosed an excited laugh. A bookshop—it was perfect, and based on the way the flyer was drawn, this place certainly didn’t seem like somewhere her guidebook would advertise. All the better; even fewer tourists to worry about.

Although, she reigned in her giddiness for a moment, she should probably make sure it wasn’t a scam or a front for kidnappers masquerading as a shop meant to lure in unsuspecting book addicts. She laughed at herself, she was being paranoid, a bookshop was a bookshop, right?

But as Aelin kept reading the flyer for Once Upon a Page, searching for an address, her excitement quickly morphed into confusion as she read the directions on how to find the shop.

Follow the dented cobblestone until you can no longer.

The broken lamppost points your way.

Circle the fountain until you see the arrow, heed its trajectory.

If you pass the hawk’s wings, you’ve gone too far.

What the—

This had to be fake; what kind of directions were these? Whoever owned the store wouldn’t get any business if they wrote all their instructions in riddles. Just give her the address and she could figure it out from there.

She was tempted to throw the paper away and move on to the next stop her guidebook suggested.

And yet...

When she’d picked up the paper and read the name of the bookshop, something stirred in Aelin. It was a feeling deep in her gut, like she needed to go there.

Sighing, Aelin turned, trying to spot someone who might be able to give her clearer directions than The broken lamppost points your way.

An older woman with graying hair stood outside her small vendor cart overflowing with flowers. Aelin crossed the street and waited until the woman looked up from her growing bouquet.

“Excuse me? Could you tell me how to get to Once Upon a Page?”

Instead of answering like Aelin expected her to, she merely sat and narrowed her eyes, brows furrowing in confusion.

Aelin lifted the flyer to show her, “Once Upon a Page. This says it’s a bookshop around here, can you point me in the right direction?” Aelin smiled, hoping to charm the woman into helping her. “The directions here are a little hard to follow.”

The woman looked up from where she’d been scrutinizing the flyer and leaned back in her chair. In a gravelly voice, she told Aelin, “I’m sorry, dearie, I’m not familiar with that place.”

It was Aelin’s turn to look confused. “You’re not?” By the details from the flyer, it seemed like the bookstore had been around for a while. Was this woman new to the area and didn’t recognize it? She should have at least been aware of the shop if she’d lived here a while, right?

The woman shook her head and half of her attention went towards a new customer who’d approached the stand, quickly striking up a conversation about his children and grandchildren, obviously well acquainted with his life, before glancing once more at Aelin and saying, “I’ve never heard of it before.”

Odd. More than odd, Aelin thought as she stared at the flyer in bewilderment. But not one to back down from a challenge, Aelin was determined to find Once Upon a Page. And she wouldn’t turn down a trip to see some books. Besides, she had the afternoon free ahead of her, so why not follow some obscure, cryptic instructions to find a mysterious bookshop. This could be fun.

Aelin glanced at the first line of directions: Follow the dented cobblestone until you can no longer. She scanned the street, eyes catching on a few rows of stones that looked chipped beyond the normal wear from years of foot traffic. She followed the line of stones and grinned as she saw it continued down the next street.

As she slid her guidebook back into her bag and focused on the path ahead of her, Aelin was too excited to wonder how the directions perfectly began from the place she’d been standing.

Aelin walked for four more blocks, carefully following the narrow path of worn cobblestones. She was so focused on them that she barely caught herself from walking straight into the wall in front of her.

A dead end. She frowned; did she miss something? Or was she following some fool’s errand, and all of this was made up and she was wasting her time? Aelin pulled the flyer back out and realized she’d followed the instructions perfectly. Follow the dented cobblestone until you can no longer. Well, she no longer could, so what was the next line? The broken lamppost points your way.

Broken lamppost. Aelin swung around and saw just across the street was an old lamppost with one of its metal hooks broken and hanging at an awkward angle.

Giddy, she jogged towards it and tried to figure out where it would be pointing. The broken piece of metal? That was either pointing at the stone wall behind it or at the ground and unless Aelin was supposed to go into the sewers, then that wasn’t it. She circled the post, finally seeing a sticker on one side of a waterspout.

If she stood facing the sticker then she was also facing down one of the paths leading away from the dead end. Frowning at the image, Aelin pulled out the flyer once more. The next direction referenced a fountain, could the spout be referencing that, too?

She’d try, and if she couldn’t find a fountain, then she would retrace her steps. Aelin double-checked lamppost once more for any other obvious clue she’d missed before walking down the path opposite the sticker.

Aelin grinned as she walked. It felt like she was on some wild scavenger hunt, she loved it. And the longer she trekked, the more she felt like she was being guided—not in a bad way, more like something in her was being called to and she was determined to figure out what.

Aelin stepped out of the alley into a small open square, the center of which housed a circular fountain. It took all her might not to squeal in excitement. She figured the people minding their own business in the square wouldn’t appreciate that too much.

Circle the fountain until you see the arrow, heed its trajectory. Easy. Aelin approached the fountain and began walking only to stop almost immediately as she spied the small statue carved into the top of the fountain. It was a faceless archer with a single arrow in its sheath. Aelin followed its point and her gaze was directed to another small alley across the square.

Not hesitating, Aelin walked straight into the alley and didn’t look back.

She’d been walking for several minutes, too excited to be paying attention to details. That is, until she passed one more cross-street and came face to face with a faded drawing on the opposite building. It was an old, painted image of a hawk with its wings spread and beak open in a call.

Aelin furrowed her brows at the bird, there was something about it that pricked at her memory. She quickly pulled the flyer back out and read the last line. If you pass the hawk’s wings, you’ve gone too far.

Aelin spun around, her gaze landing on the last street she’d passed. She quickly walked back and peered down it to find a small alcove in the wall which held a single, distinct storefront.

Beaming, Aelin paused as she slowly approached Once Upon a Page. The shop wasn’t large, at least not that she could tell by the outside. A wooden door that was painted a deep, rich green and was worn with age but appeared no less inviting, stood between a single window on one side and a larger triple window on the other. Each windowpane was held within gilded edges that matched the golden script of Once Upon a Page above the door.

The lights inside were dim and Aelin had the sudden, dreaded thought that the shop might be closed. Wouldn’t that just be her luck?

Aelin twisted to tuck the flyer back into her bag, taking a deep breath. When she looked back up at the shop, she cocked her head to the side, confused, as she eyed a hand-painted Open sign hanging from the door. Strange. She hadn’t noticed that a moment ago.

Shaking off the peculiar feeling, Aelin carefully pushed on the door, smiling as it opened with ease, and listened to the light chime of a bell as it sounded through the shop.

***

Rowan sat behind the desk in the back of the store’s front room. He’d just finished making a fresh cup of tea and was letting it steep on the counter next to him as he faced the shallow shelf standing behind the desk and went to pick up the book he’d last placed there.

His fingers almost brushed the spine when the bell above the front door chimed.

Rowan’s head whipped around, eyes snapping to the sound.

Someone was here. Someone had found their way to the bookshop.

No one ever found their way to the bookshop.

Standing just inside the front door was a woman with long, golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She hadn’t noticed him yet, so he quietly left his seat and walked around the nearest shelf to get a better look. He wasn’t sure who she was or why she was here, all he knew was that not just anyone stumbled into Once Upon a Page; that, and the fact that he wished he’d thought to grab his tea before leaving his desk.

*** The moment the door shut behind Aelin it was as if the rest of the world faded away.

The inside of the shop felt cozy—inviting. Wooden shelves lined the walls and stood tall to create a meandering path through the space. Each case was piled with books and sprinkled with trinkets, figurines, and odd contraptions that Aelin couldn’t quite understand. Warm, soft lights hung from the ceiling to provide just enough glow to illuminate the titles along the walls.

Aelin blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted, taking in the soft ticking of a clock and light rustling of paper until her eyes could focus better in the dim room.

Rooms, actually. Turning in place, Aelin could see a narrow doorway on one side of the main room just up a few stairs. Taking a couple steps farther into the shop, she saw that the next room housed several shelves of its own as well. It was beautiful.

Aelin didn’t see anyone else or hear any other voices in the shop. She did, however, see a steaming mug on the front counter so she assumed whoever worked here had just stepped away.

Walking slowly towards one of the shelves, Aelin brushed off the odd sensation she’d felt once the door had closed. It was almost as if that insistent feeling she’d had earlier of being called to, had been steadied just by being in the bookshop.

She shook off the thought, it had to just be the natural calm of being surrounded by books.

“Are you looking for anything in particular?”

Aelin cursed and spun around, her hand pressing against her rapidly beating heart. She was staring directly at a man’s chest and she had to drag her gaze up until her neck craned back to meet a pair of pine green eyes.

Eyes that were looking at her curiously from behind a pair of clear-rimmed glasses.

It wasn’t just his eyes that caught her attention, it was also his silvery hair. It wasn’t a light blonde or grey with age—not that he would be greying with age, he looked maybe thirty if she had to guess—it was purely silver. And if that wasn’t enough, when he turned his head, she saw that the side of his face was covered with an intricate tattoo.

But it was the expression he wore as he gazed down at her that had her pausing. She couldn’t name the exact emotion that flitted across his features, but between the tilt of his head, his slightly narrowed eyes, furrowed brow, and parted lips, he was looking at her like he couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

Then his lips quirked to the side and his eyes shown with delight before quickly schooling his features into a detached curiosity befitting a helpful store owner.

Aelin blinked, caught off-guard at the strange familiarity she’d felt and the odd way he’d looked at her.

“I, uh,” she stammered before clearing her throat and glancing at the shelves around her. “I was just browsing.”

He raised a single silver eyebrow and leaned against the shelf. When he crossed his arms over his chest, the sleeves of his knit sweater stretched across his biceps in a manner that was far too distracting.

“Not from around here, are you?” he asked, and she heard a faint accent in his words, not the same one she’d heard the vendors and locals speaking with, but something different. Something more unusual.

It was her turn to raise a brow, “Why do you assume that?” Then she winced because as soon as the words left her lips, she knew exactly what he meant. He may have an accent different from the locals, but so did she, and the more she spoke, the more obvious it became.

He chuckled but nodded to the shelves around them, pushing off from the one he’d been using as a support. He took a few steps back toward the front counter and said, “You’re welcome to explore, I’ll be out here if you need anything.”

He took a single step before pausing and searching her face once more, “I’m Rowan, by the way.”

Rowan. He looked like a Rowan. She offered him a bright smile and simply responded, “Aelin.”

He nodded and before he turned, she saw that same unreadable emotion fly across his face. Then he was walking away.

Aelin shook herself, she was here to check out a local bookshop, not a maddeningly attractive bookkeeper.

***

As soon as he’d spoken to her, Rowan knew there was something different about this woman. Aelin.

Could she be—? No, that was impossible. Unless…

Rowan dug beneath the desk and pulled out an old book, setting it on the counter and barely holding in a cough from the small cloud of dust it produced. He started flipping through its pages, searching.

***

It was easy to get distracted once she’d focused her attention on the wall of books. There were so many—it almost seemed like every time she turned back to a shelf she’d just finished perusing, it held new books she hadn’t noticed the first time around. Aelin wasn’t sure how long she spent walking through the shelves of the main room, but at one point she found herself in front of one that provided a small opening through which she could see the bookkeeper.

There was something about him that drew her in; something that felt familiar and important, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

It also didn’t help that he’d shed his sweater.

The collar she’d spotted earlier poking out from the sweater was apparently attached to a long-sleeve button-down shirt that he’d taken to rolling up to his elbows. It exposed his tan, muscled forearms, one of which was draped with the same intricate tattoo she’d seen on his face. By the way it was reaching up his arm and disappearing beneath his sleeve, she’d bet anything it all connected.

He was hunched over the front desk, flipping through the pages of an old, leather-bound book. Strands of his thick, silver hair fell into his face, but he was too focused to notice, although she caught him huffing once to blow a longer strand out of his eyes. Every few seconds, his glasses would slip down his nose and he’d have to push them back up only to have them slip again. It was endearing.

But then he would flip the page again, causing his hands to flex and suddenly endearing became distracting.

Aelin had to bite her lip as she ducked back behind the shelf, mentally cursing because it was just so unfair that this man was that gods dammed attractive and a fucking bookkeeper. It was too much for her to handle.

She would finish checking out the shop and only on her way out would she strike up a conversation. Aelin chanced one more peek only to see him pull his glasses from his face and carefully clean them before pushing them back on.

Aelin was this close to saying ‘fuck it’ and walking up to him, when her gaze snagged on a small corridor leading away from the main room. It wasn’t the hallway she’d seen before, no—this was even more hidden. It was placed in such a way that one could only see it if they were far enough into the maze of shelves.

Something about it caught and held Aelin’s attention. The beckoning feeling she’d had on her way to the shop returned, and she’d already walked several paces towards it before she realized she’d moved.

Aelin was at the corridor and ascending the three steps that led to a small, dusty, nook without having noticed Rowan’s attention abandoning his book and intently settling on her as he watched her vanish into the hidden room.

***

Rowan watched as Aelin disappeared around the corner, her golden hair shining in the light before he carefully shut his book and rose from his seat. His gaze swept through the small shop landing briefly on the figurines of mythical creatures, rusted swords and daggers in handcrafted sheaths, and tattered maps in languages long buried.

When Rowan looked at the front door and saw the outer sign’s script read Closed, he let a small smile grow as he slipped off his glasses and rested them carefully on the counter. He turned around and gripped the handle of the door that now stood behind him. With one last glance over his shoulder, Rowan stepped through the doorway and vanished.

As the door clicked shut behind him, the small clock on the wall ticked once more before silencing.

***

The air around Aelin felt heavier as she stepped into the small, hidden nook. There was a single floor-to-ceiling bookcase on either wall with barely enough space in between for her to stand. Small lights lined the ceiling creating a halo-like glow in the cramped space.

Part of her wanted to turn around and go back to the main room, her curiosity satiated about what this small room held. But another part of her, the part that ultimately won out, felt like she needed to stay.

That feeling she’d had all afternoon—the calling, the beckoning, the draw—it all seemed to culminate here. Aelin couldn’t understand it, but she needed to. There was something here, something that was vital; she couldn’t say what or why or how, but she needed to figure it out.

Aelin eyed the books on one side of the room before spinning around and scouring the opposite shelf. They all looked similar; all aging, leatherbound editions in some language she couldn’t decipher. She looked over them all once, twice—there.

On a shelf just above eye level sat a book that looked different from the rest. While the others were covered in dust and showed signs of wear, this one was vibrant and appeared untouched, but Aelin had a feeling it was far from new. Its spine looked almost golden in the warm light.

She reached up and plucked it from the shelf.

Aelin couldn’t hold in a gasp as she stared at the book. It wasn’t just vibrant, it was glowing. It's cover shown with golden light that shimmered as she moved it. There was writing on the front in a script she couldn’t read, and it felt strangely light for its size.

That was when Aelin noticed the bookshop had gotten eerily quiet. The clock had stopped ticking, she didn’t hear the bookkeeper—Rowan—flipping through his pages any longer, she couldn’t even hear the faint sound of people from outside the store. Everything had gone silent.

For a moment, Aelin debated calling out to Rowan to see if he hadn’t stepped outside for whatever reason, but she clamped her mouth shut and returned her attention to the book in her arms.

She felt that pull again. Stronger now than it had been before.

Aelin traced her finger over the gilded symbols. Then, while carefully holding the front cover, she opened the book.

A blinding golden light surged from the open pages. It was too bright. The light filled the space around her and Aelin tried dropping the book, but her fingers wouldn’t let it go.

It was too much, too bright, too overwhelming.

The devastating glow was the last thing Aelin knew before darkness engulfed her.

***

Aelin gasped in a shuddering breath and scrambled to her feet.

She was outside. How was she outside? Why was she on the ground? And why did it feel soft?

She blinked, breathing in fresh air and urging her eyes to adjust to the brightness. After a few more moments, she gaped in stunned silence.

Everything was so vivid. The rough, brown trunks of the trees surrounding her were warm and comforting, the leaves stretching across the sky in an interwoven canopy shown like jewels, and the beams of sunlight reaching through the spaces between branches touched the soft grass beneath her feet and warmed the earth.

How had she gotten here? Where was here? What had just happened?

What was she wearing?

Aelin glanced down as her hand brushed across an odd but comfortable fabric of a loose tunic. The shirt was tucked into fitted pants which themselves were secured within laced-up leather boots.

What—?

As she lifted a shaky hand, she finally caught sight of the figure standing in the clearing a few paces in front of her.

It was him. The bookseller. Rowan.

He stood there, watching her patiently as she looked around at the unfamiliar woods. He, too, was wearing different clothing. Gone were the rolled shirt and glasses, instead replaced with attire similar to hers but much more well-worn. He even had a few weapons strapped to him, but Aelin had the feeling that he wasn’t a threat to her.

She opened her mouth to say—

She didn’t know what to say. So many questions flew through her mind that she couldn’t focus on one long enough to voice it.

A quiet flutter drew her attention upwards and Aelin couldn’t control her gasp as she watched a small winged creature wobbly fly from branch to branch. It had scales and a short little snout, and small wings barely strong enough to keep it in flight. The baby dragon cheerfully hovered under another branch before flying out of the clearing.

Aelin blinked rapidly at the spot where the creature disappeared.

She eventually drew her wide-eyed gaze back to the man standing before her. He stepped closer and smirked knowingly, amused but—relieved?

When he spoke, the deep timbre of his accent was much more pronounced than it had been minutes before in the bookshop that suddenly felt so far away.

“I knew it was you. Follow me.”

*****

Taglist:

@acourtofsnakes @allthebooksunderthemoon @astra-ad-mare @becarefuloflove @booklover41802 @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @danibutterr @doubt-less @emily-gsh @enormousbooklover @foughtconquered @fromthelibraryofemilyj @hakunamatatazz @i-have-but-one-brain-cell @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jorjy-jo @lemonade-coolattas @mariamuses @mayhemories @midsizewitch @miserablesmusings @morganofthewildfire @nehemikkele @rowaelinismyotp @rowansfirebringer @sayosdreams @sheharahu @sleeping-and-books @stardelia @story-scribbler @superspiritfestival @swankii-art-teacher @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading @moodymelanist @angelic-voice-1997 @realbookloverproblems @gracie-rosee @julemmaes @yesdreamblog @the-regal-warrior @rowanaelinn @thestoriesyoutell @autumnbabylon @sunflowermoonshinewrites @maastrash @annejulianneh111 @themoonthestarsthesuriel

#rowaelin #aelin #rowan #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #aelin and rowan #rowan and aelin #aelin galathynius x rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fluff #rowaelin fic #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass #tog #rowaelinmonth #rowaelin month #bookshop

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thetravelerwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Bashir (Troll) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationships: Female Human/Male Troll (World of Warcraft Design) Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Troll, Fake Dating, Hired Boyfriend, Fake Boyfriend Content Warnings: Stalker Ex-Boyfriend, Stalking, Mention of Guns, Brief Violence Series: OkCryptid Words: 6365

A commission for @floral-and-fine! A woman getting out of a bad relationship has moved across her home state to get away from her controlling ex-boyfriend, only for him to show up at her job. Scared, she goes on OkCryptid to recruit a "boyfriend" in hopes of frightening him off. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

>Hi. I know we don’t know each other and this is pretty sudden, but I have a proposition for you, and it isn’t what you think.

Vague, yes, but it would catch his attention quickly enough, you thought. You were desperate and didn’t know what else to do.

>Oh, He messaged not long after. >What would that be?

>I want to pay you to go out with me for a while.

>I’m not a prostitute. Lol

>That’s not what I mean, You replied, rolling your eyes. >I know this sounds weird, and if I had more money I’d probably just hire a bodyguard, but I don’t.

>Why would you need a bodyguard?

You sighed. >I have a stalker ex-boyfriend. I dated him for about five months, but he was really possessive and crazy so I broke it off, and now he won’t leave me alone. I moved here last month from across the state and he followed me. He showed up at my work today.

>Ah, I see. So you want me to rip his arms off?

>No, I just want him to see me with someone who is big enough to rip his arms off. Maybe it’ll scare him away. You’re the biggest guy I could find on here. Well, I did find a cyclops that was pretty big, but she wasn’t interested.

>Have you gone to the police about this?

>Yeah, but they said unless I get proof he has intent to do harm, there’s nothing I can do. I can’t even get a restraining order unless he hurts me or causes property damage. It’s like he has to beat me up before they’ll do anything, and I’d rather not let it get that far.

>Gotcha. Why don’t we don’t meet for coffee tomorrow and talk it over?

>That sounds great. I’m free at lunch.

>Me too. I’ll meet you at Leo’s Diner, you know that one?

>No, but I can Google it. See you tomorrow at 11.

Bashir arrived right on time at eleven the next morning. He was a large troll, dark blue in color, with large, off-white tusks jutting out from the sides of his mouth and his long red hair braided in several placed and pulled back at the nape of his neck. He was muscular, thick in the waist, and around nine feet tall. He wore a suit, which was finely tailored to his body. You raised your eyebrows: his profile was sparse, so you didn’t know what kind of job he did; you’d only chosen him because of his picture. But dressed like that, you were surprised he even agreed to take this “job.”

“Hi, you’re the one I’m supposed to meet today, right?” He said, extending his hand.

“Yes,” You replied, standing and shaking his hand. Your hand was dwarfed in his. “Thanks for agreeing.”

“It’s no trouble,” He said, gesturing for you to sit back down as he took a seat opposite you. “So tell me about this boyfriend of yours.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” You said. “His name is Jake. I met him at work; we worked in the same department. He seemed nice, so when he asked me out, I didn’t think anything of saying yes. The first two months was fine, and were got along really well. As soon as we decided to be exclusive, he got really clingy really quickly. Every time I’d try to pull away, he’d clutch at me tighter. He started pressuring me to put distance between me and my friends, he wanted to know where I was all the time, he was constantly texting and calling and got mad when I didn’t respond right away. I got sick of it and broke up with him.”

“When did the stalking start?”

“Almost immediately. It didn’t help that we still worked in the same department, so I had to see him every day. He’d show up at my house after work and on the weekend. He’d either be super angry and demand that I let him in, or he’d be there with flowers and candy and cry and tell me that I was the best thing that ever happened to him, that he was sorry and he’d do better. He kicked my door in a couple of times and I had to call the police. I finally managed to get a restraining order against him, but it didn’t really help. He couldn’t come within five hundred feet, so he would stand on the curb exactly five hundred feet from my house and just watch the house. I was scared for my life. So I quit my job and moved across the state with just my savings. I found a job and I started last week. And yesterday, they said I had a new client, and it was him.”

“What did you do?”

“I freaked out and called security, telling them I had a restraining order against him. He mistakenly thinks the restraining order is void because I moved, but I called and that’s not the case at all.” You sighed in aggravation. “I really hope this asshole doesn’t get me fired.”

“Hmm,” He said. “So what’s your offer?”

“Hmm?” You asked.

“You said you’d pay. What’s your offer?”

“Oh,” You said, surprised. “Uh, fifty bucks per date, plus the date expenses. I can’t really afford more than that.”

“That sounds fair. Okay,” He said. “I’ll do it. You just tell me when and where and I’ll be there.”

“Really?” You replied. “You’ll take the job?”

“Sure,” He said. “I’ve got some free time, and the extra money will be nice. I could buy a new suit in a month.” He grinned and plucked at his own, no doubt worth several months of dates.

“That’s great, thank you,” You said, sighing in relief. “So, Friday night? Around six o’clock? Would that work?”

“Absolutely,” He said, pulling out his phone. “Give me your phone number. I’ll add it to my contacts. That way, if you see him, you can call or text and I can head over and do the arm ripping thing.”

You laughed and took out your phone.

After exchanging information, the two of you had lunch and discussed the finer points of the job. PDAs were acceptable, but you’d prefer if he didn’t kiss you. He had a nine-to-five job, just like you, but his position was flexible and let him leave the office for errands, as long as he didn’t abuse the privilege. You left the lunch feeling a little safer.

Friday night, you met him at a nice Greek restaurant, and he wore another nice bespoke suit. He offered to pick you up at your home, but you didn’t really want him to know where you lived. You were still pretty paranoid about Jake finding out.

“I’m surprised you chose this place, considering you’re footing the bill and everything,” Bashir said, looking around. “It’s pretty fancy.”

“It has to look believable,” You reasoned. “And I do like Greek food. If you like, you can pick the place next time.”

He chuckled. “Have you ever had Mediterranean troll food?”

“No, I haven’t,” You said, interested. “What’s it like?”

“It’s very similar, except there’s no bread of any kind.”

“So what do you eat the hummus on?”

“You drink it like sauce.”

“You’re not supposed to drink sauce!” You protested.

He snickered.

“I feel like you’re making this up.”

“Maybe, but you’ve never met any Mediterranean trolls, so you don’t know.”

“Are you a Mediterranean troll?”

“I am, actually,” He said. “My parents came over from Morocco when I was a tot. I don’t remember much about Morocco, but I’ve always dreamed of going on a trip there, I’ve just never had the chance.” He gave a cursory look over the menu. “Maybe that’s what I’ll use this money for.”

“Sounds nice to me,” You said. “If we both get something good out of this, then that’s a plus.”

“What do you get out of this, other than getting rid of a bothersome ex?”

“Security and peace of mind,” You said, picking up your own menu. “That’s worth the price.”

He looked at you seriously. “This guy really shook you up, didn’t he?”

You set the menu back down and sighed. “He’s never hit me or threatened me verbally. The most he’s ever done is break my door, but…” You looked out of the window. “I feel like… it wouldn’t be hard, you know? It wouldn’t be that much of a leap from breaking my door in to doing something worse. If he gets mad enough, if he gets obsessed enough, who knows what he could do. All I know is that I don’t want to find out.”

“I understand,” He said. “I’ve never had to deal with something like that, because… well, look at me…” He gestured at his massive body. “But I do know people who have, and it sounds terrifying. I’m glad I can help, even if I am getting paid to do it.”

You smiled. “Well, it helps that you’re good company.”

“You don’t have to flirt with me, you know,” He teased. “That’s not part of the deal.”

“I will throat-punch you,” You said with a grin, and he laughed.

The next date was the following Saturday, and he chose to go to a concert. He wore a black v-neck shirt and a pair of black slacks, which was as dressed down as you’d seen him, but still very business-casual. It was a showcase of up-and-coming local bands, and they were all pretty good. You didn’t know that he liked Djent and progressive metal, too, but you were happy to have a common interest.

In truth, Bashir was pleasant to be around, and you were relieved that this entire thing wasn’t as awkward as it could have been. It definitely helped make this “dating” business look real from an outsider perspective. He held up his end of the bargain really well over the next dozen dates, holding your hand and putting an arm around you as if it was perfectly normal to do so. Thankfully, it didn’t make you feel uncomfortable when he did it, as he was very warm and the height difference meant he couldn’t be too cuddly naturally. You hoped that if Jake was watching, he believed you’d moved on and had no thoughts for him.

Unfortunately, if he was watching, he didn’t take the hint.

One night, as you were turning off lights and getting ready for bed, you looked out of your bedroom window and there he was, standing on the curb across the street, Jake stood in the shadow of a tree, vaping, and looking toward your house.

Panicked, you didn’t your best to stay calm while you were at the window, not wanting him to know you had seen him, but as soon as you walked away, you turned off the bedroom lights, snatched up your phone, dashed downstairs, and frantically checked the windows and doors, making sure they were all locked.

You meant to call the police, but instead, you dialed Bashir’s number. He answered immediately.

“What’s up?” He asked, sounding caught off guard. You weren’t surprised, you never called or texted him unless it was about the next “date.”

“Jake’s outside,” You whispered. “He’s across the street, I’m looking at him right now from my living room window.”

“Are you sure it’s him?”

“I’d recognize that stupid snakeskin vape box anywhere,” You said.

“Okay,” He said. “I’m heading over. Stay on the phone with me until I get there. Do you have a landline?”

“Yeah,” You replied.

“Get it and call the police. Don’t tell them he’s stalking you because, well frankly, they won’t care. Say you’re a concerned member of the neighborhood and there’s a suspicious man hanging around outside and you’re worried about a break in.”

It wouldn’t have been a lie. “Okay,” You said, picking up your cordless phone.

After calling the police, you waited with your heart in your throat, listening to Bashir get into his car and drive. He’d heard you tell the operator your address. He arrived before the police did, his vehicle a nondescript SUV, and he got out wearing sweat pants and a tank top and pulled a duffel bag from his passenger seat. He didn’t acknowledge Jake at all, simply walked up to your door and knocked. You went to open the door for him.

“Hug me and kiss my cheek,” He said in a low undertone. Gulping, you did as he said with him turning so that your display of affection was clearly visible to anyone watching from the street. You let him in and closed the door behind him, locking it.

“What now?”

“Let’s turn on the lights and make some coffee while we wait for the police,” He said.

“Okay,” You said, your voice shaking. You went to go into the kitchen but he stopped you by taking your hand.

“Hey,” He said gently. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here, and the police are coming. You’re safe.”

Tears came to your eyes and you nodded, wiping them. He released you and you went to the kitchen, putting a pot of coffee on.

The police arrived. You and Bashir watched covertly from the breakfast nook. Eventually, Jake walked to a car and got in it, driving away. The police followed him.

“They let him go?” You asked, worried.

“Well, they may not have know he has a restraining order, and even if they did, he looked plenty far away enough to not have violated it. He wasn’t breaking any laws other than loitering, so they couldn’t arrest him. At least they made sure he left.”

You held your head in your hands. “God, I don’t want to have to do all this over again.”

“It’s okay,” He said. “I’ll stay the night to make sure he doesn’t come back tonight.”

“What about tomorrow? Or the next day? You can’t be here all the time,” You said, your voice shaking.

He sighed heavily. “Do you know how to use a gun?”

You scoffed in disgust. “I don’t want a fucking gun.”

“Okay,” He said. “Then, I’ll put up a security system. I brought one with me; it’s in my bag. I’ll set it up tonight while he’s not here.”

“It’s late,” You said weakly.

“Do you want to sleep or do you want peace of mind?” He asked you levelly.

You scrubbed your face, took a deep breath, drained your coffee cup, and stood up. “Okay. Let’s do it, then.”

It took a few hours, but he managed to get several security cameras fixed to the building, focused on entryways and the front and back yards. You helped him by holding the equipment and tools for him as he worked, handing up what he needed as he needed it. By the time the two of you were done, it was three a.m. and you both had to be at work in mere hours.

The two of you fell into an exhausted sleep on your bed. You didn’t even have the energy to be affronted by the fact that you were sharing a bed with him. The next morning, before he left to go home and get ready for work, he downloaded the security camera app onto your phone and showed you how to use it.

You went to work, checking your phone surreptitiously to see if Jake was outside of your house. So far, he hadn’t reappeared.

>Today’s Friday, You texted him. >I know you’re probably tired after last night, but do you want to have a date today?

>What about a home date at my house? He replied. >I’ll cook dinner and everything. I don’t want you to be at your house at the moment.

>I can’t argue with that, You said in return. >Sounds good to me. What are you cooking?

>I was thinking a kefta meatball tagine with couscous on the side, and a snake pastry for dessert.

>That sounds amazing. Thanks for putting me up. I know this all is a huge inconvenience, and I really appreciate it.

>It’s no problem,” He said. >It’s what I’m getting paid for, right?

You sighed. Well, this wasn’t exactly what he was getting paid for. How much would an overnight stay cost you?

He sent you a message with his address and you went home after work to shower and pack a small overnight bag. You snickered, pulling out your pretty underwear and a sexy negligee, wondering if you should pack this, too, before putting it away and just throwing some pajamas in your bag.

Checking the cameras before stepping outside, you left the house and hurried to your car, heading to Bashir’s house. His place was a two-story, bungalow style house with a dark brown cliffstone brick pattern and a detached garage. It was charming, and a lot cuter than your tiny yellow ranch-style house. The yard was well kept and three were full flowerbeds next to the wide porch. You wouldn’t have imagined he lived in a place like this.

You knocked on the door and he answered it quickly, wearing a comfortable t-shirt and pair of tight jeans. You tried not to stare, but it was difficult. His clothes left very little to the imagination. His hair was also down and cascaded down his back and shoulders.

“Come in, come in,” He said, taking your bag for you.

“Thanks,” You said. “Your house is really pretty.”

“Oh, thanks!” He said. “It was actually condemned when I bought it. I basically had to rebuild it from the ground up. I’m not quite finished with it yet, but I’m happy with the progress.”

“You should be, it’s amazing,” You said. “I’d never have guessed it was a fixer-upper.”

He grinned at you, showing off his sharp teeth. “Come on, dinner will be ready soon.”

“It smells great,” You said, inhaling the savory smell of lamb and vegetables.

“All my mom’s recipes,” He replied, heading into the kitchen. “She owns a restaurant three towns over.”

“I’ll have to go and visit it sometime,” You said.

“Maybe I’ll take you myself one day,” He said, smiling as he stirred the couscous. Your heart fluttered a little.

How long were you going to have to keep this up? “Dating” Bashir was fun, but it wasn’t going to last forever. Either Jake would give up or get arrested, so either way, it would be over. Maybe you could stay friends. He was nice enough, and you enjoyed hanging out with him. But still… why was he talking about things that might happen in the future if there was no future for the two of you?

Dinner was delicious, and so was dessert, and afterward the two of you went to the living room to watch a movie. He even put his arm around you, since the window was uncovered and anyone could look in, he said, and you felt comfortable enough to relax into his side. It almost did feel like a real home date.

After the movie, though, you both decided to sleep, since you were still tired from the night before. You decided that you were both adults and could share a bed without it being awkward, and besides, his bed was huge and could fit five of you easily. You both fell asleep almost immediately.

Sometime during the night, you got a ping from the motion detector on your phone, but when you checked the security system, it was just a raccoon in your trashcan. You sighed and put your phone down, rolling over.

Bashir was on his back, asleep, with his face turned toward you. He was breathing deeply and relaxed with one hand on his chest and the other on his stomach.

You couldn’t help but stare. He really was an attractive guy, and if circumstances had been different, you might have dated him for real. But… until Jake left you alone, you didn’t want to drag anyone else into it. Bashir didn’t have any emotional connection to you, so Jake couldn’t affect whatever “relationship” you had.

But maybe things could be different after? You weren’t sure. He hadn’t expressed any interest in you other than what he had to to make the job believable. He hadn’t been flirty or more affectionate than he needed to be. You couldn’t afford to develop feelings for Bashir, not right now.

Even still, you brushed your fingers gently against the skin of his arm, feeling the hairs that covered it, and followed the curve up to his hand, allowing yours to rest on top of his for a moment or two before retracting it and trying to fall asleep again, sighing heavily.

The next morning, Bashir recommended that the two of you spend the day together, to keep up the weekend stay appearance.

“How much is this ‘weekend getaway’ going to cost me?” You asked dubiously.

He laughed. “Don’t worry, today’s a freebie, since I suggested it. You still have to pay for last night, though. The normal fifty bucks is fine.”

“Mm-hmm,” You hummed flatly, fishing the money out of your wallet and handing it to him. “Well, what do you want to do?”

“Ah, it’s a freebie day, right? You get to choose this time.”

You smiled. “Well, let’s start with breakfast. I’ll cook it. I can cook breakfast blindfolded.”

“If you like,” He said, sitting at the bar in the kitchen and watching you putter around, looking for cooking tools.

After breakfast, you decided you wanted to go to the local botanical garden, which you hadn’t been to in some time.

“Your flowerbeds outside reminded me of this place,” You told him, walking slowly through the rows of Japanese maples. There was a beautiful and an extremely rare Chinese Red Maple behind a gate at the end of the row, the centerpiece of the garden. “Did you plant them yourself?”

“Yep,” He said with a smile. “I helped my dad do a lot of gardening when he was still alive. He had a landscaping business, but he was really passionate about it. I actually inherited the business. Gardening helps me keep his memory alive.”

“That’s really sweet,” You said, smiling softly. “Is that what you do for a living, the landscaping job? I’ve never actually asked what you do for work.”

“No, actually. I mean, I own the company, but I don’t work for it. My actual job is something else entirely.”

“What is it?”

He laughed. “Honestly, I don’t think you’d believe me.” Before you could ask, he took you by the hand and said, “Let’s take a break and get a coffee. I have to use the bathroom.”

“Okay,” You said, letting the subject drop. For now.

You got to the food court outside of the botanical gardens and sat down at the outdoor cafe.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” He said, putting some money down on the table. “Can you order me a large black coffee?”

“Yeah, sure,” You said. He smiled and headed off. You got up and put in your order, then sat back down at the table and opened the security app, looking through the cameras and checked to see if anything was out of place.

The chair opposite to you was pulled out and he sat back down while you were still looking at your phone.

“The coffee should be out soon,” You said.

“I didn’t order coffee,” A voice said. It wasn’t Bashir.

You jerked your head up and saw Jake sitting across from you. You stood up so fast that you knocked the chair over.

“Get away from me, Jake,” You said.

“Look, just talk to me,” He said, standing up and advancing on you. “Why won’t you just talk to me?”

“Get away from me!” You shouted. “Bashir!”

“Are you calling for that monster?” He sneered. “You could do so much better than him. Besides, you’re not even really dating him, you’re just paying him to keep you company, you slut. You think I wouldn’t figure that out?”

“Fuck you!” You back up. “Bashir!”

Jake was snatched back and slammed down onto the cafe table. Bashir had him pinned down with a single hand. It wasn’t hard to do: Bashir was almost twice the size of Jake in height and weight.

“Let me go!” Jake said, struggling against Bashir’s iron grip. “I’ll have you arrested! My brother’s a cop!”

“Ah, that explains how you got her address so quick,” Bashir said. “I don’t really care if your brother’s a cop. Actually, I think I do, I think an internal affairs investigation is warranted. Regardless, you’ve just violated a restraining order.”

“What does it matter to you?”

Bashir snorted. “I’m FBI, dickless.”

You gaped at him.

“Bullshit!” Jake said. “I’ll fucking sue you! I’ll ruin your fucking life!”

“Whatever you want, you’re still under arrest,” Bashir said, pulling out a set of handcuffs from an inside pocket of his jacket.

“You’re kidding,” You said slowly, staring at Bashir.

“I told you you probably wouldn’t believe me,” He said, grinning at you sheepishly. He jerked his head at his jacket. “My ID is in my pocket.”

You reached in and fished it out, opening the leather fold to reveal a… rather official looking ID and badge.

You laughed in disbelief. “You’re right, I wouldn’t have.”

The police arrived to detain Jake and took him to the station. Bashir drove you to the station, as well, so that you could make a statement.

Later, Bashir drove you back to your house.

“I’ll bring your bag over later,” He said. “He’ll probably get ninety days in jail for violating the restraining order, and hopefully you won’t have to deal with him anymore. Although, if you hear from him again once he gets out, let me know, and I’ll be here.”

“Thanks,” You said. “Really, thank you for everything.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Here,” He said, handing it to you. Inside was all the money you had given him for the dates, plus some. There had to have been almost two thousand dollars in there.

“But this is…”

He laughed. “I’m a federal official, you know. I can’t take bribes. I’d get fired.”

“This wasn’t…” You started, but stopped yourself. This could absolutely be seen as a bribe. “What do I do with all this?”

He shrugged. “Whatever you like. Go on a trip. Buy something nice. It’s your money, after all.”

You sighed a little sadly. “I guess this is it, then.”

He sighed, too. “Yeah, I guess so.” He leaned forward, bent down, and kissed you on the cheek. “Take care of yourself.”

Jake did end up getting three months in jail, which made you feel a lot better. You were worried that he would come after you, but the three months passed and when he was released, he moved clear across the country and you never heard from him again.

Finally free of him, you thought you might try actually dating again, but you could only think of Bashir. You and he had only spoken a few times, mostly him checking on you, but you hadn’t seen each other since Jake’s arrest. You missed him, but you couldn’t tell him that. He didn’t have any feelings for you, anyway. If he did, wouldn’t he have asked you out after Jake was out of the picture?

Even still, you wanted to see him again. So once Jake was gone, you texted Bashir.

>I have something for you, You told him.

>Oh? What’s that?

>I want to give it to you in person. Would it be okay to come over this weekend?

>I’m free now. Why don’t you stop by?

>Okay. I’ll be there soon.

Before leaving, you hesitated and decided to throw on your best, sexiest underwear. Just in case.

You arrived at his house to find him out in the front yard. He was digging a hole in the yard with a sapling sitting in a bucket, ready for planting. There were also stones and gravel he was going to use for a decorative barrier. He stood up and waved as you drove up into the driveway.

“Hey!” He said, pulling you into a hug. Well, as well as he could, being so tall. “It’s good to see you!”

“You too!” You said. “What kind of tree is that?”

“A Chinese Maple,” He said. “I got inspired when we went to the botanical gardens that time. It cost a pretty penny and I had to wait for the cutting to grow, but it’s finally ready to plant.”

“That’s so cool,” You said. “Can I help?”

“Really?” He said, grinning. “Yeah, sure! There’s a pair of gloves over there on the porch. They might be a little big, but it’s better than blisters.”

You ran to retrieve them, and picked up a trowel. “Why did you decide on the maple?”

“Cause it reminds me of you,” He said, digging. “When I look out my window every day and see it, I’ll think of you.”

Your heart beat faster, but you couldn’t look at him.

It only took about an hour to dig out the hole, plant the sapling, fill the hole with soil, lay the stones, and spread the gravel. Thankfully it was a cool day and you didn’t sweat too much. The two of you caught up on what had happened in the three months since you’d seen each other. You wanted to ask if he had started dating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“It looks great,” He said, standing back and grinning. “Thanks for your help! We got it done in record time. Let’s get cleaned up and have a drink.”

“Okay,” You said. “Let me grab my purse from the car.”

“Oh, right, you had something to give me, right?”

“Yep,” You told him, grabbing your bag.

He laughed. “Sorry I side-tracked you.”

“It’s fine, I had a good time,” You said. He opened the door for you and let you go into the house before him.

You went to the bathroom to freshen up and when you looked down, you realized your toothbrush was in the holder, the one you had forgotten when you’d stayed over. You had bought a new one and figured he’d just throw it away when he found it. Why had he kept it? Why was it in the holder with his?

You went back out into the kitchen and found him shirtless, water beading down the muscles of his back, and you stopped in the doorway, staring.

“Oh, sorry,” He said, laughing and throwing on a clean shirt. “Needed a quick wash. I felt a little grimy after the yardwork.”

“It’s okay,” You said, your heart still hammering in your chest.

“Iced tea?”

“Yeah, sure,” You replied, sitting at the bar. He poured you a drink and sat at the bar opposite you.

“So, what was the thing you had for me.”

You swallowed your tea a bit too hard and reached into your purse, handing him an envelope.

“This isn’t the money, is it?” He asked, smiling.

“No, it’s not money,” You said. “Open it.”

He grinned playfully at you, but it slipped from his face when he looked inside the envelope, pulling out two plane tickets.

“Morocco?” He asked, looking up at you in surprise.

You nodded. “Those are good for a year, so make sure you get some vacation time soon,” You said, anxious.

He stared at them. “There are two.”

“Yes,” You replied. “In case you wanted to take your mom. Or maybe a girlfriend or boyfriend or something.”

You kept your face as neutral as possible, but he was staring at you.

“The extra ticket is for you, isn’t it?” He asked softly.

You looked down and away. “If you don’t want me to go, that’s okay. You can take whoever you like. I just wanted you to have the trip you always dreamed of.”

He got up out of his chair, came around, and got down on his knees, so that he was face to face with you. He leaned forward and kissed you. It was firm and testing, and you responded, throwing your arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around you as well.

“I missed you,” He murmured against your lips.

“Why didn’t you ask me out?” You asked him, pulling back to look at his face.

“I thought you weren’t interested in a real relationship,” He said, pulling you against him. “If I had any inclination you did, I would have asked you out on the spot.”

“I thought the same thing,” You said. “I never expected you’d actually like me.”

“I do,” He said, kissing you again and standing up. “I like you very, very much.”

He walked you into his room and lay you down on his bed, stripping your clothes off your body.

“Pretty,” He said with a grin as he came across your lacy black underwear. “Did you wear this for me?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

“Well, it would be a shame to take it off so soon, then, wouldn’t it?” He said, palming your breasts over the fabric of your bra. He touched your slit over your underwear, and you gasped. You lifted your leg and rubbed him through his pants, and he grunted. You felt him harden under your touch. He was… uh… large.

You pulled off his shirt and ran your nails down his chest. He moved his hand away and pressed himself against you, still clothed, grinding himself into your clit, and you moaned. You reached for his belt and unbuckled it, unbuttoning it, and pushed his pants down with your toes. Because of his long tusks, he couldn’t bend down to kiss you in this position, so he picked you up as if you were a doll, kissing your body. You were always a little self conscious about your weight, being a big girl, but he seemed not to notice.

He lifted you all the way up to his face, kneeling down so that you weren’t so high up, and licked the cloth covering your slit, putting your legs over his shoulders and his tusks under your body. Using just his tongue, he moved your underwear out of the way and teased your clit. His tongue was long and thick. You whimpered and rocked your hips against his tongue. He pushed it in side of you and thrust it back and forth, and you writhed in his grip.

Carefully, he pulled you down and eased you into his lap, pressing himself against your entrance. You pressed your hands against his stomach and watched him disappear slowly inside you. He couldn’t go all the way in, but once he reached the back and knew where the limit was, he pulled back out slowly and thrust in again slowly, easing you into it. He must have had a similar size problem in the past and had learned how to overcome it in these situations. You were glad for it.

He lay you on the edge of the bed and pressed your knees back, thrusting a little faster, and you reached down and touched yourself, rubbing quickly as he sped up. He pulled the cups of your bra down so that he could grasp your breasts, squeezing gently, and grunted. You held his hand there with your own, pulling up your head and sucking on his pointer finger, looking up at him through your lashes. His breathing was erratic and he watched you hungrily, his sharp teeth biting into his lower lip and pricking the skin.

“I’m so close,” You moaned. “I’m going to cum.”

He nodded as if in agreement, squeezing his eyes shut. He grimaced as if in pain, but then shouted, roaring, and released inside of you. It was a torrent, spraying out of you. Another few hip thrusts and circles around your clit, you came too, your head thrown back against the bed, crying out.

He pulled out and turned his head, resting it against your stomach as his arms gripped your sides, breathing hard. After a moment, you both sat up, and you realized that his legs were covered with his own release.

“Wanna get cleaned up?” You asked him.

“Yeah,” He said dreamily, standing up and leading you into the bathroom. You took a shower together, helping him clean himself. He did the same for you, kneeling down and washing your body. The way he knelt in front of you combine with the way he looked at you, it almost felt like he was worshiping you. Honestly, you didn’t mind that at all.

Your underwear would have to be washed, but he said you could borrow one of his shirts, if you wanted to. Honestly, you were happy to lounge in his bed naked. He seemed happy with that, too.

“When would you like to go?” You asked him, laying on his chest and playing with his chest hair. “To Morocco, I mean?”

“Soon,” He said, entwining his fingers in your hair. “I’ll put in for vacation time as soon as I get back to the office. I don’t really take vacations, so I’m sure my colleagues will be surprised.”

You smiled and kissed his skin. “I’ll have to put in for time off, too,” You said. “Although, I only just started working there six months ago, so they may not approve it.”

“Let me know when they do and I’ll schedule for the same time,” He said.

“Sounds good to me,” He said, sitting up and crossing his legs, looking down at you. You posed a little for him and he grinned, running his hands up and down the soft skin of your torso and belly. “You know what I’d like to do right now, though?”

“What’s that?” You asked.

“I want to take you on a date,” He said, smiling softly. “A real one. I'll pay and everything. And I want to be able to kiss you.”

You smiled back at him. “Deal.”

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Exophilia #Monster Boyfriend #Troll #WoW Troll #World of Warcraft Troll

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smalldistortion · 2 years ago

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Mechtober, Day 30, Free Space!!

I haven’t done anything for mechtober which was really upsetting to me, I wanted to write but so much happened I missed it so, here is my contribution, please ignore my bad grammar!!! (im gonna try to make an ao3 story with prompts for each day sometime soon)

@mechtober2022

Instead of taking the Suits job, Ariadne decided to have a different idea at fixing her families legacy.

Ariadne stared at herself in mirror, dressed in a silvery white wedding dress. She sighed, a bit somberly. An older nymph, dressed in a blue and white gown appeared and put Ariadne’s veil in her hair, which was pulled up into a bun.

“Why do you look so sad, Miss?” The nymph asked, staring into the mirror.

“I just, I can’t believe I’m marrying him, why did it have to come to this.” She looked down and turned away from the mirror.

“Why did that asshole of a “hero” leave me to rot!” she said, undertones of rage hidden in her voice. The nymph embraced her, pulling her close. “My dear Ari, let us not talk about Theseus on today of all days.”

Ariadne rolled her eyes and walked over to the window, looking out over the uppermost level of The City. She was rarely up here anynmore, unlike when she was a child. The skyscrapers hung in the dim; smog filled sky.

“I was one who should have got the credit, I’m the one that should be famous, and yet it failed. Now, I’ve resorted to marrying one of my business partners.”

The nymph sighed and slowly made her way next to Ariadne, putting her hand on Ariadne’s shoulder. “My dear, do you even love Dionysus?”

Ariadne looked up at the nymph, meeting her eyes. She was slightly taken aback and had to seriously think for a second. She did love Dionysus, and through business from Zeus through her own grandfather, Helios. She slowly began to appreciate Dionysus. But she only loved him as a friend, and only ever saw him as a friend

“I mean, it’s hard to explain. He is one of my closet’s companions. He took me in after Theseus publicly rejected me and took me in after I had run out of money. I love him, I’m just not in love with him.”

A buzzer went off on an intercom, “Miss Ariadne, it’s time,” Ariadne and the nymph looked at each other. Ariadne took a deep breath and sucked in any tears she had. “It’s time for me to redeem my family.” She grabbed her bouquet of fake flowers and made her way to the elevator with the nymph following behind.

Dionysus stood at the metal alter. His satyrs, all dressed in black and purple suits. Opposite of him was all the bridesmaids, his favorite nymphs and closest Maenads. The audience sat the Olympians, their spouses and kids and other nymphs. Dionysus psychiatrist was also there, slightly bouncing in his seat.

Everyone stood up as the music started to get louder. Ariadne made her way to down the aisle, the nymph making her way next to another nymph, who she held her hand as she sat down. Ariadne quietly observed everyone, her face resting and slightly cold. She made her way to the alter and looks up at Dionysus.

He reeked of alcohol and was a bit untidy, dirty blonde hair slicked back with a very large beard. He was tall and big, with a gut. But he had a sort of warmness to him, that always made me very approachable. He fixed his tie a bit, staring at Ariadne.

The only thoughts and Ariadnes mind were ones that raced and panicked. Some screamed for her to run while others told her to stay silent. She had almost zoned out before the vows took place. Dionysus held her hand and pulled out a piece of parchment. He cleared his throat and began to ready his vows off it. His voice slightly boomed and all the Maenads seems to stare at him, almost swooning. Then something hit Ariadne like a brick.

“My beautiful Ariadne, from the moment I met you, you have had a powerful aura too you that my brain has not been able to wrap around, but when I took you in, I knew I loved you.”

Awes filled the audience as Ariadne’s stomach just seemed to twist more. Eventually he finished and everyone clapped. Ariadne was next. She pulled out a small piece of parchment.

“First off, Dionysus I feel like I must apologies for my vows are short and simple. Dionysus, since the day I have met you, and you have been nothing but sweet and kind to me. You’ve been accepting of me and caring. You’ve gave me shelter, you helped to give my parents a respectful funeral to the Acheron and so much more. I can only wonder how my life will improve with you, as I know you will love me. I hope to spend the rest of our lives together.”

Claps filled from the audience as Ariadne looked around to see smiles before looking back at Dionysus. He was smiling, and Ariadne smiled back at him. She put the paper away after the applause slowly died down. Faster to Ariadne’s dismay, an “I do,” came out of Dionysus mouth.

“And do you, Ariadne, take this man to be you husband, through sickness and through health, til death do you part?”

Ariadne took a deep breath and an “I do,” came out of her mouth.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife; you may kiss the bride.”

Dionysus leaned in and Ariadne closed her eyes tight and kissed him, pulling back, quicker than Dionysus expected. He fixed himself and they walked down the aisle together.

Ariadne and Dionysus sat at a table together. Dionysus was talking to Poseidon. Ariadne observed the festivities. Zeus danced with Hera, but it was clear he was staring at the nymphs and other women there. Polyphemus danced with an older man and a young nymph, wearing a different eyepatch than usual. Athena was talking to Artemis. Even scary loner Hades and their supposed wife, Persephone, were talking to Dionysus doctor. Eventually Poseidon left, and Ariadne pulled on Dionysus’s sleeve to get his attention.

“Yes, my dear?” Dionysus spoke.

“Can I talk to you, privately, sir?” she said, kind of cowering.

“You don’t need to call me sir anymore my dear, we are married!” he boomed. Ariadne flinched at the word married.

“I know, it just really important, and I’d rather do it alone.” she pleaded. Dionysus nodded and they got up and went to the hallway next to dining hall.

Ariadne looked around a bit, making sure they were alone.

“What is it you want to tell me my dear?” Dionysus looked down at her, she appeared...distant, her eyes staring to the side.

“I’m sorry Dionysus, I lied to you.”

He was puzzled at the statement.

“What do you mean you lied?”

Ariadne took a deep breath and met his eyes.

“I don’t love you. At least not romantically. I did this so my family’s name could be saved. I love you, but only as a friend. All the dates, the proposal, everything, all lies...I’m sorry sir...” her voice was cold and blunt; a couple tears fell down her face as she looked down again.

Dionysus was silent, staring at her.

He suddenly grabbed her hands, holding them both gently. She looked up at him, shocked he wasn’t screaming, or crying. In a soft quiet voice, he spoke, “My beautiful Ariadne, I love you with all my heart. I want you to live happily, for seeing you happy makes me happy. And even though you may not love me now, who’s to say you won’t ever. But I want you to be happy and if making your family’s name right then okay. I love you and being married to you, even if it’s a marriage for money, I don’t care, being near you fills me with joy no matter what.” he cupped her cheek with one of his hands.

“Dionysus...I... I don’t want you to be in a loveless marriage...” Ariadne choked out.

“Love comes in many different forms...I love you, you love me, just in different ways.” he kissed the top of her head.

Ariadne wiped her tears best she could and hugged Dionysus. “You are the best person I could have asked for.” she cried into his chest.

They embraced a little longer before heading back to the hall.

Maybe marriage to Dionysus wouldn’t be so bad after all.

#mechtober 2022 #udad #ariadne udad #dionysus udad #ulysses dies at dawn #writing

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dilucids · 4 years ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤLove in cameras ━━ Genshin idol! au

newbie! idol!reader collaborating on a photoshoot together with idol! genshin characters

includes beidou, rosaria, childe, zhongli, diluc and xiao

( back on that idol au grind. also, the sheer amount of 'male reader' shit on this app that involves incest makes me genuinely tear up and take a shot everytime i say 'shot', you'd be drunk enough to hook up with zhongli dragon form. )

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 BEIDOU ━━ UNCROWNED QUEEN OF THE OCEAN 〕

━━ one of the most nerve-wrecking things ever because she's simply so intimidating and good at what she does.

━━ you're literally shaking in your seat as she takes her solo shots, watching her lean on one leg, placing the other by her side, stretching her arms all the whilst making eye contact with the camera.

━━ she just looks so professional and you're afraid you won't be able to live up to her and ruin the entire shoot since even though you're both idols, she's been in more magazines as a senior group compared to you.

━━ when you switch for your solo shots, she seems to sense how nervous you were ( although you weren't really hiding it much with your shaky knees and annoying tapping your foot. )

━━ she places a hand on your shoulder and gives you a smile and a thumbs up, telling you you'll be okay.

━━ you realise she wasn't as menacing and stoic as she was in magazines and slightly relax.

━━ helps you relax by offering support behind the camera!!!

You lean sideways a little, allowing the thin material to fall off your shoulder a little as you glance back at the camera, lips slightly apart. Your stoic facade is broken almost immediately when you hear Beidou hollering and clapping in the background. You begin to laugh in suprised shock as the staff around the set follow her example, the shuttering of cameras now longer heard as it is replaced with clapping and whooping.

You grow a little embarrassed, glancing over at Beidou for help but she seems proud, stood there with hands on her hips and a satisfied grin. You realise she isn't going to help you out so you attempt to calm the set down with thanks and bows until you're continuing with the shoot.

━━ beidou has a very large presence, so it's very hard to have magnetism next to her but you somehow make it work.

━━ compared to your solo shots, your duo shots have a pirate/knight theme.

━━ with beidou in a pirate getup and you in a knight getup, it was obvious to see that this was some type of old ancient rivalry between the two groups and you two were meant to potray that anger and tension.

━━ due to you being new to this type of scene, she'll take the lead, making sure that her pose allowed you to fit in perfectly, whether it be far away, close, a sword to her throat, you splayed on the floor and her leaning in with her sword next to your head. ( thank god that shot was meant to focus on beidou cause with her that close to you, you couldn't keep a straight face. )

━━ of course even with such a theme, fan service is everything! so some of the poses are a little more touchy touchy and if she can tell you're nervous, will immediately lighten the mood and assure you you're doing well.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 ROSARIA ━━ THORNING BENEVOLENCE 〕

━━ like beidou, will naturally exude professionalism and skill.

━━ unlike beidou though, she'll probably ignore your nervousness or bluntly tell you to toughen up if you want to make it, it sounds harsh but you know it's her own way of advice giving.

━━ her poses are less showy than beidou, more elegant and graceful as she rests her hands on her waist or cross her legs over each other over the arm of the chair and look back at the camera.

━━ will watch you, probably assessing your style, as you take your solo shots and if she notices your embarrassment ( she definitely does ), well she doesn't stop.

━━ will somehow converse with the photographer about poses she thinks will bring out your potential and it works, she has an eye for these things apparently and a lot of photographers like her style of modelling.

As you step back, allowing the staff to move props around, you glance back at the director of the shoot and Rosaria stood before the screen, showing off the photos. They seem to be deep in conversation, the only giveaway about the tense conversation however was the director's furrowed eyebrows and lips pressed into a tight line, Rosaria had no expression on her face.

The director seems to give up after Rosaria says something, pointing at the screen with her arms crossed, walking away with a shake of his head albeit the smile of being challenged. You immediately look away when she peers up at you, catching your eyes for a split second; you knew she had been shamelessly staring at you but it was quite embarrassing to be caught yourself.

"Here we go," snaps you out of your embarrassment and you're back to sitting on a black throne lined with gold, posing for the shoot.

━━ it's awkward before the camera is on you two as you stand on the set but once the camera is on? you two flow so perfectly together.

━━ rosaria would allow you to take the reins, allowing you to do what you felt was natural and would simply follow. ( another one of her ways of easing newbies into the modelling scene. )

━━ if your pose is a little awkward though, she'd quietly tell you to move certain ways and try not to overpower you ( but if you were overpowered, that'd be your own fault and you should try harder. that's her motto. )

━━ it actually surprises you how good she looked with a spear in hand and how well it suited her.

━━ it was kinda nerve-wracking to be working with rosaria but you absolutely loved it and would kill to work with her and have her guidance again ( deffo should ask for her number for future guidance!! )

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 CHILDE ━━ 11TH FATUI HARBINGER 〕

━━ looks professional on camera but is surprisingly childlike off camera.

━━ why is his little brother on the set wearing a pj mask costume again? right, he had to pick him up from school earlier than usual cause teucer said he was sick and wanted childe to come so he got use his older brother's reputation to get closer to that female teacher he liked. as for the pj mask costume, he wanted to fit in with the shoot theme so the poor stylists had to pull out some slightly too large, dusty halloween costume they found somewhere for him. great.

━━ other than that, childe is great at what he does, amazing at facial expressions like *whistles*, terrifyingly good at making the expressions asked of him. ( can cry on command actually (( learnt to entertain his younger siblings. )) ).

━━ you're intimidated by him at first but when you guys are taking a small break between his shoot and yours, you get to see him play around with his teucer and oh my god.

━━ he's literally carrying teucer above his head, teucer posed as superman with one arm sticking out and the other on his hip as he carefully runs throughout the set.

━━ when it's actually your turn, he will secretly hype you up with teucer.

"Pretty," Teucer mutters under his breath as prop flower petals are being thrown up as you pose under them. Childe smiles a little as he ruffles his younger brother's hair, "isn't my partner the prettiest?"

You're oblivious to these comments, focusing on the camera that was following your every move but your eyes glance over to the two brothers ever so often, finding their closeness rather endearing.

"They're prettier and nicer than your last partner," Teucer huffs, thinking of the previous collaboration he had attended with another celebrity, although she was a little too flirty with Childe for Teucer's liking. "Momma said you have to find a good person, big bro" Teucer reminds aa Childe smiles amused. "Are they a good person?" Childe thrusts his thumb over in your direction.

Teucer hums, thinking carefully with his chin in hand before nodding, beaming at Childe. "I'm sure they'll fit in nicely with everyone!" Your future had just been planned and you had no say in it at all.

━━ as for duo shots, it's another enemies theme but it's more of an assassination theme with childe holding a bow, perched on a higher stage than you.

━━ took ten minutes for childe to figure out how to look good with a bow in hand, with an eye scrunched up like he was actually aiming at you. ( of course he wouldn't have succeeded if not for teucer shouting advice at him off set with his hands on his hips. )

━━ he swears he almost feels the adrenaline of the scene as if his life was actually on the line when you shoot him a glare like directed.

━━ you two get on pretty well off set as well! you joke around as props are being moved around or make up is being fixed for either of you.

━━ you feel bad when you actually stab him with the fake sword, but he plays through with it, acting like he was dying.

━━ play fighting with teucer as an evil overlord ( still wearing his pj mask costume ) mind controlling childe's lover ( you ) into thinking he was the enemy ( teucer came up with the plot ).

━━ slipped his number into your pocket as you two were posing.

━━ teucer also got to keep his pj mask costume!!

━━ posts a picture of you messing around with teucer on his instagram.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 ZHONGLI ━━ VAGO MUNDO 〕

━━ probably the most professional out of them all.

━━ his poses are quite simplistic as he models the suit, hand in his pocket, fixing a cuff link, checking the time, simply casting his gaze to the side but he still holds a very large presence on set.

━━ would calmly converse with you as if you two had been friends for a long time, with a small smile on his face.

━━ if he can tell you're nervous, he'll tell you small anecdotes about anything and everything. when it's your turn, he give your shoulder a small squeeze and nod at you.

━━ talks to the director about poses as well, has a keen eye about what prop should be used and the positioning of them; you're suprised he isn't the director of the shoot.

━━ when you thank him for his help on the sidelines, he'll shake his head and tell you it was due to your talent and that he was only creating opportunities for them to naturally shine.

━━ was literally made for the camera, just the way he poses, the way he holds himself; god, it would've been a crime if this man had never been placed front page of a magazine.

You're entraced by the way he moves━━ subtle ways, like placing one foot ahead of the other, a hand in his pocket, looking down at the watch on his wrist. He's amazing. You could watch him for ages; he was like a sculpture made by the Gods, their most prized possession. What else could explain his sharp jawline, the bangs framing his face, his long hair pulled back into a low ponytail?

"You're staring," a staff member nudges you with a small smile, you snap out of it right away, slightly embarrassed at being caught. She laughs however, waving you off, "it's okay, we were all like that at first." You nod awkwardly, her words not helping at easing the embarrassment filling you.

You're talking with a staff member when he comes striding towards you, appearing behind you and scaring off the makeup artist with a mere smile and gracing you with a hand on your shoulder. "You're up next, good luck."

━━ mentally prepare yourself to be within a five metre radius of this man for the next hour or so.

━━ whether you're weak to pretty faces or not, i assure you, this man will honestly be the death of you if your guard is down even the littlest bit.

━━ the theme of this shoot? ceo/secretary and it does make sense━━ no it would make sense, if you were the secretary, not the ceo. but apparently fans like this type of power dynamic ( assuming you're shorter than him ) and so for the future of your careers you persevere.

━━ zhongli stood clad in a suit, next to you with his hands behind his back and you sat down at a desk, eyebrows furrowed like you're examining paper work or zhongli pouring you a cup of tea. you're pretty sure this is some odd dream at this point.

━━ you only persevere until zhongli has to pose as if he was fixing your tie.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 DILUC RAGNVINDR ━━ DARKNIGHT HERO 〕

━━ intimidating. intimidating. intimidating.

━━ did you wrong god in some type of way in your past life because being watched so openly as you pose for the camera for such a man, naturally exerting power, with eyebrows furrowed was one of the most terrifying things ever.

━━ his poses are similar to zhongli's but he puts a little more back into it, dignified aura as he crosses his leg, or one hand holding his hair up into a high pony as the other is near his mouth, using his teeth to pull the bobble off his wrist.

━━ also more open to differing hairstyles! unlike zhongli who only keeps his hair in a low ponytail, diluc can comprise with a low pony, high pony or even a messy bun.

━━ good balance of praise and constructive criticism; will tell you if you're doing good but will also tell you if you could improve in certain areas or even help with poses.

━━ diluc has amazing chemistry with everyone, he fits naturally into other people's style of modelling and can alter himself or his partner to fit if necessary, he also has a large presence on camera and sometimes accidentally overtakes when he gets too into the shoot.

"Calm down," you step back in reflex when you hear Diluc's voice just behind you, "your nervousness is plastered all over your face." You make a sound of acknowledgement and bow your head, "just take a few breaths and imagine you're at home in your mirror bathroom." It scared you that he knew infront of your mirror bathroom, you were the most confident but thanks to his help, you were able to ease yourself into modelling.

"You did well," he smiles at you when you come off the set, patting you on the shoulder. You smile back, "thanks to your advice," you redirect the compliment back at him. The short interaction ends when you two have to change into your couple costume.

━━ unintended sexual tension 👫

━━ was supposed to be casual poses, really easy ones with you two sat on steps with a respective cigarette in hand as friends but somehow,,,,, you two looked like y'all had fucked a second before hopping onto the set.

━━ so, the director took the inherent sexual tension and put it into use; changing just seeming like you were smoke buddies into poses where you two leaning into the same flame to light up your cigarettes. ( close ups of you two staring into each other's eyes over the flame! )

━━ kept lesser tension packed photos though and the one above^^ just as a small treat for the fans.

━━ he definitely posted a picture of you ( tagged ) behind the scenes on his instagram with no caption though.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 XIAO ━━ CONQUEROR OF DEMONS 〕

━━ more reserved, if he has a problem with the way you do things, doesn't say anything and just makes a certain expression with his face.

━━ his poses vary, he's able to adapt to each and every theme that's given to him and usually plays it safe with poses. he's usually modelling for makeup brands so he's very good with close ups, or hand and face poses; also is very used to working with many people but often never attempts to befriend.

━━ if you initiate conversation, he'll use dry replies or even attempt to leg it out of the conversation, only because he's a little shy or doesn't really understand social rules after a while, he'll given into your conversations and try to reply normally.

━━ i feel like he has mints with him no matter where he goes so expect a "do you want a mint?" halfway into your conversation.

━━ definitely is trusted with the music that plays in the background as you guys work. xiao is literally globally known for having one of the best music tastes and often makes songs hit the 'top 100' even if it's been out for years.

━━ it takes him a little while to get used to a new partner so give him a few test shots to get your vibe checked and he'll adapt!

You try hard to ignore the song in the background, but it's stuck in your head. Watching Xiao placing his fingers gingerly on his face as he peers to the side, the camera zooming into his face, you tap your foot along to the beat━━ you've never heard this song before but it really suited your tastes.

"Excuse me," you call out to a staff member who was walking past, he stops and nods at you, pulling down his headphones, "do you know what song this is?" He shakes his head however, leaving you with disappointment but not before he tells you that this was Xiao's Spotify playlist. You nod and thank you, immediately finding Xiao on Spotify to see all his different playlists for different moods.

You never understood why fans chose to listen to their idol's playlist because some of their music tastes was just trash but Xiao had genuinely good taste and it kinda suprised you.

━━ close proximity poses since you two are modelling for a makeup brand; some shots are just headshots with you two practically sat ontop of each other.

━━ some poses are torso shots, where you're both holding the product. there was a pose where you got to act as if you were applying eyeliner onto xiao's eyes and there was definitely a period of time when xiao couldn't stop blushing.

━━ he absentmindedly hums the song in the background as you two wait on set for the director to finish their conversation with the photographer.

━━ posts a picture of himself that you took whilst he was asleep and tagged you before the photoshoot was released so fans started speculating the weirdest shit and he never bothered to clear it up, just waited until the photos were released and hoped someone in his fandom was smart enough to connect dots.

#genshin headcanons #genshin impact #genshin scenarios #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x reader #genshin beidou #genshin diluc #genshin childe #genshin zhongli #genshin rosaria #genshin xiao

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storiesforallfandoms · 4 years ago

Text

disrespect ~ oberyn martell;game of thrones

word count: 1799

request?: no

description: the prince of dorne doesn’t take too kindly to people disrespecting his paramour, especially not lannisters

pairing: oberyn martell x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

(Y/N) watched the buildings and the people of King’s Landing pass by as the carriage drew nearer to the palace. All eyes turned to watch them pass by, trying to sneak a peak at the latest guests for King Joffery’s wedding.

A warm hand on top of hers brought her back into the carriage, where the true royal guest everyone was excited to see smiled lovingly at her.

“You seem distracted my love,” he noted, bringing her hand to his lips.

“I was just watching the people of King’s Landing,” she responded. “They are...dirty looking.”

“The bastard king does not care for his people,” Oberyn responded. “If they are poor he has no use for them, so he lets them struggle and die as he pleases.”

(Y/N) winced. “These poor people.”

Oberyn squeezed her hand slightly. “The minute the wedding is over we will return home my love. Try not to despair for too long.”

(Y/N) chuckled humorlessly. “It is hard not to despair when I am dreading our arrival and introduction to the Lannisters. I have no doubts that they will make it known that I am unwelcome.”

“You have every right to be at this wedding. You are no less than I am.”

“I am a whore in royal clothing.”

“You are my wife. You are a royal lady, and you are much better than any Lannister could ever dream of being.”

(Y/N) smiled and leaned over to kiss her husband. He cupped her face with one hand, the other trailing up her skirt. Her legs opened instincitvely, allowing Oberyn’s hand to slip between them. Before they could go any further, the carriage came to a stop.

“We’re here, My Lord and Lady,” the coachman told them.

(Y/N) pouted as Oberyn took his hand away and fixed her skirt. He chuckled at her reaction. “We will finish this in private.”

They were approached by one of the King’s guards who then led them into the palace. King Joffery, his future wife, Margaery Tyrell, and his mother, Cersei Lannister, were all sat together in the throne room as Oberyn and (Y/N) entered.

“Your Grace,” the guard announced. “Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne, and his wife, Lady (Y/N) Martell.”

Oberyn gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as he plastered the best fake smile he could muster on his face. “Your Grace.”

“I believe my invitation reached the wrong brother,” Joffery said, giving the two of them a sour look. “I invited Doran Martell, the true heir to the Dornish throne.”

“Do not be rude to our guests,” Margaery mumbled to the King. “Welcome Prince Oberyn and Lady (Y/N). We are glad to have you as our guests.”

(Y/N) tried not to make eye contact with Cersei, but it was hard when the queen was glaring daggers into her. It wasn’t hard to tell that she was only married into the royal life, not born into it, and anyone who was less than royal was scum in the eyes of the Lannisters.

As if noticing her discomfort (or Cersei’s glaring), Oberyn wrapped his arm around (Y/N)’s waist and held her tightly to him. "Do you mind showing us to our room? It has been a very long trip for the two of us.”

“Of course,” Margaery responded. She waved a hand for one of the guards to show the two of them out.

She’ll make a great queen, (Y/N) thought to herself.

The room that was provided for them was large and already lit by a fireplace. The bed was bigger than (Y/N) could ever imagine. She threw herself down onto the comfortable bedding, her aching muscles from the long journey feeling more relaxed than before.

“That went about as I expected,” she said. “I cannot wait until the wedding so we can go home.”

“It will come soon, my paramour,” Oberyn said, standing between her legs at the end of the bed. “Now that we are alone, shall we continue what we were doing earlier?”

(Y/N) smiled and quickly pulled her husband down on top of her, causing him to laugh as well as he pressed his lips against hers.

~~~~~~

The next day, when the sun was high in the sky and warming the land, Oberyn decided to take (Y/N) for a walk around the palace. It had been so many years since he had been in King’s Landing, back when his sister Elia was married to Rhaegar Targaryen, but he could still remember the beauty of the place as if it were yesterday.

(Y/N) loved to see the beauty in places. Before catching Oberyn’s attention, she was stuck in the filthy whore house that barley let her see the outside world. Oberyn had the utmost respect for women who were only able to sell their bodies as a means to get by, but he had no respect for the men who treated their prostitutes so poorly. Now that he had (Y/N), he intended to show her every beauty that the world had to offer.

“This place is beautiful,” (Y/N) breathed as they walked through a beautiful flower garden.

Oberyn smiled at her and paused for a moment to pick one of the flowers from the ground. “A beautiful flower for my beautiful flower.”

Blush creeped across (Y/N)’s face as he placed the flower gently into her hair. “You could get in trouble for that.”

“I could get in trouble for many things, but still I do as I wish.”

(Y/N) smiled brightly at her husband and kissed him. He wrapped his arms around her, wanting nothing more than to just hold her forever.

“Ah, my apologies.”

The couple pulled apart to see a very familiar face entering the garden - that of Jaime Lannister, the King’s uncle and Cersei’s twin brother. Oberyn tightened his hold on (Y/N)’s waist as he regarded the Kingslayer.

“I was not aware anyone else was out here,” Jaime said as he approached the two lovers.

“We were just passing through,” Oberyn said. “I was showing my beautiful wife the sights of your lovely land.”

Jaime glanced at (Y/N) for a moment before smiling at the two of them. “You must be Prince Oberyn of Dorne. It is nice to finally meet you.”

Oberyn begrudgingly shook Jaime’s hand, keeping one arm firmly wrapped around (Y/N) still.

“I do not believe I have heard of you,” Jaime said to (Y/N). “You are Prince Oberyn’s wife? How long have you two been wed?”

“Over a year now,” Oberyn responded instead.

Jaime shot the man a look. “I believe I asked your wife that question.”

(Y/N) felt nervous in that moment, but managed to make her voice even enough to respond, “We have been wed over a year. We celebrated our anniversary just before we left for King’s Landing, actually.”

“What family are you from, if you do not mind me asking.”

The grip on her waist tightened. (Y/N)’s back straightened as she responded, “Before I married Oberyn, I was a Sand.”

Jaime’s head tilted, but he didn’t look as condescending as his sister. “That...that is the name of the bastard children in Dorne, is it not?”

(Y/N) nodded. She wanted to shy away behind Oberyn, but she knew the only way to beat a Lannister was to hold your pride no matter how much they tried to rip you down. “It is. I am unsure as to who my true parents are. I was delivered to the steps of a religious building and left to be raised by others. I was originally raised by the priest, but eventually they brought me elsewhere for the remainder of my childhood.”

The genuine look of sadness on Jaime’s face shocked both Oberyn and (Y/N). “I am so sorry, my lady. Were you raised by a kind person at least?”

“Well...kind of. I was....I was raised in by the owner of a brothel until I was old enough to work there myself. He gave me the option, luckily enough, but I was raised to think it was the only job I could ever possibly have.” She turned and smiled at Oberyn. “That is how I met my love.”

Oberyn smiled back at her and kissed her cheek. “I was taken by her the moment I saw her. I knew I had to make her mine.”

The memories of the day that (Y/N) first saw Oberyn flooded her mind. She thought he would just be another customer, but by the end of their session she realized he meant the sweet nothings he was whispering in her ear.

“Oh, I guess that is where I recognize you from.”

Oberyn’s head spun so quickly to glare at Jaime. “I am sorry, what did you say?”

The sly look on Jaime’s face was a direct mirror of Cersei’s, and (Y/N) felt her heart drop to her stomach as he spoke. “Your wife, she looked familiar. I could not quite place it, but now I realize it is because I just did not recognize her with her clothes on.”

Oberyn tried to advance on Jaime, but (Y/N) took hold of his arm and held him back. “Don’t, my love, he is not worth it.”

“Yes, Prince Oberyn, I am not worth it. Take it from your wife, she would know.”

Oberyn’s face turned blood red and (Y/N) had to physically pull him away before he could strangle Jaime. The Kingslayer was still calling profanities to try and rile Oberyn up.

(Y/N) took him back into the palace, cupping his face to make him look at her. “Oberyn, my love, calm down please.”

“Fucking Lannisters,” he hissed. “They think they can get away with everything! They think they can insult my wife like that.”

“Oberyn,” (Y/N) repeated, her voice softer this time. He looked at her and his face also softened. Oberyn loved the way she could always make him calm down so quickly. “It is nothing I have not heard before.”

“But coming from his mouth...” Oberyn said, his eyes darting to where they had left Jaime for just a moment.

“Means nothing,” (Y/N) finished. “He can try to degrade me all he wants, but at the end of the day I am still the whore that married a prince. I was chosen to be brought into this life, unlike them who were brought into it at birth, and I still have more class than that whole family combined.”

Oberyn smiled at his wife and kissed her passionately. “I love you more than anything.”

“And I love you more than the world, my love.”

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell imagine #oberyn martell x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #imagine #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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creepytoes88 · 4 years ago

Text

His cumslut

Letting Vinnie do basically whatever he wants tends to benefit me more then most people might think. My best friends are always saying I’m gonna regret letting him go to whatever party or anyone's house. They say he’s a hypocrite because he always has tabs on where I'm at and who I'm with honesty it does get annoying at times but he can't help that he has trust issues. I knew what I was getting into when I said yes to being his girlfriend he has had a bad past with every girlfriend he's had, all of them have cheated and every girl he got with outside of a relationship just uses him. He was very clear on how he feels about unnecessarily revealing clothes “Wear what you want but if I have to kill a guy tonight I'm punishing you when we get home.”

A very common phase he uses but that's the worst of it I don't mind telling him who I'm with or where I am, I never ask him where he is because because I know he won't go looking around anywhere else. I've explained this to them a thousand times “Well tell us why your so confident he won't cheat” I blush slightly and shrug “YOU DO THIS EVERYTIME” I look down “it’s personal” they look at each other and laugh “tell us you prude” I chuckle slightly “promise no Judgement or making fun of me!” they both hold out their pinkeys and nod “wellllll...I let him do whatever he wants-” kay laughs “Yea we know” I look down “i mean anything” I slowly look back up “what he says goes.... Don't wear clothes for the rest of the week.....suddenly I'm busy all week” they look at me dumbfounded “of course there are exceptions but I let him have complete control with the sexual side of the relationship.” I say with a small smile “and he's good at it too” they look at each other and look back at me before busting out in laughter, “no wonder your not worried...your his sex slave” I tilt my head Vinnie had never used that term with me, I grew up with Vinnie me and him went to school together we weren't close till middle school we decided in freshman that we would be best as friends. The second week him and I were in LA we went to a party and ended up hooking up I was a virgin, and I thought it was gonna ruin everything but to my surprise, we just kept getting more and more serious.

After 5 months of living in the sway house, we moved out into our little house, our sex life completely changed when we no longer had people living with us. Vinnie told me his sexual dreams of having me whenever he damn well pleased and having me wear things he likes. Vinnie makes jokes about it but in real life I'm only allowed to call him Vinnie if we're in public inside the house his name is Daddy and that alone. The first time we had a fight in the house I called him by his name and he simply picked me up threw me over the couch, he edged me for hours when he finally let me release the power of it made me faint for a minute scaring the the absolute shit out of Vinnie. ”Honestly your not wrong...he’s never called me that but I guess your kinda right” they are quite for a second so I look at them “what” they look at each other before kay takes a deep breath “are you happy though, Outside of the sex he not controlling or pushy?” I smile “oh he's perfect and so sweet to me honestly I'm more worried of hurting his feelings.” I feel my phone vibrant and then Vinnie’s ring tone I answer quickly wondering why he didn't face time me or text me “hey bab-” I hear him breathing deeply “whats wrong?” I ask with worry “I really need you to head home now baby I’ve had a very long day and I need to release some tension.”

I feel shivers go down my spine and I feel myself already starting to get wet I let out a fake sigh “alright Vinnie if it’s that important I’ll be home in 10 minutes” hoping the girls won’t think it’s about something dirty. Vinnie lets out a chuckle “they are still giving you shit about me?” I laugh “I’ll be home soon I love you” I hung up and give the girls an apologetic face “girls I’m-“ they laugh and stand up “it’s okay Y/n we don’t want him to throw a tantrum because your not naked when you get there” I gasp turning around seeing their playful faces “you guys are ridiculous.” We all laugh as we go separate ways, I get in my car rushing home I want to beat him to the house so I can keep the plan of being naked. The second I step in the house I start stripping and then as I’m about to pull my skirt off I hear a door slam. I gasp and rush upstairs flinging my clothes off just leaving them there. I hear the Door open then slam shut I jump on the bed quickly, I place my head and chest against the bed my ass in the air. I spread my legs as far as possible trying to calm my breathing my heart is basically beating out of my chest as I wait for him patiently.

Vinnie's POV

I pull in to the house and shut off the car taking a deep breath ”Vinnie it's not Y/n’s fault that Justin is a dumbass” I say to myself getting out of the car I slam the door releasing as much anger as possible before going in the house to my beautiful wife to be. I will marry this woman she's everything I've ever wanted or needed but now isn't the time for marriage or at least that's what I keep telling myself walking in to the house and slamming that door too I am already kinda feeling better I'm still fucking pissed but I'm not raging anymore I toss my keys into the bowl and take off my shoes seeing hers just tossed to the side unlike usual. I walking into the living room to see her shirt and bra on the floor I smirk and walk up to the stairs seeing her skirt and her panties along with her socks right outside the closed door. “Hello my love-” I walk in to see her bent over with her ass in the air, her beautiful flower on full display along with her cute little button. The sight takes my breath away I can see her arousal dripping down her legs “well aren't you just the prettiest view.”

I see her wiggle her squishy cheeks making me laugh a little “wanna give Daddy a little dance show princess?” I was kidding but my baby never disappoints she immediately started to shake her butt to an imaginary song I watch with my mouth open a little I truly didn't know she was capable of dancing that way. I watch in awe as she began to make her ass clap (as one does💀) I grunt as I feel my dick become impossibly hard I began to take my clothes off as I pull down my boxers. My cock slaps against my lower stomach making my stomach twist I grab ahold of it watching as large amounts of pre-cum slip out. I swiping my tip letting out a little grunt, I hear her call my name I look up at her to see her look at me from between her legs “can I help?” she asks as she bites her lip. I immediately let go and I feel another large amount of pre-cum drip down my staff again making me blush slightly no one makes me as horny as she does.

Y/n’s POV

I jump up from my spot I roll off the bed dropping to my knees in front of him I take both my hands and intertwine them with his big warm hands. First I lick up the line of pre-cum that's made its way to his balls all the way back to his tip before sinking down till he hit the back of my throat. Vinnie lets out a gasp rocking his hips against my face pushing the rest of his cock down my throat a gag comes out as a result but I continue to bob my head and suck I pull my head off taking a breath or two before opening back up and taking him all the way till my nose is pushed against his naval. The prickly hair tickling my nose I let out a small giggle “Oh fuck what was that” Vinnie moans above me and he grabs the back of my head by my hair in a fist “I'm gonna fuck your throat baby are you ready?” I nod my head best I can with his thick and long cock stuffed in my throat and blocking my airway. He pulls back till his tip is almost out before thrusting back in a popping and gagging sound come from my throat and my eyes rolls to the back of my head. I never thought I would get so much pleasure from giving a man head in my life but something about his taste and the feeling of him stuffing my throat that I just can't get enough of. Once I spent a whole day just sucking his dick he came in my mouth and down my throat too many times to count I had a little stomach bulge after and it kinda looked like a food baby. I remember Vinnie asked if that meant I was technically carrying his children now I smile slightly at the memory but I'm brought back to reality when I hear him calling my name “oh fuckfuckfuck” he pushes his cock as far down my throat as possible “Shit Y/n fuck baby!” shooting a long, and hot load down my throat I grab his hips gargling my throat around his cock making him jump and try to pull away as he continues to cum down my throat. He succeeded in pulling out and the last little bit of cum landing on my tongue “mmmm Daddy you taste so good” I say licking my lips I use my finger to the the rest off my chin and off his tummy I look in his eyes at I take the finger and put in my mouth moaning at the taste again. “Fuck Princess you enjoy that way to much don't you think?” he laughs as he lays down on the bed “my balls hurt” he laughs I crawl back on top of him kissing his cheeks and finally his lips “you taste so good though Daddy, I just can't get enough of you.” I run my hands threw his hair “give me like 10 minutes and ill make you feel so good baby” he says as he kissed my neck I sit beside him rubbing his god like body (somebody said something about licking his biceps in the comments as I kinda like that idea so enjoy)

I run my hands over his shoulders and down his arms admiring his gorgeous skin I feel the need to worship him show him just how much of a slave for him I am he doesn't need to tell me I'm his slave, I already know I am and I'm gonna show him. “Mmm Daddy let me worship you” I whine as I began to kiss his chest and shoulders I run my hands up and down his toned stomach I began to kitten lick his hard muscles sucking little hickeys while I'm at it. “Fuck Princess what did you say” I start to kiss and lick his abs my hands rubbing his hard thighs pulling away I say “when I was at lunch with the girls I finally told them the truth about why I trust you so much they called me your sex slave.” I stop and begin to leave hickeys all over his hips and sex lines his hard cock brushing my cheeks and chin “I thought about it and I agree and honestly I wouldn't have it any other way” I lean down kissing his lips “oh princess I'm gonna make you more then just my sex slave” I sinister smile runs across his face and gleam appears in his eyes “I'm gonna make you my cumslut and your gonna beg for my cum....well everywhere if I have it my way.” he says looking in my eyes I feel a blush run on my cheeks and an excited shiver run down my back “you know you'll have it your way Daddy that my job right?” I say with a cute smile tilting my head trying to look innocent Vinnie let's put a dark chuckle “I can't wait to ruin you and really turn you into my cumslut” he pulls me down before flipping us over so he's on top “you won't be able to think about anything else except the way it feels for me to cum in your beautiful body” that sentence sent a violent shiver down my spine, I just got on birth control a little over 2 weeks ago but we haven't had raw sex quite yet mostly because we wanted to be sure the birth control is in full effect before taking the chance. (let's pretend you can't get pregnant on birth control at all lmao) I guess now is better than never “please Daddy make me your cum slut” I whine hooking my leg around his hip running my hands threw his hair.

Vinnie’s POV

My poor little bunny had no idea what she was doing to me as far as she's concerned these are just words flying out of her mouth but to me they are her words of true love and true trust. She trusts me enough to control her body and soon her mind, once she falls into the state of a cumslut I know she won't be able to control her body or her mind hopefully she feels relaxed in that state. The last thing I would want is for her to have a bad experience with me being the one in charge. I push my head into her neck running my staff between her slick lips a small moan falls from her lips “thank you, baby, I won't disappoint you I promise.” I kiss her lips once more before grabbing ahold of both of her legs pushing my spongy tip into her entrance the feeling completely different from when I have a condom on I let out a low gasp. Goosebumps pop up on my skin and a shiver runs down my spine as I pull out a light popping noise is made “UGH FUCK YOUR SO TIGHT” I let out a loud moan throwing my head back. I look back down seeing my sweet girl looking back up at me with wide innocent eyes and her mouth slightly open her hands hold tight onto my shoulders without even thinking I push inside of her both of us moaning as her wet walls fluttering around my dick about sending me into orbit I quickly bottom out letting out a grunt using my free hand to move her hair out of her face “F-fuck Daddy please I want you to use me” I began to jackhammer into her feeling her wall pulse around me her loud moans filling my ears as I pick up her legs pushing them into her shoulders feeling myself go further inside of her “Da-DADDY” I chuckle “what baby is there something you want” she whines and grinds her hips into me making me go even further if that's possible. “Daddy please cum inside of me I wanna feel it” Her little body was shivering, I feel my balls tighten so I began to rapidly pound inside of her “OH YESSS IM CUMMMING” she yells out thrusting her hips up. I grunt pushing as far into her as I can releasing deep inside of her, I look down to see her tense and shivering “you ok bunny,” I ask slightly worried “i-so um I-please” I look at her slightly confused “what baby?” I say with a little laugh I see her open her eyes a little before spreading her legs again “more please.” she whines out I drop my mouth open at my cute little whiney mess “oh princess you have no clue what you just did”

I have other things coming but should I make a part 2 to this

#vinnie #vinnie hacker #vinnie hacker imagines #vinnie hacker smut #vinnie hacker x reader #Sway #Swayboys #sway gaming #swaygaming #swayla #swayhouse #hypehouse #thehypehouse #hypehousesmut #Smut #smut imagine #smut imagines #dirty imagines #imagine

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allandoflimbo · 4 years ago

Text

Ashens (Part 18)

Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement. Dystopian. Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 17,000 (I’M SO SORRY) the first half of this story is flashback. The second half is the present.

Chapter Warning: Sex, twice. Sad Sex. Filthy sex. SMUT. VERY strong Language. Bucky and Reader will be very toxic in this chapter. It might be triggering if you’ve ever been in an emotionally abusive relationship.

Rating: M for Mature, E for explicit. Enemies to lovers trope, sharing a bed trope, friends with benefits trope, temporarily unrequited love, heavy and angry sex, heavy on the angst, and very strong language.

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There’s an imminent smell of old wood garnish and pumpkin spice escaping a bright orange glow that flickered in the background.

The odor was extremely strong, trickling through the thick and heavy air of the twelve by twelve room. There was a draft coming in through the window and it continued to help push the flame directly towards the center of the room- the scent marking anything in its direct path with a faint reminder of the close arrival of winter.

Though the glow of a candle was soothing, to many it was anything but pleasant; scented candles were a new thing and it was said to be something for the upcoming future generation.

The idea behind it was that it carried an artificial smell that held a memory you could carry along with you wherever you went. Its point was to remind you of where you were or what you wanted to be feeling, come the fitting setting. This specific pumpkin candle was to remind us all that it was a season of festivity and gathering, and much-needed warmth. The other obvious reason being that pumpkin was delicious.

If you weren’t eating it, you might as well be smelling it.

To most people, it made no sense. Why would you want to smell something so delicious and not be able to physically consume it? It was a pleasant odor coming from an artificial chemical, completely contrary to what is expected. Put simply, it was an empty promise.

One more strong whiff of pumpkin, mixed together with the cozy sound of a crackle of fire, he blinks and Bucky is brought out of his daze. He’s now entirely environmentally aware of his surroundings and sounds coming from additional places come into his perspective.

Within a moment’s relapse, he chooses again to regain focus on the other specific sounds aside from the antagonizing fake fire, gazing his eyes over the pleasant words in front of him.

To his dismay, they don’t sink in. He is distracted by the harsh rain pellets and the distant undeviating sound of a honking Durant. Unlike the candle, those sounds didn’t stand out to him as empty promises, but instead as a reminder of the harsh reality of the outside world.

His strong and confident fingers appeared to skim the yellow worn-out pages of his book on their own accord; his eyes still looking, but not necessarily seeing. Looking closer, with shoulders painfully slumped, he squinted his blue eyes. The words blurred into one and he began blinking desperately and shifting in his seat. He tried to regain his proper vision, not enjoying the sensation of not knowing or seeing what he was trying oh so hard to understand.

His right thumb gave a slight unconfident tremble as he tried to pick up the next page. After a couple of failed attempts, the paper not obeying (most likely due to his careless attempt- it’s not like he was actually reading it), he sighs in aggravation.

He closes his copy of This Side of Paradise harshly between his hands, bringing it to his face. He bounces his right leg uncontrollably up and down as he tapped his pointer finger on the cover of the worn-out novel, resting one elbow on each knee.

It was a nervous tick he picked up somewhere along the way.

The walls of the study room seemed to want to envelope him warmly, as if trying too hard to show comfort and security. There was an eeriness that made him constantly tremble and not feel comfortable at all. Maybe it was the hideous wallpaper, or maybe it was that disgusting odor of varnish from the freshly repainted wooden chair that he smelled when he first came in and could not stop thinking about.

There was no longer a sound of a honking Durant, and the rain seemed to dim down drastically as he continued to look into the distance. He wondered if it was the December air leaking through the slightly ajar window that made the tightness in his chest grow cold and frigid.

Aggravated, he placed the book down next to him on the side table, avoiding the waiting and apprehensive eyes staring at him. They had been staring at him for what felt like hours but had been only mere minutes.

He knew he was a strong young man, he'd always tried to be because that's how he was raised back in his little home town of Shelbyville, Indiana. And if asked about it, he would speak of it with great confidence.

When his mother passed away, his father had been the one to make sure to teach him that nothing like her death would be strong enough to tear him down. That instead, it would, and should, be a motivation for him to be a better person each and every time. He would need to transfer that hurt and despair into physical action.

But clearly, it had to come with a price and tremendous hard work. Things like that, non material things like emotional determination, could not be bought. If you wanted to be great, you had to work to be great. If you wanted to be strong, you'd have to work for it. He’d have to push through all the heartache and pain to reach that level of excellence that he knew his father wanted to see in him.

That is that natural characteristic they’re born with: soldiers.

It was well known, Bucky Barnes was a military brat. His father was always well respected at Camp Lehigh. They'd say back at camp that he was much like his father: loyal, headstrong, patriotic, and obtained strong morals. It was practically in his blood to be a fighter. A fighter for the good in people, the kind, and the innocent. It was his duty, and when he'd grow up to put his own two feet in combat boots himself, he would be prepared to take on any mission he was told. He would be more than capable of doing so.

They all promised him this and he himself grew up believing it.

But this, this of all things, was not something he was prepared for.

Because he's realized -at this exact moment- that his entire life he has lost almost everything and gained absolutely nothing in return. He'd put himself out there so many times to try and do the better good, from giving his last twenty five cents (that he initially wanted to use to buy flowers for the new pretty girl he met) to the little boy he saw walking down Broadway with no shoes.

He excelled in every class he'd ever taken because he knew it was good for him because it would make his father proud.

The shadow that belonged to the eyes and voice from earlier sat down in front of him behind a large desk that had a plaque.

It read ‘Director' in golden ink that had begun to fade from years of scratching and unkindly picking by kids that faced much less traumatic sentences than this.

Bucky's eyes lifted for the first time in what felt like a long time. He could feel the strain on his heavy eyelids as he did so. He regretted it the moment he looked up, because that's when reality seemed to have punched him directly in the gut. His eyes swelled and he blinked away quickly, not letting emotion get the best of his masculinity.

He'd refused to let a tear out.

But the look of pity on the man's face is what did it for him, it made him want to completely fall apart. He didn't like being looked at that way. He didn't like being the victim, the way it felt. He hated it with a passion. He wanted to run out of there and hide himself away for at least one small moment and cry.

"I'm so sorry."

That was the response he exactly did not want to hear. Bucky let out a shaky breath and ran a hand through his short hair as the words rang in his ears like ticking bombs. Again, he didn't like the pity.

He tried to deny it and shake his head back and forth to himself but all that did was drive tears to trickle out of his blue eyes.

He knew this would pass with time, but being weak was not the reaction he needed to put on display. He was a soldier for heaven’s sake. No matter how destroyed his life seemed to be getting, he couldn't let it show.

Bucky cleared his throat, making sure his voice would sound strong before he would begin to speak.

And it was.

"It's not your fault.”

Twenty-one. That's how old Bucky Barnes was when his father passed away.

+ + +

They were both laughing so hard that she started getting tears, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the laughter or the bitter cold. They were both so caught up in the events of the night neither noticed how cold it really was.

Once their laughter dwelled down, she continued to stare at him in total admiration. He was something else for sure. She wanted to feel his arm around her again. She looked down at his freezing hand and took it into her cold one.

“Tell me about you, James.”

He smiled when she looked back up and he gave her a tight squeeze.

“First, tell me what a fine dame like you is doin here in Brooklyn.” A playful smile plays on her lips, but it’s a rhetorical questions so he continues, “What do you wanna know?"

She smiles even wider and this time it reaches her eyes, “Everything. I want to know everything about you by tomorrow mornin’.”

The fact that she suggested spending the night with him made him gulp.

He looks down at her lips and nods slowly.

He followed up by telling her that the apartment he had rented out for the next few weeks was just a couple of blocks away. On the walk there she had questioned what he meant by rent for a couple of weeks to which he responded with that he would explain there, but that they should get warm first.

When they arrived, his door ended up being three floors up. His dingy beat-up door made her smile inside. He gave off a classy, rich, stuck up vibe, but really he was simple and not much for being out there. She liked that he seemed so original.

He inserted the key into the normal door lock and bolt lock and opened the door for her to let her in first. She stepped into the “foyer”, if it could even be called that, and took a look around. It was more like a two by two feet space. She walked in the rest of the way and took a look around. It was basically a small studio, but a lot smaller. It was one room, inside there was a tiny kitchen on the left corner, a window that looked out to another brick wall, and to the right a metal bed with a white blanket.

But it was made, military style.

He walks over to his record player and places the needle gently down on the vinyl. If You Only Knew starts playing quietly.

He looks over his shoulder at her and notices her facial expression.

“Yeah, sorry” he chuckled dropping his keys by his iron stove, “I know it’s not much, but it’s temporary. You should’ve seen my old place before I left for training.”

He catches himself when he says it but it’s too late. Her head snaps to his direction and her face holds an emotion that he can’t really pin point. He can’t tell if it’s fear or surprise. He swallows hard and tries to direct the conversation to a different direction.

He curses himself in his head for his stupid slip up. He goes to the far kitchen and opens the cupboard, “I got some cookies, uhm,” he doesn’t know what to say with her staring at him like that. He closes the cupboard and runs a hand through his brown hair. It’s silent.

It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. A car honks outside after it runs through a puddle and Ella’s voice is haunting.

“You’re in the army.”

He’s caught off guard and his eyebrow raises at her voice. He looks at her. It wasn’t fear or surprise that she had felt when he said that, it was sadness. It was the one feeling he was afraid she’d feel, it was the reason why he didn’t want to tell her just yet. But it was too late, she knows now.

He nods.

He sees visible tears build up in her eyes. He doesn’t want this, he wanted this to be happy. Just a half hour ago they were laughing and now she’s in his apartment, shattered. She nods quickly and crosses her arms across her chest.

She was different and he knew it the moment he saw her. Any normal girl would love to be with a soldier, but not in this case. Not when it was something like this.

She looks at his bed and his window and shakes her head. This was a damn pit stop.

The made bed revealed just how loyal he was to what he had signed up for and she knew there was no backing out. But he was perfect, she couldn’t lose him. She had to at least stay for the long hall, she thought. It wouldn’t last forever anyway.

Her eyes meet his again. The tears had been blinked away and evaporated and her strong satire was back.

He takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over the sink, sighing. He had been waiting patiently for her response. Whatever she said would ever make or break this, and for God’s sakes if there’s anything he didn’t want to do it was break this.

“How long?” Her tone was strong.

“How long till I leave?” He was a bit confused by the question.

She nodded.

Bucky felt his heart sink. It wasn’t long. She would not like the answer. It was not good. She concluded this herself by his delayed answer and his stare at the floor beneath him.

She let out an exhausted sigh and a click of her tongue as she turned away from him. Now she was angry.

“Five days.”

They’re silent, standing there letting reality sink in. Minutes pass by. She takes a seat on his bed and takes off her coat. He watches her every move intently, wondering if she would decided to stay for the long haul or run out of his cheap room he dared call an apartment.

“Like I said. I want to know you.”

He heart soars and he smiles. He re opens the cupboard and takes out a box of cookies. He fills up two jars with milk and hands one of them to her as he practically dances over to her. He sits criss crossed on the bed. She chuckles at how innocent he looks just sitting there like that in his dress shirt and suspenders, like a kid.

It’s awkward at first, trying to sit cross cross with a long dress on, but eventually she manages by pulling her dress up around her thighs. Bucky blushes at this. She brings him out of the moment.

“So what are you doing in Brooklyn?"

He smirks, “I live here, Doll.” She gives him a confused look. He takes a deep breath and decides to start from the beginning, “I moved here when I was a teen. My father was in the army since we used to live back in Indiana. I used to go with him to camp, I loved everything about it. The respect those men held, the strong mentality they had, there’s was so much about what they were doing that made me see there was something greater to live for. To make this country better for us, so we can live and be peaceful and happy. There are way too many nasty people out there who don’t deserve to breathe our air. We are good people and I want to save the good people. It’s something serious, putting your life like that on the line. Unfortunately not all are willing.”

Daisy smiles at him talking about his love for the military. She remembers her mother’s words at that moment.

It really was in his heart, his love for humanity, “it’s in my blood, just like dad. I did training in New Jersey where he was stationed.” Mentions of his father makes him trail off for a second and Daisy notices. She places her hand on his, “and then they sent me back here for some additional work just until our physical forms go through to see who gets accepted. Who does leave in five days.”

Daisy perks at this, “So you’re not actually certain if you will leave?”

Bucky chuckles to himself and looks down. He reaches for another cookie, “Doll, my dad was well respected on the forces. They raised me to do the same. They practically have my name already there ready for me. I know I’m not staying.”

Daisy stays silent again. Bucky tosses the cookie back down and reaches for her cheek. She gasps and looks up at him, her blue eyes soft, “I’m not saying this to make this harder. I’m being honest with ourselves, because,” he looks at her eyes and then her lips. She swallows hard when she sees him looking there. Her heart starts to race in his chest as he moves in closer, “because I know all we have is five days and I want to make the most of it. I’ve only known you for a few hours but what I feel with you is something I know will last forever.”

The moment he says this he feels like he’s just put his heart own on his sleeve. Something he has never done. There was no taking it back now. He’s never had a relationship like this before, he prays to God he didn’t just mess it up. He starts getting afraid when she doesn’t respond, she just stares up at him. His eyes swell up slightly and he wants to add that it’s okay if she didn’t feel the same.

But No. he didn’t not want to lose this. So he slides his hand from her cheek even higher up the side of her head through her hair and watching her, “Please tell me you feel the same.” His voice is low and full of emotion. Hopeful.

She’s never felt this. This had to be the boy of her dreams, and now she felt like the one that was dreaming all over again. Just three hours ago she never even knew this man existed, but all of a sudden she felt like she’s known him all her life.

She moves in closer and watches his Adam’s apple bobble up. The proximity was too much to bear. He was too much, and yet she wanted more. She wanted him.

And she only had five days. They had five days.

And they were going to make the most of it.

The moment her lips crashed onto his was a moment he wouldn’t forget. The fire that exploded inside of him was a bright red flame and it burned through his heart. Instinctively, he brings his other hand up as well and slides it to the other side of her face. She slides her left hand up his thigh and he growls against her mouth, their tongues meeting for the first time. It was fast, hard, and needy.

He raises himself up onto his knees so he’s towering above her still criss-cross body. Her hand raises up higher up his thigh and he feels her delicate fingers reaching in his waist band. He growls against her mouth once more.

She uses his belt loop to bring his body downwards as she uncrosses her legs and lays herself down onto his bed. Bucky’s right leg drops down the side of the bed and accidentally kicks the glass over. They’re lips still stay connected and he’s bringing his right hand to the strap of her dress, and now Ella’s voice sounds like a goddamn melody.

He’s about to pull her strap further down but he stops himself.

He pulls away and they’re both breathing heavily, Daisy whimpers at the distance he puts between their lips. The sound makes him want to go back to what he was doing, but he stops himself.

She’s about to question him when he places her strap back against her clavicle. He pats it down gently and the act makes her laugh. His lips are swollen and she kisses them one more time. He moans into her mouth. She pulls away and lets him speak.

“I want to know you, too.” He says.

“We will. We have five days.”

+ + +

Her legs had curled up against her chest as she laid on her side, a single finger making soft patterns against his chest. It moved up and down sharply as his breathing became affected by what her touch was doing to him. He had stared down at her finger and then grabbed it diligently. She watched silently as he used his right hand to unfold her twirling fingers and fold it with his, holding it against his body.

She looked up at him incomplete awe, her eyes drifting down to his approaching lips. He dipped his head just slightly as he brushed his lips against hers.

They had stayed up all night talking about their goals, and what they loved to do. Daisy was a simple, innocent,, young girl. She loved dancing and flowers and she also admired the simplicity of innocence. She grew up in a Christian household and her morals were up there. They both laughed together when she brought up the fact that she never would’ve had thought she’d be cuddled in bed with a man she met only hours before.

They commented about their families, how Bucky’s little sister had been taken away from him not too far back, about his mother’s death.

“What about your father?” She had asked.

Bucky remained quiet as he stared up at her. She noticed his change in demeanor and her eyes squinted. Bucky let go of her hand and switched his position from on his side to on his back. He brought his leg up and folded his hands on his chest.

He felt her shift and lean against him. He looked over and saw her resting on her elbow, her left hand drifting up his neck and into his hair. She pulled on it slightly making him close his eyes.

“James.” She whispered, pleadingly. He opened his eyes and looking into hers.

“He passed away,” he could tell she was going to start saying condolences as her mouth opened but he beat her to it, “this morning.”

He thought she was going to start giving him sympathy, he expected it. But instead he felt her rest her head on his sturdy chest. He was taken aback at first, but then smiled softly and took in a deep breath. He allowed his hand to snake in through her soft blonde hair.

“You’ll get through this. You’re strong.” He swallowed as he felt her hand skim against his chest, feeling him. He didn’t want to push her into anything and was thankful that her hand just went to his waist, pulling his body closer to hers, “I can tell.”

“I want to be with you. And when I get back from war, I want to be with you again.”

+ +

She knew she was taking a risk by inviting him over to her house, but she had wanted him to meet her family. Sure this was fast, but how long did they truly have together? She obviously remembered the stories her mother told her.

Underneath the anxiety, love, and happiness she felt as he helped her mom cut the carrots, she genuinely hoped her parents would love him, too.

“How long have you known this boy, Daisy?” Her mom had asked over her shoulder as she washed some lettuce and tomatoes in some cold water in a bowl under the sink. Daisy bit her lip. Her mom noticed her hesitate, “ Daisy .”

Her tone was judging and all too motherly. Daisy looked up and saw her mom giving her a glare that quickly told her that she didn’t like where this was going. Daisy felt defensive.

“Momma, before you judge me, he’s an amazing gentleman and I fully trust him with everything,” she saw her mom shaking her head to herself and murmur something but the sound of the sink water drowned it out. Daisy got up exasperated and walked over to her mom, “Think about it, when was the last time I brought a boy home? You know I don’t bring just anyone. You are going to love him.”

Her mom smiled and looked over at her, shutting off the water.

“You are lucky I’m me and not your dang fatha’, Daisy.” She washed two more tomatoes, “Do you?”

Daisy gaped at her, not really know how to respond to that. To be fully honest she didn’t really think about it. When it came out while she was cuddly with Bucky earlier that day, it was natural and she hadn’t thought twice about it. But it seemed to soon to tell, but yet not fully impossible. She’d never felt the way she felt that when she was with Bucky. She felt heat creep up into her cheeks and her mom started to smile. The moment was interrupted by a strong voice.

“Love who?”

Both Daisy and her mother’s face fell at the heavy tone that washed over them like pure ice. Daisy’s eyes drifted up to her dad who was standing in the door way. He held a cigar in his right hand, his leather covered foot tapping away. He eyed them both, clearly he was eavesdropping and was not liking where this conversation seemed to have been going.

Daisy gulped. She looked down and fidgeted with her fingers.

“A boy, daddy.”

“Daisy invited him for dinner.” Her mom added casually, draining the water out of the bowl with her hands. The silence was deafening. Her dad could tell she was avoiding his gaze.

He chuckled maniacally as he tapped his cigar with his pointer fingers, some ashes tickling towards the freshly mopped floor. Daisy watched as if it were poison. Suddenly, she was very fearful.

“Is that so?”

Daisy nodded, finally looking up. Her dad looked serious, territorial even.

“Charles, quit scarin’ her. I hear he could be the one.” Her mom winked at her.

Her dad squinted angrily, “The one? And I’m just now hearing about this kid?” He walked over to his wife and rubbed her back soothingly, still giving Daisy a disapproving look, “and did I just hear love?”

Daisy groaned in aggravation, running her hands through her curls, “Mom, stop that.” Daisy sighed as she wiped her hands on her little dress and walked back over to the stool that sat on the far side of the large kitchen, “he’s a great guy. Daddy, I know that, it’s why I invited him today.”

“I just don’t get why I’m not meeting this damn boy.”

Daisy flinched at his tone, “Daddy, please.”

“Then explain it to me!”

Daisy dropped her face into her hands, “I was just worried about you meeting him because he’s not the typical guy you go for. But I do care about him, please, just give him a chance. He’s very sweet.”

Daisy practically felt her father roll his eyes. She looked up and saw a snarl on his face.

A soft knock on the door and Daisy immediately flew out of her seat to open it. Her dad made a comment to Daisy’s mother about agreeing to this in the background, but Daisy was now momentarily too excited to care. She took a deep breath as her hand wrapped around the doorknob.

She opened it and the moment her eyes landed on him, her heart went soaring and she literally felt herself smile. All the anger and fear she felt before dissipated. His reaction was mirrored to hers, his pearly whites making her blush hard. His gorgeous eyes wrinkled at the sides as he smiled. He looked perfect in a soft black suit, underneath it is a white dress shirt, but the top button undone. His hair was in a small quiff and shiny from his pomade.

She extended her hand out to take his in hers and pulled him inside playfully hard. They both giggled together, Bucky’s face leaning down to kiss the top of her cheek. She hadn’t realized how hard she really pulled him until he stood right in front of her, their fronts touching. She was blushing as he stared down at her face and then her lips.

He tilted his head slightly and started to lean down, and her eyes drifted shut, when the moment was interrupted but a cough.

“So you must be the boy Daisy won’t stop going on about.”

Bucky pulled back, red tainting his cheeks. At that moment he realized he had just been caught almost wanting to devour this woman’s daughter’s mouth right in front of her. He stepped back bit and straightened out his back and cleared his throat.

He brought his one hand across his chest and with the other he extended it out for a handshake. No longer lust in his eyes, he was now completely serious, his mission being to impress a high class family. Her mom smiled at how charming he was.

“Mrs Davis.” Bucky greeted with a firm shake and smile.

She could tell by his strong handshake that he had been raised well. She exchanged looks with Daisy, who clearly looked terrified and expectant of what her reaction to him would be. She looks back at Bucky.

“Daisy never mentioned your name.”

“James, mamn.”

“That’s a strong name.”

Everyone looked up to follow the voice. Charles stood there tall and brooding, another cigar in hand. Bucky stretched out his arm once more, too eagerly this time, “Please to meet you, Mr. Davis.”

Bucky waited as Charles stared down at Bucky’s hand, not taking it and clearly not wanting to anytime soon. Bucky stood there awkwardly, fear and rejection creeping into his guts. He slowly lowered his arm, Charle’s gaze not leaving his face.

“You live on the upper east side, too? What’s your Street? You’re dressed like a damn paper boy.”

Bucky’s face fell immediately and Daisy inwardly groaned.

Bucky licked his lips nervously and then fixed his back to stand taller as if to appear powerful. There was no way he was going to let this man tear him down.

“No, sir,” He hates that his voice is shaky. He gives Daisy a nervous side glance and then back to her dad, “I live in Brooklyn, sir.”

Her dad frowned and both Daisy and her mother knew this was going to go down fast.

“Brooklyn,” his tone was disapproving, “What do you do for a living, boy?”

Daisy took a step next to Bucky, “Dad, that’s enough.”

Bucky frowned and realized Daisy hadn’t really told them close to anything about him. While he understood, he was now dreading the whole entire conversation that would go down. Him and Daisy shared a look before Barnes looked back up at Charles.

“I’m in the military, sir.”

Her dad raised an eyebrow as soon as the words left his lips, then a scoff. Daisy looked up to his her mother’s face fallen and sad.

Bucky’s eyes darted between Daisy and her father, suddenly realizing that something that he said was not good.

“Sir, was something I said -“

“Daisy, tell me hows a boy who doesn’t have a real job suppose to be with my daughter? A goddamn soldier? Jesus.”

“For heaven’s sake, Daddy!”

“Charles, stop that!”

Daisy’s mother’s angry voice made everyone go silent at once. Bucky felt small, wanting to fade away into the ground below him.

Charle’s scoffed, tossing his cigar at Bucky’s beat up dress shoes. It was the best pair he owned and even those were not his best. He swallowed hard, trying to not feel small and sad.

“I’m gonna get Jimmy and then we can eat.”

Bucky stared down at the cigar at his feet, his heart feeling heavy. “A goddamn soldier”.

It replayed over and over in his head.

Suddenly, he felt a comforting hand on his back. He looked up and saw Daisy staring down at him, sad.

“Just a goddamn soldier, Daisy?” He motioned upwards with his hand. “What is this?”

Daisy looked down, “James, that’s my father, okay? If anything, let’s just be glad he didn’t kill you. He’s like that with everyone.” That actually did help Bucky feel slightly better as he stood up taller. Daisy’s hand reached up as she cupped his cheek, “And the soldier thing, he’s weird about that. I’m not sure why.”

Bucky stared at her for half a second, doubting every word, before he simply complied and nodded. He smiled slightly.

+ +

The dinner was quiet and tense, and over much too slowly. Bucky had quickly pulled Daisy out into the hallway to say goodbye before he left, groaning into her mouth how he was never going back in there ever again. They both laughed and kissed.

And now here they were at the bar, the night before he had to leave. Bucky didn’t want to leave, because he had a feeling that this would be one of the last few days he would have any peace and serenity. His gut was twisting and turning as he played with the strand of her hair between his thumb and pointer finger. As his gaze drifted from her lips to her blue eyes he just knew deep inside that this is exactly the kind of feeling he wanted to be feeling for all of eternity.

He felt it when he touched her, when he looked at her, and when he held her in his arms.

It was like a wave of fresh air that reminded him of home - Daisy was his new home. He knew it happened fast, they all did, but sometimes true love doesn’t have to be complicated. When its meant to happen, it just simply happens. It’s simple as that - as simple as him tucking her hair behind her ear and giving her that pearly white smile that made the cheeks on her face turn a crimson red.

She leaned her forehead onto his as he held her close by her waist, the piano in the background that was once haunting, now insanely beautiful exactly like the woman in front of him.

When Bucky had told Steve he might ask her to marry him one day.

Those words Steve said kept ringing in Bucky’s head, even as he now held Daisy in his arms, but they meant absolutely nothing to him. She was his sanctuary, his now, and he would take it by the hand.

He would take advantage of these last few hours he had with her and he would pretend all is good in the world and it would stay that way. It had to.

He kept telling himself that so he, himself, could believe it. The truth was it was all going to go downhill, he could tell.

He knew that once he left for New Jersey tomorrow that he wasn’t going to automatically be drafted into war, there wasn’t a necessary need just yet. But his father had told him the speculations of how the US wanted to go after the Nazis, and he knew there was something else his father wasn’t telling him, and it would not be long before hell broke loose.

That’s when Steve and all the others would eventually be even more so analyzed and drafted, and so would Bucky - without a doubt.

Sure, he was courageous. It wasn’t that he was scared to go, but he needed to be certain that Daisy would always be safe. He would surely miss the moments of having her in his arms, safe and happy.

Softly, he took her left cheek in his hand and rubbed his thumb across the top of her cheek bone,. He needed to take advantage of this moment that was staring them dead in the eye. He needed to. It didn’t matter how fast it was, how much he wanted to treat her preciously, and how much he respected her faith. He needed her.

“Come to my apartment with me,” he noticed her gulp and her mouth opened slightly. Daisy’s mouth went dry and she watched his usual blue eyes turn a heavy grey. Bucky smiled slightly, “I don’t want to seem like I’m making you do something you don’t want to, but I just…” his voice drifted off as his gazed dropped slightly. His eyes became clouded with disastrous visions of the future. He blinked it quickly away, wanting to just see the image of Daisy underneath him. Just her and her pearly white skin and those gorgeous lips kissing him.

At that moment Daisy knew exactly what he was asking.

She was a virgin and she had mentioned that to him when they started talking about the topic of her faith. She technically wasn’t supposed to be engaging in anything that was sexual before marriage to which Bucky simply nodded. At that moment, he decided he wouldn’t be too strong on her nor mention anything of his past sex life which would surely leave her blushing. He loved fucking.

But as she stared at him right then and there, realizing this could be the last moment where they’re both happy together and not having to worry about anything, she wanted just exactly the same thing he did. She closed her eyes tightly together and leaned her face closer to his, giving him a deep and sexy kiss on his top lip, biting it as she pulled away.

Bucky practically growled at her action, never seeing this side of her. Daisy was innocent, a classy lady, one that should always be treated as such. Sure, he knew of her passions for burlesque and lingerie (when she told him he had practically tried not to cum right then and there in his bed), but that was a dirty little secret that he concluded shouldn’t be mentioned out loud. She was always that beautiful, young, and morally behaved girl that stole his heart.

When she let go of his top lip, which was definitely throbbing now, he narrowed his lusty eyes at her and took it as a sign of acceptance.

She would be lying if she said she wasn’t slightly shaking the whole time he walked her to his dungy little Brooklyn apartment. He looked straight adorable in his little Italian flat hat and suspenders, his coat draped across one of his arms, the other holding her hand as he slid his key into all three locks of the door.

She swore she could see him shake a little too when they had gotten inside and he put his coat on the tiny kitchen table and he turned to her.

The room suddenly felt even smaller, the air between them hot and utterly thick.

He eyed her up and down and swallowed hard. She wore a beautiful black dress that covered every single part of her that he now wanted to see exposed to him.

Her lips were slightly red from the many kisses they shared on the way to the apartment, and her pinup eyeliner was so damn pretty as it shaped her eyes to perfection. She was damn gorgeous and she knew it.

He slid off his dress shoes and then walked over to where she was standing. Her heart hammered away in her chest as his stunning blue eyes traced her body. The moment he finally stood before her, he realized he didn’t want to do with her what he did with every other girl.

He lifted his left arm to the side of her neck and watched her chest fall rapidly up and down. He grabbed her there lightly, and then slid it down the side of her body, eyeing the beauty that was simply her.

“James.”

“I’ll be gentle.”

He grabbed her right hand and pulled her along over to his bed. She looked down at him as he stared up at her, in awe and in love. She brought her hands to his face and touched his perfectly combed hair, smiling.

She stopped when he laid his hands over hers and brought it down between them. His face was now serious as he whispered, “Lay with me.”

He wanted to make love to her tonight.

Did they and it was slow and tender.

+ +

Bucky had told Steve he’d be back soon. It wouldn’t be too long - maybe a month, maybe even a few weeks. Bucky stepped onto the steam train and Steve and Daisy had stood next to each other as they waved him goodbye. The moment he sat down in his seat and the vision of the love of his life and his best friend became nothing but silhouettes, he threw his head back against his cold seat, taking a deep breath. He made a vow to himself that now was the time to make himself, his father, and his country proud.

The only thing he wanted more than his girl was to save the lives of every person he possibly could.

He took an additional deep breath, running a damp hand over his face. He stared up at the iron ceiling as the train swayed side to side and up and down over the slightly uneven tracks, making its way south.

He fidgeted uncomfortably as each horrible made up scenario of what could happen when he arrived went through his mind. He wondered if the chief and sergeant would agree that he’d be as fitting as his father in taking his place and if he’d make the best soldier he always wanted to be.

He took a deep breath and simply leaned his head against the glass.

His blue eyes watched as the scenery of green and trees became the last of peace that he had a feeling he would feel for a very long time.

+ +

Wheaton, New Jersey

The train ride wasn’t long; a little over an hour which was just enough time for Bucky to take his well-needed nap. When he had arrived at the station, he had noted the Jeep he was told that would pick him up along with two others who were on board. He didn’t even bother to meet up with them while onboard the train, wanting to take as much time to himself as he could, knowing it was probably his last opportunity.

The Jeep zoomed down a dirt road and through an intimidating metal gate. Bucky watched as young men ran around the perimeters, training intensely. Others were talking amongst each other as they took their break, sweaty bangs dangling onto their foreheads.

They looked at him in curiosity as his car sped towards its destination, probably wondering what was so special about this guy that he had to get to where he was going so quickly.

Suddenly, the car came to a heavy jolt and a hand slammed down beside him on his seat announcing their arrival. He jumped slightly at the intrusion but took a deep breath and opened the dingy door.

As Bucky stepped off the jeep and into the dirty mud of his new camp, he knew he needed to find his uniform and combat boots as fast as he could.

He stared down in a slight grimace at his freshly destroyed dressed shoes - he had just gotten them shined. He scoffed to himself and dragged it’s front against a random dry patch of grass trying to get off as much as he could. A young man jogged by, kicking some mud up onto Bucky’s new pants. Bucky looked on at the man as he ran, a look of anger written all over his face.

From a distance (from beneath a random tent that provided cover for a rest area, Colonel Douglas Smith watched in amusement the entire scene unfolding.

“This is Barnes�� son? The sniper?” He snarled under a grimace. He turned his head and gave Williams a disappointed look.

Another man -Williams- which sat to his left, looked towards Bucky’s direction over his daily newspaper. He watched on along with Douglas and smirked as Bucky looked around, lost.

His eyes drifted to Smith and then back down at his paper, giving it a slight smack, “Yes, sir.” humor tinted his voice heavily.

Smith shook his head in wonder as Bucky dusted off a piece of lint that was on his coat’s collar, “He better be right about this, or I swear to God.”

Bucky’s eyes scanned his vicinity, eyes narrowing diligently. His eyes finally landed on someone who seemed to be who he should be looking for, judging by their attire and posture of authority. Also, the fact that they had been looking at him first.

“He seems too pretty to be as good as they say.”

“His father says he is the best.”

Colonel Smith eyes Bucky up and down as he made his way over, sporting his new suit and fresh suspenders. As soon as he reached the two men, Bucky nodded at each one and took off his Italian flat hat, tucking it into his armpit revealing a perfectly groomed gorgeous head of hair drenched in pomade.

He reached out with his right arm for the Colonel to shake with a bright smile on his face, “James Barnes.”

“Colonel Douglas Smith,” he nods over to the man sitting down who seems very busy jotting something down, “This is Sergeant William of the one-oh-third.”

“Colonel. Serg.” Bucky confirms with a nod to each.

“Sit, boy.” Colonel demands with a motion of his hand in front of him. Bucky politely abides as he pulls out a chair to sit himself down. Bucky places his hat down in front of him and takes a deep breath, “First, I’d like to give you my condolences.”

Bucky momentarily stalls as his eyes drift back and forth between both men, but then clears his throat nodding, “Thank you, Sir.”

“Your father was a great man. Quite a fighter used to say he raised you from young to be the same way.” Colonel eyes Bucky up and down. Bucky gulps, finally feeling the pressure he had been slightly dreading from the beginning. He knew they were expectant of him, and now he was here to prove it and he wasn’t sure he had the balls of steels he had one day ago, “That true?”

Bucky clears his throat, “Yes, sir.” He leans down to reach into his briefcase and pulls out a beige file. He puts it onto the table and slides it across to Colonel. Smith is impressed by his promptness and professionalism and sees William smile from his peripheral.

“What’s this?”

Bucky clears his throat once again, “Dad trained me for many things,” he took a brief glance around the base, “I experienced boot camp at the age of fifteen. I’ve done long races, obstacle races, everything that tested my endurance, boxing, running- both in the rain and scorching heat. I’ve bled, I’ve learned not to cry and hold my own. I know tactics, I know what it takes to be a soldier, sir,” Bucky notes their faces still hold no expression of amazement he was looking for and he feels his palms sweating harshly, “My father did it so I knew how to be strong and prepared for when the time was right.”

Colonel Smith crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, not yet touching the paper in front of him. Bucky looked on in simple embarrassment from Smith to his folder, wondering if it was pointless to show as much pride as he did.

Smith’s strong voice makes Bucky jump when he starts talking, “You think that because you’ve trained since you were a young boy, but clearly have no experience being on the front line, that you are an American Soldier?”

Bucky automatically becomes defensive and his posture becomes confident. He didn’t like the nagging, the accusation of something he was not. That’s when he realized, he needed to prove himself. He was good, and they wanted to see it.

He leans closer to the table and crosses his hands out in front of him, “No, sir, of course not. Not yet,” His voice was strong and clear. The colonel sat there waiting for what Barnes had to add, “I have no experience yet with being in a war, not yet. But I have other experiences, first-hand experience.”

“And what is that exactly?”

“Guns.” Both Smith and William now give Bucky their full attention, looking straight at him in total interest. Smith even moves up closer to Bucky.

Bucky is almost one hundred percent more confident now than he was ten minutes ago because now he’s finally talking about something he knows he can own up to well. This he enjoyed immensely.

“Sure. Your file we have here does show you are good with targets, that you know what weapon is best for what, that you helped your father when it came to assembling and reassembling them for the troops, and that you are great at knowing the anatomy of a gun but many here can do that with intense training. What do you have that the others here don’t, James?”

The colonel was pressing now, and Bucky at that moment realized that what he was doing was not because he didn’t see a reason to not trust Bucky, but more so so he could prove himself, and this was his chance.

Bucky looked Colonel Smith straight in the eye with a snarl. He slammed one finger down on the table in front of them, “I’m not just good with targets. I hit them all.”

“I do not miss. This file,” Bucky again slams his finger down on the folder in front of them, “There are diagrams, spreadsheets, rough drafts, charts, and all my grades for every algebra, geometry, physics, and trigonometry class I’ve ever taken. All As. It also includes my use of Pythagorean theorems.” Colonel raises an impressed brown and opens the file. His mouth is slightly agape as he reads on what is pages and pages of mathematical equations, transcriptions, and each a different weapon usage.

For a cocky good looking guy, Bucky was clearly very very intelligent - a closet nerd.

“I might no be a soldier yet, but I’m already a good fucking sniper.”

William and Smith are smiling now as they see Bucky in the way they wanted to, “Look, I’ll go out there tomorrow if you need me to. Sure, I’m a kid, but that just means I have the time to learn more. I’m ready to fight.”

Colonel stares at Bucky for a beat. He nods, takes the folder in his hands, and stands up. Bucky looks up at him, “You will be here to assist Serg. William and I. And then we’ll see where we take you from there. We want a hard-headed kid here to help get these other guys in order.” His voice was softer now as he spoke on, “Soon, we’ll be out there in the real world and I feel you’ll do fine, kid. Your health record looks great, I saw your previous training records here at the base and they are impeccable,”

“Thank you, sir-“

“but,” Bucky swallows hard. Smith hands the file over to William, “We want you to focus on shooting. And train these damn ass kids that this isn’t just a game. William will escort you to your temporary quarter.”

Bucky nods and stands up, a wide grin on his face as Smith initiates the handshake this time, “Good luck, Kid.”

+ +

Letters.

That's how he spoke to her for two years. He missed her, he missed Steve, and he missed school. He missed Brooklyn, but he missed her most of all. She was everything he had ever wanted and more.

They refused to lose touch, but it seemed to have gotten harder the longer he spent time away from her. He almost started forgetting what it was she looked like and he did not like that at all.

He hoped more than anything that she didn’t forget what he felt like, what his cock felt like the inside of her pretty self. God, he missed her so much.

He’d be laying down in the bunker after one of her letters where she’d admitted that she missed all of his body, and suddenly he’d find himself a panting mess, a hand wrapped around himself. No other women in his life made him cum as much as she did. She was perfect.

Dad has been gone for four weeks and I don’t know why. Jimmy has gone with him- it’s just me and mother. I overheard her saying something about Germany but I’m not quite sure.. Or maybe it was something else. Though none of that matters to me, James- I want you. Please come home to me.

He would pick up his pen and start writing.

Daisy,

I’ll be home soon, my love. I want and miss you, too.

For some reason, a chill ran down his back as he reread the words “something about Germany”.

Like an awful memory that has never happened, he sees a child in front of him. It was a little girl and she screamed in agony for mercy. She was getting strangled to death by his own hand, a silver glint caught his eye-

“James!”

Bucky jumped up looked upfront his lap from where he was writing to see Williams looking at him in curiosity, waiting.

“Be right there, Sergeant.”

Take care of Stevie for me, Daisy. Be careful, both of ya.

Much love,

Bucky

+ +

He’s standing in front of the men, showing them how to correctly calculate the wind and kickback of a PPSh-41. Ten iron cans laid on the grass as Bucky allowed his gun to swing back towards him. He smirks and slides it back into place in the holster around his waist.

“Johnny, you’re up.” Bucky would announce each boy’s turn until they’ve all managed to hit all targets. Some of them taking more thirty tries each to succeed.

As much as he’d try and teach them how to properly shoot each and every gun they had on hand, it was evident that they’d never be as good as him.

But there were good in other aspects, some of which actually reminded him of Steve back at home.

“Faster.” Bucky would demand as he walked in front of them as they did fifty push-ups each. He knew they could handle it.

Williams and Smith watched from afar as Bucky’s men eventually became some of the strongest and most courageous they’ve seen in a long time.

They shared a knowing look and Smith gave a small nod.

Bucky’s gaze drops from the men he’d grown to love down to his feet. He didn’t expect to be there for two years. He didn’t think he would go that long without seeing Daisy, but they ended up loving having him there.

Within weeks he had the entire infantry under his finger. At first, he wasn’t too keen on yelling at them at what to do and how to do it, but with time he realized it was for their best and they realized that too. He was actually not a complete asshole when it came to bossing everyone around, but to be fair it mostly had to do with the fact that they were all not too much younger than him either, some even older.

+ +

It had been Friday night when Bucky had everyone in their bed by 8 o clock, without a complaint or disobedience.

Bucky sat in his little office under the vintage desk light as he was reading one of Daisy’s latest letters, where she spoke about how her father had come home briefly but was quickly leaving for Siberia within a few weeks and how much she was dying to hold Bucky back in her arms again.

She kept begging and begging him non stop.

Bucky’s face was crestfallen as he wrote back that he promised he would be back, and that he had to talk to her about something special when he saw her again for the first time.

Truth was, he was going to ask her to marry him. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her even if it was from such far away. Bucky was tucking the letter into the envelope when someone cleared their throat from his left.

His head snapped and he smiled when he saw it was colonel Smith.

“Bucky, mind if we speak for a second.” Bucky nodded his head and tucked the letter in his back pocket. The colonel noted this with a nod, “That for the lady?”

Bucky smiled slightly, although it was also sad, “Yeah. Miss her,”

Colonel patted a hand on his shoulder, “I know, kiddo.”

They were about to go into Colonel’s office when Smith turned around. Bucky practically walked into him, not expecting him to stop so suddenly in his path. Bucky’s face was serious and he felt worried at the tension that quickly grew, “What is it, Colonel?”

Contemplating before speaking, he looked over Bucky’s shoulder, “The men love you,”

He looked back at Bucky, “You’re good. Really good.”

Bucky should’ve been proud of his words (he was slight) but he could tell something was going on. Smith’s tone and his eyes were off, something was clearly up.

“What’s going on?”

The colonel looked down. It looked like for a second that he was going to back out on telling Bucky. But clearly this wasn’t something anyone could control anymore, “They want them in.”

World War II had merely started about a little over a year ago. Nazi Germany was at its peak and troops were being sent out constantly. Bucky knew there were several infantries being sent in, along with the heavy draft. Bucky had spoken to Steve back at home and Steve kept mentioning about the guys all being deployed out, but not all. They were still trying to recruit more as time came, seeing who was eligible and who wasn’t. Bucky tried to convince Steve as much as possible to quit trying to join the army, to stop lying on his forms to get accepted.

At their base, they were training until they were to be pulled out.

And now was the time.

“But that’s not what I want to talk to you about.”

Bucky’s heart plummeted for a fraction of a second. He wondered what else he possibly had to say.

Colonel turned into his office and allowed Bucky to follow behind. Bucky closed the door behind him, reluctantly and with a hard swallow.

“There’s a group being deployed in two days. To England, the one-oh-seventh.”

Bucky’s heart jumped into his throat. Pride filled deep within his gut and he tried to contain as much excitement as he could.

Smith went around his desk, “We agreed that you’re more than suitable to be deployed as well. So you’ll be with them.”

Bucky smiled. It was finally his time. It wasn’t just his men, but him as well.

“When?”

“A couple of weeks. The week before you’ll be allowed one week at home to see your friends,” Colonel looked at the letter that was peaking out behind him, “and your girl.” Bucky felt like he was going to cry from excitement at this point. Colonel’s face was still serious, “we want to assign you as an official Sergeant.”

The earth seemed two have shifted for a moment while Bucky processed the words. He couldn’t believe they would want him to serve at that level. Bucky’s brows raised in surprise as he stood motionless.

A soldier he always knew he would become one day, it was practically in his blood, but “Sergeant?”

“Yes, sir.” Smith crossed his hands out in front of him and stared up at Bucky, hopeful, “I knew the moment you started talking that you were different. You’re good, you’re loyal, you’re a true born soldier just like your father always said you were. You wouldn’t dare lay a hand on something unless they were worth it. You know how to take charge and you’re willing to be on the front line.”

That same image of a tormented child being strangled to death by a hand flicker’s through his mind's eye, except now the kid is thrown against a brick wall, completely deceased.

Bucky swallows hard, “My men, they will be with me?” He knew the answer because he was already told upfront but Smith but he needed to be sure. He needed to know all of them would be there by his side when he killed Schmidt.

“Yes. Drafting starts soon, son. You’ll be home for a little bit to say goodbye.” Smith smiled, “Go get your girl.”

+ +

He’d made sure all their beds were made before they all left to say goodbye to their loved ones one last time, and he made his as well. What good Sergeant would he be if he weren’t the best example if he were a hypocrite?

He hadn’t told Steve nor Daisy that he was coming home- wanting it to be a surprise. He stepped off the train, a tailored uniform, his new Sergeant cap on his head, and a pin on his left chest. He was ready.

A sharp wind blew in from the west, making him frown slightly in pain. The January air burned him like fire but yet gave life at the same exact time. This was reality and it was like a slap to the face. He was here to say goodbye.

Bucky had grabbed a paper from the boy at the train station and saw something about Howard Stark’s Expo and he felt like a little boy all over again. He loved Howard Stark, to be frankly honest he was quite a nerd for it. Not only did he make the best weapons that Bucky would love to have his hands on one day, but he also loved how smart and genius he was. How he was never afraid to reach the unreachable and to do what no one else had the guts to. He would kill to meet him one day and just tell him how amazing he was.

So he had to go to his expo before he left. He was ready to see his best friend and his girlfriend and that’s exactly who he was going to go with.

Bucky had been walking excitedly from the train station to Steve’s house, but he was not expecting to see him getting beaten up by a gentleman in an alley outside a theatre.

Anger blew up inside of Bucky as he ran towards the scene, “Hey!” He called out, grabbing both of their attention.

When Steve saw Bucky his eyes lit up.

Bucky grabbed the bully by his collar and kicked his ass while Steve watched from the corner of the dirty alley.

“I think you like getting punched.”

Bucky said as he helped Steve off the floor.

“I had him on the ropes.”

Bucky decided not to comment any more on how Steve needed to lay off and instead wanted to spend the last few hours he had with his best friend and his girl. He told Steve about how he was sergeant now for the 107th and that he was leaving for England in the morning the next day.

But he was also excited to share with Steve the one thing that Steve knew Bucky loved the most - Stark. When Bucky pulled out the newspaper that showed the expo that was happening that night, Steve notices the fanboy smile written all over his face. He couldn’t wait to pick up Daisy so they could all go.

When Bucky and Daisy saw each other for the first time, he had spun her around so hard her dress spun with her. Bucky kissed her so hard and she cried as she told him how much she missed him.

Steve just stared back in boredom.

“Are we going, or…?”

They both giggled and Bucky punched him playfully on the shoulder, “Come on, punk.”

The three of them walked into the expo. Steve was looking around in awe while Bucky had the biggest grin on his face as he held Daisy’s hand. She wore a beautiful dark drey below-knee dress and brown leather oxford heels and her lips were coated in the most beautiful shades of red.

It was everything Bucky had ever dreamed of. Stark literally blew his mind, especially when he brought out the beautiful to die for women and then make a car fucking fly. Even if it was for just a second.

Bucky’s heart soared.

Daisy looked up at him wonder and she watched his face light up in pure happiness. She didn’t know someone could be so beautiful and that she could love someone so much. She raised her right hand up to his face as a firework went off behind his head in the sky. It was blue - the same shade of his eyes.

He wasn’t expecting that gesture from her at that moment, so when he felt her soft little fingers on the side of his face, he snapped his head down to look at her. Her smile faded as he gave her a look of pure want.

She traces his lips with her thumb and leaned her head down on his chest. Her heart soared even more as he brought her to him in a tight embrace. He kissed the top of her head and then told Steve that they should call it a night.

Steve gave Bucky a tight hug and told him to be safe.

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back,” Bucky warned him with a smile.

When Steve split ways with the couple at his door, he knew exactly what they were up to. He was happy for his best friend, he just hoped they weren’t too emotionally involved more than anything. He didn’t want to see Bucky get hurt.

He looked at his best friend with a weird sorrow. He wasn’t sure why something in his gut was telling him that this happiness, this simpleness, was going to be very short-lived.

+ +

When they had gotten back to his apartment, he had her against his door and his lips were on hers.

This was it.

Snippets of that flash of that dead child kept hitting Bucky over and over as he kissed Daisy up against his door.

He tried to get rid of those images as much as possible as he grabbed her gorgeous legs, pulling them around his waist.

That seemed to have done the job perfectly because he felt himself growing hard for her.

“Please.” She pleaded desperately over his lips. He pulled away from her for a second and just stared at her beautiful face trying to take it all in. Reality hit them like a truck as he caressed her cheek with his thumb. This was goodbye, for a while.

He leaned in slowly, and this kiss was different. It was love and care, and so much need. A need for forever. He felt tears building behind his lids as the thought of never getting the chance of holding her like this ever again tried to take over his brain. She tightened her legs around him, her hands going to the straps of his belt.

“God, I missed you, Daisy,” He moaned against her mouth. He brought his right hand between her legs, pushing her panties to the side. He slid one finger from her clit down her slick slit and her head fell back with a thud against his door. She groaned out loud at the sensation that wracked through her body, “Missed the sounds you make. I love you so much.” He growled against her.

She ran her hands through his hair and pulled his face away from her neck to kiss him deeply again. She nodded against him as her hips met the rhythm of his hand, confirming that she felt the same way.

“Please take me, James.”

He walked them over to his bed and gently laid her down. She stared up at his lustful eyes, her lips swollen from his kiss, and her dress bundled up at her waist.

Bucky didn’t waste two seconds to pull it off her. Next, she helped him pull off his uniform jacket and shirt, revealing his gorgeous abs that she wanted to lick over with her tongue.

Next, she removed his pants.

She slowly tucked her fingers into the underside of his underwear as she bit her lip. It was obvious that she was teasing him.

“Just take it off.” He ordered.

She did as told and practically whimpered as his hard cock was revealed to her. She sat up and reached behind herself to unclasp her bra.

When he saw her perky breasts, he leaned down and kissed her once more. The first time they had sex it was different. It was innocent and timid, but now that he knew her body and she wasn’t so shy anymore, it was more carnal. The first time was about opportunities and their future.

But this, this felt like goodbye.

“I can’t wait, Daisy. I need you.” He confessed as he laid her down all the way. She nodded against his understanding.

He stretched out his left hand to hold onto the headboard while the other grabbed his pulsing shaft. She spread her legs and he slid into her with a long moan.

He looked down at her and watched as she arched her neck back in pleasure, the nails of her left hand digging into his sides.

“Faster.” She moaned.

The other thing that was different about this time was how fast it was. The first time it lasted for almost an hour, they had made love in the most sensual way that left his skin crawling. This time they were both so close so fast, they just needed that release due to being away from each other for so long.

She was practically screaming as he fucked her fast and oh so deliciously into the bed below her. It was so good that after only a few minutes she was looking down at the spot where they both met, her lips formed into a perfect o.

She started nodding quickly. She cried. Bucky groaned as he twitched inside of her, his pleasure growing just as strong as hers. He was right behind her. He put his other arm up on the headboard too, letting his restless hips do all the work.

All that was heard in the room was the sound of skin slapping on skin and their moaning.

He picked up his pace as he stared deeply into the blue orbs. When she shut her eyes she let out a silent scream, and he felt her clench around his cock.

That did it for him. He whimpered.

He increased his speed until he felt his own end approaching, and it was going to be strong. When it did, he groaned, tightening his grips on the headboard, making it bang against the wall behind them. He continuously slammed his hips harsh against her.

“Fuck.” He groaned slipping out of her. She watched in awe and as he stroked himself so fast his hand became a blur - little spurts of white falling over her pretty tummy.

His eye drifted back to her face and he watched as a smile played on her lips. Her face was extremely flushed as she bit her bottom lip in a way that made him want to take her again. He chuckled lightly. It made his heart heavy, and he knew that now was the perfect time to ask her what he had been wanting for the last two years.

He let go of the bed and laid himself next to her. He placed his left hand above her hand and the other on the side of her face. They watched each other in complete love before he kissed her long and hard.

When he pulled away, she felt him slightly shaking and noticed the look of nervousness in his eyes. She swallowed hard.

“Daisy,” he whispered. He traced her features with his hand, and just like that the fear escaped his eyes, and instead of scared he was now feeling complete love and he was ready because knew this is what he wanted forever.

+ +

Diamond ring on her hand, big heart in his chest, Bucky Barnes had been ready to devote his life her and to love.

Life had other plans for him.

Why be a husband when he could be brainwashed into becoming the Head of Hydra?

Why love with his heart and soul when he could kill and become the world’s greatest assassin?

They’re at the New York Library. Steve stands behind him, hands in pocket and eyebrows furrowed together.

70 years later, Bucky detests himself for who he has become. He hates it all. He hates that he woke up.

His hand trembles as he reads the article. It’s worn out, ink faded.

YOUNG WOMAN, FOUND IN HALLWAY, SHOT

Reason unknown, ongoing investigation

The blonde 21 year old was found shot through the skull in the five story building but an other woman after a shot was heard.

The woman states: “There was blood everywhere. It reeked of disaster. The poor girl was always so quiet and sweet.”

Her family has been under investigation after her father’s disappearance —

Bucky’s heart shattered, but those beautiful memories still stayed fresh in his mind.

Present

You watched him from underneath your lashes as his chest slowly moved up and down. He looked deep in thought, as if his mind had been somewhere else, even though he was physically there.

As his eyes examined you across the bed, you wondered what was going through his head.

You were shocked when he stretched out his arm and you felt his hand run through your hair, letting his thumb linger over the back of your neck.

“What does it mean?” He asks. His voice is deep and filled with emotion.

He’s asking about your tattoo.

“Nothing.” You say breathlessly.

His eyes were enthralling.

“There’s no meaning?”

“No.” You eyes leave his and you look out towards the direction of the dining area.

“Why did you get it?” He asks.

“It was in the moment. It felt like it would be thrilling; fun. The thought of forever made it even more so.” You say without a thought, letting your eyes close.

His hands don’t leave the back of your neck, and his touch remains gentle.

“You’re absolutely insane.” His tone has a chirp to it that you’ve never heard before and a near chuckle escapes your chest. He rubs his thumb there again it sends a jolt into your stomach. You open your eyes again to take a peak at him and the looks he’s giving you must’ve triggered something in your own appearance because his eyes furrow together, “What?”

“You reminded me of someone.”

He swallows thickly.

“Yeah?”

“Will.” You feel your throat grow tight at the mention of his name. Bucky senses a change in your tone and he knows that whoever this Will is, he had an impact on your life, “He died just a few days before Fury found me. He was my best friend. He was sweet, humble, funny, sarcastic, optimistic,” there’s a crack in your voice and Bucky’s breath hitches, “I loved Will. He was supposed to be here with me. We were coming to the Capitol together.” Bucky watches you intently as you speak so fondly of your dear friend. Emotions consume him and he’s in a warped daze, right hand that had been on your tattoo running up the side of your face and into your hair, “he was the only friend I ever had.”

Your eyes meet his and he sees in the tears in your eyes. He looks at you confused, fingers tightening in your hair.

“And then after I laid him to rest, I walked into the woods. I was crying and I was angry at him for leaving me. I fell down at slope, hurt my hand and my leg —” Bucky says your name quietly but you ignore him, “it was dark. I was afraid. But I wanted to continue on. Deep down I know I did. I needed to do it for Will. Then this man came and he was going to ruin everything, so I killed him. I had to,” it’s the first time you’re addresses your killing so verbally and so emotionally and it affects you more than you thought, “I had to kill him.” Bucky watches with concern as your fingers tremble against the sheets, “And then Fury found me and took me to your camp. I met Steve, and then I met you.”

Bucky pulls his hand away moments later.

You both lay there in silence. It’s the most you’ve spoken to each other since the night he first fucked you.

After you had sex in the kitchen, you both had separated quietly, going your separate ways until night time. You both slept on opposite sides of the bed and a couple feet apart.

It wasn’t even that it was awkward. There’s was just too much unsaid and still too much tension. You kept falling harder and harder, and you were getting weaker.

The next day you had gone to work and Bucky had found a plan to get into Ashen’s tower.

A day later, you finally spoke again.

At nights it was the hardest. You hated his sudden silence.

You hated that you had no idea what the hell was going on anymore.

Your eyes met in an intense gaze.

Bucky watched curiously as your left hand grazed over the sheets and up over his waist. You watched as his breath hitched, his breathing picking up.

“What the hell are we doing, Bucky?” You asked sincerely.

Part of you genuinely wondered if he was only doing this with you because you were the only girl available.

“Fucking.” He spats out too quickly. He continues to watch you as tug your fingers into the band of his dark grey sweats, “we’re fucking.”

You feel a surge of energy build its way up your body. You don’t know if it’s lust or anger, and it scares you that you can’t distinguish it. You begin to wonder if possibly it’s both.

You move closer into him dragging his sweats down as best as you could. Bucky had to help you by lifting his hips off the bed for a second. He lets out a long breath as his length escapes the confinements of his pants.

Your heart hurts as you take in his glorious body and his face. The face of a boy that you wished could give you more than this, the face of a boy that changed your life.

Because even though he was pure man, you knew deep down inside he still felt young. He felt robbed. You hated that you wanted to take him in any way you could. You hated that you loved making him cum and that he let you.

Eyes darting down to his half soft cock, you lick your bottom lip. You take him into your hand, thumb sliding over his tip. Bucky lets out a tight moan. It comes out heavy and needy.

His reaction gives you a boost and you give him a few languid strokes.

“Over the head, and under it.” He tells you with a gruff. You do as told, watching as pre cum oozes out of his hole. Bucky groans, stretching his right leg out. He mumbles something you can’t make out. Your look up to see him quickly lick his hand and the replace yours with his own over his growing dick, “Like this.” He curved it up towards his body and he teaches you how to stroke. You watch amazed as his flesh hand moves over his cock, noting how where his thumb and pointer finger meet focuses on the edge of the mushroom tip.

You put your hands over his and he lets himself go, letting you take charge again.

The feel of his saliva on your palm over his cock is filthy. Dirty. Fucking sexual.

You mimic his actions from earlier for about a minute until you decide to lick a strip up the underside of his shaft.

You hear him gasp underneath you and a heavy hand meets the back of your head. You look up at him timidly and he’s looking down at you. He looks as sinful as ever. His cheeks are flushed and his mouth is agape. You can’t tell if it’s the pleasure you’re giving him or if he’s shocked.

It kills him how innocent you look with your head between his legs. Your lashes are so long and pretty and, oh, your lips look small plush too. You keep eye contact as you flick the tip of your tongue over his tip and a whine escapes his throat. You do it again, and again.

“Oh my god.” He moans. You take him into your mouth little by little, careful to not let your teeth scrape him.

You bob your head up and down, your right hand stroking what you can’t take down your throat.

You feel his hands pulling your hair into a makeshift pony tail and you groan around him.

“Fuck.” He gasps at the vibrations. One of his hands leave your head but the other stays there, helping you; guiding you.

You sit up up until your butt is in the air, with him still in your mouth, and your place your hands on his thighs. You take a deep breath, and he watches as you lower your head down his cock, as deep as it could go.

The chocking sounds are erotic to both your ears.

Bucky is breathing harder now and he takes your head in both of his hands, running his fingers gently down the sides as he slides you up and off his cock.

When your eyes meet, his looks lust blown. His gaze is briefly on your now swollen lips, and then he composes himself, hands going down to the hem of your white camisole dress.

He helps you pull it off in one go followed by your underwear. As soon as it’s off your feet you go to sit up when he stops you.

He grabs your pillow and places it behind you. You sit back. Bucky gives your body a hungry look as he grabs each of your knees, bending your legs up. He gives them a shove away from each other.

You feel exposed and naked and you know he can see just how soaked you are. You whimper as he slides to fingers up your bare and freshly shaved folds. He lets out his own moan as he gathers your juices onto the tips of his fingers, smearing them over your clit.

Shocked, you watch as he leans down until his front is almost perpendicular to the bed. He kisses the inside of your thigh, nibbling it as he makes his way to your center.

You feel his hot breath against your cunt as he tells you to put you to grab his head.

In a euphoric daze, you do as you’re told. A jolt of pleasure shoots through you as he licks your clit. You feel two of his fingers spread your lips and then he’s licking at you, feeding on you like you’re his favorite meal.

You groan, shoving his head closer to your pussy.

“Oh, shit.” You moan when he enters two flesh fingers into your as he sucks on your bundle of nerves.

Your left leg kicks out as he sucks and sucks. You’re breathless as you look down, the sigh of his head between your thighs being the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Oh, god.” You say.

He looks up at you and you’re gasping. His eyes don’t leave yours as he continues to fuck you with two fingers, the tip of his tongue now flicking at you like mad.

You let out a heavy groan, your head tossing backwards in pleasure.

You feel him pull away and you whimper at the loss of feeling. You feel him grab the side of your waist and he’s pulling you against him until he’s back into the same position he was before.

Bucky leans over the side of the bed and goes into his night stand. You don’t know how to feel when you see him grab a box of condoms.

Did he buy that? Did he know he didn’t want it to be just a one time thing? He didn’t want it to be a one time thing?

You rips box and tosses almost angrily, and when he’s got the foil in his hand, he tears the edge with his teeth.

He slides the condom over his dick and then gently grabs your arms.

“I’ve never…” you stutter as you sit on his lap.

“I know you haven’t, i’ll teach you.” He slides you up and down over his cock, coating it with your slick. You’re leaned over him gasping and he’s grinning his teeth, “You can ride my cock, can’t you?” He purrs up at you so deliciously you have to bite your bottom lip to keep from whimpering, “I want to make you feel good. I want to make you cum. I want us to cum together.”

Your movements quicken as his words turn you on. He takes himself in his hand and rubs his tip up and down over your slit before finally pushing into your heat.

You both groan simultaneously. The pleasure is mutual and you both feel full and satisfied, for the first time. He’s gasping, both hands taking a hold of each side of your face.

He hates what this has become. He hates that his emotions are at an all time high right now.

His eyes look into yours as you move up and down and he remembers why he was so afraid of loving again.

As you move over him, he knows he wouldn’t be able to handle it if something bad were to happen to you. As you fuck yourself on his cock, he knows he can’t fall down that rabbit hole again. He tried so hard to make you hate him and yet here you were, letting him fuck you.

You couldn’t like him. Not emotionally and not physically. It was for your own good. He was bad news, he knew he was.

Everything he touched always got destroyed. It always died.

He was cursed.

Your cunt gives him a perfect squeeze and he shouts.

“God, Y/N.” He cries, grabbing your hips and driving you down faster and harder.

He bends his legs and the sound of your skins hitting echoes around the loft.

Dirty.

Your hand goes to your pussy and you rub yourself furiously.

“Oh yeah.” You moan. He moans back in response, his own hips lifting off the bed to fuck into you.

He tells you to rest your hands on the pillow next to his head and you do so.

He grabs your hips and starts ramming up into you.

Looking down, his face is only a few inches from yours and you wished you could kiss him. You wonder if he can see past your lie of just wanting him for sex. You wanted so much more than an orgasm.

He was killing you.

With one of his ruthless trusts, he hits that spot inside of you that makes you see sparks and you feel your end approaching.

You’re breaths come out of your nose in sharp huffs, fingers curling into the pillow case.

You scream when he leans himself up, taking the side of one of your breasts into his mouth. His nibbles you with a growl.

You know he’s getting close too because his eyebrows are tight together and there’s a thin sheet of sweat over his body.

You cum beautifully over his dick. You know you’re probably shouting but you don’t care because there is absolutely nothing that could ever feel better than this. He helps you drag it out and he rams into you and you look down to see his eyes tightly closed.

You rub a thumb over the tops of his left cheek.

“Cum for me.” You whisper.

His mouth gapes open and he gives you a few more strong thrust before they start to falter. He lets out a loud and animalism grunt, followed by a slap to your right ass cheek.

You’re both panting as you collapse on top of him.

+ +

The building’s security infrastructure was a lot less advanced than Bucky had planned for, which was a great thing. He half expected to have to divert more cameras and more security. Especially for a Hydra centre.

Or maybe he was just that stealthy.

He had commenced his part of the mission earlier in the afternoon than he usually did, but that was because he wanted to see if he could catch Ashen this time.

Just as planned, at three forty five sharp, Ashen and three other man came in through the main entrance.

Bucky, having come in through a weak and dingy window across the building, watched from afar as they took the elevator. On cue, Bucky took the door to the stairwell.

He made it quickly to the seventieth floor until he hear the familiar voice. Waiting until it was far enough and he could no longer hear anything, Bucky stepped out into the hallway.

He makes sure to avoid directly sight of any cameras he sees along the way. So many years as the world’s most dangerous assassin gave him the stealth and experience needed to do it successfully. He would go undetected.

The building was modern and gorgeous. There were glass panels and long hallways. Bucky followed the men from a safe distance until they finally walked into a room, closing the door behind them. Bucky tried to maneuver as best as he could without being seen.

When he turned he saw something that left him stunned.

It was a medical bay, expect that there was just one bed.

He could see Ashen and those few men, who were now adorning lab coats.

What caught Bucky off guard was the little boy laying in the bed, unconscious. There were several tubs and IVs coming in and out of his little body. He was a strange color, almost light green. Ashen sat next to the boy, sad.

Bucky watched carefully as Ashen took the little boy’s hand in his.

“Hey, kiddo. Daddy got you a gift this time. It’s not the usual one you like, but I figured you’d still love it.” Bucky watched as Ashen pulled something out of his suit pocket. It was a Hershey kisses. Ashen placed it on the bed, “You need to wake up, buddy. It’s the only thing left before we can figure this out. Please, Ashens.”

Bucky’s heart sunk as the kid’s father’s head dropped down onto the bed. His hand ran over his head, the other continued to hold onto Ashens’ hand.

“Sir?” One of the men in the lab coats speaks.

“Yes?” Ashen responds.

“We can hold him on the machines for a few more months, but if things don’t start to look up —-”

“I don’t want to hear it. He will wake up. He will stay on the machines until I say otherwise.” He snaps, “We already have Stark technology being detected within the walls, we can’t afford to lose guard now. We are getting closer!”

“Sir—”

“He’s my son!” He shouts.

Bucky starts to back away when he hears someone about to turn the corner. He hides behind one of the walls that lead into a room until the close is clear. He finds his way back the way he came.

He needed to find you.

+ + +

“Pour me a Knob Creek on the rocks, sweetheart.” The man slurs, giving you a nod towards drinks behind you.

You tried not to groan as you gave him a fake smile. You quickly poured him the drink and slid it across the bar to the douchebag who wouldn’t stop eyeing you like a piece of meat.

“I’ll have the same.”

A voice says on the opposite side. You look over and you feel fear creep up in your bones.

Silas.

You nod, hands shaking as pour his drink.

He watches you closely.

“You nervous about something?” He asks.

You let out a shaky chuckle.

“No.” You say bluntly.

You slide him the drink and he takes it, but his eyes don’t leave yours.

“I won’t bite.” He says.

You look away. Shit did he remember you?

“Didn’t think you would.”

You go to turn around when he grabs your wrist. Your blood runs ice cold and your freeze on the spot. You can feel your heart beating away inside of your chest.

His eyes are intense as they stay on you.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” He asks.

You let out another chuckle.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You’re not a whore?”

His blunt question insults you. You know he means one of the call girls down stairs, but it still bothers you.

“I’m a bartender.” You insist.

“Bartender?” His grip tightens slightly.

He stares into your eyes and you feel threatened.

Did he remember?

“Hey, everything alright out here?” You turn around, relieved to see Pietro behind you.

Silas quickly lets go of you and returns to his drink.

Pietro looks up from your wrist to Silas with a raised brow.

Your heart only calms down a bit before you clear your throat.

“You okay, Marina?” He asks you in the corner where Silas won’t hear.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Pietro doesn’t believe you and you can tell by the way he looks at you.

“If you ever have any issues with anyone here, please let me know.” You nod, “Good. Have a good night, you did good today.”

You give him another short nod, still unable to breathe properly.

+ +

Bucky was standing out on the balcony when you came home. He looked to be deep in thought about something so you gave him the space he needed. You avoided the bedroom and instead hung out for a bit on the couch, trying to process what happened tonight and how you would tell Bucky. You knew for certain he was going to flip out. Or maybe it was just your paranoia and he would tell you to relax and that you were overreacting.

You weren’t sure what would happen.

Bucky doesn’t decided to come inside until you’re in the kitchen grabbing some left over take out from yesterday. He stands in the entrance for a few seconds before sitting down at the table behind you.

“We need to talk.” He says.

You wait a few seconds before sitting in front of him. He’s looking down at his hand on his leg instead of at you.

He bites his lip and scoffs, disappointedly.

What was going on?

He stands up, runs his hands through his hair and begins to pace around.

“We shouldn’t have done this. Any of this. It was a mistake. I knew it would’ve been bad. A distraction. We shouldn’t have done this.” His mumbling under his breath and not making any sense to you.

“Bucky, what’s going on?” You ask quietly and concerned.

He walks over to the counter and slams his flesh fist on it.

“What the fuck are we doing?” He shouts, “We’re supposed to be working, focusing on this mission, and instead,” he spins around pointing out the kitchen, “instead we’re out there fucking, Y/N. We’re acting like a bunch of fucking animals, humping each other’s brains out!”

“Bucky —”

“I knew, I knew this would’ve been a bad decision. I fucking knew I shouldn’t have let this happen.”

“You need two people to have sex, Bucky.”

“You should have never told me you wanted to fuck me.”

“I never told you to fuck me. I was only telling you how I feel. That’s all I’ve been doing this entire time.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have.”

“You’re the one who told me you wanted to fuck me, Bucky! You’re the one that bought a fucking damn box of condoms while I was taking a damn shower!” You’re angry now as you stand up from the chair, “Don’t you dare tell me this was all me or all you, this was both of us.” You jammed a finger into his chest, “You bought me fucking plan B just so I couldn’t get pregnant with your damn child and then you fucked me again not even an hour later. Don’t you fucking dare.” You can feel the tears in your eyes.

He grabs your fingers and walks you back until your back is against the wall. He snarls down at you.

“Then fuck it. We like to fuck. Either it’s me or you or both us, fine. But we shouldn’t have done it.”

You want to push him away from you as you feel repulsed by him.

“Yeah? Was that what was going through your mind as you were shoving my head down your cock, Barnes? Making me choke on it? Or when you fucked me up against our window so our neighbors could see? I don’t have to fuck you ever again.”

“Good —!”

“—I literally told you I loved you and you attacked me for it—”

“—because it’s obviously only making everything worst—”

“—I then sleep with you, I gave you my virginity, and you have the audacity to stand here and say I seduced you when I gave you my innocence!” You shoved him away and he stumbled back. Your face felt red and you feel furious. You were shocked you weren’t crying, even though you felt like it, “Huh?” You give me another shove, “How fucking evil are you? You gaslighting piece of shit.”

He looked at you after that and your breathing was the only thing that could be heard. His face was stern and turned into a scowl as he looked down at you.

“I’m evil?” You took deep breaths through your nose to control yourself, “No, yeah you’re right, I am. I know I’m a piece of shit. I’m abnormal.” He spat the same words out you had used against him the other day, “I’m so damn evil, Y/N, that I’d rather try and focus on this damn mission than worry about getting laid.” You’re both breathing hard now. He takes a deep breath before continuing, “Yeah, maybe before I was thinking with my cock instead of my head, but it needs to stop now. Last night was the last time.”

You could feel your heart thundering away inside of you. You squinted your eyes at him, seeing the underlying discomfort in his eyes.

“What happened today?” You ask slowly, carefully. He doesn’t answer you and you start to get angry again, “I come home, I found you outside looking all depressed and now you’re in here snapping at me about focusing on the mission. What. Happened. Today?” You emphasize through clenched teeth. He takes a deep breath again, looking away from you he runs a hand through his hair and turns away from you.

“They know we’re here. We weren’t careful enough.” He says.

Your heart falls into the pit of your stomach along with your worst fears.

“What?”

“They know we’re here! I fucking followed them and I overheard them. We either weren’t careful enough or —- I don’t know!” He’s pacing again, “Your parent’s must’ve put in some kind of tracker to make the capitol aware or something of stark technology or maybe Hydra pre installed something. Whatever it is, they know we are here, and for all I know they could be watch us right now. We fucked up.”

You watch him as he stresses over this. He grabs at his hair.

“They don’t know it’s us, Bucky. If they did they’ve would’ve caught us by now.” You tick your jaw as you watch the muscles in his back flex, “Something happened at work today, too. I think Silas remembered me.”

Bucky scoffs, turning around again to face you.

“There’s no way he remembers you. We wiped him.”

“Maybe you’re right, but he was acting off. He came to order a drink and he grabbed me —”

“He grabbed you?”

“Just my hand. I was fine. Pietro showed up, sensed the tension, and Silas backed off.”

“Fuck.”

You take a deep breath, stepping away from Bucky.

“You’re right,” you eye him up and down, “We can’t let it happen again. We need to focus on this and I’m already exhausted from you.”

“Exhausted from me?” His voice is a low timber now, the anger from before having died over.

“You don’t even know the amount of emotional turmoil you put me through, do you?” He continues to stare at you quietly and you take another step towards him, “You took something I can never get back.” You say quietly, “And it’s up for you to decide what that something is.”

+ + +

@snakeeatery17 @utterlyhopeful-fics , @marvelfan1017, @iheartsebastianstan , @annathesillyfriend , @redhairedfeistynerd, @perksofbeingabookworm, @amyrose051, @meegggoooo, @morganclaire4 , @captainchrisstan, @bxndys , @shoesonpointe , @writerwrites, @rainbowkisses31, @lindatreb , @littlemissner98 , @dezzylou24, @ayeitslelee , @hardygal69 , @emmabarnes , @redbarn1995@thequeenreaders@ilovemysupersoldiers@maximumplaidzonknerd@ceapa-mica @s-trawberryv-eins@buckysknifecollections@sobangie @lindatreb@theseuscmander @nervous-plant @wildmoonflower @aya-fay@appreciating-fanfics @kaitlynisinfinite @justreadingfics@kaitieskidmore1 @mrsdancing

#bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes smut #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes series #Bucky Barnes x you #Bucky Barnes x y/n #captain American fanfic #the falcon and the winter soldier fanfic #tfatws fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut

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mercy-burning · 4 years ago

Text

A Shit-Ton Of Sugar

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader and Spencer work up the nerve to ask each other out after he’s been coming into her café for the past year. Category: FLUFF Warnings: Implied smut, nothing else :) Word Count: 5.3k

Full Request: “...Congrats on 1k that’s so exciting! I was hoping to request barista!reader that works at the coffee shop that Spencer goes to every morning, and literally knowing his order by heart??? And maybe like finally working up the nerve to ask him out/give him her number? Preferably fluffy, but I don’t mind! Thank you!” — @bauhousewife

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

***

DAY 1

The first day he came into the shop, she felt like she couldn't breathe, which may have sounded like a cliché, but how else were you supposed to feel when a man like that walked in and just existed in the same space as you?

However, when she heard the bell ring, signaling someone coming into the tiny café, the fact that it was almost six-thirty in the morning was enough to make her grumpy. Whoever it was didn't even have the decency to wait a half hour until they officially opened? So, she turned around to face the stranger, ready to put on a fake smile and act like she didn't secretly want to strangle them, and then laid her eyes on probably the most beautiful human being she'd seen in a long time.

His eyebrows lifted, simultaneously expressing a greeting and an apology. "I—I'm sorry, I know you're not technically open for another half hour, but I'm in a rush on my way to work and I was wondering if I could just get a quick coffee to go?"

It was obvious that he tried to speak evenly, but between apologizing and being late to work, his words still came out rather fast. And suddenly her annoyance faded, quickly turning into a need to please him however she could.

"Oh! Oh, no worries, I can do that," she rushed out, scrambling to smooth out her apron. "What can I get you?"

A flash of relief flooded the man's eyes when he blinked, and his posture seemed just as relieved, his shoulders slumping slightly as he took a breath. "Just a black coffee with lots of sugar is fine, thank you."

"No problem. I'll have that up in a minute. Size?"

"Large, please."

As she got to work, he waited as patiently as he could, looking around the small space.

It truly was what everyone would describe as "home-y". Everything was painted a pale yellow, with lavender and sage green accents in the form of window trim, picture frames, little knick-knacks, and art pieces. As the man scanned over the few tables, he found little centerpieces of old ceramic mugs with flowers painted on them, each one containing real (or maybe fake? he couldn't tell) flower arrangements.

He smiled to himself as he found everything so... comforting. And as his eyes finally made their way back to the barista behind the counter, he finally got a good look at her.

"This is... your place? You own it?"

The woman turned back to him briefly as she poured the coffee into a large to-go cup. "Oh, yeah. I just opened up a few months ago. We don't get too much business, but that's fine by me as long as it's enough to pay the bills."

At her laugh, he smiled a little wider. It was a nice sound, just as comforting and home-y as the place he stood in. "Well, i—it's really nice, congratulations. I'm glad things are working out for you."

She laughed again a little, and if he knew any better he would have swore she was blushing. "Thank you. Um... How much sugar did you say you wanted?"

It was his turn to blush now, the way she was looking at him completely doing something wicked to his insides. "O—oh, um... I guess I never really did specify, huh? Sorry about that, um... Just three tablespoons is fine."

It was clear that he really didn't want to be an inconvenience, even more so when he mumbled a, "Sorry," so soft that Y/N wasn't even sure she heard it. Even still, she put on her best smile—even as she was turned around—to make sure he knew that she wasn't annoyed with him at all.

Though, it wasn't hard to keep smiling when she couldn't think to do anything else around him. Just the thought of his face made her want to smile, like she had a choice in the matter.

She finished the coffee, putting on a lid and turning around to face him again. "Can I get your name?"

He paused for a moment, like he was shocked she'd even ask, but laughed to himself and swallowed before responding, two syllables that almost sent her into cardiac arrest. "Spencer."

Suits him... she thought as she wrote his name down on the cup, her handwriting a pretty mix of cursive and print. And seeing his name spelled out in the penmanship she always got complimented on growing up looked like it might have been the most satisfying black marker trail she'd ever seen. Almost as satisfying as his face...

She cleared her throat and slid the cup across the counter to him, hoping she wouldn't be too obvious about her little eye-candy crush when she spoke. "Three-fifty is your total."

Spencer grabbed a five dollar bill from his jacket pocket and held it out, his fingers just barely brushing hers when she took it from him. If not for the intense concentration she was immersed in, trying not to embarrass herself, she would have jumped at the contact. Instead, she quickly ducked her face behind the tall register to keep from him seeing the stupid grin she couldn't keep away as she opened the drawer and started counting change. When she handed it over, though, she set it on the counter, hoping she could avoid touching him again.

He looked like he was about to say something, but instead, he scooped the change into his hand and immediately dropped it in the empty tip jar, a small smile on his face.

Just as Y/N said, "Thank you," Spencer grabbed his coffee and said the same, the both of them immediately going warm at the interaction. They let out a small laugh then, Y/N tucking a piece of hair behind her ear before she spoke again.

"Thank you for coming in," she said with a nod.

Spencer took a sip of his coffee and nodded back with a nod of his own. "A—and thank you for the excellent coffee."

Even after he left, she waited until he was across the street and completely out of sight before she let out a long, dramatic breath, immediately followed by a, "Holy shit."

And little did she know, it took everything within him not to keep looking back at the café as he left it—and her—behind.

DAY 5

She should have known it was too good to be true. In fact, if it weren't for the vivid physical and emotional reaction she'd had to seeing him lasting for days after it happened, she would have though she'd imagined the entire interaction. Spencer was quite literally the man of her dreams, if only because that's the one and only place he seemed to exist as of late.

Of course, it'd only been five days, and there was a possibility that he could come in again. Right?

Y/N shook away all thoughts of him as best as she could, focusing her attention to cleaning up the tables and closing for the night. The café was empty, the last customer having left no more than five minutes ago. But even as she cleaned tables, Y/N kept the sign on the door flipped to 'OPEN'— because the café closed for good at 10pm, and it was only 9:47. Though no one ever came in past 9:30, she figured it was better safe than sorry.

Soon enough, the small café started to smell more like lemon-scented surface cleaner than coffee, but Y/ didn't mind. In fact, as much as she loved the smell of coffee, after a long day it started to give her a little headache, one that instantly cleared once she started cleaning and closing up. It was calming, getting the place ready for the next day in the peace and quiet. She always turned half of the lights off so it wasn't as bright, a fact she was grateful for especially after the sun went down, but mostly because it made the place feel more atmospheric. Dim lighting during nightfall was probably Y/N's favorite feeling in the world.

At least, she thought it was.

She wasn't so sure anymore when the bell on the door rang and she turned around to see the man of her dreams, in all his tall, well-dressed, beautiful glory.

She froze instantly, the bottle of cleaner falling softly from her hands and dropping onto the table, making her jump.

"Oh, I—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Spencer said quietly.

"N—no, it's... Um, it's fine," Y/N laughed, more embarrassed than anything. "I just wasn't expecting anyone to come in so late, we usually don't get anyone after 9:30."

"Yeah, I... I know it's late, I apologize, um... I just got back from work and I figured I'd stop by for a pick-me-up, i—if that's alright."

There he went again, acting like being in her presence was such an inconvenience for her, and it made her stomach do flip flops. There was no way he wasn't a figment of her imagination, right? He always showed up at the weirdest time, nervously asking for a cup of coffee like he wasn't supposed to be there.

Granted, this was only the second time it's happened, but the sentiment remained the same.

Either way, Y/N was happy to oblige.

"It's always alright. What can I get you this time?" She smoothed out her apron before sprinting behind the counter, turning on a lamp in the back that illuminated more of the kitchen.

"Oh, a black coffee is fine."

She couldn't help but laugh as she grabbed a to-go cup. "No mountains of sugar this time?"

To her surprise, he laughed back, and the sound made her feel warm. She wasn't looking at him because she was laser-focusing on the coffee making as to not make another embarrassment of herself, but she could see his smile in her head all the same. Hopefully the dimmer lighting wouldn't give her away, another stupid grin rising to her face.

"Mountains of sugar would be fantastic, actually," he said, his voice ever so warm and friendly, albeit soft. He was obviously tired, and if he was looking to stay awake, this coffee would definitely do the trick for a few hours.

"You sound like you had quite a long day," Y/N observed as she started brewing a new pot of coffee.

"Long week, more like... Work has been... a little rough."

The exhaustion threaded in his voice made her heart ache a little. "I'm sorry to hear that. Though, it sounds like you should be getting sleep instead of coffee."

When Spencer laughed this time, it was humorless. "Yeah, well, in my line of work sleep doesn't really come easily..."

Y/N glanced up at him then to see his head tilted upward as he stared at the ceiling. The dim lights of the café accentuated the peak of his nose and his jawline, and if not for the clear exhaustion highlighting his features, she would have taken more excitement in the fact that he was there, standing in front of her looking like a beautiful sculpture for free.

Though that was definitely an upside to him finally stopping by again, deep down she knew the reason he was there now wasn't because of her; He needed coffee, some semblance of comfort and probably normalcy after a shitty week. And Y/N was inclined to understand exactly how he felt in that regard.

"I'm sorry to hear that," is all she said on the subject. But she had an idea, hoping to brighten his day just a little, to bring another smile to his face. "Tell you what, I'll give you an extra coffee, no additional charge, and if you want, I'll even send you on your way with some of these extra muffins."

The half-worried, 'oh-shit-I'm-being-a-hassle' look on his face was almost familiar at this point, making Y/N laugh a little to herself.

"O—oh, Y/N, I couldn't do that, I—"

Ignoring the feeling she got when he said her name aloud, she stopped him, shook her head, and started pouring the freshly brewed coffee into two large to-go cups. "Really, Spencer, it's fine. I'll have to throw it all out otherwise, and this way it saves me the trouble. Trust me, you'd be doing me a favor."

"A—are you sure? I don't want to get you in trouble..."

"I own the place," she replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. "And since I'm my own boss, I can confidently say that I won't get in trouble."

Though his smile wasn't as wide as she remembered, the sweetness and utter thankfulness she saw in it this time around was enough to call it a win. "Thank you... A—and again, I know it's late, I'm sorry for coming in—"

"Nonsense. You're welcome here any time," she reassured him with a smile almost as sweet as his coffee.

Maybe one day Spencer would stop apologizing, but as long as he kept returning to the café, Y/N didn't mind whether he did or not.

DAY 30

Y/N was feeling rather bold today. Not bold enough to actually ask him out or anything, but bold enough to have his order ready when he came in.

Over time she learned that Spencer's work schedule was pretty random, that he traveled a lot, therefore he probably wouldn't be in every day. But a few days ago, he mentioned he was scheduled for a week off, which rarely happened, and today marked the fifth day of his mini vacation— every single day prior, he stopped in at exactly 9:00am.

Taking the chance that he would be stopping in a fifth day in a row, Y/N was already making his usual coffee at 8:50.

Beside her, her friend and employee, Heather, snickered, finishing up with a customer and teasing Y/N with an evil grin. "You're so whipped."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she responded quietly, stirring in the mountains of sugar and setting the spoon down beside the cup.

"If you don't ask him out, Y/N, I swear... No way a man like that's gonna stay single forever, you gotta make your move."

"Who says I'm not going to?"

"Oh, so when you hand him his coffee today, you're going to give him your number and not just freeze and chicken out? You know, like you always do?"

She glared at Heather, but it only lasted for a split second before it turned into a look of pure pining and sadness. Pathetic... "Probably not..."

Heather patted Y/N on the shoulder. "It's alright, babe. When he comes in, just be yourself. He obviously likes you, enough to come in every day for your shitty coffee..."

The shit-eating grin on her friend's face was enough to make Y/N laugh again, and she shook her head, then turned back to put the lid on Spencer's cup. "Yeah, yeah... We'll see what happens. But I get what you're saying."

As Heather went off to clean some tables, Y/N wrote out his name on the cup, contemplating whether or not she should put her number next to it. What could be the harm in that, right? It was cute and charming as hell.

Just as she was about to write the first number down the chimes sounded above the door, and as some type of Pavlovian response, Y/N set down the marker and looked up to see if it was him. Instantly she berated herself for being so obvious, but by the look on Spencer's face when he approached, he didn't look phased in the slightest.

"Hey, Sugar," Y/N called out to him, sliding him the coffee and feeling butterflies swarm her stomach at the look on his face when he heard the nickname.

Then she realized she called him by a nickname...

Even though he still smiled and took the coffee, reaching into his pocket for money and clearly not phased in the least by her affectionate nickname for him, it still made her insides flare with a little embarrassment. And if she wasn't nervous about seeing him before, she most certainly was now that he was in front of her, smiling at her and being as kind and charming as ever with few words.

He was going to leave, grabbing the cup and turning, but halfway to the door, he turned back around, and when he spoke it sounded like he was as nervous as she was.

"Oh, um... I'm leaving to visit my mom this weekend, so, I just... Wanted to let you know... You know, so you don't waste your time and resources on my order..."

Though he was obviously looking out for her, Y/N still felt this overwhelming flood of foolishness, like he actually did find it strange that she memorized his order and made it for him so it would be ready on the dot when he got there. She figured, just for a moment, that it was his subtle way of telling her he thought she was taking things to a whole new level of weird.

"O—Oh, sure. Thanks for the heads up. Enjoy your weekend." She gave him her best smile, hoping her insecurity didn't bleed through.

But then he said, "You, too, Y/N," and smiled back, looking at her for a moment that lingered just a little too long before turning away. And before he actually walked out the door, he stopped and looked back at her again, giving a small wave as his face showed all signs of reluctance to leave.

She wasn't sure how long she stared at the empty doorway, but Heather's laugh broke her from the trance.

"You know you have nothing to worry about, right? He's definitely into you."

"You... You think?" she returned softly.

"I know. The next time he comes in, give him your number."

DAY 84

Turns out, Heather was completely wrong.

Y/N hadn't seen Spencer for weeks, and then the next time he came in, there was a girl with him. Y/N tried extra hard not to jump to conclusions— maybe she was just a friend? Or a sibling, or a co-worker... And besides, even if the girl was dating him, it's not like it would have been any of her business, right? She barely knew the guy, and though it hurt to have this stupid crush on him just to find out he had a girlfriend and she'd misread the entire situation, that's all it was. A crush.

A crush that, in the end, well... crushed her.

Because the girl was, in fact, his girlfriend. He didn't really introduce her at first, but the second day they came into the café together, they were holding hands. And the girl, short and pretty and adorning a beautiful mane of long, red hair, clung to his side, giving him the same doe eyes Y/N had been teased by Heather for giving him that day he'd left. Not to mention, when they ordered, the girl called him "Babe".

It was absolutely crushing.

Y/N didn't want to cry, because it was stupid for a grown woman to cry over some dude she barely knew, right? But that didn't stop the tears from welling as soon as said dude and his freaking girlfriend stepped out of the café, leaving her behind with an ache that she hadn't felt in ages.

She and Heather went out drinking that night, and after a few days of wallowing, Y/N promptly decided that Spencer and his stupid, beautiful face and his stupid, beautiful girlfriend could kiss her ass.

Of course, immediately after, she felt bad for thinking so negatively and just settled on staying out of their business.

But it didn't help that they came in almost every day for months. Even when Spencer was at work, therefore absent, his girlfriend was there. Jeannie, her name was. She had a regular order, too, one that Y/N couldn't help but dread making every morning but did anyway, even going so far as to have it ready for her when she came in. And Jeannie was incredibly nice, a fact which Y/N hated because it would have been way easier to deal with if she was awful. At least then, she could have maybe felt better about herself for being a nicer person, but she knew that wasn't fair.

This particular day, though, Spencer came in alone. And despite herself, the first thing Y/N said to him was, "Where's Jeannie?"

Maybe she should have known by the look on his face, but he sighed, returning her question with a simple, "Delaware."

Y/N started to make his usual order, keeping the conversation light even though she was inwardly sighing at he prospect of discussing his girlfriend's whereabouts. "What's she doing there?"

She wasn't looking at him, but the sadness in his voice stopped her in her tracks. "She's there with her husband."

"Uh... What?"

"Turns out she's been engaged for the past five years... They, uh... Took a break to see other people to really see if they wanted to get married, and I guess they... got married. Last week."

"Holy shit. Spencer, I... I don't know what to say, I'm... sorry..."

He didn't say anything, only giving a half-hearted smile that conveyed more sadness than anything. Y/N hated that someone had the audacity to make him feel that way... to use him like that without at the very least telling him her situation first, before getting into a relationship.

She finished his order, but before handing it to him, she reached for a blueberry muffin and wrapped it up. And as he took money out of his pocket, she sook her head and slid his things over across the counter. "Everything's on the house today."

"Y/N, you don't have t—"

"I insist. Jeannie did a stupid thing, and you deserve better than that... You deserve something good. And I know this is small and probably nothing, but I don't care."

A little of the sadness from his smile replaced itself with amusement, and Y/N decided she'd take it. He muttered a small, "Thank you," before grabbing his coffee, but before he took the muffin he looked her dead in the eye and deposited the five dollar bill from his other hand straight into the tip jar.

She sighed and shook her head at him.

But that only widened the smile on his face, most of the sadness gone. In fact, it looked more like a satisfied smirk as he grabbed the muffin and turned to leave.

Despite Spencer's refusal to not pay, Y/N found herself smiling as he left.

DAY 174

Thankfully there were no more girlfriends after that.

Well, okay, it wasn't fair of Y/N to say that, because if she wanted to take her shot she would have, and she couldn't get mad every time he had a new girlfriend.

But of course, that didn't mean she couldn't be relieved every time she saw him walk in alone.

This time it was Valentine's Day. The café was decorated with sparkly red garland and pink, red, and white hearts that dangled from the ceiling. All the flowers on the tables were replaced with roses and tealight candles, and currently, almost everyone was rushing to buy the chocolate-covered strawberry arrangements that Y/N made herself.

She was currently in the back, working on making more when Heather came rushing to the room, calling out her name.

A small panic started to sink in, because if Heather needed more supplies or more of the strawberry arrangements, she would have just sent back a ring of the bell on the doorway to the kitchen. But she almost knocked over said arrangements on her way in, and Y/N was worried that maybe something bad happened.

"Heather, what's wrong?" she asked hurriedly, smearing chocolate all over her apron.

"Nothing's wrong, but your boy is here. He's asking to see you!"

Her heart leapt out of her chest, and suddenly it was like the wind got knocked out of her. "S—Spencer?"

"Yes!" Heather half-squealed, reaching out to pull at Y/N's arm. "Go!"

"Wait! Wait, how... how do I look?"

"Take off the apron, pull down your shirt a little."

"Heather!"

"You asked! If he's here to ask you out, why not give him a little preview? Now c'mon, hand the apron over." She held her hand out, waiting for Y/N to take it off.

She grumbled as she did, suddenly more nervous than she'd ever been. Her hands shook as she untied the apron and threw it over to Heather. She looked down at the deep red v-neck she wore and sighed, pulling it down a little to give a better view of her cleavage. She fluffed her hair out, letting out a huge sigh and then shaking out her hands.

"You're hot, now go!" Heather exclaimed, practically pushing her out of the kitchen and into the bright café main room.

The moment Y/N stepped out, she saw him immediately. And as always, he looked absolutely perfect... In the last few months, he'd let his hair grow out a little, strands of it tucked behind his ear while most of it fell loose atop his head. Currently he was wearing a long coat, though she couldn't tell what was underneath. But she didn't need to know, really, because he could have showed up wearing a garbage bag and she still would have practically drooled at the sight of him.

Swallowing, Y/N made her way over to him with a smile, Heather following behind.

"Hi," she said, hoping her nerves wouldn't show through. "Heather said you asked for me?"

"U—uh, yeah. Hi, um... Sorry if you're busy, I just wanted to... stop by, say Happy Valentine's Day..."

Her heart beat faster than it ever had, and seeing him smile this nervously in her direction made it all the more endearing. "Oh, thank you," she said, giving him a small wave and then wondering why when she could have done literally anything else... Wink? Finger guns?—No, Y/N, what are you thinking? Just keep cool and talk to him like a normal person! "Do you... have any plans?"

Spencer stood still, seemingly starstruck by the question for a few, long, seconds before blinking and slightly shaking his head. "O—Oh, yeah, um... Some friends and I are going out for drinks later, that's all. Should be kinda boring, actually, not really my scene..."

"Oh... Boring's nice, though, sometimes. Personally all the huge Valentine's Day plans are kinda over-the-top anyway." She might as well have been wearing a sign on her forehead that said Lie! Lie! Lie!

He laughed, though, and Y/N's heart sunk. "Yeah, you're right... Um, I'll let you get back to work, then, I just wanted to stop in and say hi."

"Oh... You don't... want coffee or anything? I—I've got these chocolate-covered strawberry arrangements, too, if you want one. You know, 'cause why not?"

"Oh! Uh, sure. That... That sounds great."

His smile lit her insides on fire, ad she tried desperately not to stumble as she worked her way through the kitchen, making everything. He waited patiently by the side of the counter, trying equally as hard not to keep sneaking glances at her as she worked. Meanwhile the pink post-it note with his phone number in red ink burned in his pocket, his hands shaking as he struggled to think of a scenario in which he wouldn't fumble with it and completely make a fool of himself. Because now that he was there, in her presence, it was a lot harder to pretend like he had the confidence to actually ask her out.

And when she brought his order, she flashed that beautiful smile and he knew immediately that he would never be able to give her the post-it. Whether she knew it or not, she made him nervous, and if he was going to mess everything up, he certainly wasn't going to do it in a café full of people on Valentine's Day. He'd never recover.

So Spencer accepted the coffee and the small bouquet of fruit, trying his best not to drop it with shaky hands. "Thank you. How much?"

"For you, on the house," Y/N returned. "And please don't just put a 5 in the tip jar. I'm getting really tired of you doing that."

They both laughed, the memories of every time since the last time he'd done it sparking between them like lightning. Almost every time she insisted on giving him his coffee for free, he pulled a 5-dollar bill from his pocket and landed it in the jar, and every time she rolled her eyes at him and told him to get out.

"Well, I have to give you something," Spencer insisted, the paper in his pocket burning even hotter.

Likewise, Y/N felt like she was going to lose her balance again. Was he going to ask her out? Heaven forbid, would he kiss her? "What do you have in mind?"

The deep tone of her voice sent a chill through him, and in that moment it was now or never. So he set the coffee down on the counter and reached into his pocket. Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but he stopped her with a raise of his eyebrows. "It's not what you think. I promise."

Somehow she didn't believe him.

But then he pulled out a hot pink piece of paper and slipped it in the tip jar instead, his eyes never leaving hers. "I really hope you empty the jar at the end of every day, otherwise this is going to be a little embarrassing."

"What... What is it?" she asked softly, though she already had an inkling of the answer.

And then he said something that made her heart soar. "I think you already know."

Sure enough, Y/N looked down and saw numbers written on the sheet of paper through the glass. She smiled, letting it burn heart-shaped holes into her eyes.

Spencer was gone when she looked back up, but the image of him was still seared into her brain.

DAY 366

They hadn't even made it out of the parking lot. And you'd think that after months of dating and going on dates he would have been used to how pretty she looked, but alas, yet again he couldn't wait, and now Spencer and Y/N were laying in the backseat of her car, praying no one had just seen what went down not twenty minutes ago.

"You know what, I think that has to be a record," she laughed, combing through his damp hair with her fingers. "I didn't even have my seatbelt on yet."

He laughed with her. "You know I'm impatient..."

"Yeah, and I also know that we're certainly not going to make those dinner reservations you worked so hard all month to get. All that hard work, for nothing!"

He scoffed, though the smirk on his face never faltered. "I hardly think it was for nothing... You are definitely something... Besides, I had to, because today is very special."

"Oh, and why's that?"

"Well... I don't know if you know this, but you and I met exactly one year ago today. And I've never been the same since."

Y/N looked up at him, eyes wide. "Has... Has it really been that long already?"

"Mhm... And it only seems like it hasn't been that long because we've only been technically dating for 192 days... But I wanted to celebrate anyway. Because no matter how long we've been dating, I've actually been enamored by you for 366 days. And counting."

Warmth flooded through her veins as she hugged him tighter to her, pressing a kiss to his jaw before nuzzling into his neck. "Oh, Sugar... I love you."

Spencer smiled fondly at the nickname, thinking back to all the times he'd watched her pour a shit-ton of sugar into his coffee at her cute little café— the one he'd only ever stumbled on by accident because he was running late for work and needed a quick fix of caffeine. Turns out it had been the best accident he'd ever stumbled into.

"I love you, too, Y/N."

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#mercy 1k celebration #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader fluff #specer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff

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phykios · 3 years ago

Text

this one is dedicated to mi amor mari @perseannabeth, who is a beautiful bird and a wonderful friend and i am v v vvvvv grateful to have crossed the airwaves with her :”)

Today Was A Fairytale [read on ao3] T, modern royalty, fun at disneyland!

She stares at him.

He stares back. “What?”

“Really?”

“What?”

“You really think this is going to be enough?” Annabeth points at her head, the blue Yankees cap squishing her curls.

“Of course! It’s the Clark Kent effect.” As if to underline his point, Percy slips on his fake hipster glasses, except that stupid grin of his is too bright not to draw attention.

“That’s not a real thing.”

“Sure it is. Studies show that glasses are actually good enough to alter your appearance if someone doesn’t know you well.”

“Then why didn’t you bring a pair of glasses for me?”

“Because your hair is definitely the prettiest thing about you,” he says, automatically tugging an unruly curl which peeks out from under the brim, a gesture so practiced she almost doesn’t register it--until he blinks, dropping his hand, blushing lightly. “I mean--the most noticeable thing. You know. A hat should be fine.”

He looks away. Heat rises to her face, too. Because it’s so hot out, obviously.

“Anyway,” he mumbles, “um. No--no one’s going to give you a second look if your hair is hidden.”

Chewing her lip, Annabeth can’t help but worry. Percy’s face is extremely well-known, possibly more than hers, and they’ve both spent the better part of three weeks with their faces plastered all over the media on their diplomatic trip. This is probably a really, really bad idea. Then, a thought occurs to her. “How about,” she says, perking up, “you give me your glasses, and I’ll give you mine.” From her backpack, she fishes out a pair of sunglasses, big and nondescript. He’ll practically be wearing a superhero mask with these.

Percy smiles again, and Annabeth thinks she might fly. “Perfect.”

Which is how Her Royal Highness Anna Elisabeth Ingrid Irene of Sweden and His Serene Highness Perseus Alexandros Ioannis of Thera play hooky from their day of boring meetings, insufferable dignitaries, and stuffy security guards, to go see the eighth wonder of the world: Disneyland Resort in California.

And how Annabeth eats her words as they make it past the security gate unchecked. “Eh?” He beams, nudging her with his elbow. “Eh?”

Rolling her eyes, she shoves him back. “Shut up.”

***

[description: a tiktok video which depicts a line at Disneyland. the op, a black girl with braids, covers her mouth and looking into the camera, turning the camera to focus on the two people behind her. one is a tall boy with black hair and sunglasses, and the other is a blonde girl with a yankees hat and glasses. both are white. video text reads: “p sure the people behind me are prince percy and princess annabeth??? um?????”. background audio is a dubstep remix of the fight theme from undertale. end ID]

***

Maybe it’s a little weird, on account of her being actual royalty and all, but Annabeth has always been interested in princesses, both as a matter of historical record (history is awesome) and in the general sense. Like millions of other people, she, too, was raised on Disney movies and tales of princesses and true love, and she was just as captivated as the rest of them. She and Percy used to watch the Disney catalogue whenever their families held state visits for each other, staying up into the small hours of the morning, sharing some popcorn and singing along.

Luckily for Annabeth, her favorite princess is holding a meet and greet at the Royal Hall.

“Excuse me,” Percy says, approaching Princess Ariel. Well, her cast member, anyway. “Could I get a photo for my friend?”

“Of course!” she trills, her blue eyes sparkling. “It would be my pleasure.” Holding her hand out, perfectly poised and graceful in a way that would impress even Annabeth’s stodgy etiquette instructor, she smiles, warm and welcoming, pivoting to bring Annabeth in for one of those weird, semi-awkward half-hugs. “What’s your name?”

“Anna,” says Annabeth. Hey, it’s not untrue. She’s a little leery of using any of her names, but Anna is common enough. Annabeth? Not so much. Even with her glasses and hat disguise, a little paranoia is justified, she thinks.

“It’s so wonderful to meet you, Anna,” she says, cheerful, with all the grace and charm of someone who doesn’t spend hours saying the same thing over and over again to excitable, temperamental children. What a trooper, she thinks.

“Don’t you recognize a fellow princess when you see one, your highness?” Percy says, grinning that stupid, smarmy grin of his.

Annabeth glares. Oh, he thinks he’s so damn clever.

“Oh, of course,” says Ariel, smoothly. “How could I have thought otherwise? Your highness.” And she curtsies to Annabeth, a short dip, her hand placed delicately against her chest. “Perhaps I can introduce you to my friend Anna, princess of Arendelle?”

Still smirking, Percy takes some more pictures, trapping Annabeth into smiling for the camera. She can’t be glaring daggers in her pictures, nor can there be video evidence of her kicking him--no matter how much she wants to.

And she definitely doesn’t miss the way Ariel not-so-subtly checks Percy out, eyeing him up and down.

“You fucking asshole,” she hisses as they leave the photo area, swatting him lightly, and he giggles.

“Sorry, sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

“Ugh, I hate you so much.”

It’s hard to stay mad at him, though she definitely tries as they enter back out into the park proper, giving him just the barest hint of a cold shoulder.

“Aw, come on,” Percy says. “I was just teasing.”

“You shouldn’t go around tempting fate like that,” Annabeth says. “Do you want to cause another international incident?”

Percy winces, no doubt remembering the Gateway Arch incident of 2008.

“If someone recognizes us, we don’t have Zoe or any of her team to protect us,” Annabeth goes on. “Not that I think anyone here would try to hurt us, but…” But it’s a little nerve-wracking, being on her own like this. She hasn’t been alone like this for a really long time.

Wincing, Percy rubs the back of his head. “I guess I forgot you’re a little higher profile than me. Sorry.”

She doesn’t like to think about it, but it’s true. Percy, by his nature as the younger son of a largely defunct royal house, doesn’t have quite the same number of… issues… that someone like Annabeth might have.

Deflating, she uncrosses her arms. “It’s okay.”

“I should have asked you first.”

“It’s really okay,” she says. “No harm no foul.”

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asks, entirely serious. “I can call someone up.”

She knows just how long they’ve planned this, how many favors he’s called in and policies he’s sidestepped. Backing out now would just be a waste of a day. She shakes her head. “It’s fine,” she says. “I’m just… feeling a little exposed, I guess. But, I don’t want to ruin all our plans. Let’s keep going.” She grabs his hand, squeezing a little.

“...Okay,” Percy says. “But say the word, and we’ll call it a day. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good.” Like he doesn’t have any other expression today, he smiles at her again.

It hits her, suddenly. He’s so much taller than she remembers. Once upon a time she used to be taller than him; now, he’s basically a whole head above her.

It’s annoying. But also… not.

Spying something over her shoulder, his eyes light up, and he practically gasps. “Cinderella!” he points with his free hand, like a five-year old. “Come on!” And he takes off to one of the park corners, dragging Annabeth along with him.

He has to wait in line behind a pair of twin girls, six or seven years old by the looks of it, in identical Cinderella dresses for a photo, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, and when it’s finally his turn, he nearly trips over himself to go up and ask for a photo.

Cinderella agrees, and now Annabeth is relegated to the job of cameraperson. Percy slides in next to the princess, his hand on her waist, but, ever the respectful gentleman, loosely held, so the cast member can slide out of his grasp without any difficulty at all.

Taking a few shots, it does look kind of strange to have Cinderella’s beautiful, shining face, and Percy’s enormous sunglasses blocking his. “Take off your glasses?” she says, lowering her phone for a second.

Dutifully, Percy slips them off, smiling again for the camera.

Cinderella’s smile doesn’t falter, a credit to her professionalism, but Annabeth can see her eyes widen, just a touch.

Annabeth snaps off a few more photos, “Got ‘em!” and Percy once again gushes over the princess, thanking her for her time. Grabbing Annabeth’s hand again, he practically skips off, leading them in the direction of a nearby candy shop.

***

me: IM SHAKING GUESS WHO I JUST TOOK A PICTURE WITH????

sis: prince percy?

me: HOW TF DID YOU KNOW

sis: its on twitter already

***

They’re walking along, Annabeth slurping up a Dole whip, when she suddenly stops in her tracks, outside of one of the many, many gift shops. “Wait up a second.”

“Hm?” Percy says, around the giant lollipop in his mouth.

“I want to get some Mickey ears.”

Very quickly they get lost in the sea of Disney merchandise, walking the labyrinth of Star Wars and Marvel and Pixar goods. There’s a surprising amount of black for the so-called happiest place on Earth, but things do brighten up when Annabeth finally turns a corner and finds the enormous selection of Mickey ears. It’s a wash of sparkles, flowers, bows, and occasionally characters, for children and adults alike. Annabeth eyes a pair designed like Baby Yoda, eyes wide and ears adorably huge, before she fingers a pair of white Mickey ears that have a bridal veil attached to them, contemplating its counterpart, the black ears for the groom, each ear emblazoned with a sparkling silver “Happily Ever After.”

She looks around. Where did Percy wander off to, anyway?

Well, wherever he is, hopefully he hasn’t gotten mobbed by a horde of excitable fangirls. Given that she can’t hear any screaming--well, any unusual, non-Disneyland-relevant screaming--that’s probably a good sign.

Running her fingers over the ear selections, she finally picks out a pair of silver sequined earrings with a shiny gold bow, a tiny, rhinestone Cinderella’s castle placed delicately in the middle.

Yeah. This one.

Percy finds her as she is paying for her ears, a pair of his own already on his head, red balloons inside of plastic circles. The sunglasses, she notes with a tinge of nervousness, are tucked in his shirt, and not on his face, protecting his identity. “Oh, check mine out--they light up!” he says, giddy, pressing the button on the side, not that she can tell in the brightly lit shop.

“That’s not why I was looking.”

Walking out of the store, ears firmly in her possession, she looks around again. Percy’s face is out there for the world to see, and no one is giving them a hard time.

And her hat is really sweaty.

Ah, fuck it.

She removes the Yankees cap, shaking out her sweaty curls, sliding the ears on in its place.

And the glasses, for good measure.

“Cinderella?” Percy asks.

“I thought you’d approve.”

Outside the shop, next to a corn dog cart, Percy pulls her aside, out of the way of a whole classroom’s worth of children, holding up a plastic plag. “So, confession.”

“Percy…” He didn’t. “We said no gifts!” They had agreed to it that morning!

“Well, see,” he says, fumbling around in the bag, pulling out a black t-shirt. “I saw this, and I thought--I thought you might like it.”

He unfolds it, and Annabeth frowns at the shirt design.

It’s… a drawing of a man in a purple mask against a solid black background, glaring at the viewer. Circling him, in distressed, white-grey military font, are the words “BARON ZEMO,” and the logo for the show he must star in, Marvel’s The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. She doesn’t really watch superhero shows, though, and she’s pretty sure Percy doesn’t, either. Maybe he’s started this one and he really likes it? “Thanks,” she says, confusion coloring her voice despite her best efforts.

But he doesn’t look too disappointed. “I was looking through their pride merch, and they didn’t have any stuff with the ace flag, which totally sucks, but then I thought that maybe you might like something a little more subtle? So, yeah.” He shakes it. “Ace pride!”

Oh. Oh, this boy.

She remembers, so vividly, visiting his father’s summer home on Kalymnos, a few years ago, the summer she turned nineteen, waking up to a banging in the kitchen, noisy pots and pans making a real racket. Granted, it had been one in the afternoon, and Annabeth probably should have been awake sooner, but she had stumbled out of the guest room into the kitchen, rubbing sleep out of her eyes, to the sight of Percy wrestling with the standmixer, making bright, neon purple frosting. The night before, sometime around three or four AM, that weird, liminal hour where the shadow of night just starts to recede, the sky a sweet, soft, dusky blue, she had come out as demisexual to her best friend, saying the words aloud for the first time ever. Loopy from lack of sleep, the moment had passed without much fanfare.

But Percy, dark-circled and still yawning, had woken up early to make her a chocolate cake. By the time she had woken up, he had baked the cake, chilled it, and made two out of the three frosting colors, a beautiful, moist, dark chocolate cake which ended up being frosted with a marbled mix of purple, black, and white, all folding into each other into a kind of colorless, grey sugar.

Here, now, in Disneyland, she throws herself at him, wrapping his arms around his neck. His arms automatically come up to circle her, hugging her tight.

She had been worried it had been some kind of defense mechanism. A young girl with an alarmingly high profile, Annabeth had been the subject of intense scrutiny with regards to any romantic entanglements, with critics, tabloid reporters, and fans alike attempting to invent gossip-worthy relationships with every boy she ever talked to--most usually Percy. They did grow up in the public eye together, attending all kinds of events and functions together over the last fifteen or so years. And they did tweet at each other. Like, a lot. They even had their own portmanteau hashtag. But no relationship ever materialized.

She thought maybe she was just being stubborn, unwilling to play the media game. But it hadn’t been stubbornness. It wasn’t about shyness or inexperience. It was real, and it was her.

And Percy hadn’t even blinked.

“I love it,” she murmurs. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he says, swaying her from side to side, just a little. “It was my pleasure.”

***

What’s happening: #percabeth (Entertainment • trending)

@kndrck__ STREAM CHROMATICA: um @TheraUS @SwedenRoyals i think i found your sick royals? #percabeth #disneyland

@wasabiviking: omg werent they supposed to be at some hospital opening today #percabeth

@ChampionSno brando he/him: LMAOOO NOT #PERCABETH PLAYING HOOKY LIKE IT’S ROMAN HOLIDAY

***

“Holy shit,” Percy moans, his mouth full of food. “Oh my God. Dear God in Heaven.”

Annabeth kicks his ankle under the table. “Don’t be rude.”

He swallows, eyes fluttering. “Oh my God, Annabeth. Holy shit. This is the best damn sandwich I’ve ever had in my entire life.”

“A monte cristo?”

“A deep-fried monte cristo! In sweet batter!” Taking another bite, he moans again, just this side of indecent. “Oh my God I love Americans. They are absolute culinary geniuses.”

“Better than Bistrot Chez Rémy?” They had both been to Disneyland Paris, separately, sadly, and Percy had recommended the restaurant to her with great enthusiasm for her upcoming trip. As usual, he was spot on with his food recs.

He nods, eyes closed in rapture. “By a mile.”

“You’ll have to learn to make your own when we get back home, then.”

He jolts, straightening up, cheeks full of food. Roughly, he swallows. “You’re right! I need to take notes.” And he takes out his phone, hurriedly typing down whatever scent and flavor notes he must be able to discern. “This is definitely challah…”

Plucking another piece of chicken with her fork out of her jambalaya, Annabeth lets her attention wander a little, content to watch the passengers on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride as they float on beside them, down in the artificially constructed bayou river.

Truth be told, she’s kind of tired. They’ve been walking around all day, and even with the brief reprieve of rides, her shoes really aren’t the kind that deal well with huge amounts of walking. She can already tell that she’s going to crash, and crash hard, whenever they get back to their hotel. You know, if their security detail doesn’t eviscerate them first.

When Percy had first presented his idea to her, she had agreed without hesitation. They had had a long, dense schedule of public appearances planned for their excursions to the states, and the days had begun to seriously wear them out. Together, they had worked out the kinks, coming up with contingencies, negotiating things to do, all over Discord so no one else would get wind of what they were doing. Prior to this trip, she hadn’t seen him in… probably almost a year. She knows his father had been keeping him close to home for whatever reason, and Annabeth had had a handful of official functions to deal with. Their paths just never managed to cross, up until now.

She hadn’t realized how much she had missed him.

It’s lonely, growing up in the public eye. It’s cliche, but it’s true. And while Annabeth is afforded a metric ton of various intersecting privileges, she thinks she’d probably give it up in a heartbeat. It kind of sucks being a living, breathing tourist attraction.

Growing up, she had her cousin Magnus, and a handful of other assorted children to play with, but she would never say that she had a best friend, or even a good friend, until she’d met Percy. Her mother and his father, famous for their mutual dislike, had put aside their differences to host some kind of charitable dinner for the disgustingly wealthy, and had trotted out their respective children in all their finery. Annabeth, being all of twelve years old, hadn’t really grasped the gravity of the event, and had gotten into an itty bitty little food fight with the then-unknown Prince Perseus, the result of an extramarital affair whom his father had so graciously decided to acknowledge and adopt.

After that night, they became fast friends, and she decided that, if she ever left the royal life, she’d make sure to take Percy with her. He’s one of the few things that makes her life bearable.

She thinks about it, sometimes. Renouncing her title. It wouldn’t exactly be hard. There was Magnus, just in line behind her. And it’s not like her family held any executive power anyway. They’re just fancy, historically interesting celebrities.

Would Percy give up his, she wonders?

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

He looks at her oddly over their dessert, two vanilla-bourbon creme brulees. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Just tired. Long day.”

“You want to call it a night?”

She frowns. “What’s left?”

“Well, we did Space Mountain, Rise of the Resistance, Haunted Mansion, Pirates of the Caribbean, a few others,” he counts off his fingers, “saw the princesses, got Mickey ears, ate at Blue Bayou… I guess all that’s left is walking around the pier, if you want.”

“Sounds like you two had a full day.”

As one, they almost leap out of their seats, Annabeth choking on her spit. “Jesus, Zoe,” Percy pants, his hand over his chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Oh?” says Zoe Nightshade, the head of their security detail, who had just apparently materialized out of thin air. “Funny. I could say the same about you, sir.”

Coughing, Annabeth eventually manages to get her air back. “Hey, Zoe,” she wheezes. “How was your day?”

“Eventful. Let me tell you about it in the car.”

Annabeth glances at Percy, who’s looking a little bit like a deer in headlights. Honestly, she’s surprised they even made it this far without one of their own tracking them down. Still, it looks like their game is up.

...Or is it?

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a large tour group, approaching on the horizon.

“Sure,” Annabeth says, getting up. Luckily, they’ve already paid, so they can just head out; they don’t need to wait for another big group of people to cross their paths. “Will you let us go to the bathroom, first?”

Zoe squints. She’s always been able to see through Annabeth’s bullshit. But Annabeth has her best, Percy-patented baby seal eyes on, perfectly innocent. Surely, Zoe wouldn’t deny them a physical need such as relieving themselves?

After a moment, she nods. “Make it quick, if you please.”

“Of course,” Annabeth says, looking over at Percy, hoping he gets the message. He stands up, slow and stiff, eyes darting between the two of them. “We’ll be right back.”

They wander through tables and chairs towards the bathroom, her eyes always on the tour group as it just starts to pass by. Reaching out, Annabeth grabs Percy’s hand, and with a turn that would make her track coach proud, sprints out of the restaurant, using the throng of people as cover.

She thinks she hears Zoe yelling behind them, but maybe it’s just her own laughter. “Come on!” she shrieks, breathless, as Percy’s long legs keep pace with her. “To California Adventure!”

***

darthbingus said: the monarchy are fucking parasites but percabeth is pretty cute i guess :/

ladyofsandwiches reblogged and said: it’s obviously a publicity thing lmao, also prince Percy is gay???

eowynning reblogged and said: he’s dating rachel dare, right? he can’t be gay

ladyofsandwiches reblogged and said: That was a publicity thing too obvs, and Annabeth hasn’t ever been linked to a guy. The king of thera is hardline greek orthodox, there’s no way he’d let his son come out publicly. They’re both gay and pretending to date because homophobia

lardoftheprks reblogged and said: people can be bi and ace and pan and all sorts of things you know

batgirlcock reblogged and said: can you animals leave them alone fr

***

Zoe only spots them after the ferris wheel starts moving. Sprinting over to them, they’re still a full forty feet off the ground by the time she reaches the operator. “Sorry!” she yells down to her, hands cupping her mouth. “We’ll be down in ten minutes!”

“Ananbeth!” he chokes, giggles still escaping him.

“What?” she laughs.

“We’re in enough trouble as it is!”

“Exactly,” she says, settling back on the ride. “You’ll probably be grounded for life.”

“Me?” he squawks, playfully offended. “What about you?”

She scoffs. “Please. I’ll just pin it all on you.”

Leaning back, he pouts, arms crossed. “Wow. I plan this amazing day, violate a few embassorial rules, and probably put both of our countries on a massive red alert, and this is the thanks I get?”

“I helped plan it, too.” But he does have a point. “Thank you,” she says. “I had a lot of fun today.”

He turns his head to her, a grin stretching across his face. “Me too.”

His voice is so soft, so fond. They share a look, a moment, no words between them, only the silence of a true, deep companionship. They don’t need to say anything else, because they already know what the other would say.

As one, they break away, looking back out into the California evening.

They don’t talk much as the ferris wheel climbs higher and higher. Honestly, Annabeth is kind of impressed with how well he’s handling himself--she knows heights are a bit of a weakness of his. He grabs the edges of their gondola every once in a while as it drops a few feet, knuckles white and face a little green, but he manages to keep his dinner down, even as the ferris wheel grinds to a halt, Percy and Annabeth at the top of the world. The swing back and forth a little, hot faces against the cool evening breeze.

And they stay there.

And stay there.

And… stay there.

Annabeth checks her watch. How long have they been up here?

Percy taps his feet, a little too frantic just to be ADHD.

Finally, there’s a burst of noise from below them, garbled and static. “Uh, yes, excuse me--” the voice says, amplified through a megaphone. “Yeah, um, it appears we are having some… uh, technical difficulties with the Pixar Pal-A-Round. Please remain calm, as we have our best technicians on it, and we are working on evacuating the ride in a calm and efficient manner.” Then the voice cuts out.

Annabeth glances towards Percy. He has his hands in his lap, fists clenching and unclenching, over and over again. “Uh… you okay?”

“Hm? Oh, sure,” Percy says, “just fine. Peachy keen.” He squeezes his eyes shut, slowly blowing out his breath through his mouth.

“Hey.” She reaches over, and takes one of his hands in hers, lacing their fingers together. After a long day of holding hands, somehow it still manages to surprise her, how well they fit together, how her skin tingles as she rubs her thumb against his finger. “It’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna be just fine. They’re going to get us off this ride, and then we’ll fly home and be grounded for life.”

“I thought,” he wheezes, “you’d blame it all on me?”

“As if you could come up with a plan as genius as hiding from our guard in It's A Small World.”

He nods, shakily. “Right. All you. Definitely not my idea. Everyone knows I’d have looped back to Pirates of the Caribbean.”

“Definitely.” She squeezes his hand, scooting a little closer. “Just breathe with me a little, okay?”

They breathe together, slowly and evenly. At some point, Percy takes her hand in both of his, running his thumbs over her palm, tracing her lifelines like a map. His hands are big, and warm, and it seems to calm him down a little, so she doesn’t mind all that much.

Twilight darkens, stars twinkling against the grey, dusky sky, and still they are holding hands. Eventually, Percy relaxes, slumping against his seat.

“You good?”

He nods. He still doesn’t let go. “Yeah. Just…” he sighs, stretching his arms up, taking Annabeth’s hand with him. “Not super looking forward to the dressing down I’m going to get.”

She winces. Annabeth’s dad is a little more flexible than Percy’s when it comes to breaches of protocol. The king of Thera is somewhat famous for his paranoia. “I hope it was worth it.”

He whips his head to her, eyes wide. “Of course it was worth it!” he says, as though the opposite were even fathomable. “You kidding? This was the best day of my life.”

“Better than your sixteenth?” His father had officially acknowledged him that day. Annabeth had spotted him in a deserted hallway with his mother, the two of them fighting off a few happy tears. She knows just how special that day was for him.

“Not even close.” Squeezing her hand, he smiles again, that smile she knows almost better than her own by now. That smile she grew up with, a quiet oasis in a whirlwind of ancient tradition and modern media coverage. That smile is safety, familiarity. That smile was there to greet her when her mother chose to leave her family, when her uncle died without heirs, thrusting the position of heiress on her, whenever she had a rotten day or a bad grade or a lonely night, just on the other end of a phone, or down the hall, or in the kitchen.

Whatever happens, she knows, Percy will be her best friend. Her anchor.

Her…

She swallows. “Thank you,” she says again. “I needed this.” A day without an agenda. A day just for them.

His eyes are dark, and soft, like the water beneath them. One hundred and fifty feet in the air in a broken ferris wheel, there’s nowhere safer she can be. “Me too.”

So she’s not really surprised at herself when she says, “I’d really like to kiss you now.”

Eyes widening, just a hair, he opens his mouth, momentarily speechless. “You--are you sure?”

She nods, maybe a little too enthusiastically.

“Cool. Uh, me too.”

“Cool.”

Neither of them move.

“So, do--do you want to--”

Annabeth leans in, her other hand cupping his cheek, and kisses him.

His lips are soft. His mouth tastes like vanilla and bourbon. They are trapped in a metal box, one hundred and fifty feet off the ground, about to get the punishment of their lives when they get down, and it is absolutely, utterly perfect.

And when Annabeth pulls back, there are fireworks.

Quite literally.

Percy’s face glows with pink and green and purple, and a little fire in his eyes that’s all him. The pops of the fireworks, loud and brassy, and muted, completely overshadowed by the pounding of her heart in her chest.

They rest their heads against each other, breathing each other’s air, quiet and intimate, the calm before the storm that is surely coming. But that’s fine. Let it come, she thinks. She’ll be safe with Percy.

When the park technicians eventually get the ferris wheel moving again, Percy and Annabeth disembark from the gondola like nothing’s even gone wrong, waving to the crowd of people, fans, and reporters alike, who have swarmed the pier, phones and cameras held aloft in a constellation of light, before being quickly hurried away by Zoe and her crew, ushered to the end of the pier where Annabeth’s embassy’s car is waiting.

Percy doesn’t let go of her hand once.

***

KALYMNOS, GREECE--Prince Percy has arrived on the island for his family’s annual summer retreat, bringing his girlfriend, Princess Annabeth of Sweden, with him for the fifth year in a row, and the third as his official partner. Lifelong friends, the couple were most recently seen at Disneyland Tokyo, continuing something of a tradition for the two royals where they visit Disneyland parks across the globe. Our sources inside the castle are hinting that the family is planning something big this year. Could we see a proposal by the end of summer? Be sure to subscribe for more updates!

#pjo fic #percabeth #percabeth fic #my fic #au #perseannabeth #the rivalry ends here #will i ever stop writing modern royalty aus? no 💖#also look mari i even used a taylor swift song

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