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neonovember · 2 years

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Nostalgic friends and engagement parties ~ b.barnes

bucky x fem!reader

summary : you’ve been cordially invited to an engagement ceremony by an old childhood friend. Bucky convinces you both to attend and you soon find yourself rekindling old memories and relationships, as well showing off your hunk of a man ;). You might’ve also fell asleep on his huge ass chest, but could anyone blame you??

word count: 6.8k ~pure self indulgence

warning; a dash of nsfw, mentions of insecurity and therapy, the winter soldier, high school cliques, sad bucky but with a semi sweet ending and per usual, a truck load of fluff :)

notes : this writing took me a tad bit long to finish, and I must admit lots of it isn’t written that well, but alas, its here and ready to be indulged in. And yes, it’s really fucking long, hopefully that will make up for the mostly poor writing? Leave comments and opinions always! (also..eeek! i’m so shocked with the appreciation and attention some of my fics have gotten! Honestly I wasn’t writing with the intention of it, yet I am so grateful. You guys mean the world to me whenever you leave a note or reblog, so please don’t be shy in doing so. Also please please please send in requests or even a message, my inbox is always open <3)

It had been a function, a wedding or engagement of a childhood friend kept only in the memories of misspent youth

In true honesty when you had received the invitation in the mail, you didn’t want to go, you felt anxious, even a little intimidated, the hoped feeling of excitement was, in fact stamped out by the what ifs of your mind. So you’d decided to not go at first, adamant in refusing to give into a nonsensical, simulacra that was pretending like you and begotten friends of the past, actually talked after parting ways. Promises at the end of senior year were just that, promises. You would say you tried to keep in contact after a couple years, but you’d be lying.

Yet, somehow, with the unrelenting encouragement of Bucky and a little intrigue of your own, you found yourself shopping for a dress, whilst still repeating that it was nothing other than sheer obligation and politeness. You’re mother taught you well.

It wasn’t hard finding a dress, obviously with the unhelping partner that was Bucky who insisted everything looked fucking amazing on you, the fabric tugged and pulled by his hands, mumbling how we wanted to pushing that pretty, white skirt up and off your body. But also, also because you didn’t want to have the memory of putting in any actual work, any actual debilitation for the occasion, and yet you pulled Bucky around the many departments and shops looking for a dress that seemed fit. Debilitating my ass.

Bucky, of course, looked amazing, you wouldn’t put it past him if he’d convinced you to go just so he could wear a suit. You feared for the men that would be in the same room as the tragically gorgeous soldier.

It was effortless for him, looking through his cramped closet and pulling out an outfit in a mere five minutes whilst you were still deciding what damn heels you were going to wear.

After brushing back his autumn brown locs, leaving a few “accidental” strands to frame his face, he was all but ready.

You, well you, were still shaving your legs, consumed with the lists of things that you needed to complete and the cloud of anxiety that was just about ready to consume you about the proceedings of the event.

Bucky would watch you countless times whilst you went about your business, looking through the many expensive smelling skincare products, watching in pure intrigue whilst you applied layers of concealer, mascara and bronzer. At first you thought he was annoyed, even mad at the length it would take for you to get ready but no, he insisted that he found it all but amusing. Like watching a movie of his lover turn from her most natural state, a state in which he adored and got the pleasure of seeing, into an seductive temptress.

You’d only ever seduce him though, you’d told him then and there, and he called you his femme fatale in reply.

Turning around in an effort of showcasing your look, bucky looked towards you from his place on the bed. His head turned swiftly to you, his expression in pure awe. His mouth opened for a few seconds, sucking in a breath and he swallowed audibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the movement.

“shit” he grunted almost inaudibly, giving you a hearty once over eyes burning into the slit along your thigh and the plunging neckline of the navy dress.

“Oh doll, you look..fucking amazing, come ‘yer” He replied softly, beckoning you to come over.

“How lucky am I huh? To have a beauty like this to call my own” he whispered into the nape of your neck, pressing soft kisses to the junction that joined your shoulder.

“You know something, its taking everything in me right now not to bend you over that dresser I built and mess up this pretty face, and this expensive dress” he growled into you, looking down with half-mast eyes, hooden and heavy. He smoothed his hands up and down the sides of your dress, teasingly hiking it up.

“Oh bucky! Stop it” you said giggling slapping his suit jacket playfully

He chuckled in reply, before the glint of playfulness left his eyes

“You sure you going to be okay? I know I said we should go but if you feel it’s to much we can order thai and watch a movie with Alpine?” He looked down eyes wide now, an understanding smile on his face.

You mulled over it for a bit, you so badly wanted to forgo this evening, in fact the whole week was filled with an anxious cloud that begged you to retreat. Come back to the comfort of your home with Bucky instead of socialise with “friends” who became acquaintances.

However, you realised, Bucky made an effort to get ready and took a lot of time convincing you, even though he was the ultimate introvert, content in keeping to himself and becoming a full fledged homebody, he did it. For you. And for that you were eternally grateful, so you bit your snark tongue and acquainted yourself with the decision of going to an engagement party of a person you no longer remembered.

“I’ll be fine Bucky, we’ll be fine. Besides, this just gives me an excuse to show off my hunk of a man” you smiled, nodding in hopeful assurance.

Bucky studied you, analysing every feature on your face trying to find a hint of a lie, but there was none. Once satisfied he nodded, before kissing your forehead,

“I love you bunny” he said

“I love you too”

“Let's get going yeah?” Bucky said whilst getting up from his position, still holding me against him

You slid off his stomach before standing upright, shuffling towards your side table you grabbed the few things you needed. Your purse, wallet and engagement gift. A box wrapped in porcelain white fabric, tied with a mahogany string and bow. Courtesy of the very emphasized color combo of your dearest friends wedding.

Bucky followed suit, changeling the car keys between his fingers, eager to drive his beloved Thunderbird.

Bucky absolutely adored cars, it was something timeless he would say, intrigued from the 40s auto motors that he never got a chance to drive, till the self-driving teslas and sleek Mercedes’ he didn’t want to take the time to even understand.

Bucky, though, in true old fashioned nature spent most of the money from his first mission to buy himself his very own 1957 Ford Thunderbird. Sleek, timeless, and perfect, just like the old bastard himself.

Even you, someone who felt no interest in the world of cars, careless and unbothered, perfect with a broken down Chevy just as much as a Mercedes’ Benz, understood the moment of glory and silence the car deserved. For its gorgeous red interior that hinted all the off-road diners across American pitstops, and the convertible roof, when opened swept you into Old Hollywood, as the wind caressed your curls.

Walking down the steps of your home, Bucky ahead carrying the miscellaneous bags and packages, you quickly jump into the passenger seat. Eagerness and nervousness leave you a jittering mess against the leathered seats. You lock the doors, almost as if you had to imprison yourself in Bucky's car to make sure you actually ended up at the event, instead of halfway through your courtyard.

Pulling out your phone, you checked for any new messages, flagging through the junk and newsletters you hadn’t the time to delete, trying to find the person you were looking for.

Your friend had called you once, twice, leaving a voicemail and sending a text. Immediately a layer of sweat gathered on your forehead, eyebrows knitting in confusion and worry. Had something happened? Had you read the time of the event wrong? Where you god forsakenly late?

Taking a slow breath to calm the nerves rattling your spine, you hesitantly click on her profile. The blue bubble of text impediment met your eyes, bracing for the worst, you reluctantly read it.

“Hey, just wondering if you wanted to stay for the after party, Rick wants a last night of recklessness before being shackled to me!”

“My words, not his!” The second messages replied

Snorting in amusement, you played around with the name of the bespoken fiancé.

Rick.

It sounded good next to the name of your childhood friend, and even though you had casted her away as a mere acquaintance, you couldn’t help yourself in scrutinizing the man. Analyzing if he was fit, if he was worthy, to be with your once close, close friend. Old habits, die hard, and you weren’t about to let her settle.

“We good?”

You hadn’t even noticed Bucky shuffle into the drivers seat, much less watch over you as you practically snorted at your phone. Habits, again.

“Yeah, yeah, uh my friend just asking if we wanna stay for the after party?” You replied turning towards him, a pointed look on your face.

Bucky looked thoughtful for a moment, pretending to mull over a decision before turning to you in a nonsensical expression.

“Hm, I think they’ve gotten enough of my girl already, how about we just go home after and watch a movie?, if that’s okay with you ofcourse” he smiled

Refusing to hide the bright smile that tore your face, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you held awaiting his answer. You were thankful to the gods and goddesses that Bucky was intuitive, understanding every little inclination and quirk that indicated your feelings. Sometimes it was frustrating, being an open book to a man that was a boarded off library, but now, now it felt like a blessing. Your social battery would be completely drained by the end of the engagement ceremony, and to add an after party on top of that would unequivocally unravel you.

Nodding, you turn back to your phone, typing a quick reply in thankfulness and fiend regret. You didn’t feel bad.

Soon, the car was filled with notes of Nina Simone and jazz sounds, a speakeasy night within the confines of 4 doors.

Resting your head against the window, you watched the roads and plains of Brooklyn wash over you, the sky reaching buildings, the bodegas and striped roads, the commuters rushing and walking, running and skipping, to the beat of their oh so stressful lives.

A comfortable silence took over the car, whilst you and Bucky indulged and appreciated the sites and views, and the drive across the sea of life before you both would soon begin entering it.

With one last squeak of directions from the GPS, Bucky swiftly pulled into a long stretch of ceramic paving, circling around the stone carved fountain before finding a decent parking space further away. The engagement hall was gorgeous, a creamy blush, with intricate designs carved into its edges, overhanging balconies, carved bushes and a fairly-light covered bodega at its front, beckoning the masses to enter.

- —

The bricked ground, and château-like building, and evergreen trees surrounding the place a nod to French architecture. The grand hall was built rather wide and long, it’s width stretching across the fields of mowed lawn, it’s rear entering into a decorated garden, it’s hems and structure specifically designed to only be admired, not explored.

The long fields of peppermint mowed lawns were dying to be run through, to be carelessly played in by children and kindred spirits. An intimate dimly lit bodega structured a fair distance from the mansion found its way into your sight, the white wood carved and curled to form designs around the structure, while a small cushioned swing sat inside, as well as a small table, fit only for 2 seats, for lovers.

It wasn’t tacky in the least, in fact the place was picked by someone of good taste, someone who understood luxury and aesthetics beyond Prada bags and red bottoms.

Cars littered the car park, most of them expensive, some of them civil. Bucky's deep navy Thunderbird stood out amongst the cars, even against the most expensive BMW’s glinting in their sleek automations, the thunderbirds classic wheels and tinted swayed windows put a clear distinction. For once you were grateful for that.

Leaning back against the leathered seats, the small compact mirror within your grabs to do a few last minute touch ups, Bucky has already made his way around the car, opening the passenger door in one swift move before that smirk of his, invaded into your peripheral.

“Hey”

“How about we show ‘em how well an ex-assassin turned avenger and a university professor clean up?” Bucky remarked eyes glinting in mischief.

You throw your head back in delight, curls hitting the seat, Bucky's arms entangled around yours. Anyone else would think he was just being humorous, even a little condescending, but you weren’t anyone else, and you knew Bucky was doing everything to make sure you felt comfortable enough to even set foot into the grand hall.

“Be prepared for the onslaught of aunties and tweens who live, breathe and sleep, gossip. Seeing us together? Especially the tired “teacher'' who was helplessly single, with a man like you? Oh it will keep them going for weeks``.

Chuckle lowly as Bucky helped you out of the passenger seat, he intercepted the thoughts circling in my brain of the impending drama fest that would soon be a rather “big” interference in my life;

“Hey, don’t do that, you’re amazing, talentent, gorgeous, and so many other things, I’m the guy that got lucky” he spoke, clearly and without a doubt, making sure you heard every last word.

Smiling in gratitude you tucked a loose curl behind your ear, looking down in embarrassment and thankfulness.

“Thank you, Bucky, you don’t know how much that means” you whisper, still staring at a particular graveled rock that’s peaked your attention.

Noticing your admonishment, Bucky reaches for your chin, his index slowly raising your face to his, making sure he sees every inch of your golden skin.

He looks down at your lips, pulling his own between his teeth before looking back up into your eyes, a darkness pools in the space that was mordecai and you don’t have have a second to bask in this crazy, passionate, insatiable love, before Bucky is crashing his lips against yours, greedily taking you all in.

His tongue circles your own, and he smirks when you choke out a muffled moan, heavy and needy at Bucky's every whim. Your insatiable need for him reaches for more, as he grips your neck pulling you impossibly closer as he continues the almost violent, frantic assault on your mouth, releasing you slowly not before pressing a few soft, insulting kisses against your face.

You raise your fingers, brushing against your reddened, blushed lips, the start of a bruise feels so close to forming, the thought leaves you buckling and needy, ready to drag him back into the car, to finish what he started, and exactly where Bucky wants you.

Needy

“Let’s go, let’s not keep the tabloids waiting” Bucky dazed out, his eyes still that overwhelming shade of the bottom of the sea.

- —

The first step into the inviting hall, warmed by the many bodies surrounding the space leaves you on edge, before Bucky's fingers slowly wrap around yours, calming the nerves that were close to having you running out.

“I’m here” he whispers

Nodding more to yourself than him, you determinedly strut into the main hall, finally taking a good look around the place. The interior was just as intricate and hand woven as the exterior, maybe even more; it’s long sky reaching floor to roof windows were decorated with creamed textured ribbons going across every top inch of the place, tying together at the center, loosely hanging around a glistening chandelier that shone bright against the lights. There was a stage at the back, where a jovial band was just starting to begin their second song, the guitarist testing a few strings, it’s melodic sound wafting through the amassed hall. They were good.

Right in front of the stage stood a cleared floor, the wooden planks pristine and ironed out, the space purposely designated for the fiancé and fiancée’s dance, as well as the crowd of people after.

Tables that were statured towards the sides of the dance floor were covered in maroon cloth, with neatly placed plates and cutlery surrounded with fairly lights and laid out vines glitter under the hue of intimate placed lights on the table. French chairs with maroon ribbons hanging off the edges were placed surrounding the table.

Many people had already begun to sit in their designated chair, the crumbs of plated bread already being broken, and haphazardly placed glasses of champagne had started invading the otherwise affectionate decor.

You and Bucky walk a mere five steps before the bride to be herself screeches your name, adoration plastered on her face and both shock and impress at the sight of the man wrapped beside you

“You came!” She shouted smiling whilst walking over, dragging her fiancé along with her

“It’s been so long, how’ve you been?” She grinned, pearly whites shining.

Her accentuated Irish accent edged its way into her speech, something you’ve missed when you’d parted ways, and now it was on full blast for your eager nostalgic heart.

It had always come out when she got tipsy or stressed, and that seemed to be the case by the way she swayed a little, her fiancé doing the job you had gotten so used to, gently holding her back.

“So good! Thank you, for inviting us, letting us see and be here for all of this” you gestures towards her fiancé and the hall.

“Oh stop it! It’s you, I wouldn’t dare do the dishonor of not inviting one of my oldest friends to my goddamn wedding! The eternal pact, remember?” She whispered that last part, eyes crinkling in laughter, nostalgia and a little sadness.

You too were leaping into the pool of memories as you remembered your foolish, loved and irresponsible days. She had remembered the pact, even now, 15 years later and you were, in truth, shocked a little.

You thought it had only been you that mulled over the nostalgic memory of that summer night in which you and your closest friends made a hearted pact. The eve of both of your senior year of high school, where the giddiness and joy of childhood was just beginning to seep through, had evoked a heart to heart. Leaning against the hood of your car you both watched the town down below talking about your future, boys, family, everything. You made a pact, a foundation for your friendship and constitution for the connection you both shared.

If you both could not find the one, the soulmate, lover, husband, wife, anything, you would be eachothers. It was something of a silent agreement, an obvious conclusion if love weren’t in the cards the world dealt for you two. But if, and when, any one of you found the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, you had to come. No ifs or buts, no consideration for plans or jobs, you had to be there. For each other, even if you both had gone into two different lives in completely obscene worlds. You would come.

Cherishing the memory of the pact, you feel the overwhelming guilt of almost deciding not to be here. The pit of the unnerving sensation unrelentingly moving, heavy on your chest. You had been selfish, you knew, knew that if it were the other way around she would be at the foot of your doorstep in a second. And you were almost forgoing it for a lazy night. God you felt horrible.

Almost sending your sudden mood change, she gripped you into a hug, gripping your arms assuringly

“Hey, I know, it’s okay, you're here, that’s what matters” she whispered into your ear, softly kissing your neck.

Breathing out a breath you nodded slowly, keening into her embrace, nose indulging into the smell of nostalgia, memories, and primrose.

“God, I take it you’re still too nice and you still know me too well” you say smiling.

“Oh that, I can attest to” her almost forgotten fiancé on the side chuckles out.

Letting go of the embrace you turn towards him, analyzing his every feature and movement. Golden blonde hair was styled expertly, gelled back, to show off his chiseled face. The sides were buzzed, showing off discrete tattoos on his left skull. Green hazel eyes were blown out as he looked toward his fiancée, the black almost undetectable. Long thick lashes curved upwards, surrounding his large almond eyes. High cheekbones were reddened with love and joy, the clean shave of his jaw set out in a hard line, as his pink lips stretched showing off his pearly whites.

He donned a classic black suit with a white shirt, dress pants, and brown leather dress shoes. The suit looked tailored, the detailed edges encrusted with the colour of the brides dress, cufflinks worn and looked like an heirloom, past on from generations, and the peeks of suspenders made you chuckle, old school and classic. That made you like him more. He was not your type but you appreciate the appeal, she did good.

“The man himself, it’s good to meet you” you replied smiling whilst holding your outstretched hand. He looked towards your hanging hand dismissively, opting to outstretched his arms to engulf you into a hug, surprised, your arms stayed at your sides in which he all but disregarded.

“I’m a hugger, and it’s good to meet you too, I’ve heard great things” he says smiling once he let go of his bear grip

Nodding he looks towards your side, where Bucky stood rather closely, his fingers wrapping around your waist, gripping protectively.

Your friend looks towards Bucky also, finally noticing the devil that’s got you all hot and bothered.

“And this is..?” She smirked towards you, her expression proud.

“Bucky” Bucky replied swiftly, he’s hand ruffling his hair before giving a sideways hug to the bride

“This place is gorgeous, you have good taste” He compliments smiling

“Ohh thank you! He’s a gentleman too?!” She whisper shouts towards your chucking frame.

“Nice to meet you, congratulations, you got a good one” Bucky says smiling in politeness towards Rick, shaking his hand.

Rick tenses at first at his grip, unease at the way Bucky forgets his godlike strength, he relaxes and Rick let’s out a lowly breath, sizing up the hunk of a man that is Bucky. His broad shoulders and large chest engulfing the space.

“Oh don’t I know it, thanks man, good to have you here” he replies smiling. There wasn’t a hint of malice or jealousy in his eyes, something that was all but expected from the men that interacted with Bucky. Rick was secure in himself, and it shone through his graces.

That still didn’t stop him from opting out of his usual bear hug, though.

Reeling back into the conversation before, Rick continues rambling on about his fiancée, truly obsessed and in love in all the best ways.

“Way too nice for her own good” he replied in a matter of fact

She fixed her golden hooped earring, tucking a curl behind her ears ready to defy her fiancés words

“Well sue me for wanting to spread a little joy in this cold, cruel world, Rick” She snarked back joyfully

“Actually, I could you know, on the grounds of self endangerment

“Yeah? what will you do?” She laughed, leaning on him whilst looking up towards his face

“Hmm, hold you in contempt maybe” He whispered looking down with soft eyes

“You aren’t a judge!” She replied laughing at his antics

“I could be for tonight” he said lowly, whispering into the nape of her neck

Both you and Bucky watched on at the display of affection of the soon to be newlyweds. Smiling at the love that seemed to radiate off of them both, warming every place they stepped into. Raw, authentic love. You caught Bucky looking towards you, picturing what it would be like if this was the both of yours engagement, what it would be like to be his, finally, fully, forever. Husband and wife, he smiled to himself. Some day, he thought.

Slowly stepping away, you gave them their privacy and both you and Bucky weaved your way through the crowd, finding your spot in the files of chairs and tables.

Resting your legs against Bucky’s lap, you lazily smile as you sip on the reappearing champagne in your grasp. The music coming from the band was comfortable and dulcet, forming a mellowed glow across the hall, a mist of nostalgia and yearning hugging the corners and edges of the ceremonial institute.

Basking in the relaxed state that came with day drinking and Bucky’s affection, the anxieties you had felt so strongly before felt a million miles away, tucked into the recesses of your mind until this hue of gorgeous life lifted.

Sideway conversations and tight lipped smiles graced your face as you mingled and talked amongst the many familiar and unfamiliar faces of childhood.

Dani, the sabbatical cheerleader who broke her ankle, sabotaging her every chance at a career in dance, now turned financial advisor, was rambling on about her husband and kids. Especially her kids. Clutching a phone and tablet in her grasp you analyzed how her fingers seemed to itch as if she wanted to run off into a corner and complete her tenuous work. You didn’t blame her, this engagement party, whilst rekindling old memories and forgotten pacts, was growing aimless.

You didn’t understand how elaborate engagement planning was until you felt the palms of your feet begin to blister.

Jameson; The theater kid who was obsessed with Hamilton, belting out lines every chance he got, nursed a cup, bottle of champagne, his tie untucked and left to rest hanging around his neck, spoke indicatively of how broadway shows were a bust and no good agents existed anymore.

Bucky snorted when he heard that, amused at the drunk dramatic, and he’s epiphany for why he wasn’t getting casted, as well as the memory of Brooklyn shows back in the 40’s, a time capsule buried beneath champagne glasses and my pliant body on his.

Finally, Karla, a sweet kindergarten teacher, who had the mind to actually speak to you and not just about her potential faulting life was sitting across from you in one of the disregarded French chairs.

Brown locs trailed down her sides and bangs hang low on her forehead, framing her heart shaped face perfectly. She spoke brightly as her cat eyes donned with winged eyeliner and white kohl on her bottom lids lifted heavily with her every word. Bright eyes that shone hazel in the dimmed lights still had the eerie of youth and hope, believement in society. Not this one, you hoped, whilst you looked at the huddles of parents and workaholics, each scrolling on their phones whispering outside glances and snide remarks.

Her pale blush pink dress hung loosely on her body, the ruffled edges flaring out as she sat cross legged.

The engagement had run its course, the dances and unprepared speeches filling the space with laughter and smiles, chest heavy and full. Plates were left licked clean, thanks to the skilful hands of Stephanie, a close friend who’d taken it upon herself to cater for the event.

The balloons once high and filled with helium now wilted down, hanging in spaces and corners. The banners and silk subbing positioned across the hall's roofed walls stayed intact, despite every attempt of the frantic crowds dancing that threatened its unravelment.

Most people sat or stood amongst each other, too blissed out and filled with alcohol to sit in their designated seats or allocated “cliques”. Status and positions didn’t mean shit when you all were stealing the happiness from tomorrow.

“Something about everyone here right now makes it feel like we’re back in high school” Karla joked leaning back

“Yeah, except it’s not cafeteria benches it’s French chairs” You laugh along with her

“And people aren’t in their fucking cliques” she says pointing towards the nerd and retired jock conversing casualties and awkwardly fist bumping.

“Who knew it took 3 bottles of expensive alcohol to unbuckle the chain of high school conformity?” You laughed

“If only we found out sooner” she smiled, whilst you both broke out in a fit of giggles partly due to the bad joke and partly due to the bubble running through your veins.

Bucky felt both hard and soft around you, his metal arm squeezing periodically around your thigh whilst you laid on him, your curls were pushed to the side of your neck, the junction open and out for Bucky to nuzzle his face into.

Your pretty dress, one similar to Kaitlin lay over your knees and under you, the soft material slotting over your shoulders and cutting off just one fourth of the way. The tight ribbon lace that secured your waist was now haphazardly around Bucky’s neck, the matron material contrasting vividly with his pitch black suit.

Bucky couldn’t get drunk, that was a given. Unless he asks one of his badgering friends to get him Asgardian ale, he was always, always sober. Champagne would do nothing to lift the day's worries away, it was practically expensive sparkling water for him.

Besides, Bucky’s own slight protectiveness of you, and the smudge of paranoia that always was there, kept him far away from any cognitive affecting substance. He made a vow to never put you in harm's way, no matter the difficulty. He’d have Steve or Sam come over to check up on you when he would go in missions that lasted too long, he’d always make sure you were fed and content, and of ours, whenever you were blackout drunk out of your mind after a night with the girls, he’d clean up the spilt vomit, push back your spoilt hair and tuck you into bed with an ibuprofen and a water.

So of course the many guests stood in almost awe at the way Bucky remained completely rational and even alert. Watching closely as he took care of you, fed you pieces of food from his plate, and smiled whenever you whispered remarks.

Thankfully you had not fallen into the jaws of the gossip circles, weeding your way through them and gripping Bucky's hand pulling him away in an effort to hide from them. Bucky found it humorous, you found it fucking annoying. Still though, with you on Bucky's lap, basically lying on his huge chest, got the eye of many engangmentors.

Eyes widening at the realization that it was you, the professor who acted like her job was her husband. You didn’t doubt they’d be people shocked, even suspicious, as well as people happy for you, so when the many passing side comments and backhanded compliments filtered into your conversations, you all but smirked at their eagerness to demean you.

Sure it’s shitty, but years of therapy and the last two with Bucky taught you to be secure within yourself, your attractiveness, your vulnerability. Now even a hint of upset feelings because of someone’s stupid words and Bucky will come home with busted knuckles and a fire in his eyes that wanted you, and only you. Thank god you had a sturdy bed frame.

They continued on though, not getting the hint that you just didn’t care. Bucky was yours and you were his, that was just how it was. There were no doubts or unrequited feelings, it was all and everything.

It’s also why you weren’t shy of displaying as much public affection as you could without bordering on soft porn. You weren’t going to say it was the champagne that made you this confident, but it was the champagne.

Bucky soaked it all up though, relishing in the raw affection you doubled down on, undivided attention at your soft touches. And Bucky would make fun of you after, snort at how needy you had been, but he secretly loved it, a feast for his touch-starved mind.

- —

Inevitably, with the bubbly alcohol running through your veins, dulling all sensations, and Bucky's large chest hugging your back, muscular arms wrapped around you, with his auburn curls tickling your forehead, you had found yourself dozed off. Half your head catching words and voices in conversations whilst the other was floating into saccharine bliss.

Bucky quickly caught on to your fazed state, recognising your signs of sleepiness and blissed out expression. You feel him tighten his hands around your waist, or maybe he doesn’t, you don’t really know. He doesn’t stand up right away though, no no, he lets you rest before badgering his way into your dreamland. He’s good like that.

Bucky remains motionless in an effort to make you the most comfortable, eyes alert and unwavering on your frame, zeroing in on your heavy chest evening out in small rises and falls. It was easy for him, and wasn’t annoying in the slightest, his assassin training drilled into his muscle memory, the reflexes and bits left over even after Wakanda proved to be useful not just for breaking necks, but for forming into a convertible bed rest for you…and Alpine.

He smiled at party goers, their eyes finding your sleepy state chuckling at his sheepish smile. The soon to be newlyweds came over soon after, realizing you had dozed off, wanting to bid their goodbyes.

But with a tight lipped warning, a finger to his lips, they left with a small message whispered into his ear when they embraced;

“Thank you for coming, and tell her to call me, for real this time” she winked before stepping away.

Rick had tried to offer assistance to help carry you to the car, but Bucky insisted that he was alright, no one would come between him and pure domestic fluff. He found those things enjoyable, tucking you into bed, feeding you food, tying your hair back, and yes, carrying your sleeping frame to a damn car.

He had a method of doing things, and this wouldn’t be any different.

Careful not to wake you, he skilfully maneuvered himself around you, rearranging your dress to cover your soft curves, pushing your hair back into a neat bun, before loping his arm around your back and under your knees, carrying you bridal style.

He was keenly aware of the watchful eyes from the departing crowd as he carried you across, his broad shoulders and toned arms flexing under his suit as he walked forward. Long strides through the path in which he assessed as the fastest. Assassin instincts.

He made sure to shield your head away from the edge, making sure it was not hanging haphazardly, tucked into his chest.

It took him a mere few minutes to get to the car, the crispy cool air of spring causing goosebumps over your skin, Bucky tucked you closer.

With the moonlight shining its rays, the points of your face shown beautifully. Your hair in a loose bun, strands of curls and coils springing free and framing your face. Your lips smudged from Bucky's kissing earlier, and from the many rimmed glasses of champagne, he was sure you imprinted on.

Your eyelashes flutter ever so lightly, curving towards ends and up, the apples on your cheeks warmed by the atmosphere of the engagement hall. Bucky was in true awe of your raw, natural beauty, your raw natural state. In your sleeping state, you appeared even more beautiful than ever, a careless blissed expressed that didn’t hold any anxieties, stresses, thoughts, nothing. Just unequivocal, soulful, sleep.

Opening the door, Bucky knelt down slightly, placing you into the passenger seat, before placing his suit jacket over your shoulders and chest.

Finally, he got into the drivers seat after placing the many bags and miscellaneous items into the backseat, roaring up his baby to life. Turning on the heater, warming the car for your sake, he was an internal furnace running on high all the time, even you could attest to that. The many times sleeping with him involved you at first cuddled into each other, but soon ripped apart due to how warm Bucky would get, the blanket strewn across your legs.

Disregarding the GPS, Bucky followed the mapped directions of his memory from when you’d first driven to the place, relaxed silence with just your quiet breaths and occasional ruffles.

The silence was good for Bucky, the cool air and night views clearing his mind and compartmentalizing the lists of duties and responsibilities he needed to complete.

With the spring wind fluttering his brown locs, and the scuffle of a beard itching it’s way onto his jaw, Bucky truly, truly felt good. Happy even.

Something he had dismissed as impossible, despite the irrefutable hope and encouragement of both Sam and Steve, begging him to at least try to live a fulfilled life. He understood they’re adamacy, they cared for him and he could see that with the way they so badly wanted him to have the life he deserved, but it was easy for them.

Steve was always the golden boy, sticking to his blazing guns and stubborn morality even when the entire world turned their back on him, Sam had practically agreed to be on the run for the rest of his life if it meant doing something that would concrete the bedrock that was freedom and democracy.

They gave their lives and souls to humanity, to goodness. And despite how hard Steve and Sam tried to forget it, for a chunk of eternity, Bucky was a cold, merciless, murderer. Soulless and immoral. The direct opposite of goodness. The direct opposite of Steve and Sam. For a long time, Bucky wasn’t even a good damn person, let alone a moral abiding citizen.

When Steve came for him, went on the run for him, helped him redeem himself as more than just a cold blooded assassin, Bucky felt this never leaving guilt that set place in his chest. Wakanda’s technology may have reprogrammed his brain, cutting out the poison that was Hydra’s greed, power and indoctrination, but it didn’t absolve him of his guilt. He felt it everyday, unrelenting, unmoving guilt.

But then he met you. God what he would give to see you for the first time again and again and again. Your frazzled hair, your defiant expression and impractical fluffy slippers at the foot of his door in the apartment complex in which you were neighbors.

It took a while, a lot of side conversations and unfinished dates at coffee shops and walks in the park before Bucky found the courage to feel everything. Feel you. Fall for you. Your unrelenting pursuit demanded him to accept defeat. He deserved happiness. He deserved to be a fucking human being. Soon enough, that heavy guilt embedded in his chest eased day by day, reducing in weight until some days he couldn’t even feel it. It wasn’t futuristic medical engineering, or some extraterrestrial magic Tony had brought into his lab, no, the reason why he felt even an ounce of human feelings, a breathe of a life in which would be fulfilling, was because of you.

You showed him that he could feel affection, that he could feel real, raw love, not a sick glazed version of manipulated affection or false promises, just love.

Some days, he’d just look at you, watch you do the simplest of tasks and just stare. Watch the way you giggled softly at something, quirked your eyebrows at another, watch your hands knead together and flutter across the living room in the early morning or your waist spinning around, hips swaying to the soulful beats of Bucky's vinyl collection.

One of those days was today, in the moonlight illuminating his car, the roads empty and barren, besides the occasional Chevy or beetle bustling past. He watched your sleeping state, half in the same wonderment he always had with you, and half in precaution, his unwavering desire to protect you from anything and everything.

The remaining pieces of the assassin in him coming back to life in a sick twisted way of pure and utter compliance to you, and you only, the last parting gift of the remnants from his identity of soldat.

And as he twisted and turned through the road map of his memory, Bucky realized that the taste of this sweet saccharine honey that was your love would turn him insatiable, animalistic, hungry for more until the last of his days.

And as he turned into the familiar corner of your neighbourhood, Bucky knew that he would do absolutely everything in his power to keep it, keep you, here, with him, whether it be in his thunderbolt after an engagement, or on fucking Saturn. Just with you, always.

And when he finally joined you in bed, the soft sheets wrapped around you, he understood that he would never ever get over you if you parted ways, and he may never feel this love, or this happiness ever again, without you. A bittersweet conclusion for a day filled with soul, holy matrimony, and you.

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x black!ofc #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barns imagine #bucky x fluff #james bucky barnes #fluff #from the drafts #steve rogers #sam wilson #fratelli d'italia #winter soldier #black reader #black!reader

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ifmywishescametrue · 3 years

Note

i don't know if you're still taking prompts (so please ignore this if you aren't) but i cant stop thinking about your recent buckytony fic (and how much i love breaking up and making up as a trope) - so i was wondering if you'd be up for doing smth else w that trope for buckytony?? maybe they re-unite at a mutual friend's wedding?? and it brings up emotions about their almost wedding?? idk i just really love breaking up and making up as a trope and i really love your writing :))

thank you!! I'm very much up for doing another buckytony break up/make up, plus you deserve nice things for finishing law school - congrats on that!🎉🎉hope you like this one 😊

There's a ring on Bucky's finger.

It's the first thing Tony notices when he walks into the bar for Natasha and Sharon's joint bachelorette party. He stands there in the doorway, frozen and staring until someone clears their throat pointedly behind him, and he mumbles an apology as he moves out of the way.

He thinks about turning around and not coming back, just ditching the event entirely and maybe even the wedding tomorrow, but he tosses the ridiculous thought the second it comes. He promised Sharon when she asked him to be her man of honor that he could handle Bucky being Nat's. Living on the other side of the country afforded him to miss the rest of the events and planning along the way, and he could deal with one day of being cordial to his ex, even if the day comes with walking down an aisle together.

But now there's a ring on Bucky's finger.

The silver catches the light, and it's on prominent display with his left hand wrapped around a beer bottle. It shouldn't be possible for him to have moved on that quickly. Eight months shouldn't be long enough to bury three years of memories. Three years of hopes and dreams and plans for a future built together. Years of love so blindingly intense that it burrowed into Tony's soul to make a home and refused to be evicted just because it was supposed to be over.

Tony wonders what the timeline is. Did he find someone new while Tony was still just beginning to pick up his own scattered pieces? A first date for him while Tony was barely getting out of bed. When was it that he replaced Tony as the last person to have his heart? And how did he find forever in someone else so soon after losing the one he used to call his soulmate?

Natasha notices him first, still hovering near the entrance, and she raises a single eyebrow that calls him a coward. He rolls his eyes at the accusation, though it's accurate. She elbows Sharon to catch her attention, and before he knows it the entire small group is turning their heads his way, giving him no choice but to join them.

It's less bachelorette party and more pre-wedding celebration with the crowd they've gathered, all mutual friends of both brides with no regards for gender traditions that usually come with this night. Tony used to fit in well with them all, back when gatherings like this were just a typical Friday night. But he made himself an outsider between the move to California and the breakup with Bucky. All he has now with most of them is a dead group chat that hasn't been used in months. He wonders which one of them made the new one without him in it.

Sharon is the first to pull him into a hug, then Natasha follows suit. He gets a nod from Sam, a wave from Clint, and what might pass as a smile from Steve. Bucky stares so intensely that Tony can feel his eyes with his back turned, but when Tony looks his way, he pretends to be interested in the floor.

He had a plan before the ring threw him off. Step one should have been the entrance. Head held high, shoulders square, perfect outfit that shows everything off and compliments the Malibu tan he has now. Step two should be nonchalance. A light hearted greeting to everyone, accompanied by an easy grin and relaxed body language, and catching up with subtle brags slipped in. Show them all that he's doing better than he ever was, sitting on top of the world these days, even if most of the time it feels like he's barely above rock bottom.

Step three in his ideal scenario involved Bucky breaking down and begging to get him back. Some versions even had him on his knees for it, with tears running down his face. Others required it to be raining outside, and the cloudless sky ruined that before the ring on Bucky's finger did.

With steps one and three out the window, he tries to salvage step two.

“Hey,” Tony starts, a little too loud. He swallows the lump in his throat and tries again, “Hey, Bucky. It's good to see you.”

Bucky nods, a strained, jerky motion. “Yeah, you too. How, uh, how have you been?”

“Good. Really good, actually. Company just had its highest sales quarter yet, so it’s been a little crazy around there, but good.”

“Good,” Bucky repeats, and there’s a long awkward pause.

“And what about you?” Tony asks, and then because he can’t help himself, he adds, “I see you got engaged. Or, hell, I guess it could be married, even.”

Bucky freezes with parted lips and wide eyes for the briefest of moments, like he wasn’t expecting Tony to know about it or bring it up, and his eyes shift to the ring on his hand and stay there.

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “Engaged. Last week.”

Tony ignores the ache in his chest and plasters on a smile like he’s happy for him. “Congratulations. Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t know him. Steve introduced us. They work together.”

“So he’s at the museum then? I thought you used to say that you hated all those stuffy guys and Steve was the only one worth knowing.”

Bucky smiles, a fond thing that widens the crack in Tony’s heart. “Yeah, well, I guess I was wrong. Felix is a great guy.”

Tony resists the urge to roll his eyes. Stupid name that probably matches a stupid, punchable face.

Some masochist thing pulls at him to make him keep digging for more information, a twisted need to know even as each word pushes the knife in deeper. He aims for casual, leaning back against one of the high top tables as he asks, “So how long have you been together?”

“Just a couple of months. Kind of fast, I know, but when you’re sure about something, it doesn’t really matter, right? Why waste time waiting?”

“Right, of course,” Tony says, a little flatter than he intends. “So why isn’t he here tonight? Hope it wasn’t to spare my feelings, because it’s really not necessary.”

Bucky falters, “It’s not? You, uh, you’re dating someone, then?”

Tony nods, and he wishes he had grabbed a drink before this so he could hide behind it as he lies through his teeth. “Only a few weeks, though. A little too early to be a wedding date, but I’m sure your guy will be there tomorrow right?”

“Oh, um, yeah, definitely. Why wouldn’t he be, right? There’s no reason I can think of,” Bucky says, stumbling around it. “But tell me more about your thing. Your person. How’s that going?”

Tony shrugs, and he finally pulls off that easy smile he’s been trying for. “Well, it’s not get engaged in a couple of months good, but it’s been really great. We’re taking it slow. Trying not to rush anything and just get to know each other first. I think it could really be something, though.”

“That’s good,” Bucky mumbles. “You deserve something good.”

He isn’t meeting Tony’s eyes anymore, almost like he’s upset that Tony moved on, and the vindictive part of Tony wants to be happy about it, but another part wants to be angry because it isn’t fair. It’s not fair to act like Tony should stay stuck in time, forever longing for him when he already moved on with someone else first. It’s hypocritical and selfish, even if Tony is lying about there being anyone else.

“Well, I’m gonna go get a drink,” Tony says, pushing down every feeling. “Should catch up with everyone else, too, while I’m at it. I’ll talk to you later.”

He heads over to the bar and isn’t surprised when Sharon joins him a moment later, right after he orders a double shot of whiskey. She puts an arm around his shoulder and asks, “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Tony laughs, running a hand through his hair. “My ex is engaged to somebody else and apparently doing really fucking well. Meanwhile, I’m making up fake boyfriends that I’m taking it slow with, because last week I went on my first real date in eight months and cried in the bathroom in the middle of it. And then, at the end of the night, he literally told me to my face that he didn’t think a second date was a good idea. We weren’t even talking about it, Sharon. He said it unprompted when we were still ten minutes from his apartment, and I was driving.”

Sharon nods slowly as she processes the rant. “He told you he got engaged?”

“Yeah, thanks for not telling me, by the way. It was really fun to get blindsided by it.”

She ignores the complaint to ask, “What else did he tell you, exactly?”

“Oh, just the whole line about how you know when you know, and Felix is such a great guy, and all that bullshit.”

“Felix,” Sharon repeats.

Tony knocks back the rest of his drink and orders another. “Please tell me he’s not better looking than me. Tell me it’s a downgrade. Don’t lie, because I know I have to meet him tomorrow, but please give me something that will make this better.”

“Well, I can guarantee he’s not as attractive as you. But he’s a little too perfect, you know? Like how could this guy possibly be real, he’s so unbelievably perfect,” Sharon says.

“I told you to make me feel better, not worse.”

Sharon shakes her head with a smile, the arm around him tightening into an approximation of hug. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. I don’t think they’re going to last. He’s kind of flaky, too. Always cancelling at the last minute and all that. Bet he won’t even show tomorrow.”

The amusement on her face that she’s failing to hide confuses him. He’s starting to feel bad, though, for making the night about him when it should be about her and Nat.

Resolving not to dwell on it anymore, he squeezes the hand on his shoulder and says, “Alright, enough sad drinking, and definitely enough about me. We’re celebrating you and Nat and a lifetime of sickeningly wonderful happiness for both of you.”

Sharon grins, “Hell yeah, we are.”

“Shots?”

“Is that even a question?”

_____________

He wakes up with a headache and hazy memories. Shots of tequila that turned into shots of vodka when Nat got involved, then Clint’s terrible suggestion to try a shot of every liquor they had to offer. He vaguely remembers the round of toasts and drunken impromptu speeches from everyone, locking eyes with Bucky and failing to look away on both their parts. There’s a blur of wandering hands and heated, messy kisses. A bathroom stall turned into a cab ride which turned into his hotel room. He knows what he’ll find next to him when he opens his eyes, and guilt comes in full force.

“I know you’re awake,” Bucky says, voice still rough with sleep. It used to be Tony’s favorite sound in the world. “And I know we’re both sorry about what happened, but pretending to be asleep isn’t fixing nothin’.”

Tony shifts over to his back, and if there was any question before about what happened between them, the all too familiar ache in his body would answer it. He stares up at the ceiling to avoid the acres of bare skin on display next to him.

“You should probably leave,” Tony says to the walls. “I’m sure your fiancé is wondering where you are.”

“I doubt it.”

Tony puts an arm over his eyes, partly to block out the light that makes them ache and partly to hide his face. “Just go, okay? It was a mistake, and it won’t happen again, and we don’t have to talk about it.”

“Was it a mistake?” Bucky asks. “It didn’t feel like one to me.”

He doesn’t answer, and it’s soft and broken when Bucky says his name. Too much for him to handle.

Tony pushes back the blankets and searches for Bucky’s clothes in the mess they’ve made. He finds the shirt first and throws it at him. “You’re engaged, which means it was a mistake.”

His boxers are on the back of the couch, jeans right in front of the door, and they join the pile on Bucky’s lap. “You promised the rest of your life to somebody else, and I’m pretty sure fidelity is supposed to go with that.”

He tosses a shoe in the general direction of the bed, and it hits the nightstand with a loud thud. The second shoe is still in his hand when Bucky gets up and walks over to him, taking it and letting it drop to the floor.

His eyes hold a level of intensity that Tony has spent months dreaming about, and Tony couldn’t look away or move from this spot even if he tried.

“Felix isn’t real,” Bucky says. “I made him up when you asked, because I didn’t want to tell you the truth that I haven’t moved on in the slightest. That I’m so pathetic that I’ve spent the last eight months wearing an engagement ring that I bought for a guy who doesn’t love me anymore because I don’t know how to let him go.”

Tony stops breathing. “What?”

Bucky slides the ring from his finger, holding it between them so Tony can see the inscription. Always yours. He can’t remember the last time he heard the words get spoken.

“When?” Tony asks hoarsely. “When did you get that and why didn’t you ever ask me?”

“About a year ago,” Bucky says, slipping it back on his own finger. He sits back on the edge of the bed and stares down at it, twisting it around. “I thought about doing it on your birthday, but Nat and Sharon had just gotten engaged the week before and I didn’t want to take anything away from them. You were working a lot of late nights after that, and I thought it would be better to wait until things slowed down. You were so tired all the time, and you deserved a better proposal than when you’re falling asleep in the middle of dinner. It never slowed down, though. And then you got that big promotion and somehow we fell apart instead. If I’m honest, I still don’t really know how. One minute I’m getting ready to come with you, and the next you’re telling me not to bother.”

Tony sits down next to him, shoulders touching, and he pulls Bucky’s left hand into his. “You didn’t really want to go.”

“That’s not true,” Bucky says, but Tony shakes his head.

“All you talked about was how much you would miss New York. How much you’d miss your friends and your family and your job. Every day, everywhere we went. Even the fucking hot dog stands got sonnets about them. It really didn’t take a genius to figure out that you weren’t exactly looking forward to leaving.”

“I still would have gone for you,” Bucky argues. “I told you I would go anywhere with you, if it was what you wanted.”

“And then what? You move with me, and you’re miserable all the time, because my job never slows down so I’m still not around as much as you want, except now it’s compounded because you’re in a city that you hate with no one else that you know. You resent me for making you go, and the outcome is the same in the end either way.”

“Or I move with you, and I finally ask you to marry me like I’ve wanted to since almost the day we met. I find new friends and a new job, and even if it’s not perfect, it’s still worth it because at the end of the day I have a husband coming home to me.”

Tony runs his thumb over the ring and murmurs, “I wanted you to be happy. I didn’t think I could do that for you anymore.”

Bucky cups his cheek, tilting his head up to meet his eyes. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but baby, you’re an idiot.”

“Oh, thanks,” Tony laughs.

“You’re my idiot, if that helps.”

Tony smiles, still fragile but growing more hopeful. “Am I?”

“Always have been,” Bucky says. “Always will be if you stop assuming I’m going to leave you all the time. Let me decide for myself what I’m willing to sacrifice for us.”

Tony nods slowly, then says, “I’m sorry for ending it like that.”

“I’m sorry for making you feel like you had to.”

Tony climbs into his lap, circling his arms around his neck, and Bucky pulls him in closer with his hands on Tony’s hips. The ring is strange to feel against his skin, but also completely right. He wants it to stay there and to mean what it was always supposed to. Wants one of his own to match.

“We can fix it, right? We can be us again?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky says, and Tony’s heart sinks for just a moment. “Is your boyfriend as real as my fiancé?”

Tony laughs again in relief, “Yeah, they’d be a good pair.”

“I knew you had to be lying. You’ve never taken it slow in your life,” Bucky grins.

“Do you want me to start now?”

Bucky flips them over in one fluid motion, and he kisses up his throat as he murmurs, “Absolutely not.”

#my writing #my fic #winteriron #buckytony #winteriron fic #prompt fill #ad1thi

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lilxberry · 3 years

Text

Preference: How You Met (Girls)

GIF PREFERENCES

INCLUDES:

Cassie

Jules

Maddy

Kat

Lexi

Rue

_______________

Cassie:

You met through Lexi

You had a project for school to work on with Lexi and she had suggested to go over to hers.

So, one afternoon after school, you headed over to her house with your textbooks in your bag ready. You stepped towards their front door and knocked.

The door soon opened and there she stood, looking at you quizzically as you gaped at her, suddenly losing your voice.

“Can I help you?”

“I-I uhm, yeah. Hi, I’m here to do a-uh-a project with Lexi.”

“Okaaaayyyyyy...” She drawled out her response as she side-stepped to allow you in. “She’s upstairs.”

You flashed her a goofy smile, eliciting a soft giggle from her. “T-thanks. I’ll uh-I’ll see you around?” It came out as more of a question, causing the girl to release another giggle.

“Sure.”

_______________

Jules:

You met through your parents

Both your dads’, David and Y/D/N, work together. David Vaughn was the new employee at your dads work place. They hit it off fairly quickly, becoming really good friends. Once they found out that their kids were the same age AND attend the same school, they agreed to having dinner one night.

There was a knock at the door, your mother shouted for your father to go answer. You quickly glance down at your outfit, ensuring nothing looks odd or out of place, then soon exited your room to head downstairs.

“Y/N! This is Mr. Vaughn and his daughter...I’m sorry sweetie, what was your name again?” Your mother spoke in a sweet tone.

“Jules.” She answered your mother, giving her a tight lipped smile, clearly uncomfortable in this situation.

“Jules,” your mother repeats softly, offering the girl a comforting smile, which seemed to have worked a little.

“Uh-hey, I’m Y/N.” You smile as you offer your hand to David, trying to be polite towards the guests within your home, although, all you’ve done is keep your eyes laid upon his daughter.

Jules seemed to return your lingering stare with multiple glance at you of her own.

Throughout dinner with the Vaughns, you and Jules let your gaze fall on to each other often through out the night, ignoring the adults' conversations. But alas, the night ended and Jules and her father had to head home.

“Hey, I’ll see you in school, yeah?” Jules asked hopefully, a smile playing at her lips, as you two stood by your front door.

“Uh-ye-yeah, definitely.” Y/N replied all to eagerly. Jules sent you a beaming smile and started walking backwards towards her dads car, giving you a small wave as she walked.

You sent her a smile of your own before closing the door and leaning your forehead against the wooden material.

_______________

Maddy:

You met in the cafeteria

You were enjoying your lunch in the cafeteria, midway into your sandwich, sat next to Ethan and Kat when music started to play. You looked at Kat with a confused expression as cheering erupted around you.

Then you noticed the cheerleaders gather at the bottom of the stairs, starting their routine. You placed your sandwich back down and turned your body, focusing your attention on solely on the girls in the blue and white cheer uniform.

She caught your eye almost instantly as you raked your eyes over the group of girls. The way her body moved as she preformed their choreography perfectly.

Her eyes shifted through the crowd, basking in their reaction to the show they were putting on when her eyes met yours. Those E/C irises.

She pursed her lips and pushed out her chest more. She wanted you to notice her and she knew she was doing a good job at keeping your attention at your eyes burnt holes into her figure.

_______________

As soon as their routine showcase finished, she headed straight towards you, inwardly smirking when she seen your reaction to her doing so.

Once she reached your table, she leant over into you, purposely brushing her chest up against your arm. She grabs your phone that was previously layed face down on the table and held it out for you.

You looks at her quizzically and she rolled her eyes. “Unlock it.”

You hesitantly retrieved your phone from her grasp and did as you were told. She quickly swiped the phone back into her possession, adding her number to your contacts then handing it back to you, its rightful owner. “Here. Call me.”

And with that, she walked away, leaving you dumb founded next to a snickering Kat and Ethan.

_______________

Kat:

You met online

You were scrolling through Facebook on your phone when suddenly, a familiar face showed up under your ‘suggested friends’.

You recognised her from around school. She usually hung around people like Perez, Howard and BB whilst you prefered to stick to yourself, occasionally opting to chat with Rue, Jules or the Mckay twins, Roy and Troy.

After a small debate with yourself, you decided to tap the ‘Add Friend’ button. Without any further thought on the matter, you locked your phone and continued watching the movie playing on your laptop in bed.

_______________

Not even 5 minutes later, you had a 2 notifications shine light up your phone screen.

‘Kat Hernandez has accepted your friend request’.

‘Message from Kat Hernandez’.

You unlocked your phone and click on her message.

‘Hey’

Almost too quickly, you typed out a reply.

‘Hey’

‘You go to East Highland, right?’

‘Yeah’

‘I thought I recognised you lmao’

Throughout the night, you talked to each other. You got to know each other with each question asked and learnt about each others humour as you shared memes between you. By 7am, you were both drifting into sleep as you talked.

‘It’s a good thing we don’t have school today x’

‘Too right. I wouldn’t know where tf I’m going lmao x’

‘lol. Ain’t you tired?? x’

‘A little, yeah but I don’t want to stop talking to you x’

‘I don’t wanna stop either but we can talk later after we’ve gotten some sleep?? If that’s ok with you?? x’

‘More than ok :) x’

‘Cool, talk later x’

‘Byeeeee x’

After that, you and Kat started to talk more during school and the rest is history.

_______________

Lexi:

You met in class

You walked into your communications class expecting to sit in your regular seat like usual. But upon further inspection, you realised some random asshat jacked your place.

Internally groaning, your eyes scanned the room for free seats. Then you noticed her.

You walked over to her and simply motioned towards the chair whilst gripping your back packs strap tighter. “You mind?”

She shook her head and smiled at you in response. You flung your bag off of your shoulder and placed in on to the floor near your feet as you sat down and leant back in the chair.

“I’m Lexi.”

“Hey. I’m Y/N.”

She giggled. “I know, you usually sit in the back.”

You nodded in acknowledgement, sending her a small smile. Before you could continue the conversation further, the teacher entered and class began.

_______________

“So, what if there were five birds in a row and I decided to shoot one. How many is there left?” The teacher asked. She said that using peoples answers to certain questions can help understand how ones’ mind works, hence the dumb-ass question.

“None, they would have all flown away.” You replied, casually leant back in your chair, arms folded over your chest, Lexi beside you watching, as is everyone else.

“The answer would be 4 if you look at it from a mathematical stand point, but I like the way you think none the less.”

Your eyes narrow slightly as a hint of mischief flashes across your face. You reapply a serious expression before stating “Miss, I have a question for you?”

The teacher smiled sweetly at her, leaning back on to her desk at the front of the class, hands clasped together in front of her. “Sure.”

“There’s three women sat at a bus stop eating ice cream. One’s licking, one’s biting and one’s sucking. Which is married?” Your mouth twists into a smirk as her face falls slightly and the other students in the class snicker.

Lexi seemed to find this amusing. Exactly what you wanted.

The teacher shifted slightly, fumbling with her fingers as she hesitantly answers. “The one sucking.”

“The answer would be the one wearing the wedding ring if you look at it from a logical stand point, but I like the way you think none the less, Miss.”

Laughter erupts from the students. “Alright, settle down. Another “question” from you, Y/LN/, and you can take yourself to Principal Hayes office.

You raise your hands in front of you, feigning surrender. From the corner of you eye, you see Lexi trying to contain her giggles and it makes you smile triumphantly.

Suddenly, something bumps your left knee, enticing you to look at Lexi. She slides over a bit of scrap paper she scrawled on towards you.

‘Wanna sit together at lunch?’

You nod in reply then turn your focus back to the teacher. In your peripheral vision, you see Lexi sporting a small smile and a light pink tinge on her cheeks.

_______________

Rue:

You met in rehab

“Marissa! Baby! What’s up with you today, beautiful.” The young rehab worker rolled her eyes at your routine flirtations.

You had just woken up to another day in the centre and your favourite pass time was to annoy any and all staff ‘cause, let’s face it, you’re an asshole.

“Good morning to you too, Y/N.”

“So, what’s on the agenda today?”

Before Marissa got the chance to dignify you with a response, the doors at the end of the hall swung open, drawing your attention to them, as they revealed the new girl in a maroon jacket walking beside Dr. Jowett.

“Who is that?” You asked slowly, not removing your eyes from the girl.

Marissa, yet again, rolled her eyes at your antics. “That’s Rue, she’s a new resident. And before you even try anything, you know any form of relationship past friends is against the rules.”

“Hey! Who said I was gonna try get in her pants? Is this the result of jealousy? Did I make you jealous, Mari?” You smirked as the young girl snorted whilst shaking her head.

“You wish, Y/L/N.”

“Oh, I definitely do.” You waggled your eyebrows towards her before leaving to sit in the communal room.

As you sat at the table, you noticed the doctor and, who you now know is called Rue, stop at the entrance of the room. You watched closely as she hesitantly walked into and across the room, opting to sit alone at one of the many tables.

After no debate needed, you got up from where you sat and walked confidently over and perched yourself into the chair beside her, resting your one foot on the table and an arm over the back of the chair.

“So, newbie, how you finding the mainland of sobriety?”

She shrugged in response whilst keeping her gaze trained on you.

“Don’t worry, you can say it sucks if you want, I won’t tell.” You winked at Rue and she allowed a small smile to appear on her face. “I’m Y/N, obviously the coolest person in this place.”

“I’m Rue.”

“Oh, I know.” You smirked as you drank in her expression. “I think we’re gonna get along just dandy, Rue.”

Her face flushes a light pink as her smile conveys a soft of sweetness, very different to Marissa. There may be rules against relationships in this place but...

When have you ever listened to what people tell you?

_______________

First preference AND piece of work on Euphoria

Two in one baby!!

I honestly had a bit too much fun with these, even if the end result is kinda shitty

Although, I like some of the scenarios so much, I’m thinking of doing longer fics like imagines or one shots extending from them like the rehab one for Rue

Anyways, I hope you enjoy. Like if ya do as it will help it reach more reader

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomes and greatly appreciated :D

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seasonschange-butpeopledont · 3 years

Text

Everyday Heroes

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x F!Reader

Warnings: A few curse words, an explosion, implied injury, depressed reader, minor character death, grief, and a bit of pining

Word Count: 3,364

Author’s Note: This got out of hand and apparently I only know how to write hopeless pining. Do we agree that Marcus gives off Clark Kent vibes or am I alone in this?

Summary: The three times you discovered Marcus Moreno was a hero.

Taglist Form - Masterlist

When you’d left the house that morning, the heels you wore had seemed like a great idea.

You were headed in for your first day at your new job and you wanted to make a good impression by wearing what you perceived to be your most professional outfit. You’d made it to the coffee shop down the street from your apartment with minimal difficulty, though you were certain to have blisters on your feet by the end of the day. Thankfully, your receptionist position meant that you would spend the majority of your day more or less chained to the front desk, answering phones, taking messages, scheduling appointments, and greeting visitors.

You didn’t know much about Vil-Tech. You’d googled them before your first interview, of course- you weren’t a total idiot and you’d never dare show up unprepared, especially when you needed this job so badly- but your search had yielded only a few results. Most of what you’d found had been articles from the newspaper. The researchers at the lab had, apparently, recently had some success in clean energy technology. Protons, neutrons, particle accelerators, electromagnetic fields… You knew nothing about it, really, but it sounded impressive. And clean energy had to be good, right? When they’d hired you, it hadn’t seemed like a big deal that you knew next to nothing about the company itself. They were only looking for a receptionist, after all, not a scientist. If they’d wanted you to know exactly what was going on in the floors above you, you were sure that they would have let you know.

With your coffee in hand, you made your way towards the Vil-Tech building. All in all, it seemed like the universe was on your side this morning. You’d woken up early enough to make yourself look decent. Your favorite barista had made your coffee just the way you liked it, and it even looked like you would be early for work.

And then it all seemed to happen in slow motion.

The upper half of your body was already moving forward, even as the heel of your shoe remained firmly wedged in the sidewalk crack. You felt the coffee sloshing around in the stainless steel travel mug in your hands, threatening to douse your crisp white blouse in the steaming beverage. You blindly threw your hand out in front of you, bracing yourself to hit the concrete and thinking to yourself that this was just one of those days when this might as well happen.

But the harsh impact you’d prepared yourself for never came.

It had taken you a moment to process that someone had caught you. Someone with impeccable reflexes, it seemed, as not only had they rescued you from taking a humiliating fall in the middle of a busy sidewalk, but they also managed to save your coffee without spilling a drop. To say that you were impressed by the feat was an understatement.

But when you looked up at your savior, you were damn near speechless.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his dark eyes finding yours from beneath his black-framed glasses. And, other than the approximately thirty-seven heart attacks you’d had in the span of 2.5 seconds only moments before, you found yourself nodding in confirmation.

“I’m fine. I… Thank you,” You breathed out, a warm, tingly feeling spreading out from your chest and right down to your toes. Gods, he had the most beautiful eyes you’d ever seen. He appeared to be somewhere in his mid-forties, and wore a leather jacket with his slacks and tie, a combination you’d never quite seen before, but decided suited him quite well.

“Are you sure? You look a little dizzy,” He noted. His arm was still around your waist, and you were grateful for it, because you didn’t quite trust the integrity of your knees at the moment.

After a few moments, which had exceeded the socially acceptable amount of time to moon over a stranger while clutching their remarkably toned biceps for dear life by a long-shot, your brain finally seemed to catch up to the rest of you, and promptly flooded your thoughts with embarrassment. You released your death-grip on his arms immediately, trying to maintain your dignity as you yanked your heel from the concrete crevice in a distinctly unladylike manor. All the while, the handsome stranger remained right there, dutifully holding your coffee and trying his best to hide the amusement in his eyes with a polite smile.

Taking a deep breath and smoothing out your outfit, you nodded at him once again. “I’m fine,” You said in what you hoped was your most composed voice. He promptly handed you your coffee, and you swore you felt electricity when his fingers brushed against yours.

“Glad to hear it,” He remarked, “That would have been a nasty fall.”

“Nice save, Clark,” You joked, attempting your most charming smile. Were you flirting? Could you even consider this flirting?

“Clark?” He repeated, his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“You know, Clark Kent… with the glasses and... lightning-fast reflexes… saving me from an incredibly embarrassing moment?” You explained weakly. It wasn’t as if you’d never spoken to an attractive man before, but it seemed that the universe was decidedly not on your side this morning after all.

“Superman?” Another smile found its way to his face. He seemed flattered by your comment. “My daughter loves those comics.” At the mention of his daughter, your eyes quickly darted down to his left hand. There was no wedding ring there, but it was clear that there had been one there in the past.

“Well, your daughter has excellent taste. And we could all use a few more heroes in our lives, right?” You sighed wistfully, before adding, “Thank you, by the way.”

“It was no big deal,” He assured you. “I’m always happy to help a pretty lady in need.”

You laughed quietly at the last part, finding the cheesiness of it adorable. You weren’t quite sure why you were still lingering on the street corner, except that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to walk away just yet. He seemed equally as reluctant to part from you, both of you grinning shyly at one another as you soaked in the meet-cute moment. Right up until his eyes fell to the ID badge clipped to your bag, that is.

“Is that a Vil-Tech badge?”

There was a hint of disappointment in his tone that you couldn’t quite assign a cause for. It wasn’t the question you were expecting. You’d expected him to ask your name, or maybe offer you his, but you could practically see the gears turning in his head by now, so you humored him.

“Yep,” You confirmed. “It's my first day. I’m just a receptionist, though…”

He nodded slowly, his eyebrows pinching together. He didn’t even try to hide his frown. What was it about Vil-Tech that seemed to bother him so much?

“I’m really sorry, but I’m running late for work,” He said finally, nodding in the direction you had just come from. He turned his attention back to you, his eyes staring into yours as he spoke with the utmost seriousness. “Good luck on your first day, and… Look after yourself, okay? Vil-Tech might not be what you think it is.”

And with that, he brushed past you, seemingly in quite a hurry as he disappeared into the crowd and left you standing there, disappointment sinking deep into your bones.

You didn’t even get his name.

***

You didn’t see him again for a month.

Not that you often thought about him or his dreamy eyes and ridiculously charming smile or his strong arms around your waist. And definitely not that you sometimes idly wondered where he was and how his day was going while you were grocery shopping or stuck at the laundromat.

Okay, maybe you did.

Maybe you went to that same coffee shop every week day, hoping that you might bump into him again.

And maybe you sometimes imagined those eyes staring into yours and arms around you in situations where you weren’t making a complete fool of yourself.

You felt silly for being that girl. The one who falls hopelessly in love with strangers you pass on the streets, with anyone who thinks that anyone who so much as holds the door open for you could be your true love. You were a grown up, for goodness sake. You weren’t supposed to believe in that kind of thing anymore.

But it was those ridiculous daydreams you found yourself caught up in when a team of Heroics stormed into Vil-Tech on a Tuesday afternoon.

“I apologize, sir, but Dr. Pershing is out of the office today…” You sighed, listening to the supplier ramble on and on about the importance of Dr. Pershing returning his call. You had already scribbled the message down, along with his name and phone number. “Yes, I’ll be sure to give him the message.” It was difficult to hide the exasperation in your tone.

“That’s what you said the last time,” The man snapped. “Pershing didn’t return my calls for a week. I don’t know why they can’t hire someone who knows how to take a message properly. God knows they’ve got the money for it.”

You tapped the tip of your pen against the notepad on your desk, feeling a lump beginning to form in your throat. “I apologize, Mr. Wells. I’ll make sure that Dr. Pershing gets your message as soon as he returns.”

“You’d better,” He grumbled, before the line went dead.

You let out a slow breath, easing yourself back from the edge of tears. It had been like this all morning. The scientists in the building were off at a conference for the week, leaving you behind to copy down messages and field angry phone calls.

Stan, the elderly security guard, if you could call him that, offered you a sympathetic smile from his post by the door. You returned it weakly.

Closing your eyes, you tried to think of something else. Brown eyes, charming smile, strong arms. You repeated it like a mantra. Electricity. The feeling of safety. That warm, fluttering feeling in your stomach, and a rush of calm.

When you opened your eyes again, you found Stan staring slack-jawed as the Heroics sprinted into the building, announcing to you, Stan, and the maintenance staff that you all needed to clear the building immediately. They offered no explanation for their frantic demands, but when a guy in spandex and a cape tells you to go, you go. You were sure that, whatever it was, you’d be able to catch the reason for the strange event on the news later that evening. You’d watched them destroy city hall enough times from the comfort of your living room to be sure that you wanted out of this building as soon as possible.

But, given that this was your first call-the-Heroics-level emergency, it seems that your idea of immediacy was a bit different from theirs. In the time that it had taken you to grab your jacket, shove your laptop in your purse, and sling the bag over your shoulder, you had already been tackled to the ground by some idiot in a tactical vest.

You don’t remember much about the explosion.

You’d later learn that Vil-Tech Labs dealt in more than just technological innovation. The research they’d been conducting while locked away in the uppermost floors of the building, all of that gibberish involving the off-site particle accelerator you’d read about, was both sinister and invaluable. Rather than letting the Heroics get their hands on their files to uncover their plans and stop them from being set in motion, they’d decided to set off an explosion in their own goddamn building. And thanks to that ‘idiot in a tactical vest’, you were one of the only survivors.

But in the meantime, while you were lying on your back in the middle of the lobby feeling like you’d been hit by a train, you were clueless about the nefarious action of the company you’d spent the last month working for. The only thing you could seem to focus on was the pain in your head from where you’d smacked it against the tile flooring, and the weight of the fully grown man on top of you that was currently restricting your breathing.

You must have hit your head even harder than you thought, because there was no way in hell the man who’d been starring in all of your daydreams for months was here, now, on top of you, with katanas strapped to his back. You refused to accept that as a reality. Would he even remember you? Why would he? Apparently, the man you’d developed a stupid little crush on was a superhero. He probably helped people all of the time and you were just another-

“What the fuck?” You finally hissed, gasping for air. The air was smokey and it stung your eyes and nose when you inhaled.

His breathing hitched slightly when you looked up at him, the look of fear clear on your face. “You okay?” He asked, still hovering above you as he pushed himself up on his elbows, careful to avoid the shattered glass that now seemed to cover every flat surface in sight.

“I’m… reasonably certain I’m not dead,” You replied, an edge of panic in your voice, which was a bit shakier than you would have liked. “What’s happening? I don’t- I don’t understand- Where is Stan-” You coughed, your lungs burning.

You idly wondered how long you had before the building started to collapse, its structural integrity surely compromised by the explosion. Of all the ways you could die, being buried alive was up there with the ones you dreaded the most. Your growing panic must have been obvious.

“Hey, calm down,” He reassured you. “I’m going to get you out of here. You’re going to be just fine.”

The room was still spinning when you felt yourself being scooped up into his arms, the edges of your vision growing more and more fuzzy with each breath you took.

“We have got to stop meeting like this, Clark” You murmured. You swear you feel, rather than hear, a laugh rumble in his chest just before the world goes dark. Maybe he did remember you after all.

***

It’s only a little more than a week later, long after you’ve woken up in the hospital and been discharged, that you find yourself sitting in the coffee shop down the street. It’s a Thursday morning, and you’re staring blankly into your vanilla latte.

You aren’t sure why you’re up so early. The doctors had ordered you to take it easy, and it’s not like you had a job to go to anymore. You could have slept in, made your own coffee at home, and stayed curled up on your couch watching Netflix and hiding from the rest of the world like you had been for the past week. You felt horrible that you’d been associated with a place like Vil-Tech. You should have known that something was off about the place, but you’d never realized it, never bothered to look into anything when things seemed off. You felt so stupid for it now. Were you just as bad as the rest of them? Sure, all you’d done was answer phones for them, but…

Stan, your only friend at Vil-Tech, the kind man who had shared half of his sandwich at lunch with you more times than you could count and always had a smile for you when he greeted you in the mornings, had never made it out of the building. You supposed that you should consider yourself lucky that the Heroics had saved you, but the loss of your friend and the knowledge that Vil-Tech was certainly not what you thought it was, had shaken you.

You’d felt different when you woke up this morning. Like, maybe, leaving your apartment and getting some fresh air wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

Your favorite barista had smiled sympathetically when you walked through the doors. You must have looked as bad as you felt. Considering you hadn’t showered since you’d gotten home from the hospital, you were sure that you were quite a sight.

“Good morning!” She greeted, mustering up her cheeriest demeanor for you. “The usual, right?”

You nodded, not quite making eye contact as you handed her your card to pay. She quickly waved you off.

“It’s on the house today, hon. And I insist that you take this chocolate chip muffin. I’ll make you feel better.”

Your heart ached at her kindness, the act almost forcing tears in your eyes once again. That was the thing that you realized over the past few days. The Heroics were great, but there were plenty of everyday heroes out there as well. Sometimes it was Ashely the Barista, who scribbles a smiley face and a compliment on your cup on the mornings that seem particularly rough. Sometimes it was Stan the Security Guard, who offers to teach you sudoku on your lunch breaks. And sometimes it was a stranger you passed on the street, who catches you when you fall.

You sat down at a table in the corner of the coffee shop, your vanilla latte and chocolate chip muffin sat out in front of you, untouched for the moment. You didn’t usually sit down to have your coffee, but you had nowhere to be today, and you were finding that you appreciated not being alone for a while.

You heard the bells above the door jingle, signaling that a new customer had entered the shop. You looked up to see a man with dark hair and a familiar leather jacket walking towards the barista to place his order. You listened closely as he gave his name for his order, though you’d heard it plenty of times on the news this week. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips for the first time in over a week.

Marcus Moreno, your own personal Superman.

You hadn’t meant to stare, but it was undeniably strange to see the man who had saved you not once, but twice, doing something as mundane as making his morning coffee run. After he paid, he turned towards the groupings of tables and chairs, searching for a place to sit while he waited for his drink to be ready. When his eyes landed on you, you raised your hand in a small wave. You were nervous about how he’d react to seeing you here. You had no doubt that he recognized you this time.

You weren’t exactly sure what the protocol was for meeting a real-life superhero again after they had saved your life. Were you supposed to pretend not to know each other? Should you have paid for his coffee? Did you make a public declaration to name your first born child after him?

To your surprise, he simply smiled back at you with the most heart-stopping, breathtaking smile you’d ever seen in your life, and returned your wave. It was as simple as that, you thought. Marcus Moreno, the superhero with katanas at this back and a team of Heroics at his side, the closest thing to Superman you’d ever met, was impressive. But Marcus Moreno, the helpful man with a kind, beautiful smile and warm, friendly eyes, whose mere existence had never failed to cheer you up? He was magnificent. An everyday hero, indeed.

He made this way through the crowd and over to your table, gesturing to the seat across from you as if to ask for your permission to sit down. You nodded, feeling a sense of warmth blossoming in your chest. The same way you’d felt when you saw him for the first time. The same feeling that you’d been dreaming about for months.

Hope, you realized.

“Hi,” He greeted. “I, uh, I never caught your name. I’m Marcus Moreno.”

As you gave him your name, you decided that maybe you could start by just saying thank you.

General Taglist: @theravenreads @marshmallowtraver @computeringturtle @adikaofmandalore @pascalisthepunkest

Marcus Moreno Taglist: @xjaywritesx

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno x you

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calumxkisses · 3 years

Text

The One That Got Away | c.h.

pairing: calum hood x reader

genre: angst (again)

summary: part two of ‘Take My Breath Away’.

a/n: hello everyone! here I am with part two! I’m going through a lot lately, my mental health is not the best and writing an angst sequel seemed to be the best choice. I’m sorry, I promise I’ll write some fluff next!

song for this part: the one that got away

♡♡♡

Smiling faces and dancing bodies were moving all around you, everything seemed to move too fast and too slow at the same time, making your head spin even more. Your breathing was getting more and more heavy and the tears flooded your eyes, to the point that you were seeing everything blurry.

“Take my hand.” Someone whispered close to you, inviting you to grab their hand. You didn’t recognize the voice but it was the only thing that seemed to be able to save you from that situation, so you grabbed it and, trying not to collide with the bodies in the crowd, you followed the body of the one who could only be an angel.

The evening wind hit your face as soon as you stepped outside, causing you to feel shivering all over your body and you cursed yourself for not wearing something heavier and more suitable for such a cold night.

“Are you feeling better?” The voice spoke again. With all that confusion you didn't even have time to see who helped you. So you looked up and a pair of big green eyes was staring at you intently, with a hint of concern hidden behind the irises. His black hair was now messy and several tufts kept falling on his face, soon pulled back by his hand.

“Ashton, I-” Words made it hard to get out of your mouth, not that you had much to say. A second before you were dancing with Sierra, a taste of tequila in your mouth and a hint of a smile on your lips, and the next second Calum was on his knees, with a ring in his hand and a broken heart just a few steps away from him.

“Sierra went to grab some water. I didn't know anything, I swear, he didn’t tell us anything.” He spoke quickly, each word accompanied by a shorter sigh. Panic took possession of his every single cell, and the worry in his eyes was increasing by the second.

Calum had made a marriage proposal. He had looked for a ring for her, had asked her father's hand and dropped to one knee, on his birthday, to propose.

He loved her, everyone knew that, but you never expected his intentions to be so serious. You never imagined someone else would be standing in front of him, ready to scream 'Yes!' and to hug what you considered your soul mate.

On the other hand you should have expected it. Calum had confessed to you his intentions, or at least tried, a few months ago, before she interrupted you. You were lucky to have had the chance to talk to him, a fortune that had become less and less present after Crystal and Michael's wedding.

Not because you walked away, your heart was broken but it was still beating hard for the boy, and you needed to have him by your side, but because he didn't reciprocate that need. He no longer had the need to share his life with you, because it was now she who controlled how much he drank at parties, who consoled him during the darkest nights and who made him tea on the coldest afternoons.

“How’s she doing?” You heard Sierra ask Ashton, and only then you realized that you were lost in your thoughts.

“He proposed to her.” It was the only thing you managed to say, even though thousands of thoughts continued to float in your mind.

“I’m so sorry.” Sierra simply said, her hand on your shaking arm and her eyes carefully watching you, ready to hold you as soon as you collapsed.

But you didn’t collapse, not at that moment at least. Seconds earlier you were on the verge of a panic attack, with a broken heart and a mix of emotions that gave you a headache. Now, however, you no longer felt anything.

Sure, a sense of sadness accompanied your every single breath, but you didn't feel anything so strong anymore.

What was left to do? By now you had lost everything.

Friday was no longer your movie night. You no longer spent nights with him star gazing after too many drinks. You no longer had to imagine a scenario in your head where you confessed your love to him - because it no longer needed. Calum was no longer yours.

Had him ever been? Once you would have said yes, you would have sworn that that bound you two had was too unique and strong to be experienced by anyone else. But looking back, in the middle of the night of that January 25th, the truth seemed to make its way through all those lies you had always convinced yourself: Calum and you had a good relationship, useless to deny it, but he didn't feel the same. He didn't feel butterflies in his stomach when he heard you laugh, he didn't smile at the sight of your smile and he had found someone who probably understood a little more about astrology.

"Sweetheart.." Ashton whispered, too worried about the thoughts you were getting lost in. He knew about the bad places your mind went and he knew very well that his best friend, no matter how hard he tried, was the only one who could come and get you back.

"I'm fine." You simply said, because you felt better, but you didn't know if the worst was over or if a tornado was preparing to overwhelm you.

"You don't have to lie, you can be honest with us. We are your friends, we are here to help you." Sierra looked at you carefully as she whispered words of comfort, ready to pick up your pieces if needed. Her hand was soft on your face as she tried to bring a few strands of hair behind your ears so that she could read your eyes.

"It was unexpected and I don't want to lie and say that I'm happy, but I'm fine." You kept convincing yourself. But a little voice, deep in your head, kept repeating Calum's words and you were sure that, shortly thereafter, you would explode.

Maybe you weren't fine, the complete absence of emotion was wrong and you knew something was going to happen. A desperate cry, a furious scream, a leap into the freezing hotel pool, whatever reaction was preparing your body had to be hidden from your friends. You were in pain, sure, and you were going to suffer even more in the days to come, but they didn't have to miss such a happy moment just because you fell in love with the wrong guy.

Ashton smiled trying to convince himself of the words that had just come out of your mouth, but he didn't believe you and even Sienna didn't seem to have bought your lie.

But they knew, deep in their hearts, that pushing you to talk about it wouldn't do you any good.

A deep sigh escaped Sierra's lips and, giving you a light pat on the back, she gestured for the door. "Do you want to go back in? It's cold out here and everyone is probably wondering what happened to you." Her words came gently out of her mouth, too worried that a harder tone would break you.

"I think I'll stay out here a little longer. Thanks for everything, I love you." You whispered, sitting on the ground and leaning your back against the wall.

Ashton gave you a kiss on the head before looking at you one last time to make sure you were okay. Sierra did the same before going back inside, followed by the black-haired boy.

Being alone was certainly not the best idea and you certainly would have preferred to have another shot of tequila dancing to some song you didn't know the name of, but you needed to breathe, to take a moment for yourself.

What will you do now? Certainly your plans didn't include Calum before, but they seemed to belong to a different you now. To a carefree, happy you, ready to take on the world.

But now it all seemed so different, a single moment made you a different person, with an uncertain future that certainly couldn't be in Los Angeles anymore. Your friends were here, and so was your life, but you couldn't stand and watch someone else be happy next to Calum.

For a brief moment, you blamed yourself for everything. It was your fault that you hadn't acted, but it wasn't the time to continue digging your own grave.

"What are you doing here, doll?" He whispered and he didn't need to see your face to know that something was wrong.

This was one of your favorite things about him: he could read you better than anyone else. You didn't need to talk to know what you were going through and often he knew what you were feeling before you even knew it.

Like that time when Michael jokingly made a comment about how you were dressed to go to a party. You were very proud of the choice of your outfit and you were convinced that those words didn't hurt you, but Calum knew that your big heart was paying attention to everything and he ended up spending the rest of the night telling you that you were beautiful, reminding you that especially when you lingered looking at the other girls' dresses.

Quickly you ran a hand under your eyes trying to eliminate any possible trace left by your tears before answering him with a lie.

"I'm just getting some air, that's all." You prayed that Calum would believe the lie and go back inside so he wouldn't make the situation worse.

"Then I'll keep you company." And there was no way to stop him. In the blink of an eye, Calum was sitting next to you, with his knees bent and his arms resting on them and the jacket he had been wearing divinely a few minutes before was now resting on your shoulders, protecting you from the cold.

"Thanks." you whispered without even looking into his eyes, you didn’t have the courage to show him all your vulnerability.

Calum noticed, as he had noticed your absence as soon as he got up after the proposal. It had seemed odd not seeing you again and seeing Ashton and Sierra running out with you, but he wasn't surprised.

He knew that something was wrong, he realized how your eyes didn’t shine anymore and how you no longer smiled in his presence. And he missed it. He missed laughing with you, going on a walk with you through the crowded streets, he missed seeing you busy cooking his favorite dishes, and he missed seeing you cry for movies. He missed you.

He knew that he had neglected you, that he had abandoned you, he had realized that he had locked himself in his little bubble of love and left you to suffer outside, watching his perfect world as yours collapsed.

He couldn't understand how things ended, he didn't want to admit his mistakes because then it would all be real, the crack in your friendship would become too big and definitive and he didn't want it.

There was no longer the couple that everyone expected to see drunk together, there was no longer the chemistry that had distinguished you for years and Calum knew you were sad, he had noticed, but he didn't know why and this was hurting him, not because you didn't open up to him, but because he hadn't been able to understand for himself what was happening to you. He read you like a book, as always, but he didn't understand the words he read, not anymore.

"What is going on?" He whispered and mentally cursed himself for asking. He shouldn't have asked, he should have understood.

And for the first time, you felt you had to tell him. By now he had made the proposal, he couldn't go back, but you knew you had to tell him.

For yourself, because you would have removed a huge weight from your heart and for what your friendship had been, based on mutual trust.

And for the first time in your life you used all your courage, a courage you didn't even use to defend your friend from the bully in second grade, and you opened your mouth.

“I love you.” You simply said, knowing of the enormous act of selfishness you were committing. He was having a nice night and you just ruined it with your confession. The guilt made its way into your body, but it was too late now.

Calum had heard loud and clear and the words kept repeating themselves in his mind. He must have known that from the way you had acted when he told you about his girlfriend, when you stared at her from afar at parties and from the way you left at Michael's wedding.

“I love you but you love her.” You repeated. The words came out by themselves, he didn't answer and the silence worsened your mood. It was the only thing you were able to say.

Calum didn't know what to answer. He felt great affection for you, but love? Love was something else, you taught him that. Love was what he felt for the girl who was waiting for him inside, with a ring on her finger and tears of joy in her eyes.

Calum didn't know what to say. No words would have been adequate, no words would have comforted you but a lie, but he had always told you the truth and he wanted to keep doing it.

"I'm sorry."

"Everyone keeps repeating it, you know?"

"I'm sorry because I care about you but not like you care about me and I don't want to break your heart." And he believed what he said. He loved you, he was ready to face the whole world for you, he would climb the steepest mountain to see you happy and he would break the leg of anyone who hurt you. But he didn't love you as you deserved, he didn't love you as you loved him.

"I know, Calum, that's okay. I don't want to lie to you and say I'm fine, but maybe one day I'll be better. I see how she makes you happy, I see that you love her and I'm happy that your heart is able to feel love. It'll be okay. "

You didn't know if those words were reassuring Calum or you, but you had to convince yourself. You had to believe it was going to be okay, that it was just another broken heart, that Calum wasn't your soul mate. It hurt to know he wasn't yours forever, but it would be okay.

"I don't want to say anything cliche but I want to tell you that you will find someone too. You will love someone more than you love me now. There will be someone who will know how much sugar you like in your coffee, what are your favorite books and that will bring you flowers when you are sad... it won't be me, but it will make you happy just the same. And I will be there, you know? Ready to accompany you to the altar if necessary. I will always be by your side. I know we are no longer as close as before, I'm sorry, but I'll always be there for you, okay?”

It hurt to hear that, but Calum was right. There would have been someone else for you, but it wouldn't have been him. And it was enough for that night.

Calum was trying to make you feel better, to sweeten your broken heart, not to make you lose the same hopes he had lost for so long. And you were grateful, deeply grateful, but the pain in your chest was returning and you knew it was going to stay there for a while, too long to be comforted by the very person whose party kept going behind the wall you were leaning on.

"That's the problem, it won't be you. It will seem stupid, but I always thought we would end up together, in my head it was all planned: sooner or later it would happen, you would confess your feelings to me in some place of ours, like in the park downstairs on a summer evening, or after an adrenaline-filled concert or under a starry sky, at the party of someone we don't know. It was all so simple, wasn't it? I was so convinced you would be my one, that I didn't pay attention to what was really going on. And then you fell in love, but not with me. You opened your heart, but not to mine.“

In the distance, a song was playing. You didn't recognize the song, not even the singer, but you were sure it was a sad song and a little wry laugh came from your lips. What a coincidence, you thought. Someone else has suffered as much as you and has found themselves writing your emotions on a paper, accompanied by a sad melody and it was playing now, now that you were going through the same.

You took a deep breath and continued.

“And I want to scream at you, tell myself that it's your fault... but it's not. What is your fault? None, you fell in love, and it's beautiful. Feelings are not commanded, we cannot decide who to love Calum. You have not decided to love her as I have not chosen to fall in love with you. It happened, though, and that's okay."

Calum kept silent, your words repeated in the silence of that cold night but no words seemed enough. What should he have answered you? You were right. He hadn't chosen to fall in love with her, otherwise he would have chosen you. The only one capable of always loving him, in joy and pain, in health and in sickness. And he had imagined where to confess his love, he had thought of the ideal place in which to express his feelings, but not you.

There were too many words pending, too many unspoken confessions and too many feelings at stake. You wanted to tell him how happy it made you to have him around, how you loved the way he paid attention to details, how he made you feel loved, accepted, appreciated. And how you loved the way he ran his hand through his curls, the way he cared if his old neighbor had enough sugar and the way he brought you melted ice cream, because he'd driven all over town to find your favorite flavor, ending up getting lost in an unknown street.

There were too many things you had to tell him, things that perhaps he deserved to know. But you couldn't do it, not anymore. Your selfish moment had to stop, because it wasn't right to ruin that special night, you had done it enough already.

"I think I'm going home, I'm sorry but I need it. I wish you happiness Calum, really." You said getting up and wiping the dirt off your dress. Calum sat there, his gaze fixed on you. His mouth opened for a moment, as if to say something, but then closed immediately.

"I know and I know I won't see you for a while. If you don't come to the wedding I'll understand, but I'd love you to come. You're still my best friend, you know, right?" In that instant, Calum felt something in his chest, a pain he hadn't felt in a while. He knew how everything would go and he didn't want to lose you. He loved you, but he knew things were going to be different now.

"You are still my best friend, Calum and I love you, even if you are a loser." You said with a smile on your lips, but one tear escaped your eyes, and another, and before you knew it, you started crying.

For the first time, Calum didn’t hold you. He didn’t stand up and whispered sweet words to you as tears flooded your face. There was nothing to do this time, he couldn't help you and there was nothing that made him suffer more than knowing that he would no longer be the one who would go through everything with you.

Would you have remained friends? Probably, but everything was different now and nothing would be the same as before, like when you read each other’s mind, like when you spent whole afternoons cuddling Duke and listening to old songs.

"Don't be a stranger, okay?" He whispered looking into your eyes and a tear also fell on his face. He wiped it with his hand quickly so you wouldn't see how he was suffering too, he didn't want to make it more difficult, but you noticed it and your heart tightened a little. After all, he cared and you knew he always would.

"Okay." You reached down to hug him one last time, for a few more minutes. He returned the gesture, holding you tightly.

And for the last time, you picked up the pieces of your heart and walked away, leaving the curly boy who took your heart, who protected it, who kept it warm, safe.... but who had taken too much care of it and ended up breaking it.

Calum watched you go, turn the corner and leave his life and something broke inside him too, because for once, he wasn't the one who left and he wasn't ready to let you go.

Maybe if he had used different words, you would have stayed. If he had thought carefully about his life, his future, he would have seen you by his side, ready to conquer the world with him.

Would that have been right?

"Calum?" A soft female voice whispered behind him as the door to the outside opened.

And in that moment he realized that it wasn't going to be right, that you didn't deserve to suffer further and that your heart needed to beat again, to be happy… even if he wasn't the reason why.

And so Calum got up, wiped the dirt off his pants, kissed the lips of his now fiancè and went back inside, and while everyone was having fun, he couldn't help but think of you.

In another life, maybe, you would be his girl,

You’d keep all your promises, you against the world.

In another life, he would make you stay,

So he wouldn't have to say that you were the one that got away.

The one that got away.

#5sos imagine #5sos imagines #5sos #5 seconds of summer #5 second of summer imagines #5 seconds of summer imagine #calum hood #calum thomas hood #calum 5 seconds of summer #calum 5sos #calum hood imagines #calum hood imagine #calum hood x reader #calum hood x you #calum hood x y/n #imagine

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bangteamhyuk · 3 years

Text

Seesaw (Teaser)

SEESAW (Teaser)

Genre: Mature/Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Friends with benefits Arrangement

Synposis: His outfits always in black, and if not black then it must be in dark muted tones. You pressed the button on the elevator floor, and positioned yourself at the edge. You watched his back from a distance, and turned away if he moves his head. You were always the one who start your small conversation with him: From “good day” to “good night” to “that’s interesting (whatever it is you find ‘interesting’ from him, even though you were interested in him more than the item)” and other things. You and your little crush to your neighbor who lived on the 18th floor.

Until one rainy night, all drenched and cold, and your eyes smudged all over with kohl, you found him waiting for you inside the elevator. His body slacked on the edge, hair unkept, his jacket barely settled on his shoulder while holding on to an empty bottle of Jack Daniel.

“Rough night?” he asked while you moved to the other side of the lift, pressing the button from the elevator immediately closing its door.

“Yeah, seems you had one too?” you watched him attempt to position himself upright in amusement.

He drank from the empty bottle before he replied and realized straightaway that it’s been drained.

An idea came up to you suddenly and you asked:

“I have more of that in my place. Wanna come over?”

“Good morning” you said upon entering inside the elevator. You walked past him and placed your back on the steel wall for support.

“Good morning” he replied, eyes blinking.

You opened your insulated tumbler to drink your freshly brewed hot coffee you made before leaving your apartment, when you noticed something particularly interesting from the lone stranger you’re with inside the lift. “Nice bean hat” you complimented.

“It’s a gift from my friend” he looks up at the elevator screen, monitoring the floors you two are in before it hits the ground floor. “That coffee smells nice, Ethiopian beans?” he turned his head a little to your direction, but was not trying to look back at you particularly.

“No, Tanzania. Peaberry” you took a sip and levelled your eyes to the decreasing number before the elevator digitial screen until it hits ‘Lobby’.

“Have a good day” you smiled as you walked pass through his side, letting you leave first, like a true gentleman.

It was always the same dry and small conversation. Always the same feeling whenever his around. Your little crush on the man living on the 18th floor.

——

It started about two months ago when he was running towards the closing elevator, asking for you to wait when you were about to push the close button upon boarding inside the lift.

Normally you would mind, and would even subtly pushed the button hard (about once or twice) so the lift would close quickly before the other person could enter.

But not this guy, no. The way his eyes looked at you, like a cat purring when it wants to be loved. The way he shifts his appearance from looking cold to being warm.

“Thank you” he panted, as he tried to catch his breath from running and crouched down on his knees right when the elevator door closed.

He was wearing a black oversized hoodie and a dark blue fitted jeans and black canvas shoes, but were all dripping wet.

You pulled out your gym towel from your bag. The one you didn’t get to use because, Matt, the cute guy your friend introduced to you during her wedding day, suddenly sent you a message asking if you had any plans for this afternoon.

Ofcourse you cancelled your “gym day” to trade it for one steamy workout session with him inside his car. Which leave you now with your gym outfit and stuff inside your bag perfectly unused.

“Here” you handed it over to him, feeling sorry of the situation he was in. Wet and dirty from running outside the street. He turned to you confused, unsure whether to accept the towel you were offering or not. “Oh don’t worry, I didn’t get to gym today so it’s not used...” you smiled.

“Thanks” he bowed a bit and gently wiped his neck and face as he pushed the 18th floor button.

You pushed 17th.

“New here?” you asked.

“Yeah, I just moved two weeks ago”

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

A/N: The day after I wrote “Moving On”, I realized how bittersweet it was to end it at that... I really enjoyed writing it, that I just sit back and revel at it (one of my personal favorite). Then it hit me... Min Yoongi is unhappy? I wanted to end it that way, but I just can’t 😫 . Not when I am currently obsessing over SEESAW, and the fact I lost count on the times I’ve watched his performance, on repeat!! (Did you guys watched BanbangCon21?!) Min Yoongi is the epitome of sweet and spice and everything nice 😭 like a cinnamon bunbun you just wanted to protecc. Thus, I feel obligated to make another one involving him.

It’s on the same (uni)verse of “Moving On” except that OC Y/N here is another person with a totally different personality (except for the love of good coffee 😉☕) . Can be a sequel or a stand alone fic. Nevertheless I really want to thank everyone who appreciated “Moving On” the same way I did.

A family just moved out of the house quite recently, it was very sudden and unexpected. We never really had a major argument that brought her the decision to move out, it was more like she was craving for growth without us in the background anymore. And I felt all sorts of emotions, but most especially melancholy. I learned that grief isn’t always about feeling sorrow over a person’s death. It may mean sudden changes around you too, like heartbreak. That’s why I drew all my emotions to the story of “Moving On” and wrote all reminders to myself that it’s perfectly normal to feel it, to feel being sorrowful over the situation, over the reality. Hence, ending Yoongi to feel bittersweet about the changes around him. Sorry been ranting stuff. Anywayyyyy hope you all enjoy the teaser. I’ll post it as soon as I finish :) Thank you everyone again!!! -Soleil 🌞

#Min Yoongi x reader #Yoongi x reader #Suga x reader #Min Yoongi x you #Yoongi x you #Suga x you #bts x reader #bts suga x reader #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #Min Yoongi x y/n #Yoongi x y/n #Suga x y/n #Bts Min Yoongi x you #Bts Suga x you #Bts Suga x y/n #Bts min yoongi x y/n

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adezahnae · 3 years

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Family Affair (Part 4)

A/N: Hi! I have to say that this is the last part for Family Affair🥺 I know it’s sad knowing that he is in the military now and I’m ending this series😭 there will be another one of him soon💕💕 enjoyyy!!

Warnings: None, betrayal, secrets are revealed, cursing, angst, etc..

Tagged People: @ahgasearmyfan @whoreforshuaaa @wooya1224

Wedding Day...

Your POV

I breathed out as I was in my hotel room and fixing my dress. I put the flower pin in my hair and grabbed the bouquet of flowers I have to hold. I looked in the mirror at my outfit and lightly smiled. I ran my hand over my stomach and giggled a little.

I heard a knock at the door and I went to see who it was. I opened the door and seen that it was Baekhyun. I opened the door and pulled him inside. He smiled and kissed me on the lips. “Good Morning my love.” He said. I smiled. “Good Morning.” I said back.

He kneeled down to my stomach and placed a kiss on it. “Good Morning my baby..” He mumbled. I giggled. He stood back up. “How do you feel?” He asked. “I’m fine! I’m just hungry..” I said. He laughed. “It’s only the baby. You barely like to eat in the mornings.” He said. “Can I get McDonalds? I want some nuggets..” I pouted.

He shook his head with a smile. “Sure. We got about 30 minutes until the wedding starts.” He said pulling out his keys. We walked downstairs from the hotel and went to his car. When I got in, I seen all of his stuff in suit cases and in boxes. “Wow.. you’re serious about this aren’t you?” I asked. “Yeah, I can’t live with our parents forever.” He laughed. I lightly laughed and looked out the window.

He placed a hand on my thigh in a comforting manner and kissed me. “Like I said..I got us..” He whispered. I nodded. “Okay.” I said. He smiled and started the car, pulling off. We drove down to McDonalds and went in the drive through for my nuggets. We drove out the line and made our way to the wedding set which was at a church near a river so when they leave, they are got on a cruise for their honeymoon. There was slow drivers and Baekhyun was getting impatient.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Could you all hurry the fuck up!?” He exclaimed beeping the horn. I giggled and stuffed a nugget in his mouth. “Calm down baby..” I said. He smiled and ate the nugget. “Okay. I’m sorry.” He said. We finally made it there with five minutes left to spare. We got out of the car and went inside. “Give me these.” He said taking the box of nuggets from me. I pouted. “But there’s only three left.” I said stomping my feet. “You can ear them later..” He said. “No, NOW!” I said. “Okay okay! Fine...” He said. I grabbed the last three nuggets and ate them. I took my lip gloss and mirror out of my purse and put it on.

As I was fixing the rest of my makeup, I felt something go around my neck and a gold shine. I looked in the reflection of the mirror and seen Baekhyun behind me, putting my necklace on. I gasped and turned around. “It complements the white dress.” He mumbled. I smiled and kissed him on his lips. “Thank you, Baek.” I said. He smiled and took my hand and gave me the bouquet of flowers I had to hold. “Let’s go.” He said as we walked into the church.

The wedding music began to play as my grandfather and my mom walked down the aisle. She had the brightest smile on her face and returned when she looked at me. I shed a tear of happiness and looked over at Baekhyun. He smiled as well.

My mom was now at the altar and Mr. Byun helped her up the stairs. He pulled the veil away from her face and smiled. The priest began. “Friends and family, we are all gathered here today to welcome these two beautiful creatures as one. Today Byun and Kim with come together as one. We all want to say a prayer over these two people here. Everyone please bow your heads.” The priest began to prey over the family and my mom and Mr. Byun.

Afterwards the preyer was done and they began to say their wedding vows. After the long wedding vows, it was time for the ‘I Do’ part. Me and Baekhyun walked up to our parents with the rings and waited. “Now, Carrie Kim, do you take this man to be your lovely wedded husband?” The priest asked. She shed a tear. “I do..” She said. “And do you take her as your lovely wedded wife?” He asked Mr. Byun. “I do..” he replied.

They took the rings and put them on one another’s fingers. “I pronounced you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.” The Priest said. Just when they were about to lean in and kiss, everyone in church gasped and exclaimed. “WHAT IS THIS?!” A lady yelled. Just then I heard moans..my moans... “Baekhyun, fuck!” I heard myself say. I heard him groan. I looked up at the projector to see me and Baekhyun having sex in the bathroom at the engagement party. I gasped and covered my mouth.

“ITS THEM TWO!! THE DAUGHTER AND THE SON!!” A lady yelled. Our parents turned to us in shock and looked at the projector as well. “WHAT THE HELL?!” My mom yelled. I looked at her with tear stained eyes. “Mom, please..” I said. “WHAT IS GOING ON BETWEEN YOU TWO HUH?! ARE YOU BOTH SICK?!” She yelled. I began to cry. “MOM IM SORRY!!” I said.

She came up to be a landed a smack to my face. I gasped and everyone stopped. “You dare to do this to me?! How dare you sleep around with your brother?! You are terrible! A whore!” She yelled at me. “THIS BOY IS TWENTY YEARS OLD! YOU ARE SEVENTEEN!! HOW DARE YOU SLEEP WITH A MAN LIKE THIS HUH?! YOU KNOW HE’S GOING TO PRISON RIGHT?!” She yelled. I gasped and grabbed onto her dress. “Mom please! Don’t send him away! I-I need him!” I cried harshly. “FOR WHAT?! SEX?! TRY AND GET THAT WHEN I SEND HIM AWAY!” She yelled turning away from me.

“NO MOM!! IM PREGNANT!!” I yelled. “WHAT?!” She yelled. I nodded. “I’m sorry mommy please!!” She scoffed and began to cry. “Why would you do this to me huh? Why would you go and get pregnant by a 20 year old man?!” She asked. “You put a baby in this girl, Baek?!” Mr. Byun asked. “Yes I did.” He admitted. His dad turned away from him. “SHAMEFUL!! BOTH OF YOU ARE SHAMFUL!” He yelled. I cried on the floor, shaking of fear.

Baekhyun came up behind me. “Come here baby..” He said. “DON’T TOUCH MY DAUGHTER!” My mom yelled. Baekhyun ignored her and helped me up anyways. “Who could have done such a thing? Who put this in the photo arrangements?!” The wedding planner exclaimed. “Shut the hell up Mary. I’m sick of your shit.” Baekhyun said. Everyone gasped. “WATCH YOUR MOUTH!” Mr. Byun said. “What?! How dare you talk back to me?!” Mary exclaimed walking up to Baekhyun. “You and your whore must’ve did this..” She gritted.

“As in whore, you mean yourself?” He asked. “What?!” She exclaimed. “I put a little video in there myself if you pay attention..” Baekhyun smirked. Everyone looked up at the projector again and seen Mary and my mom. “I need to go...” I heard my mom say, drugged. “Shh..let me do all the work..” Mary said as she leaned my mom back. My mom tried to push Mary off of her but she passed out and Mary smirked. She undressed my mom and began to kiss on her body. She took my mom’s shorts and shirt off and began to have her way with her, pulling down her underwear and her bra straps.

I gasped and looked at Mary. She was astonished and frozen. “And another about our little video, Y/n is 18, not 17.” Baekhyun said. Mary looked at him. “The time was 12:14 at midnight when we went inside the bathroom. The day after the engagement party was her birthday. So technically she wasn’t underaged when he had sex. So I CAN’T go to prison if she allowed it and was of age.” Baekhyun explained while he turned my mom. “You on the other hand can go because you drugged Ms. Kim and forced yourself on her.” Baekhyun smirked.

“Why did you do this?” My mom asked. “Because she wanted my dad to call off the wedding and you could go to her. Poor and terrible move Mary.” Baekhyun shrugged. My mom walked up to Mary and punched her in the face. “Rot in hell you evil bitch..” She growled. The police picked up Mary to take her out. She grabbed a gun from the officer and began to shoot. Baekhyun pulled me down and covered over me. The police dragged her out as she screamed. I began to cry of fear. “Shhh it’s okay..” He whispered. I turned back to see my mom and Mr. Byun just fine.

We stood up and was rushed out of the church. We got outside and watched the police put Mary in the police car. I hugged Baekhyun and cried. “It’s all over..It’s over.” He mumbled as he held me close. I looked up at him and he smiled. “It’s all over..” He repeated to me. “I got you..” He said. I nodded and hugged him again.

“Let’s go back home and we can get your things..” He said. “Okay.” I said. As we were walking off, I heard my mom call me. “Y/N! DON’T YOU LEAVE WITH THIS MAN!!” She said. I shook my head and got in the car slamming the door behind me. He started the car and pulled off. The care ride was silent. “How did you know that?” “What?” He replied. “That she..drugged my mom..” I said. He smirked.

“She’s not the only one who’s sneaky. I put a secret camera in her living room when we visited her that one time.” He said. I laughed. “What a smart boy...But what about the company? Since your dad knows about us, won’t he keep it?” I asked. He grabbed my hand and kissed it. “He already signed it away to me. It belongs to me now. He can’t get it back unless I give it back.” He said. I nodded.

We made it to our house and I began to pack the rest of my clothes. He helped me with the things in the car and we left. “Where are we going now?” I asked putting on my seatbelt. He smiled. “Home.” I smiled and leaned over and kissed him. The drive there was 30 minutes and I fell asleep. He woke me when we arrived. “We’re here..” He said. I smiled and jumped out the car. He laughed and helped me with my bags. We went inside the complex and made it to an elevator. He hit the top floor. I gasped. “The sixth floor?!” I exclaimed. He hummed. I squealed and kissed him.

He walked me down the halls and pulled out the keys. He opened the door and I gasped. “Baekhyun...this is beautiful..” I said. I seen that it already had furniture in the living room and everywhere else. I walked down the hall to our bedroom to see a king sized bed. He sat our bags down and smiled as I ran to the bed and snuggled into it. “Is it great?” He asked. I got up and hugged him. “Perfect..” I whispered.

🎀9 months later...12:35pm🎀

Our babies cooed in our arms. “They both look like you..” I said. Baekhyun smiled. “My beautiful girls...” He hummed as he kissed their forehead. They began to open their eyes and smile a little. “Hi Bella! Hi Belen!” Baekhyun gasped while smiling at them. He picked up Belen and held her close along with Bella. “Daddy loves you girls.” He whispered softly. “And I love you too Y/N, don’t forget that.” He said. He laid them back down on my chest and watched them sleep again. “Is it great?” I asked Baekhyun. He smiled and kissed my forehead. “Perfect..” He whispered.

#baekhyun x reader #baekhyun ff #baekhyun smut #exo x reader #exo ff #exo smut #super m x reader #superm fic #superm smut #baekhyun #baekhyun exo #baekhyun superm

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greenbriar-j · 3 years

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5 times the prince crashed the bookstore

and the 1 time the owner(’s grandson) broke into the palace

One.

The first time was an accident. Sort of. Not really.

Prince Gabriel did need to buy new ink and maybe a new journal to replace the one Gunther accidentally threw into the fountain the last time Gabe escaped the palace. If he was so pressed, though, he could’ve asked one of his attendants to buy it for him.

So, yeah, it was kind of an accident. Gabriel donned his “commoner” attire, hiding his immediately recognizable curls under a cap. The clothes he wore were bland, but he had the kind of figure that made every outfit stand out. He snuck out through the window, running to the bookstore to get as much time away from his princely duties as possible.

It was so boring, all of it. The paperwork, the meetings, the girls.

Full confession: Prince Gabriel loved girls. Adored them. Thought they were the neatest thing to be placed on the planet. He loved the neighboring princesses, their mother queens, the female attendants – he loved women. He could not for a second imagine kissing any of them.

Kissing Gunther? That, he’d imagined several times before the guard had caught on and assigned him even more paperwork. Fucking Gunther.

Not, Gabe grimaced, pushing open the door to the bookstore, fucking Gunther. Stop thinking about fucking Gunther. About fucking. In general. … You’re a disgrace of a prince. At least you’re not responsible for producing an heir.

Because he was the second prince. Because he was responsible for many things, actually, while also not being responsible for a thing at all.

“Welcome to Vanilla Pages, how can I help you today?”

The prince’s head whipped to the sound of the voice. It was not the voice he expected to hear, the almost frail, ever-loving voice of the old Asian lady who’d always been here the last few times he came. This voice was rich, masculine, deep – and, oh, the prince was very, very gay for it.

“Uh,” he said intelligently. “You’re new.”

The man smiled at him. “I’m not. I’ve worked here every summer since I was ten. Granny gets a little faint in the summer. The heat and all.” A beautiful hand waved in a beautiful, dismissive gesture.

Gabe had one thought, and it was this: He himself was feeling a little faint this summer. Somehow, behind the broad shoulders filling out the loose shirt, the scruffy ponytail, the calm yet twinkling eyes, the man was undoubtedly a big teddy bear. “Ah,” he said, again the pinnacle of intelligence towering over his whole kingdom. “What’s your name?”

“It’s impolite to ask for someone’s name without giving yours first,” the man prompts. “Your Highness.”

Your-? “The disguise is that bad?”

“If I say so, will it end in a death sentence?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. That smile is unfair. What the fuck. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t.”

“Then yes, it sucks. The name’s Phuong.”

“Oh, word? Good name.” I did not just say that. Who responds to introductions with oh, word?

Gabe could not stand to make any more of a scene. This was fun. It was also very embarrassing. He grabbed a journal without really examining it, checking out and running across the street to the bakery.

Gunther picked him up there after his own round of flirting with the baker’s daughter. There would probably be a wedding soon. Depending. The guard seemed surprised that the prince turned up on his own, but the prince thought nothing of it. He thought nothing at all.

Not about the name Phuong.

Not about those broad shoulders and muscular arms left on full display. The wide, toothy grin.

Not anything at all.

Two.

The second time was a detour.

“Gabe, I mean this in the most respectful way, but if you do not finish writing a birthday card to the prince of [other kingdom, idk], we will be having a war council within the month.”

“Gunther, he can’t even read. Why does it matter?” Tossing his head back and stretching his legs out, he acted like the brat he only was for Gunther.

The guard delivered a withering glare without adjusting his rigid stance. Even the prince has to admit that Gunther seemed to be experiencing physical repercussions for his job. In just a month, the prince had aged his friend by a year, or so it seemed.

Reluctantly, Gabe held in every protest dangling on the edge of his tongue and penned a birthday note to the two year old prince. “We have to deliver this in person?”

“Yes.”

Gabe groaned. He could not think of a prospect he hated more. In a month, he had not managed to gather enough poise to revisit his beloved Phuong at the bookstore. He merely whimpered the name in his sleep, according to an unusually smug Gunter. And now, to be separated by this meaningless trek?

“To the post, Gabe. Not to [neighboring kingdom].”

Ever the model prince, Gabriel drew himself upright immediately. “The post, you say,” he repeated regally. “The one three streets away from the bookstore.”

“That’s the one.” His guard, his best friend, smiled tightly. “I intend to propose along the way, and your stringing this out is not helping my nerves.”

His royal eyes wider than saucers, Gabe ruffled all of his curls in distress and excitement. “Propose! Why didn’t you say so, you big baboon?”

“You were sulking, Highness.” Gunther’s smile is wry, only a little amused.

“I most certainly was not. Agh, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.”

In his rush, he sustained more injury to his hands that day than he had in the past year.

“So…” Phuong glanced at Gabe’s hands, a quick flicker of dark brown eyes. “What happened to your hands?”

Prince Gabriel hid the offending bandaged digits behind his back. “A mishap while writing the world’s most useless letter.”

“Oh?”

“Its recipient can’t even read. OH!” Without thinking, Gabe grabbed at Phuong’s shirt, tugging in his hasty excitement. “He’s doing it, he’s-!”

He turned, only to find his face alarmingly close to Phuong’s. Why was the other man looking at him anyway? Did it matter?

The moment was broken too soon by a holler across the street. “GABE! SHE SAID YES!”

“OF COURSE SHE DID, YOU BABOON!” He fired back, pretending not to feel the heat rising inside him from the sudden close proximity. “He’s going to look so hot at his wedding,” Gabe muttered dreamily, still clinging with bandaged fingertips to Phuong’s shirt.

“I have something for you,” Phuong said suddenly. “I wasn’t sure when you would come back, but I have something.”

It was the best news the prince had heard all day. Seeing Phuong while getting his work done and receiving a gift? Only the gods could provide such a setup.

He was right, for once, that it was too good to be true. Phuong deposited a box of fanmail in the prince’s arms and turned away without a word.

Three.

The third time was a disaster.

“Did you read them?” Phuong asked after the initial pleasantries had been exchanged.

“The letters?” Gabe leaned on the counter. “Burned them.” He grinned, but back-pedaled when the joke falls flat.

Phuong swallowed, then busied himself wiping down the counter. “You burned them?”

“If I read every piece of fanmail I ever got, I wouldn’t survive, Phuong.”

“I see. I suppose- No, never mind.”

While he hadn’t burned them, Gabe hadn’t read them either. He had no reason to read confessions of love from women who didn’t stand a chance with him because 1) he didn’t like women like that and 2) he only had a certain pool of suitors to choose from. This thing he was perpetuating with Phuong… It would burn him eventually. But Phuong was still very, very hot, and Gabe was still very, very gay.

There was no promise of reciprocated anything from the clerk. He was simply doing his job, and Gabe was just a guy that came in a little too often for a little too long. That was all.

“What’s this about, then? Was there one I should have read? Is it from your sister?”

“I don’t have a sister.”

“Your cousin?”

“Your Highness,” Phuong looks at him, finally. Gabe doesn’t enjoy it, though. Not the way the address comes out so clinical, so distant. “All the letters had the same handwriting. My handwriting.”

The prince’s throat goes dry. “What?” He whispers.

“I’m closing the shop early today,” the other man responds in that same distant voice. “You’ll need to leave, Your Highness.”

Stunned, Gabe returns to the palace.

Each of the letters is one sentence long.

I hope this finds you well, Your Highness.

The stars in your eyes shine brighter than mine, yet belong to the same single sky.

You’re a brat.

Gunther came to the bakery today; I’m strangely disappointed by your absence.

A heartless one, you turned out to be.

The stars in your eyes shine on different continents than mine, it seems.

Foolish of me to write letters to someone I’ve only met once.

Why do I think of you so often, my most hated daydream?

There’s one for every day of the month Gabe avoided Vanilla Pages.

“Gunther?” He calls into the air. A maid scurries in instead, apologizing for the absence of his guard, a different guard trailing in behind her. “It’s fine. Will you bring me some alcohol?”

Four.

The fourth time was a mistake.

The very same night, a very drunk Gabe stumbled through the streets. It would be a prime night for assassination, if anyone wanted to put him out of his misery. A shame that no one did.

Mindless feet guided him back to the bookstore. Fruitlessly, he banged on the shut and bolted door.

An angry Gunther dragged him home, and Phuong was never the wiser.

Five.

The fifth time was purposeful.

“Your engagement was decided today.”

Hollow-eyed, Prince Gabriel blinked at the captain of his guard – a married man now. The wedding had been beautiful. As expected. “My what?”

“Your engagement, Highness. She’s a very pretty woman, if it’s any consolation.”

“It’s not.”

“Phuong is also in very bad shape, if it’s any consolation. Rea said so.”

“It’s not.” The words came muffled by the pair of hands covering the prince’s face. It was enough that he felt bad about everything. There was really no reason both of them should feel awful. “Gunther, clear my schedule for the next hour. I’m going to the bookstore.”

“You’re engaged now.”

“I’m aware. Betrothed men ought to tell other suitors when they’re off the market.”

The intention is clear, and Gunther seems upset. Unreasonably so. “Your Highness-”

“I have to, Gunther. I’m going to make him hate me so he can move on faster.”

“But you-”

“I always knew how this would end. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

He was anything but okay. He was gay and in love and engaged to a beautiful woman who deserved the kind of love he could never give her because he was gay and desperately in love with someone else.

Each solemn step of the way, he bid farewell to each part of the man he had inexplicably grown to love. Goodbye, beautiful hair. Goodbye, kind heart. Goodbye, brown eyes. Goodbye, biceps; goodbye, thighs. Goodbye, hands. Goodbye, stupid love letters.

He walked in, announced his engagement to the ground, and fled before he could see the other man’s reaction.

One.

Phuong considered his life in chapters.

They were typically large, vague categories of his life that were boring and tedious to live through. Childhood. Teenage years. Adulthood. Gabe. It was only this latest chapter that made any difference in anything he thought.

Before Gabe, life was dull. Every day, the same. After him, every day was painful – but the good kind of painful that perhaps would lead to something. The second prince bore the name of the messenger of the lord, and that had to count for something, didn’t it?

Apparently not. For Gabe to cut him off so quickly… If he had hoped to give Phuong any kind of conclusion about what they were and what they meant to each other, he failed spectacularly.

After milling around Rea’s bakery for half the day, he finally called in his favor. “Rea, can I… Uhm…”

“If you wait until sundown, Gunther will come home for dinner, and he can take you straight to the brat himself,” she replied before he finished the thought. “Just tell him how you feel, and if it goes bad, you can have free cakes for a week.”

“I’ll get fat and unattractive.”

“Honey,” she said in that pitying tone he’d so hoped to avoid.

“Can I… Have a free cake now?”

Prince Gabriel and Gabe were very different people, and while Phuong had known this, it didn’t really dawn on him until he saw it with his own two eyes.

Gabe – his Gabe – smiled and laughed at everything, had horrible posture because he was always trying to get that tiny bit closer to Phuong, and dressed horribly because he thought it’d work as a disguise.

Prince Gabriel wore tailored clothes that made Phuong a little dizzy because of how they accentuated a man who didn’t need accentuating at all. Prince Gabriel spoke with authority and walked with it, too. He oozed it.

Phuong didn’t know if this made his job any easier.

The moment the door shut behind him, the prince groaned and stretched and stripped off his clothes from the day. He flopped face-first on the bed like a child and immediately called for the captain of his guard.

“Is it okay that I’m here instead?” Phuong said softly.

Unexpectedly, the prince jumped ten feet in the air. “Phuong?”

A complicated series of expressions crossed the prince’s face. He looked like he wanted to be upset, but couldn’t, and in the end, he started to cry, reaching for Phuong with grabby hands and a bleeding heart. What a foolish prince, to wound himself like this, when he really didn’t need to be wounded at all.

“Your eyes shine with stars that are different from mine, but they share the same sky,” Phuong murmured, climbing into the prince’s bed and pulling him into a clumsy embrace. “If you had read that, I thought you’d have understood.”

“It’s not the same as telling me upfront. I can’t bank my decisions on I think.”

“I know.”

And the prince only cried more. This was all his heart had ever wanted, but it still didn’t tell his mind what to do. Could he afford to forfeit his engagement? Would he have to forfeit Phuong again, knowing what he knew now?

He didn’t know. He didn’t care yet. It was hard to care with Phuong’s finger sliding through his curls, with feathery touches of lips to his forehead.

“Gabe.”

“Hm?”

“I really, really like you. But I get it if you still have to let me go.”

Gabe tightened his arms around Phuong. “I won’t. I don’t want to.”

“Okay.”

Spoiler alert: I have no idea how to actually end this but I believe they figure out their way to get together and live happily ever after bc that was the whole point of this but I really can’t be bothered to write it out whoops

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love-and-monsters · 4 years

Text

Quarantined with a Tiefling

To help us all deal a little bit with the current situation, I’ve decided to write a story for MKM’s monster quarantine. Hopefully it will help lift your spirits.

GN reader X M tiefling, 3050 words.

“Look, I’m sorry, but you can’t leave.” The werewolf at the door folded her ears back and drew up her lips in an impressive show of teeth. “You’ve all been exposed.”

“That’s bullshit!” A wyvern leaned over the werewolf, showing off an even more impressive set of teeth. “You can’t keep us here. It’s not fair. I have family waiting for me!” He lifted an arm. “Get out of my way.”

“Sir, I am going to have to ask you to calm down.” A human wearing the same uniform as the werewolf marched over. She was holding a taser. The wyvern snarled, but backed off. “Look, you were all on the plane with her, so any of you could be infected. You have to stay here for a week to ensure that you aren’t sick and won’t transmit it to anyone else.”

“What if we can’t get sick?” a vampire asked. “It’s not far to keep us here just because we were on the plane.”

“There will be a few doctors along momentarily to screen for those of you who cannot catch diseases. All the undead will be free to go after proper disinfection procedures. The rest of you will need to wait out the full time of quarantine.” The crowd rumbled with discontent and the human raised her voice. “We will do our best to ensure that you are compensated for your time, but you are staying here.”

Several people approached her and guards started to converge on the area. You withdrew, back to the furthest edge of the room, away from the angry crowd. Several other monsters were there with you. A nervous-looking harpy was curled up in a corner, a naga was stretched across the floor, and a tired tiefling was slumped next to your belongings.

“Sorry,” you said, approaching him, “I just need to get into my bags.”

He blinked at you and shifted away from your bags so you could get into them. A yawn split his face, revealing large fangs. He attempted to lean back against a nearby column, but his long, curling horns prevented it. Grimacing, he lay awkwardly over what you assumed was his bag.

“Are you all right?” you asked cautiously. He focused on your with surprisingly bright purple eyes. They set off his dark blue skin in a striking way.

“I’m not sick, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said. His voice was clear and low, not raspy as the sick woman’s had been. “I had a red eye connecting flight to this one. I don’t sleep well on planes, so I’m afraid I’m a bit exhausted.” He sagged back over his suitcase. “I hope they set us up somewhere soon. I’d like to get some sleep.”

“Oh,” you said. “You’re not worried?”

“About the illness?” He shook his head slowly. “No. Are you?”

“A little,” you said. “More worried about my work, to be honest.” He looked at you curiously. “I work in museum archives. I can’t do my work remotely and if I’m not there, I’ll fall behind.”

“That’s unfortunate,” he said. “I’m a graphic designer. Just flying back from a meeting with a client. As long as I have my computer, I have work.”

Almost as soon as he’d finished speaking, there was the crackle of a bullhorn and a voice boomed out over the crowd. “Attention all passengers!”

You sat up and looked toward the front of the room. A tall minotaur was standing there, yelling into a megaphone. She was flanked by the werewolf and human from before while a few other uniformed people walked out into the crowd. “You have been gathered here because you were all passengers on flight 441, which, it has just been confirmed, was also attended by a woman carrying Mirkwood Flu.” A murmur spread through the crowd and the minotaur raised her voice further. “It is unlikely to cause death, but due to its rapid spread rate and its ability to affect nearly all species, we have been told to quarantine all passengers to ensure that this disease does not spread further.”

Angry yells started to break out from patches of the crowd. The minotaur seemed unaffected. “This quarantine will last a week, in which we will provide food and shelter for you. If any of you have contracted this disease, you will be treated for it before you can leave. Please follow the designated employees to the quarantine zone. We apologize for your inconvenience.”

The angry buzz of the crowd started to break into serious fighting in a few areas and guards converged on them. The tielfing next to you stood up, slinging a bag over his shoulder.

“Come on,” he said, gesturing with his spike-tipped tail. “You don’t want to stay here.”

There was a thud from the nearby crowd and the buzzing of a taser. You took a step back, then turned and hurried after the tiefling. A few of the security officers were leading a group of people through a corridor blocked off with plastic sheeting and you joined them.

“Were you near that woman on the plane?” the tiefling asked as you walked down the hall.

“I don’t remember,” you admitted. You hadn’t paid especially close attention to the passengers around you on the plane. The only thing you could really remember was that she hadn’t been in your row. “Was she near you?”

“Three rows back,” he said. “I recall she was coughing a lot. I didn’t think much of it. The air on a plane is so dry.”

The corridor opened up into a large room. Cots had been set up along the walls, each one with simple white sheets and plain white clothes sitting on it. One of the security guards at the door held out his hand to you. “Your bag, please?”

Both you and the tiefling clutched your bags tighter. The security guard narrowed his eyes. “Your items need to be disinfected. They’ll be returned to you after quarantine.”

“I need my computer,” the tiefling said. The guard looked unmoved.

“You will have your items returned to you after the quarantine,” he repeated. He held out a hand.

You handed your bag over and gave the tiefling a meaningful look. He gritted his teeth, but removed his bag from his shoulder and passed it to the guard. With a nod, you were free to enter the room.

You walked over to one of the beds and sat down on the edge. A doctor wearing one of the contamination suits they wore in disease movies approached you.

“You can step behind the curtains and change,” he said, gesturing to curtained booths toward the back of the room. “We’ll need to disinfect your clothes as well.” You glanced at the tiefling, half-expecting him to protest that as well, but he seemed to have given up on protecting.

“I’m not wedded to these clothes,” he muttered. “You don’t have to give them back.”

He vanished behind one of the curtains and you followed suit. You folded your clothes in the designated corner and changed into the slightly scratchy outfit they had provided. It was about as flattering as a potato sack, made exclusively to cover your modesty and nothing else.

The tiefling was sitting on the bed next to yours by the time you returned. The clothes weren’t doing him any favors either. He’d managed to acquire a notepad in the time you’d been gone and was sketching something with a stumpy pencil.

“What are you drawing?” you asked.

“Trying to come up with ideas for a new logo for a business. I’m supposed to get back to them by Wednesday, which apparently isn’t happening.”

“It’s not like you don’t have a good reason,” you said. The tiefling shrugged.

“They don’t care about my reasons. They care about results. I don’t have any job security. They can fire me for any reason. One of those reasons can be not getting back to them in time.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. There wasn’t much else you could say. The tiefling sketched a few more lines, then grimaced and shoved the paper aside.

“No point. I can’t reference my notes or send this to anyone without my computer,” he said.

“You could think of it as an impromptu vacation,” you suggested. He glared at you.

“Ah, yes. This is the height of luxury,” he muttered, gesturing around the room.

“Yeah, it’s not great,” you agreed. “Not exactly a resort, is it?”

The tielfing chuckled dryly. “No, it is not.” He stretched out on his bed. “I haven’t introduced myself, have I? My name’s Essen.”

You told him your name and the two of you shook hands. “Maybe we shouldn’t be touching so much,” he said as you broke contact.

“It’s airborne, I think,” you said. “We probably already have it if we’re going to get it.”

“What a cheerful thought,” Essen said. He sank back onto the uncomfortable cot. You stared around the room in silence. More people had entered, looking morose and resigned.

“This place is so boring,” Essen complained after a few minutes. “Here.” He offered you the paper, which he’d drawn a tic-tac-toe board on. “Play me.”

You played him to a standstill back and forth a few times before moving on to other games, like Pictionary and one that involved flicking folded paper between fingers held up as goalposts.

Eventually the hazmat-wearing authorities passed out trays of food to you. It was a meager meal that you classed as better than airline food, but only just. Essen glared at the tray as though it had personally insulted every member of his family. As you had learned in the past few hours, it was extensive.

“If they’re keeping us trapped here, the least they can do is offer us decent food,” he said, prodding at it with a fork.

“It’s not that bad,” you said. “I mean, did you really think they were going to give us five-star restaurant food.”

He rolled his eyes and took a tentative bite, mouth twisting. Admittedly, you were having trouble stomaching it too. The mushy vegetables and incredibly overcooked meat weren’t exactly appetizing.

The authorities passed out little toiletry bags after that and you and Essen washed up. He yawned and stretched out in bed, tail twitching. “Good night,” he said. He buried under the thin blanket, covering most of his head with his hands.

You tried to sleep too- there wasn’t much more you could do. But the strange environment and the noises of children crying and people coughing and shifting about made you uncomfortable enough that you couldn’t sleep.

Just as you were finally starting to drift off to sleep, you heard a noise from Essen. You rolled over to look at him. In the dim, indirect light of the room, you could just barely see his expression. It was crumpled, forehead wrinkled and lips drawn up into a snarl. It looked like he was struggling against something. His tail lifted against the blankets, untucking them from the end of the bed. He made a strangled crying noise.

You scrambled out from bed and leaned over him before hesitating. You didn’t want to just wake someone up. Then he let out a whimper and you got over your anxiety.

“Hey!” You took hold of his shoulder and shook gingerly. He woke with a start, scrambling away from you and nearly falling out of the bed himself.

“Sorry,” you said, trying to wave away the curious gazes that fell on you two. “You were making noises in your sleep. Are you okay?”

His skin was too dark to tell if he was blushing, but given the way he shrank back against the bed and averted his gaze, you guessed he was. “Didn’t mean to wake you,” he muttered.

“Oh, you didn’t. I wasn’t asleep. I was having trouble falling asleep, actually.” Essen gave a weak smile.

“That’s good. I’m still sorry for disturbing you. I’m fine, though.” He sank back into his cot. There was a stiffness to him, though, that made you a little uncertain.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he said, a little too quickly. He relaxed into bed and, after a moment, you did the same, eventually falling asleep.

You were served breakfast soon after you woke up and then you were left mostly to your own devices throughout the day. There wasn’t an awful lot to do in the quarantine. They offered you some entertainment, in the form of books and a child-friendly movie playing on a projector, but you still felt restless. Essen apparently felt the same, given the amount of pacing he was doing.

“I’m going to go insane before we get out of here,” he said. “A week? They can’t keep us here for that long.” He tugged at his hair. You could almost hear his teeth grinding.

He was interrupted by someone across the room bursting into thick, rasping coughs. A few of the suited doctors converged on them and, after a moment, they were herded out of the room. Essen dropped onto your cot next to you.

“You’re not feeling sick, are you?” he asked. You shook your head.

“You?”

“No. I feel all right. Aside from the aforementioned boredom.” His tail flicked, tapping against your leg for a moment before whisking back to his side. “You’re handing this a lot better than I am. What’s your secret?”

“Thinking about the stuff at the museum. I figure if I can’t organize it there, I can organize it here. I’ll just do it physically when I get back.”

“How can you organize it if you can’t see where everything is?” he asked.

“I have a photographic memory. I remember exactly where everything was when I left it and the layout of the room, so I can sort things in my head. I can also go over some of the files I read when I left, so I can write up a report on them when I get back.”

He perked up. “Really? That’s amazing. I wish I could do that.”

“It’s not that exciting. I just have a really good visual memory. Anyway, it’s kind of a pain. I can’t reread books or anything because I remember everything that happened in them.”

“But it must still be really useful. You don’t forget anything you read, so you must be able to remember a lot of the details you need for your job.”

“It does make me a really good organizer. I don’t forget where anything is. I could give an entire tour of the museum in my mind probably, because I have the entire layout and all the information memorized,” you laughed. Essen’s eyes went wide.

“Please, would you?” he asked.

“You want me to give you a tour?” you asked. He nodded eagerly. “It’s not going to be that exciting. I can’t actually show you any of the objects we have or anything. I’m not much of an artist, so I can’t draw them or anything.”

“That’s all right. I’ll take anything.” Essen sat back in bed, looking at you expectantly.

By the end of the day, you had managed to get through most of the pre-treaty sections of the museum, with a special focus on the tiefling settlements that had occupied most of the continent.

“Fascinating,” he said over another slightly rubbery dinner. “I never realized exactly how many tiefling civilizations powered themselves with runic magic.”

“Runic magic’s really old school. There’s a big section of the museum dedicated to it. Actually, I wrote my graduate thesis on a few different runes and their speculated uses. It’s really a shame that we don’t know a lot of the runes that were used back then. I was trying to prove that the rune for fire could be activated through combination with the rune for earth using an undetermined connection rune, which would create hot spots in the ground for warming their towns during the winter.”

“Could they be activated together?” Essen asked.

“I didn’t prove it conclusively, but I think I showed a lot of evidence.” You put your tray aside. “It’ll be nice when we can actually head back home. Maybe I can give you an actual tour.”

Essen lounged across his cot, yawning widely. “It’s a date, then.” You could feel your cheeks going warm, and you quickly hurried to the bathroom to wash up for the night.

Again, you had trouble sleeping. Essen seemed to fall asleep immediately, but before you could join him, you heard him groan and roll over in his sleep.

You looked over. His expression was screwed up again, tail lashing with agitation. Hesitantly, you reached over and shook him awake.

“You were, uh. Kind of yelling in your sleep,” you told him. He sat up slowly, breathing in great, gasping gulps. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

He grimaced. “I said I don’t sleep well on planes, but I don’t really sleep well anywhere other than my home,” he said. “I don’t know what it is, but ever since I was a kid, I get nightmares everywhere but my house. It usually takes me a couple of weeks to get used to a new place.”

“I’ve heard of that disorder before,” you said. “When I was researching old tiefling civilizations. You’re probably descended from the guards who watched over their towns at night. You’re having nightmares because your body’s unsettled by the change in location.”

“That’s nice and all, but I don’t really care why it happens. I just want it to stop.” He sagged against his pillow, blinking heavily.

“Scooch over.” He frowned at you, but allowed you to get into bed next to him. “Um. It doesn’t always work and there are some better therapies for it, but in the short term, having a person watch over you while you sleep can help.”

Essen reached up to rest his hand gently over yours. “You don’t mind?”

“No. I don’t.” Your heart pounded in your chest as he nestled closer to you, eyes closing.

“If I have to be quarantined,” he said, “I’m glad that you were here with me.”

“Me too,” you said. His fingers tightened over yours and he gave a quiet sigh of contentment.

#exophilia #tiefling #Monster Quarantine #monster lover #tiefling lover #tiefling boyfriend

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zenonaa · 4 years

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fukawa Touko/Togami Byakuya Characters: Togami Byakuya, Fukawa Touko Additional Tags: togafukaweek2020, there is one nsfw bit of dialogue right at the end

Summary: Byakuya and Touko go to Iceland for their honeymoon.

Comments: Day 2, traveling and outfits! Ice caves look so pretty ahhh.

***

Barren trees sat in ragged clusters on and around the brown mounds surrounding the gravel car park. In the distance, snow dusted the tops of black mountains overlapping each other, their silhouettes stark against a cloudy backdrop like ink on paper. The chill of crisp air masked any aroma nature may have breathed. Touko rubbed her gloved hands together before returning them to the harness she was meant to be finishing putting on.

In the Icelandic car park, she didn’t have a pen and paper to scribble down all the similes and metaphors that sprouted in her mind’s garden. Condensation puffed out between her parted lips as she stared at the distant mountains, herself small unlike a mountain and human unlike a mountain. Her curious eyes traced over the mountains’ outlines while her hands fidgeted with her partially done up harness.

Next to Touko, her husband, Byakuya, reached over.

“Here, let me do that for you,” he said, and he secured Touko’s harness for her.

A smile glinted on her face. He progressed onto snapping the straps of her helmet into place. Unlike Touko, he had taken his gloves off temporarily to give his fingers more dexterity. Nearby, others also put on their hiking equipment over their outerwear, but she didn’t pay them any more attention. They chatted in languages she didn’t know fluently, such as French, German and Russian.

Not that any of that mattered to her. She was here with her husband. Her husband. On their honeymoon.

“There,” he said, with his hands either side of her head. “It’s on now.”

That just left her crampons to attach to her feet.

“Thank you, Darling,” she replied, beaming up at him.

Byakuya’s hands cradled her cheeks for a few seconds more before he nodded and turned away. She could still feel his touch linger as she watched Byakuya walk over to a white tub by the minibus they all arrived here in. From it, he drew out two ice axes, and then he padded back to her. He passed one to Touko.

The lower shaft was straight while the upper shaft curved slightly. Their tour group’s leader, a round woman with a fluorescent orange helmet and bright blue coat, flourished her axe and said something to the group. After she repeated it in another language, Byakuya translated for Touko.

“Straight shafted axes are ideal for flat planes and moderate slopes. Technical ice axes curve a lot more and are for higher grade slopes. We’re just ice-walking through some caves, so we’ve got axes between those two extremes,” he explained.

“I see,” said Touko with a bob of her head. Her helmet wobbled slightly, and noticing, Byakuya clicked his tongue and adjusted her straps again.

Excitement vibrated through her body, but it came edged with nervousness. Yes, she survived a killing game. Yes, she survived a city where children murdered adults. And yes, she even survived her wedding’s afterparty where Yasuhiro drunkenly yowled into the karaoke machine. But here, she wasn’t confronted with someone to outwit, to outwait. This was nature.

Byakuya took his hands off her helmet, satisfied, and motioned to her feet. She still had yet to put her crampons on completely, just standing in them.

“If you haven’t worn crampons before, try walking in them now rather than wait until we reach the glacier,” he said.

Touko hadn’t worn them before. Never had reason to. Never had anyone to give her reason to before.

“Do you remember how to walk in them?” asked Byakuya.

“I do,” she said, and she bent down to strap the crampons to her boots.

Prior to the tour, the pair researched ice-walking online to give themselves an advantage, and the tour leader had gone over general things on the ride here that Byakuya translated. Touko inhaled and took a step forward while keeping her legs slightly more apart than usual, like a cowboy in an old western movie.

She didn’t fall over. Good. Easy. So long as she didn’t shuffle and kept the sharp edges of her crampons away from her faux fur lined leggings, then she would be fine.

“Good,” said Byakuya, observing, having just put on his own crampons. He fixed his glasses into place. “We’re ready.”

Confidence glowed on his face. Byakuya shifted his weight and Touko suspected he had meant to take a step, but he instead lurched and started to tip over. Her heart jolted as she darted forward, ready to catch him.

Thankfully, he wobbled and regained his balance at the last moment so didn’t end up landing on her. He straightened with a pout, shoulders slumping. She sidled up to him and hooked her arm around his elbow.

“I’ll put them on when we get there,” he mumbled. Touko rested her head against his arm.

Soon, the tour leader called them all together, and they set off. She led the group down a gravel path with chocolate brown terrain either side of them. Not snow. Not yet. As they trekked along, admiring the scenery, the tour leader rambled on about miscellaneous facts that Byakuya translated for Touko, such as how glaciers covered ten percent of Iceland.

After a ten-minute walk, the ground sloped down onto uneven, icy terrain. Clumps of brittle ice dotted the landscape here and there, mixed in with rocks of various sizes. The layer of ice and snow was rather thin so didn’t blanket the ground completely, reminding Touko of a dark wooden kitchen surface that had sieved flour splattered across it. Anyone yet to put on their crampons did so now, and once the tour leader gave a brief safety talk, they ventured onto the field of ice.

Touko squared her shoulders and marched forward, hearing the ground crack and grind under her feet. Initially, the sound made her waver, but the ground didn’t give way so she pushed on. She stayed close to Byakuya, using her ice pick as a cane despite the fact that even though the ground rose and fell, it wasn’t too cragged yet.

However, it still wasn’t flat. At one point, Touko stumbled on one of the many rocks embedded in the ground and shrieked. Fortunately, Byakuya spun around, catching her before she could fall completely. Touko slumped into his chest, first because of momentum, but then she buried herself in him with relief.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his axe planted in the ground next to him.

A grin spread across her face as she looked up.

“It s-seems I’ve fallen for you,” she quipped.

“We’re married, so I should hope so,” he told her. He peeled Touko off his chest, holding her arms.

She shivered and scrunched her hands together. When she exhaled, she could see her breath spread its wings and fly. Her eyes followed her breath upward, and she stared at the colourless sky.

“Do you think we’ll see aurora borealis tonight?” she asked.

To be honest, of all the activities to take part in and all the sights to enjoy here, seeing the northern lights ranked at the top of her list. She tried to imagine them now, imagine watercolours bleeding into a night sky, but the clouds absorbed her daydream before she could visualise even a few paint strokes.

“The locals can’t control the weather, but Iceland is one of the best places to see it,” said Byakuya. He let go of her and extracted his axe from the ground. “Still, the trip advisor said to have plenty of other things planned just in case.”

Such as ice-skating, hiking and visiting landmarks. Every night, Touko had stood at their cabin’s window, hoping to see the lights, but every night, she had curled up beside Byakuya without seeing any.

At least she got blessed with the sight of his face beside her every morning. That more than perked her up.

Touko shimmied her shoulders and simpered sweetly. “I don’t know, darling. We could spend two weeks in our cabin in bed and I would be more than happy.”

Byakuya made an inarticulate noise between a grunt and a yelp and turned away. She snickered a little as they set off again. After several paces, though she continued to walk, she gazed at the sky and hoped it could somehow understand the desire gleaming in her eyes that longed to see the northern lights during their trip.

If the sky understood, it didn’t let on.

From a distance, all they had been able to see were small hills, but as they wound through the ice field, they realised crevices ran through the terrain too. Some were thin, black dirt veins engraved in the icy flesh, some dry, some with hissing water that trickled through, ranging in width and depth. Some could accommodate a foot, others full bodies, and the walls either side of these indentions varied in height. Could reach up to an ankle or tower over a person. Then there were the different textures on the walls and mounds. Dusty. Chunky. Smooth.

Touko brushed her gloved fingers across a wall crusted in crumbly snow before moving on, able to see Byakuya a couple of strides ahead. She spotted a hole in the ground nearby and peeked inside. So far, she had noticed a few of them. Some could allow a human to slide down their throats into the stomach, while others were not wide enough to fit more than an adult’s hand into their mouths.

As for this hole, when she crouched down to inspect it closer, she reckoned a person could slide down on their stomach and perhaps find themselves in one of the ice caves on the other side. Byakuya sauntered back to Touko, who glanced up. He adjusted his glasses, continuing to stand straight next to her.

“Do you think we could fit down there?” she asked, focusing on the hole again. “J-Just the two of us? Such a secluded area... think of what we could get up to down there...!”

She hugged herself and trailed off, laughing under her breath, and knew Byakuya well enough to know without looking up that he wrinkled his nose.

“You mean like... kissing? In a block of ice?” he asked.

Her smirk grew, and she raised her head. Yep, his nose was wrinkled.

“If you want somewhere private, we have a cabin,” he pointed out. “We don’t need to risk getting trapped in ice.”

“W-We can still imagine, though,” she said. She stood up and leaned her hip against him, then her head against his shoulder. “I-Imagine... we tumble in and have to wait in a small air pocket until we’re rescued... while we’re stranded, we have to keep warm and share oxygen, so we... heheh...”

The ends of her lips climbed as high as they could go. Touko cupped one cheek and shuddered, keeping her other cheek pressed against Byakuya.

“This place is incredibly inspiring. I’m already... feeling a bit warmer,” she said.

“I’m not,” replied Byakuya, fidgeting his scarf with a telltale blush across his cheeks. “So let’s carry on.”

Snow crunched underfoot, and soon something else grabbed their attention. Up ahead, they discovered an ice cave, naturally made, with tunnels that they could walk through. Touko stared, mouth hanging open as they entered. As the tunnel wasn’t particularly long, light intruded and highlighted the lining of its throat. The cave tinged everything in a blue glow. In places, the texture on the walls reminded Touko of honeycombs. Ripples ridged the ceiling, motionless, frozen in time. It made Touko feel like she was walking through the bottom of the ocean.

Byakuya nudged up his glasses, looking around.

“During the summer, warmer temperatures and sunlight melt the ice at the surface of the glacier,” he told her. “The water drains downward through cracks, sinkholes and moulins, melting the ice at the bottom. This creates the area which we’re walking through now. It will freeze over again when it’s colder, only to happen again. Year to year, the formations change... we’re seeing a formation that will not exist this time next year, or even ever.”

Touko placed a hand over her heart. The tour leader happened to be nearby and stared at them with a polite smile. Byakuya said something to her in English, which Touko assumed was what he just told Touko in Japanese.

“That’s right!” said the tour leader in English, sounding impressed. “It sounds like someone has done their research.”

Much of Touko’s understanding of English was restricted to written form. She glared at the tour leader but said nothing, tugging on Byakuya’s arm and leading him away. The cave was a simple tunnel, and they could see the light at the other end, but Touko and Byakuya approached it casually, in no hurry, drinking in their surroundings. A range of blues inhabited the icy walls. Some areas were speckled black, while others sported clear blues and creases of white.

Not long after they left that cave, they entered another. This one had a lower ceiling, crystallic with icicles hanging down from it. However, though the ceiling consisted of translucent whites and blues, the ground was coal black. Touko fumbled with her camera, stored in her satchel, and took a few photos. Then she turned to Byakuya and snapped one of him.

So handsome.

Her finger pressed the button again.

His sandy blonde hair.

Dreamy blue eyes.

Kissable lips.

He looked as if the Gods themselves had chiseled him from their finest marble.

Touko snapped another photo.

Then another.

And some more.

She giggled dreamily.

Byakuya noticed and gave a small sigh.

“You will end up filling the memory card with just photos of me. Let me take a few,” he said, and she readily handed him the camera. He looked around, his finger on the capture button, then aimed it at her.

Touko stiffened, but he didn’t take a photograph like she expected. Instead, he positioned himself next to her, holding the camera an arm’s length away from them and pointing it at their faces.

“Are you taking a selfie?” she asked, nervously rotating the handle of her ice axe in her hands.

“Yes,” he said. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer.

As a child, Touko often avoided being in photographs. Classmates would take them of her to ridicule later. Some people were honest about their cruel intentions, guffawing in her face, but others weren’t upfront about it. Even so, she would hear their muffled laughter, pick out her name buried in whispers. Byakuya, however, played no tricks, and Touko relaxed as he pressed on the camera a few times to capture images of them together, then he checked to make sure he had taken a picture in case he hadn’t pressed hard enough without realising.

“These ones are a bit blurry. Let’s try again,” he said.

After he took another round of photos, they strolled forward, and he occasionally snapped a photo of something nearby. Their footsteps plopped as their boots stamped on puddles of water.

At the end of the cave was a lip-shaped opening, revealing a dim blue sky past its prime. Touko’s stomach tightened. Not long from now, they would either see the northern lights or not see them.

“This way, Touko,” Byakuya called out, waving his arm. He had slipped ahead. She hurried after him.

They investigated more caves, then an hour later, they returned to the minibus which drove them to their original meet up area. The temperature outside dropped, evening air nipping at their exposed faces, and before they retired to their cabin for the night, Byakuya and Touko stopped by the restaurant where they enjoyed kjötsupa – a traditional lamb meat soup, enriched with herbs and vegetables that balanced the savoury meat with low-key sweetness.

Throughout dinner, Touko’s eyes flickered between her husband’s face and the window that taunted her with a stubbornly black sky. All she could see were stars sprayed across it. No ethereal lights. A tremor in her chest made her feel fuller quicker, but though she ate slowly, she persevered, eating most of it.

Despite how full she felt, though, the fluttering in her stomach still had room to bat its wings.

By the end of the meal, they had warmed up considerably, and full up after their flavourful, peppery soup, they retreated to their cabin. The wooden plank interior offered warmer hues than the ice caves, brimming with lush browns, and not just the walls but the furniture too.

Byakuya and Touko went into different rooms to disrobe from their outer gear. Touko popped into the bathroom and came out in a pink onesie with a cat-eared hood, gifted by Komaru. Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Byakuya had changed into a set of fleece pajamas, composed of a navy long-sleeved top and checkered dark green bottoms. Hearing the door, he turned toward it, sitting on their bed, and raised his eyebrows but said nothing, observing her quietly as she trod over to the window.

Black sky. Black as the deepest recesses in the ice caves. No aurora. Not yet.

Assuming it would even come. They had one night here after this, and then that would be it. The ice caves had proven to be an enjoyable distraction, but now she couldn’t avoid the fact they hadn’t seen the lights. She heaved a sigh and heard Byakuya join her.

“What if we don’t get to see it?” she asked, clutching the window ledge. “We might not be able to afford to come here again anytime soon...”

Not with the Togami Conglomerate’s forced termination years back. Not after Touko’s parents drained her account dry years back. Not with their teachers’ salaries. Neither would trade in the lives they had now, not for anything, even for a chance to witness the northern lights, but that didn’t mean Touko couldn’t wistfully stare at the sky.

“Don’t get me wrong. Even if we don’t end up seeing it, our honeymoon will still have been wonderful,” said Touko. “I’ve felt like I’ve been on a high the entire time. It’s just... when I think of aurora borealis, s-such a beautiful natural phenomenon... I think of our relationship, and how magical it is. It would have been nice to see it on our honeymoon, like a mint leaf on peach mousse.”

As she peered out of the window, Touko imagined. Imagined herself and Byakuya, holding hands while the sky flared in front of them, when in reality the sky may as well have been a chalkboard.

He didn’t answer right away. She didn’t look at him either, absorbed in thought. Then, Byakuya piped up.

“I think our relationship is more than that,” he said.

Touko tensed and turned to him. His brilliant eyes were fixed on hers.

“What we have together is more than natural or a coincidence,” he explained. “The timing... Our victories, battles, and traumas... Perhaps, what we have together could be described as supernatural because of how perfectly everything lined up, as if we were destined to be together.”

His words blew a gust through Touko that both rejuvenated her and knocked the wind out of her. She breathed in, found herself unable to speak.

“Like you said, it would have been ideal if we could have witnessed the lights,” said Byakuya. “But being with you... is far greater than any force of nature.”

The back of her eyes felt hot and she nodded, which seemed enough for Byakuya, who took her hand and led her to the bed.

“Why don’t you read to me for a while?” he asked. “I packed some books.”

He showed her a selection of them, and she shuffled through them. Mystery. Mystery. Mystery novel. Then she saw a familiar cover and froze. Stared.

She went, “That’s...”

“... one of yours, yes,” he said. “I believe you published it during our first year at Hope’s Peak? It’s one of your books I haven’t got around to reading yet. I would like you to read that, if you would.”

“Of course!” Touko blurted.

The two settled on the bed, with Byakuya resting his head on her lap, and she began reading from the first page of the book. It focused on a girl who moved into a boarding school after escaping a cannibalistic cult, though she had never eaten human meat herself, and at the school, she fell in love with a student whose parents had arranged for him to marry someone who he didn’t connect with, didn’t love, who wanted him solely for his fortune.

Touko cringed in places at some of the phrasing. A voice in her head told her how she would write it now. How she would simplify this sentence, or use a synonym with a different connotation. Despite what she considered to be its flaws, Byakuya betrayed nothing, listening contently as she read aloud. As if he didn’t notice them, or even perceive them as flaws.

Initially, she put on a distinct voice for each character, but then stopped, though when she did, Byakuya spoke.

“That’s not the voice you did before,” he told her, so she resumed doing them.

Occasionally, Touko snuck glances at the window, and an unlit sky greeted her each time. Her heart sank a bit whenever this happened, but she refused to let it dampen her spirits, remembering what she had said to him and treasuring what Byakuya had said to her. She didn’t need to see the lights, not when they had their relationship that was infinitely more precious.

It still would have been nice though.

More than nice.

Oh, well.

As the night wore on, she felt herself grow more and more tired, and Byakuya’s eyes crept shut. Touko was tempted to call it a night when she gave the window of their room one last check, and this time, she gasped.

“I think I see something!” she yelled.

In her haste, she nearly dropped her book on Byakuya’s head as she scrambled off the bed. Byakuya sat up, grabbed their camera off the bedside table and crawled off after her.

A green streak writhed in the sky. He opened the window and began recording it, though he watched it unfiltered too. One moment, the light was shaped like a fishhook, and in the next, it straightened before curling up into a ball and melting into the weaker green hue surrounding it. Seconds after that, the green streak returned, yawning larger, brighter. It danced with the whole sky as its stage, and a faint green hue spread out from around it. As it soared, more vivid streaks of light emerged to perform alongside it.

Gradually, the entire sky became tinted green. Touko held her breath, gripping the window frame tightly. They could still see the night sky through the green shroud, sprinkled with stars. She propped her head against Byakuya’s shoulder. Byakuya shifted. Not to move away though. He wrapped his arm around her middle. Kept his hand on her side furthest from him. Held her.

Then pink light filtered in through the sea of green. It swam in the emerald ocean, twisting and leaping and billowing. The colours mixed together into a milky swirl that couldn’t help but ooze green and flare pink. Touko managed to tear her gaze away for long enough to sneak a glimpse of her husband. Byakuya was still engrossed with the light display, his lips pressed into a frown that wasn’t unhappy, just thoughtful. She turned back to the window.

Eventually, clouds rolled over, and the lights lost their intensity until the pair could barely discern them. They stayed at the window.

Touko wrung her hands together. Spoke first. “T-That was beautiful...”

“It was,” Byakuya agreed just as soberly.

He removed his arm from around her and gently deposited the camera onto the bed. It made a dull thump, and he picked his phone up off the bedside table. Flicked the screen on.

“Two ante meridiem. It’s quite late,” he noted, and she stirred.

Earlier, when she thought the lights weren’t going to happen, she had been prepared to end the night there on the bed. Nearly fallen asleep too. Now, however, she was full of energy, which meant she could pull off what she had prepared for earlier.

The thought of it energised her further. Electricity scuttled up her body. Burst out of her in a squeak. Touko twitched.

“W-Wait!” she exclaimed, thrashing her hands. “We can’t go to sleep. N-Not yet...!”

Byakuya blinked. She unzipped the front of her onesie and stripped it off, dragging the outfit down to her feet. His breath caught in his throat as she straightened up. He stared.

“Is that my underwear?” he asked, eyeing the black thong.

Touko nodded. It was all she was wearing now. Byakuya pursed his lips and turned his head to one side. Pushed up his glasses.

“I wondered why you were wearing that thing,” he admitted, referring to her onesie. “And why you got changed in the bathroom this time. I mean, that thing isn’t ugly... but...”

“Cat girls can be sexy, right?” she asked him, and she pawed the air with one hand for good measure.

“Yes. No. I mean, only if it’s you,” he said, getting redder and redder. “It’s just... It’s funny you did that, because...”

She wondered which funny he meant. Byakuya unbuttoned his pajama shirt from the top. As more of his chest became exposed, Touko’s mouth cracked open.

“T-That’s...” Touko started, trailing off. He pulled down his pajama trousers. She ogled him. “That’s my underwear...!”

Her red bra and panties, to be precise.

“It seems we had the same idea,” he said, gesturing to himself. “So I assume we also thought up the same thing that happens next?”

Touko whispered in his ear. His eyes widened.

“... I didn’t plan for that much anal, but I’ll take it,” he said, and he pulled her onto the bed, on top of him, and the night carried on with both of them smiling brighter than any lights that had been outside.

#touko fukawa #togafukaweek #byakuya togami #togafuka #danganronpa #dr3 #toko fukawa #fanfiction #one shot

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kashimos-hajime · 5 years

Text

aphrodite | b.b.

Summary: Bucky’s only in town for the night, and then he meets the woman who steals his heart without a second look back. Unfortunately for you, the small town girl, Bucky’s more than your heart can take.

WARNINGS: CUTE ASS FLUFF! for once, Bucky’s a little shit, unsafe motorcycle riding, pls ride with a helmet, and mentions of sex but like it ain’t that explicit, also sad ending but perhaps a pt 2? Pairing: badboy!Bucky x fem!waitress!Reader Word Count: 6.2k A/N: So I was inspired by Shawn and Camilla’s new song (Señorita) and the music video so I decided it was time to get saucy. Also, I say DEDICATE FICS TO WRITERS YOU LOVE RIGHTS. Therefore, this is dedicated to @jurassicbarnes bc i love her Masterlist

“That’ll be all for you?” you ask, scribbling down the last order of milkshake and fries for a family of three. Tapping your pen on your notepad, you put on a smile and slide the two items into your apron pocket, scooping up the menus. “Great. Thank you.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” the man responds, and you let the grip on your pen slack.

“No problem, and if you need anything,” you stress the word, “please give me a call?”

“We will,” the woman assures and your eyes flicker over to her. Your lips press together in a warm smile because they don’t want your pity. Instead, you look out the windows and note the rain thundering outside the little bistro. “Hot summer rains, huh.”

“Yeah. It’s gonna be a wet summer this year.”

“More fun for the little one,” you tell them as you wave at the tiny boy sitting in the woman’s lap. They chuckle before you leave them alone. Your eyes linger on the rain. You want to run out and let it fall all over you, soaking you to the skin, but you still have to work. Remembering that, you head for the kitchen and rip off the new order, hooking it on the line for Wanda.

“We’ve got a new order. Family of three with a little boy,” you tell her, leaning over the counter. Business is slow in your tiny town of yours, and everyone knows everyone. “It’s Ben and May Parker,” you clarify when Wanda arches a brow at you while she works. She’s great at micro-managing and you watch in amazement as she juggles the deep fryer, stove, and oven all at once, “with Peter.” You can see Wanda’s movements slow as the information sinks in. The two of you share a look and you just stare back until Wanda remembers she can’t let anything burn.

“I’ll make something special for them,” the woman decides and you shake your head with a smile. “I know what May will say, but tell her it’s from me.”

“She’ll know,” you promise, straightening up again. You still have an hour left in your shift, so you might as well make it your best one yet. Fixing your apron, you tuck a slip of hair behind your ear and glance around. No one needs your attention, but you do spot dirty plates, so you head over to collect them before heading back to scrub them up. Less work for Wanda means you guys can close up shop early. Slipping your name tag into your apron pocket lest it fall down the drain and you lose it forever — it’s happened before — you dunk the dirty dishes into the half of the sink full of soapy water.

You begin to run the tap just as the bell above the door rings up front. Sighing, you head out to see a lone figure heading to one of the booths, dripping all over your floor from the rain and your lips twist into a small scowl. Slipping hazard.

Still, it’s not their fault it’s raining in the summer. It’s just the weather around here. So you head on over there, your friendly smile coming up on your face on its own accord. You grab a menu on the way, and think happy thoughts.

“Hi. Do you want me to get you started on anything to drink?” you ask as standard but you find your words come out thick when the figure turns to look at you. Through drenched brunet strands of hair that stick to his cheeks and jaw, blue eyes pierce into your soul and you swallow, not knowing what else to do besides that and blink repeatedly, absorbing this gorgeous guy in front of you.

As you said, tiny town where everyone knows everyone and you certainly don’t know this guy.

He seems to have a lost for words, too, or maybe he’s just wondering what the hell is wrong with you. But one thing you know for sure, he recovers first. He tears his gaze away and you notice he’s wearing leather gloves which he pulls off to reveal those hands and you try not to stare as he tosses them onto the table before extending a hand up. He has a cute smile and you stare at him dumbly, not understanding.

“I, uh, I need the menu, doll,” he says and you snap out of it.

“Right! Right. Sorry,” you stammer, giving him the menu you’d been hugging to your chest as soon as you lay eyes on him. Heat pools in your cheeks as you try to get through the gist of the weekly special and that he should tell you when you’re ready to order. He scans the menu, listening to you talk with a slight cock of his head and you try not to focus on the fact that this is really how you’re going to get fired. Embarrassing myself in front of the new hot guy. Figures. His fingers trace over the words and you can’t help staring at the strength you can see in them.

“Just let me know when you’re ready to order,” you manage to get out at last and he looks up at you. There his smile is again, and his blue eyes squint along with it. He rakes a hand through his wet hair, pulling it back and you chuckle nervously. “I can get you a towel or something, if you want.”

“That’d be nice,” he admits, wiping his hand on his pants. Setting down the menu flat on the table, he holds out a hand that’s not rain-wet. “I’m Bucky.”

“Bucky, right.” You slip his hand into his and nearly shiver at how warm he is. His blue eyes pull you in like a hypnotic mist and your breath catches in your throat. “Bucky, okay, uh, right. Just let me know when you’re done with that—” You point at the menu, cringing internally at how you’ve suddenly lost all your communication skills— “and I’ll come take your order.”

“You said that already. Three times, actually.” And then he lets go with that smirk of his and you’re left dazed, blinking.

“Right. Um…” You’re a complete mess, looking down at yourself. You realize you don’t look at all your best, in a day-old uniform with barely any makeup and your hair oily, and compared to him, all black leather and blue eyes, you know this is not the best way to make a first impression. “Towel! I’ll be back, and, uh, just let me know when you’re ready to order.”

Exiting the situation as quick as you can before you can repeat yourself a fourth time, you duck your head to hide your red face as you hear him call after you.

“Thanks, doll!”

You give him his towel, his food, a milkshake and a refill. Then, you refund all favours you’ve ever done for Wanda for her to go and give him the bill while you clean the kitchen. You’re closing up shop now, and the Parkers head out, giving you a wave through the kitchen window. You wave back before pretending to busy yourself, knowing that his eyes are on you.

When Wanda comes back, he gets up and flips the collar of his jacket, tiny droplets of water spraying over as he tries to catch your gaze. Heat is rushing to your head and you turn away, pretending that you aren’t trying to sneak peaks of him out of the corner of your eye.

I need to take inventory, you tell yourself, heading to the back as Wanda deposits the money. Counting the stock of potatoes, you can’t focus and start from one every three seconds as you stare at the tubers.

“Y/N,” Wanda calls softly and you blink, turning to see her at the doorway of the storage closet, “how many potatoes do we have?”

“Uhm.” You turn back to the potatoes, trying to see if you can make a quick count as Wanda walks in, placing a hand on your shoulder. You’re busted.

“The guy out there wanted to know where my beautiful friend went,” she tells you, and you duck your head, that flustered feeling knotting up your chest as you try to stammer out something like you were busy. But it’s Wanda. “He wanted to ask you out on a date, but I told him my beautiful friend is busy tonight.”

“Busy?” you repeat, turning to Wanda who smiles. “Where are we going?”

“Clubbing.”

Bucky drums his fingers on the bar counter, taking a pull of his whiskey. He had needed to stop in the new town to rest before he headed over to Barton’s country-side home for the wedding, but the bistro he’d stopped by prompted an extra few nights stay.

It wasn’t the bistro so much as the waitress who’d served him. Bucky knows how to keep his cool around the ladies, but to say he hadn’t been momentarily stunned by the woman who’d walked up to him would be a fat lie.

Even in the stained waitress outfit, and the messy hair, you had been the most perfect woman he’d ever seen. Beautiful, in all ways, with your kind smile and rolling words. With your gentle hands as you pulled summer rain from his soaked hair with that towel of yours, as you told him the milkshake refill was on the house as a welcoming gift to ‘our small little town. Enjoy your stay.’

He needs to see you again. Learn your name. Tell you he wants you.

Bucky’s never believed in love at first sight, but he does believe in love at first meeting, and damn it if—

Stop. You need to stop thinking about her. He closes his eyes, letting the sound around him melt into a lethargic ocean, the air around him thick on his skin, hugging him like molasses as the music fades out into some new romance song that’s a hit on the radio these days. But he can’t. You’re in his mind like a brand, burning so bright and warm. Your eyes stare back at him in his mind’s eye, as if daring him to stop.

If he can find you again, find the most loveliest woman he’d ever seen to walk this Earth, he will, ‘cause then he’ll have the real thing.

Someone asks for a drink two seats down, and Bucky blinks out of his reverie, taking another sip of whiskey. He sweeps his gaze through the bar, trying to see if anyone’s worth his attention or time. Perhaps he can get his mind off his new infatuation for a few hours. Better than drowning in the little memories he has of his Aphrodite — just a taste, not enough.

His dark eyes flicker from patron to patron, groups of people dancing on the floor as drinks are spilled and food bounces into corners of the bar no one will ever see, left for the rats to feast. It’s a nice place, cozy in a retro way, with a jukebox and neon signs. The club is plunged in red light, and he can barely discern one face from another as the crowd parts in a way he can only claim is destiny.

There you stand beneath the neon lights.

He sets down his glass of whiskey harder than anyone ever intends to when they’re in their right state of mind and just stares, unable to take his eyes off you, the way that fabric wraps around you. The way the sequins of your black dress seem to darken underneath the red light as you speak to your waitress friend from where you stand around a table. You’re holding a mojito, or something, sipping on that straw and then he’s up, wading through the crowd.

People push up against him, whether intentional or not, but he only has eyes on you.

Your hair is pinned away from your face, but the rest spills down your shoulders, brushing over your arms as you turn to your friend. More girls join you, giggling and flushed and smiling, but he only has eyes for you.

Bucky rakes a hand through his hair, making sure he can soak in every inch of you as your friend points at him. He strides on over, an involuntary smirk making its way onto his face as you set down your mojito on the table. Your friends all stare, but he only has eyes for you.

“Bucky,” you say at last and the sound of your voice is a masterpiece, a symphony of colours he’s never seen before and places he wishes he’s been to. “I didn’t expect to see you here!” You shout because the music pumping in Bucky’s veins means it’s in his blood, roaring in his ears. Maybe it’s pounding in your head too. Your friends tell you they’re going to get drinks. You don’t seem to hear. Your eyes are fixed on him.

“Well, I wasn’t planning to be here,” he replies and you blink, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth as you look at him. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you let out a sigh. It puffs against his cheek and smells like mint and sugar. “I just wanted to get wasted,” he adds, leaning in closer. His fingers reach for your wrist as you shiver, and your eyes flicker shut, eyelashes dusting your cheeks. His lips brush the shell of his ear and he hums playfully along to the music. His fingers coax your wrist into his grip as his other hand lands on your hip. Your eyes open drowsily, like you’re Sleeping Beauty and he’s your prince, and you search his gaze. In the red light, the shadows of your face darken and cause you to look cut from marble, a statue of Greece, beauty made eternal.

Your other hand finds his bicep and he pulls you into him. Your chests collide. You squeeze and he smirks, knowing you’re feeling what is there. Leather and hard muscle and power.

“Then you came to the right place,” you breathe, chin tilting and his head falls to your neck. Your hand on his bicep slides up to his shoulder as he presses a kiss to your neck and you tug, oh so slightly at his jacket like you want to tear it off. He’d let you. So much for a stumbling mess, Bucky muses. Cats come out to play at night. “Bucky, I—” He lifts his head so your gazes meet again, and your lips are trembling, eyes wide with something dark and wild and feral.

“What is it, Aphrodite?” he whispers, tilting his head as his hand holding your wrist slides up your arm slowly, intentionally, and you react in a way he knows you will. You gasp, and his smirk grows. Your hand flies his elbow, stalling him. Curious, his blue eyes meet yours again. “Wanna dance?”

“I—” The noise comes out strangled and you blink, inhaling sharply. When your eyes open again, what is left is who you were earlier that day. The quiet, shy, stammering woman who’d taken his breath away. You shake your head despite what lies within your eyes. “I have to head home. Busy day tomorrow.” In seconds, you gather your clutch and slam a few bills on the table.

“Wait—” Bucky reaches after you but you’re smaller than he is, and you slink into the crowd. You’re a nymph, beautiful and mystical and magical and maybe you aren’t quite real enough to touch. Bucky isn’t sure. He chases after you, pulling through the crowd — people dancing and laughing and drinking — and he thinks maybe. He catches glimpses of the color of your hair, a flash of your eyes, a slip of your dress.

He’s on the wrong side of the bar when he hears the bell above the door chime, and he knows.

You’re gone, and so is his heart.

He returns to his seat at the bar, slams a fifty on the counter and asks for shots instead of whiskey. Maybe then it’ll chase the ghost of you out of his head.

He doesn’t come for you, like you thought he would, and Wanda doesn’t seem to know if he’s gone, too.

It’s three days before you have to accept the fact that he’s gone. Gone to some other town with some other girl. Guys like him have no trouble getting girls.

You didn’t expect you to be grieving the loss of someone you don’t know, but then again, you’ve never felt so drawn to someone before. On your break, you eat a protein bar and take your hair down for your fifteen minutes and head outside for a breather. The other waitress is in today, and although it’s a busy hour at night, you think the lull in business can give you an extra few seconds. The wind leans into your face, smelling of petrichor and summer sugar, and you know summer rain’s gonna come again. That just reminds you of him, so you push that thought out of your head.

You need to head back inside. You’re closing tonight, so you might as well work to finish early. You count money, clean dishes, wipe down the windows and counters early and mop the floors. Wanda cleans up the kitchen and the last patron leaves thirty minutes before closing, meaning you can leave right on the dot. Wanda and Dot, the other waitress, clock out early as you begin taking stock of the last few ingredients for next day. They’ll need to order soon, otherwise there won’t be any more apples left for Peter Parker’s fourth birthday pie.

“I’m heading home. You sure you’re gonna be okay?” Wanda asks, lingering around the entrance to the kitchen and you send her a tired smile. You can’t read her expression that well when you don’t linger on her face but you know her tone of voice. “You know, it’s okay to miss him.”

You laugh to cover the abyss in your heart. “I don’t miss him. I didn’t even know him.” Wanda looks at you with an ounce of skepticism and you roll your eyes. The hollow feeling in your chest is temporary. “Besides, I’ll be a-okay with my apples and tomatoes.” Wanda wears her tentative smile like a shield as if you’ll blow up at her. She uncrosses her arms, looks at you once more. You sigh. You’re exhausted. “Wanda, go home to Vis. I’ll lock up.”

“Alright. Call me,” she says in farewell and the chime of the bell above the door rings, leaving you alone. You finish up taking inventory and begin locking up, turning off the lights and making sure everything’s sealed. Heading out the back door that instantly locks once it’s closed, you pocket the keys and head out, pulling your hair out of its bun. And then you spot the figure sitting on the couch outside and you slow down, turning to look.

Bucky sits up, eyes wide and lips slightly parted and you smile incredulously. He leans forward, almost half way to standing. You pause mid way through adjusting the strap of your bag and then turn around, a silly smile working its way onto your face as he gets up, scrambling after you.

“Wait! Aphrodite, wait.” You cross your arms as he runs in front of you, towering over you as he does and his blue eyes warmer than any summer rain. “I… I don’t even know your name.”

“Why are you here, Bucky?” you ask quietly, and he runs that hand through his hair again. Aphrodite, you realize, warmth gathering in your stomach. A voice tells you, He thinks you’re beautiful. As beautiful as a goddess. Still, you can’t help the hurt in your voice as you add, “I thought you left.”

“I was thinking of what to say. Thought you didn’t wanna see me,” he mumbles and your eyebrows gather together. Before you say anything, though, he continues, “But I came to ask… ask if you wanted to take a ride.”

His motorcycle is parked a few steps off and you turn to look at the black beast, huge and shining and sleek. It’ll roar when you tear down streets. You know it.

“Yes.”

He helps you on before swinging on in front of you. His ass presses against you as he grabs the handlebars. “Don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around me, Aphrodite,” he murmurs and instantly, your arms encircle your waist and you melt against him. Your legs press against his thighs and he kicks off. The motorcycle purrs and vibrates beneath you as you begin speeding down the street and towards the beach.

The wind rips at your hair and face as the world around you becomes a blur. The night is quiet besides the bike, splitting the night apart with its engine and there’s the smell of sea and salt on the wind. You haven’t been to the beach in forever.

You hug Bucky tighter when he pulls a smooth turn down a road that leads out of the town. Bucky feels right beneath your palms, all hard and soft lines, leather, and pure muscle where his thighs are concerned. He checks up on you at a stop light, his cobalt blue gaze drawing you into him until you’re leaning against him, cheek against his back as you two start off again. You can hear his heart above the thunder of the motorcycle, and the wind stings your nose but the smell of him stings more.

He is one of the seven deadly sins, lust on legs, smoke and cedarwood and sweat, and you cling onto him like he’s your saving grace. Your legs tighten and he takes the chance to eye you out of the corner of his eye, turning his head just enough to take a glimpse of you as a Welcome sign for your city comes and goes, a spot in the distance within seconds.

“Focus on the road, Bucky,” you whisper and he listens. You press your lips against the shell of his ear, eyes focusing on the blurring road ahead. The only thing that’s clear is the man you have every inch of yourself pressed again. “And my name is Y/N.” With every word, your lips brush against his ear and you notice the knuckles of his hands blanche remarkably.

“Aphrodite is better,” he tells you through gritted teeth. The muscles in his jaw twitch and oh, how much you want to touch him except if he gets distracted, you both die. Still your hands play with the edges of his jacket, until he scolds you. “Down, girl. I needa focus.”

Alright, baby.” Your words cause a shiver to run down his spine and you feel it as he twists the throttle. Everything is nothing more than colours — the sky, nothing more than a smudge of black ink, the moon, a streak of white. Your arms tighten around his waist. He leans and swerves, boots barely brushing the asphalt and you taste the burn of rubber in your mouth just like how the smell of Bucky bleeds into your nose.

When you reach the beach, your hair is tousled and you’re panting because the rush of riding a motorcycle has you breathless. Your heart hammers in your throat, almost like it’s trying to speed out of your chest and you swallow it down to your chest, the adrenaline pumping into your smile as Bucky kicks the stand and parks the motorcycle on the pavement

Bucky places a hand on your thigh, swinging his leg off and getting up. The weight of his huge hand, heavy and hot, has you breathing even harder. He’s not wearing his gloves and you can feel the heat of him on your bare thigh. The day dress you’d worn to work and wear now has hitched up your legs, and he gently caresses your thigh as he walks around the bike.

His hand drifts over your skin, across your hips, to your other thigh and then his other hand finds your hip. He lifts you off the seat, putting you down with ease and his skin burns you deliciously. The weight of his hands on your hips is like the best kinda belt and you breathe him in, feel his heat. He licks his lips. You find yourself hungry for something that isn’t food.

“Come on. Beach is empty.” He takes you by the hand, dragging you to the open sand. He dumps his jacket in the sand, pulling off his boots and socks, and you stare before letting your bag drop and toeing off your sandals. You walk out, feeling the summer sand warm beneath your toes as sea winds sweep between your legs and arms. Bucky follows after you, taking hold of your hand and you let him lead you into some dance you somehow both know.

You sway in time to invisible music, as he leans down to press his forehead against yours. Your arms loop around his neck, and you wonder if it’s possible to be drunk off someone else’s presence.

You twirl through the sand, the gentle lap of the waves your own choir as you push off of Bucky, arms spread out and your head tilts back, letting sapphire moonlight spill all over your face. A carefree smile splits your face apart and you close your eyes. You could stay here forever.

Then, strong arms scoop you up and your legs wrap around a thick waist. Bucky spins you around, his eyes never leaving yours and you touch his face, the rough of his stubbe prickling at your palm as his hands hoist you up from the bottom of your thighs and ass.

“Bucky?” you mumble, completely lost in the way his eyes shift from navy to cobalt to sky. He stops spinning. His lips are parted, tongue flickering out to wet his lips again and something takes a hold of you. This man chose you. The notion blows your mind.

Your hands flat against his cheeks, you decide that if this is real, you might as well take what you can get. So you kiss him, and he bleeds whiskey and honey and all that is sweet in this world.

There is summer rain.

That’s the first thing Bucky thinks of as he wakes up. The soft sound of rain splattering windows and tiles and walls, along with the warmth in his gut is a welcomed way to start a morning. Feeling the space beside him, he finds it empty and rolls over, glancing at the window. The tequila sunrise glows golden as you force apart the curtains of the hotel room. Bathed in its glory, you look out the window. So, it rains on a sunrise, does it? Bucky might just start liking this town even more than the people in it.

You continue to stare out the window, and Bucky takes the chance admire your form, covered in nothing but a knitted cardigan that reveals everything and not enough. Bucky squints against the glaring sun as it rises, and moans, catching the attention of his Aphrodite. You turn, tugging your cardigan together as if to preserve decency.

“C’mere,” he mumbles, arms spread out, and you chuckle. Long gone is the shy, stammering waitress with the gentle hands. Here you are, in all your glory; his little minx, his seductress, his bewitching witch. He sits up, naked as they day he was born and you sit in his lap, sinking into him with a soft sigh. “My Aphrodite,” he whispers, hoarse from sleep and other reasons. Your lips meet his again, and you tastes like things he can’t name as your eyes slide shut. Your kiss is toxic, just like the night before, and his hands grab at your shoulders from behind, grounding you to him.

He needs this poison more than he needs to breathe.

His mouth opens underneath yours and you groan, taking hold of his face. Hooked on your tongue, his eyes close and he bites at your lip. His hands peel your cardigan off your body, and you fling it off, returning your hands to his neck and jaw, shoulders and back, like magnets. You’re so warm, the sun in his arms, and you fit so perfectly in his hands as your lips glide to his neck.

“Don’t stop, Buck,” you whisper, moan, plead. Bucky tilts your jaw back to him with a crooked finger, bright eyes meeting yours. You are something ferocious and wild and enchanting. Bucky wonders what he wouldn’t do for you. “We stay in here, alright? We never have to leave.” You duck down to his neck again. He bites his lip, raising his head to give you better access as his fingers scratch down your back. Your hands trail down his shoulders and sides, scratching and clawing and you’re biting and touching as he sucks in a long breath, lips finding the plane of your collarbone. You taste like summer rain, sweet cream, and sweat, and he wants to devour you. “You hear me?”

“We don’t leave,” he whispers, and he takes you by the hips, twisting around so he pins you to the bed. The white covers are clouds around your skin, and maybe you really are a goddess. Flushed cheeks, wine-stained lips, you sing the prettiest song for him.

“Bucky,” you sigh, lovely and deeply, the sweetest harp, the most beautiful angel.

“We stay here,” he promises, pressing ragged, messy kisses against your mouth as he speaks, “and I love you every second until I die.” His hips press flush against yours and when his lips find the column of your sweet, silky little throat, he wonders how he’s gonna tell you he has a wedding to get to. He wonders how he’s even gonna manage to leave this hotel room that has your lips and skin and heat and smell.

How is Adonis to leave his Aphrodite?

“You have to go, don’t you?” you ask as you place the strawberry milkshake between the two of you. Bucky sits at the bar, as you get ready for the day to start. The blinds are filtering the sun through the bistro, the doors locked still. The rain has stopped and it smells like fresh pavement out there. You’re here before opening hours, tugging Bucky into the place by your interlaced fingers. On your arm is a poem of numbers and dashes — Bucky’s number — and on the back of his hand is yours.

The strawberry milkshake is topped with whipped cream and a cherry, and there are two straws poking out of the top. He takes a sip. You sigh. Neither of you comment about the bruise under the handkerchief you have tied around your neck or the one blooming on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, just visible when your collar shifts. Or the marks on the thighs where his lips had undressed you the night before. And that morning. And twenty minutes ago.

“Y/N,” he begins but you merely smile sadly, knowingly. He sighs, pushing the milkshake towards you. You take a sip. It’s not the sweetest thing you’ve tasted today. Bucky’s lips can give anyone a toothache. His blue eyes hooded, he grabs your hand on the counter, leans over the counter, and kisses your swollen lips.

Your hands wrench in his hair, tugging him towards you as he merely cups your face, kissing you sweeter than you want. You want rough, you want something harder. You want him to hurt you so it’s easier to let him go.

“I have a wedding to get to,” he whispers and it sounds a lot like farewell. You want him to ask you to come. You want him to even think about it.

“Bucky…” you begin, unable to finish. He smiles, a whole tragedy in the twist of his lips and the burning in his eyes. His hands slide down your neck, your shoulders, lingering little touches you’ll never have again.

Because your life is here, and his life is somewhere far from your tiny little bistro.

You can’t even pretend you don’t need him.

“It’s so damn hard to leave ya, doll,” he murmurs, fingers playing with yours. You push off the counter, tearing yourself away and he lowers his head. “Y/N, please.” You walk around the counter and he stands, the strawberry milkshake forgotten, and you try to calm the whirling hurricane in your heart. You try to ignore the aching pain, the grief you feel for no goddamn reason.

And then you’re running across the bistro, running for his arms that spread out and you jump into him, legs wrapping around him like he’s the only thing keeping you from drowning. One hand wraps around your waist and the other traces the curve of your thigh as he closes his eyes, hugging you to death.

“You don’t forget me, alright?” you whisper fiercely and Bucky’s hugging you tighter, holding you like he’s gonna lose you.

“Like I could ever forget you, Aphrodite,” he mumbles into your hair and your face nuzzles into his neck, feeling the warmth of him so different than the heat last night. You wonder if he’s gonna take your heart with you when he goes or just half. I hope this meant something to you, Bucky Barnes. “God, doll, if you ever call my name, you know I’m gonna be comin’ for ya.” He sets you back down, but you’re not quite sure your legs touch the ground. Your knees wobble and you hold onto his biceps, taking in his face — memorizing every tiny scar, freckle, blemish of his face, the colour of his eyes, the rosey touch and shade of his lips. You’re nearly chest to chest, and when his hands cup your face, his lips press against yours, tentative. You feel the tears slip down your face when he pulls away.

His thumb brushes away your tears, kisses every single trail, every new tear he’s missed, tells you you look beautiful and kisses your cheek.

It feels a lot like I love you.

This is goodbye. You wrap fingers around his neck, pull him down for a hard kiss of teeth and lips and tongue. He kisses back, the mess of both of you stumbling until you’re against the counter, one arm around your waist his other against the bar and your hands tangle in his hair. You have enough time for one more, you don’t care if it's right here. It might be enough of a reason for him to stay—

But he tears himself away before he can pull apart your blouse and bend you over the countertop. You’re left trying to catch your breath, trying to tell yourself it doesn’t hurt. He mumbles something to himself, and the wretched glare he gives you nearly causes you to crumble. You hold onto the counter, desperate, miserable, liar.

And then he turns to go, and you don’t stop him, too weak to move, too tired to try. You close your eyes, turn your head away and let it drop as you sit on the red leather barstool, swivelling to lean on the counter. Your elbow digs into the wooden counters as your tears burn into your skin. Resting your head against your hand, you pretend not to notice when there’s a long pause between the bell above the door ringing and the door closing again. You pretend you don’t feel him look at you one last time. You pretend your heart is still whole in your chest.

You only burst into tears when you hear his motorcycle fade off into the distance.

Wanda finds you minutes later, sobbing into your arms at the counter, dressed for work, but not ready at all. She calls in Dot to cover your shift, puts away the strawberry milkshake so it doesn’t go to waste, takes you outside to the bench near the back — the very spot Bucky Barnes waited for you — and tells you to stay there until she is on lunch break. You stare at his phone number, inked onto your skin, a stain like a lot of things he’s left on your body, and time seems like something you don’t understand anymore. So you sit where he sat, imagining his motorcycle parked in the lot, his arrogant little smile, his surprise of ‘Didn’t wanna go to the wedding anyway, Aphrodite.’

But he doesn’t come. You know you need to get it together because you have work to do, so you cry, sob over the boy in leather who’s never coming back, until you’re all dried up forever.

It nearly works, and you’ve almost taped yourself up enough to get back to being just another waitress, but then Wanda is on her lunch break. She sits beside you, offers a sandwich, asks you to spill, because you’ve fallen in love with a stranger who’s long gone. And the tears come again.

TAGS: bucky: @beyond-the-ashes @aryaes permanent mcu: @teawithbucky @jcc04220 @shenala @schwankyblock permanent: @dulharpa

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shivae · 4 years

Link

Confession

Dawn gets both Marianne and Bog to a dance, where Roland makes a move on Marianne.

How did it end up like this? Marianne snarled at the dress she had been put into. It was made out of moonflower petals, a simple purple dress that accentuated her curves and left her shoulders bare. The skirt went down almost all the way to the floor and flared out.

Next to her, Bog stood wearing a satiny black tunic made from black petunia petals, making it look velvety and soft. A matching cape fell between his wings, strapped around his waist to keep it from getting tangled in his wings in case he needed to fly. He looked as bewildered as Marianne felt, his staff having been left behind in his room. “You two look great!” Dawn circled them in a quick flap of her wings, making sure their outfits were perfect.

Dawn wore a dress meant for dancing like many of the attending fairy women would be wearing, bi-colored four O’clocks, pink with golden orange streaks that matched her wings. It flared out around her as she moved, and Marianne grumbled.

“Dawn, stop flying in that dress. You’re going to flash your panties at everyone!” Marianne snapped at her little sister, momentarily forgetting Bog, who turned bright red at even the mention of such a thing. Seeing Bog flush red, made Marianne do the same thing, realizing what she had just said. The only thing that would have been worse was if he asked what panties were. Thankfully, it seemed he had a good idea as he dropped his eyes to the floor.

Giggling, Dawn landed in front of them, beckoning for them to follow her. “Come on, let’s go! You two don’t have to dance, but I can’t wait for Dad to see you!” Marianne and Bog sighed simultaneously.

“You don’t have to do this,” whispered Marianne.

“No, ye don’t have to do this,” Bog whispered back. “Ye are only coming because I am.”

“Someone has to make sure you’re not bored to death,” growled Marianne, stepping beside him, reaching for his hand. “We don’t have to dance.”

Bog nodded, smiling slightly as Marianne slipped her tiny, warm hand into his. “Whatever Dawn wants.”

“I hope that wears off soon. Who knows what she’ll want to do to you tomorrow,” laughed Marianne as they followed Dawn.

Bog had no idea what to expect as he was led through the castle and entered a massive ballroom filled with bright lights and soft music. All eyes fell on him, and Marianne as they entered, fairy women immediately stepping closer to their partners. Bog frowned at that reaction. It was what he expected from fairies. Revulsion.

He looked away, turning his attention to Marianne, who was furiously leading him to the far side of the hall, avoiding the dance floor. Crouching as he walked, Bog wished he could vanish from view, find some dark place to hide in, and sit in silence.

“Where are you going?” Dawn bounced after them, grabbing Bog’s other hand. “Dance with me!” She laughed, her light blue eyes glimmering innocently. “Just one dance, Boggy!”

“Bog.” He smiled at Dawn. “I’m not sure if I would be a good dance partner, Dawn.”

“Oh, it’s okay. You don’t have to be good!” The young fairy tugged on his hand, but this time, Marianne intervened.

“No, Dawn. You got him to dress up, if you want to see him dance, then I will take him out myself, so he won’t be embarrassed.” Marianne looked up at Bog, who was trying his best to keep a straight face and not flee from all the bright lights and spectacle. “Bog, would you like to dance? Can you dance?”

“I know how to dance,” muttered Bog nervously. “However, I am not certain I know fairy dances. Ye will have to teach me, but I learn quickly.”

“Well, you taught me, so I guess it’s time for me to teach you.” Marianne glanced at her sister, who was smiling at them and hadn’t said a word. “One dance.”

“Make sure he has fun!” Dawn giggled, turning away from them and bouncing after a passing boy.

“I hate dances,” growled Marianne. “They’re so stupid, just a bunch of idiots showing off.” Bog nodded, taking a deep breath, aware there were eyes on him, so many eyes. “We’ll do this, then we can go sit somewhere, drink some wine, and ignore everyone.”

Bog swallowed nervously as they stepped out onto the dance floor, the smooth rock surface almost painfully cold beneath his bare feet. Still, he didn’t want to disappoint Marianne as she moved his left hand to rest on her slender waist and took his right in hers.

“Follow me,” whispered Marianne, coming far closer to him than he expected. “The steps are simple and just repeat them, then turn with me. When you have it down, you need to lead.” Marianne moved carefully, whispering which foot to move to Bog as she did it.

They had plenty of room to practice for a few minutes before Bog took over. The other fairy couples fled to the edges of the ballroom, leaving only Bog and Marianne dancing to the music. Bog ignored them, concentrating on the steps and doing them correctly.

All was well until he caught a glimmer of green armor out of the corner of one eye and saw HIM approaching them. Marianne scowled, also spotting him. “Ignore him.”

“Marianne,” Roland greeted politely as the song ended. “May I have the next dance?” He ignored Bog, even as Marianne took a step closer to the towering goblin king.

“I’m here with Bog,” stated Marianne, giving Roland a cold look.

“He’s not even a fairy!” Roland hissed, glancing up at Bog, then back to Marianne.

“I can get rid of him again.” Bog rumbled, glaring at Roland.

“You would attack me in the middle of a dance?” Roland gasped. “How absolutely beastly!”

“Back off, Roland.” Marianne stepped between him and Bog, pushing him on the chest to make him move back. “I will never dance with you again. Come with me, Bog, we’re leaving.” She turned to Bog, taking his hand to lead him away. Bog bared his teeth at Roland over his shoulder and was gratified at the visible shudder passing through the obnoxious fairy man. Marianne snagged a bottle of wine off a table in passing.

As grateful as he was to leave the dance hall, Bog was troubled by the encounter. It was clear that Marianne loathed Roland, yet he did not leave her alone. Such things were not tolerated in his kingdom, and he couldn’t understand why it was tolerated here. Marianne was silent, but he could feel the heat coming off her, her short nails digging into his palm.

They passed through a crowded hall, then down increasingly less busy halls. Then, Marianne led him onto a large, empty flight balcony, closing the doors behind them, so they were alone. Fires burned on either side of the balcony, and it was decorated with wreaths of flowers and sheer curtains. There were a few cushions scattered around it for seating.

He was alone with her.

Bog glanced around the balcony, hearing the music from the celebration still going on a few halls away floating in the air around them. His wings twitched anxiously as Marianne sat on one of the cushions and tipped the wine bottle up to take a long drink.

“Should, should I go, Marianne?” Bog kept his distance.

“I’m sorry,” stated Marianne. “This isn’t your problem. You can go if you want.”

Bog stepped up on to the rail, prepared to leave. Not back to his room, but to the Dark Forest. He had no real reason to be here. And he would have gone if he hadn’t heard a stifled sob come from Marianne. He glanced over his shoulder in time to see her wipe away a tear on her cheek.

This was not something he wanted to deal with, a crying female, but it touched off something more inside. She was hurting, and perhaps he could do something for her. He wanted to do something, he had such strong, warm feelings toward her. Bog turned, stepping off the railing to walk up to Marianne, approaching her in a timid crouch.

“Is there something I can do for ye, Marianne?” Bog inquired, stopping inches away from her. “Anything.”

Marianne sighed, reaching up to touch Bog’s face, and he flinched from her touch. “I bet it’s worn off entirely by now, hasn’t it?” She gave him a smile, withdrawing her hand.

“Mostly,” Bog admitted. “But the potion isn’t affecting my mind now. I was free to do whatever I wanted last night.” He turned and settled into a cushion next to Marianne as she stared at him in wonder.

“Why didn’t you leave then? This isn’t your kingdom,” she stated, wiping her eyes again quickly.

“I didn’t want to,” grunted Bog. “Ye see, there’s something here I don’t have in my kingdom. When I found it, I wanted to explore its uniqueness.”

“And what is this thing you found?” Marianne smiled at him, still attempting to maintain her composure.

Bog was silent for a long moment, with the only sound, a gentle hum from his wings. He looked out, over the balcony railing, running one hand over the other, unsure if he wanted to say it. He took a breath, whispering, “You.”

Marianne laughed, sipping from the bottle before handing it to Bog. “Me?”

“Yer a little different.” Bog smiled, taking the bottle and tilting it to take a deep drink of the fairy wine, hoping it would help calm his nerves.

“That’s an understatement,” grumbled Marianne.

“Why is he allowed to continually harass ye?” Bog set the bottle down between them. “He should not be allowed to even talk to ye, let alone approach ye. Ye are royalty.”

Marianne looked at Bog thoughtfully, chewing on a fingertip. “I never told anyone what he did.”

“And what did he do?” Bog was afraid to ask but did so anyway.

“We were supposed to get married,” sighed Marianne, looking out over the balcony railing again, anywhere but at Bog. “I caught him with another woman right before our wedding. I was in my wedding dress.” Bog gasped, and his shoulder plates rattled slightly, hearing the offense. “And I was ashamed to admit it because it meant admitting I wasn’t good enough to be enough for him.”

“Ridiculous.” Bog hissed sharply. “That man was a fool. He still is a fool.”

“Yeah, a beautiful, good-looking fool, and what does that make me for falling for him?” Marianne grumbled, picking at her dress.

“Just like anyone else? Attracted to someone because they are beautiful?” grunted Bog. “Seems to me, ye are a princess, and ye can send that moron away at any time.”

“You talk a lot more when you’re not faking being love dusted,” laughed Marianne, leaning her shoulder against his arm. “I decided from that point on, to embrace my differences and never trust a man again.”

“A good policy.” Bog nodded in agreement.

“Don’t trust anyone.” They said it together and laughed, then there was silence between them.

“Ye know, beautiful Marianne, a flower that blooms at night is different from a flower that blooms in the day, but they are still flowers, with the same needs.” Bog fidgeted, shifting how he sat to lean toward her. “They still need the sun, water, and the earth.”

“You think I’m beautiful?” Marianne smiled at the compliment.

“Probably doesn’t mean much coming from me,” grumbled Bog. “But yes, ye are, inside and out.”

“Let’s go back to why you’re still here.” Marianne smiled, reaching out to lay a hand on one of Bog’s. “Why are you still here?”

“Because I am a fool,” replied Bog, looking down at her hand on his. “There is absolutely no reason for a stunning fairy woman to look my way, yet both ye and yer sister were kind to me when ye didn’t have to be.”

Marianne laughed. “I wasn’t that nice to you at the start.”

“I didn’t exactly make the best first impression.” Bog sighed. “Spring always does that to me, makes me furiously angry about everything. I could have just asked, but I had to make a spectacle of myself instead.”

“A gloriously awful spectacle,” agreed Marianne with a laugh. “Your voice is beautiful, Bog.”

“Well, that’s not something I hear often,” he chuckled, eyes still locked on his hands and how Marianne’s fingers stroked over his palm, sliding up the underside of his wrist where there was no armor.

“I like you,” muttered Marianne.

“What?” Bog leaned in closer, thinking he had not heard her clearly.

“I like you,” Marianne repeated a little louder.

“I like ye too, Marianne.” Bog grinned, reaching out tentatively to lay his hand on hers.

“So, I told you my secret. Why does spring make you angry instead of all light-headed and overly happy like it does everyone else?” The question made Bog cringe and grind his teeth.

Bog began breathing shallowly, a ribbon of cold winding up his back. After a moment, he found his words. “When I was young, I did something foolish. I loved someone, and I desired them to love me, but I wasn’t patient. I wanted their love immediately, and I went to the Sugar Plum Fairy for the love potion.” Bog shivered, his wings twitching violently for a moment. “It didn’t work. Instead of loving me, she ran away, revolted. I am, I am so awful, so unsightly, not even a love potion could bring me love.”

“Oh.” Marianne listened, watching his face as he spoke, realizing just how much it took out of him to simply make that admittance. He really was far different than she initially thought, but her observations of him under the effects of the love potion seemed accurate. Under all that armor, he was hurt, injured in a way that cut to the core.

The song he sang, it was true.

It was painfully true.

“And now that I know what the love potion feels like.” A shade of guilt passed over Bog’s eyes, staring out into the darkness. “It’s not real love. It would have all been fake. It would have been cruel if it worked.”

“Yes.” Marianne nodded, sliding an arm around his, hugging him.

“So that is why I imprisoned the Sugar Plum Fairy, to keep her from giving people false hopes for something that I didn’t believe existed,” Bog rumbled, closing his eyes, a small smile creeping over his face at Marianne’s warmth around his arm. “And also, because it wasn’t fair that such a thing existed, yet it didn’t work on me.”

“But it did!” Marianne laughed suddenly, trying to change his mood. “Do you remember the things you did and said?”

“I remember everything,” grumbled Bog. “I was always there, I just couldn’t think about anything but ye and Dawn. I deserved what happened to me.”

“So, where do we go from here?” Marianne stood and moved to stand in front of Bog, her hands resting on his shoulder pauldrons.

“I don’t know,” stated Bog, staring up at her, unsure of what she was doing, but not about to stop her. Somewhere deep inside nudged him that he was about to enjoy something special.

“Do you know, you’re the only man who has ever offered to spar with me? To teach me? To encourage me to be me?” Marianne tilted her head, her wings rising behind her. And they glowed in the firelight, swaying gently in the light spring breeze. “Why don’t we see where this goes?” She leaned forward, lifting her hands to caress Bog’s face, having made a decision. He gazed at her through half-lidded eyes, the touch sending comforting sensations through his body. Just her fingers made him stay still, his anxieties calming for the moment. It was clear any fears he had about being rejected were not necessary, no, this was anything but being rejected.

“Marianne?” The door to the balcony opened, sending brilliant light flooding over it and onto Bog and Marianne, who both froze, feeling a shared sense of being caught doing something they shouldn’t have.

#strange magic #fanfic #butterfly bog #butterflybog #bog king #marianne #dawn #Roland is awful #Misdirection #love dusted bog

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miracleboiz · 4 years

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Making a Home Ch.3

Kita Shinsuke had experienced a lot in life. He had been raised with his grandmother, a loving foster parent and for some time he followed in her foot steps before finding his own path. He thought his foster care license had expired before getting a call at three am with two small boys thrust into his arms. Miya Osamu and Atsumu, from broken homes but still fighting. Thirty days before his license expires. Thirty days to make a choice, keep the boys or let them be separated into different homes. Thirty days to fall in love with them.

Words: 4k

Relationships: Gen

Warnings: Mention of past child abuse, non-graphic abuse

Not from Kita, but it is mentioned. I will post any warnings before any panic attacks or vague descriptions of abuse.

Read below or on AO3

The twin's gazes dashed around the room, eyes wide and soaking up everything around them. Their grips on each other's hands tightened for a moment before they relaxed, Osamu tilting his head up to stare at Shinsuke.

"What..." He chewed his lip and pulled the fox closer, nearly dislodging the flower on its head. "What's a... weddin' bo-... boutique?"

"Well, it's a shop that sells things for weddings. Both western and Japanese in my case." Shinsuke said softly, stepping out a little further to show them the shop better. "Most shops only sell dresses but we do a lot more here. That is where our tailor makes sure the clothes fit, you can make a wedding registry- a list of gifts you want- over there. We have a card station so you can choose your designs for invitations."

Shinsuke pointed each station out in the wide room, explaining it to the rapt attention of Osamu and the bored looking Atsumu. He led them in, around a set of tuxedos and male kimonos, careful not to move too fast and overwhelm them.

Sugawara was already in one of the mirrored corners, carefully arranging some fake flowers that came from between the mirrors. He glanced up and saw them in the reflection, eyes widening and Shinsuke watched him try to stifle a squeal. Instead he ducked back down, shifting the ottoman chairs instead to curve around the mirror and disappearing into one of the changing rooms.

On the opposite corner, Akaashi was already sitting down, a large ink brush in his hand that was gliding down the page, either a commission or a wedding order. Behind him a large wall of different card stock hid him from the gaze of the average window shopper. He didn't glance up at the sound of Shinsuke talking, probably already zoned out until either his phone alarm rang or someone touched him.

In between the two stations, the wall curved in leading to a decent sized office with two desks. Books of dress designs and venues littered three bookshelves and a wall of ribbons and flower designs rose up at the back. Many customers liked to use their own wedding planner, but Shinsuke had to admit having his own on site made it a lot easier when dealing with customers who tried to do it all without help.

On the other wall there was another mirrored corner, with a shelf coming out of the wall with all of Sugawara and Shirofuku's materials for tailoring. Under the window to the right was the register, currently covered in multiple packages labeled Castle Bakery. Against the wall to the left, wedding dresses and kimonos were posed on mannequins and bridesmaid outfits were on racks.

In the final corner was where Azumane designed and sewed together specialty outfits. Shinsuke could just barely see him hunched over the tail end of a pale peach dress, carefully slipping a needle in and out of beads and the dress. Fabric was already pulled out and laying across his table and two other mannequins.

"You do all of this?" Osamu said when they finished the tour, eyeing the Castle Bakery boxes as Shinsuke came to a stop beside the register.

"I manage it all, and help Azumane design and create dresses. Each place has someone who takes care of it though. So it makes it a lot easier." Shinsuke explained, cracking open one of the boxes that had his name on it. Two muffins sat in the middle with a note attached to the top of the box followed by the ingredient list for each box.

Shinji made these this morning. Don't worry, we watched him. DON'T LET TORU HAVE THE ONES WITH PEANUT BUTTER~ Takahiro

Shinsuke chuckled softly, carefully lifting the two chocolate chip muffins out and offering them to the boys.

"These are fresh from the bakery across the street, are you still hungry or would you like to wait till later?" Predictably, both boys reached for them. Atsumu held his for a minute, frowning at it and reached out to stop Osamu from shoving it in his mouth. His eyes glanced up to Shinsuke then back down, repeating a few more times before Shinsuke intervened.

"Is something wrong Atsumu?"

"What's... in these?" He said hesitantly, eyes down on the ground to keep from looking disrespectful. "I-I just mean, Osamu's allergic to lotsa stuff and he... I..." Atsumu's mouth moved inaudibly, trying to keep calm and Shinsuke wondered how many times Osamu had been fed things he was allergic to by unwitting or uncaring foster parents.

"It's alright. I read Osamu's allergy list last night and this doesn't have anything dangerous to him in it. Would you like to read the list yourself?" Shinsuke asked, peeling the list off for his box and offering it to Atsumu when he nervously nodded. In a fashion that would make allergic-to-peanuts-Oikawa proud, Osamu inhaled the muffin despite his brother's protests, grinning when Atsumu passed the list back agreeing that it was safe to eat.

Atsumu peeled the wrapper off his muffin, carefully nibbling until Osamu reached for it. Atsumu responded by shoving the entire thing in his mouth, chewing and swallowing faster than Shinsuke thought was possible for a child and nearly giving him a heart attack. Atsumu didn't look any worse for wear though, sticking his tongue out at Osamu a moment later.

"Do you want to be introduced to the others who are here then? We can drop off their muffins and then head to the store." Shinsuke asked a moment later, lifting up the boxes and checking the names. Shirofuku's was nearly three times as heavy as the others and Shinsuke had to admit it was amusing that the bakery knew his tailor so well.

The twins looked around, Atsumu looking bored again but he still didn't say anything as his brother nodded. Osamu paused after a moment though, glancing at his brother and then Shinsuke.

"Are you sure it's not a bother?" He asked, then shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean… You said it was okay… But… I just… I mean… I’m sorry, I’m sorry… please… We can do whatever you want Kita-san… I-I… I don’t… I don’t mean to be rude… ”

Shinsuke crouched next to him, eyes softening with worry. The six year old looked seconds from a complete meltdown, jumping when his brother’s hand clamped down on his wrist. Osamu’s breath quickened and his eyes rolled with fear.

“Osamu?” Atsumu asked, confusion clear on his face and quickly buried beneath panic as Osamu yanked out of his grip. His hands curled into his chest like he was trying to hide them from sight.

“Osamu, just breathe.” Shinsuke said softly, carefully waving Atsumu a few steps away. “It’s alright, you haven’t done anything wrong. You’re not in trouble I promise…. Breathe in for seven seconds…. Now breathe out for eight, you can do it… There you go, great job Osamu, now again…”

Shinsuke talked him through it, relaxing as the boy’s breathing started to slow. His head was still pulled in like he was waiting to be struck, but his hands finally relaxed from their curled position. He glanced up at Shinsuke, then back at the ground, tears slowly leaking out of his eyes.

“Osa-” Atsumu said, startling when his brother jumped again. He reached out for him, but Osamu just shied away, fingers starting to clench again.

Atsumu’s face twisted with panic, his own breath coming out harsher as he started to slip into a panicked state as well. Shinsuke had to assume Atsumu had never seen his brother have an anxiety attack before and was terrified at the idea that he was scaring his brother. Shinsuke was going to have to cut that off as soon as possible or else neither of the two would be okay for hours.

“Atsumu?” Shinsuke murmured softly, turning his gaze to Atsumu’s scared one. “Your brother had an anxiety attack, sometimes when it happens people don’t want to be touched. He’ll be just fine though, I promise. Why don’t we head back to the house, okay?”

“N-no!” Osamu shouted, then flinched. His hands instinctively moving to cover his face, he shook slightly as he lowered them again, not looking at either of them. “Y-you… wanted us to m-meet them. I’m sorry…. I won’t… I won’t be a bother… I’m sorry.”

“Osamu.” Shinsuke said slowly, watching Osamu cling to the stuffed animal. “You are not a bother, I promise. You’re not in trouble either. Remember when I said sometimes you get tired of people and you need to rest? We can rest now Osamu, it isn’t a bother at all. I promise, your feelings are more important than meeting a few more people.”

Osamu buried his face into the fox’s fur, a harsh breath racking through him. Shinsuke wondered how often he teetered on the edge of panic and worry, how often his brain would work too fast and drive his anxiety up until his small body couldn’t contain it anymore. And how often had he been punished for it.

“It’s alright now, we can go calm down for a bit and have some lunch when you’re ready.”

“What…” Osamu’s voice was breathy, nervous and embarrassed, “What about… shopping? Y-You wanted to…”

“We can still go shopping later if you’d like, but you being okay is more important Osamu.” Shinsuke smiled softly when Osamu’s eyes peeked over the top of the fox’s head. “Let’s head back inside and we can talk after we nap for a bit, alright? The store won’t go anywhere. You and Atsumu can think about all the toys you want to look at and new clothes you want to try on.”

Shinsuke stood back up, waving his hand at Atsumu to motion him to start heading back towards the door to the house. Shinsuke barely caught a glimpse of a worried looking Koushi before he was slipping away again before he could accidentally startle either of the children.

Osamu lagged behind, eyes still darting around the rooms like he was waiting for his punishment. Even Atsumu was quiet as he walked, constantly looking back to make sure Osamu was okay and trying to slow down to match his pace though Osamu only stepped away from him, clinging onto the small stuffed fox in his arms.

“Atsumu,” Shinsuke tried to call him but was ignored. There was a flash of annoyance before he let it go, after all Atsumu didn’t really understand what was going on. He just saw his brother suffering.

Shinsuke took a few more steps until they were beside the male mannequins again, opening the door and leading the two to the next door. He opened it, waiting for them to pass him before he stepped into his house.

“Osamu,” Shinsuke called this time, watching the flinch before Osamu’s head lifted to try and meet his gaze unsteadily. “Do you want to stay with Atsumu or would you like to lay down for a bit?”

There was a pause, one that seemed to immediately set Atsumu on edge, before Osamu reached out and shakily took his brother’s hand. The nod was small, barely noticeable but enough for Atsumu to relax slightly. Their hands squeezed each other, trying to pull any sense of comfort from one another.

“Alright…” Shinsuke hesitated, not quite sure what would be the next step. On one hand, he didn’t want Osamu to feel pressured to stay in his room but on the other Kita didn’t want him to get worse-

A tug on his shirt caught his attention and he looked down, blinking softly at Atsumu’s doe eyes staring up at him. Atsumu tugged again, pulling Shinsuke down to his level and leaning up to whisper in his ear.

“Do you have any movies?” He whispered, glancing at his brother as Osamu shifted from foot to foot. “When Osamu has nightmares they help…. Maybe… they can help now too?”

“That’s a great idea, thank you Atsumu,” Shinsuke said softly, watching Osamu perk up slightly, “you two can go sit on the couch while I see what movies I have.”

It took a moment, Osamu still looking hesitant before Atsumu tugged him along. Worried eyes glanced back at him more than once but Shinsuke just nodded until Osamu was comfortably on the couch, leaning his weight on his brother.

Shinsuke turned and made his way to the back office, pulling open the first drawer on his left to look at all the random things Akagi had left at his house. Shinsuke himself wasn’t a big movie watcher, he owned three and he wasn’t sure any of them qualified as kid-friendly as they were all documentaries. However, Akagi considered that a travesty and had a habit of leaving movies and books around that he wanted Shinsuke to look at.

After nearly two minutes of pulling things out, Shinsuke’s hand finally landed on a case. He pulled it out, eyes catching on Studio Ghibli. The front of the case itself was a cute, gentle animation of a small human fish child. He turned it over, reading the back before deciding it would work. He didn’t know much about Studio Ghibli but he did know Oikawa and Sawamura had both bought movies out of the collection for their own children.

Shinsuke returned to the living room, not surprised to see Osamu still curled around his fox, his brother leaning as close to him as he could. They both glanced up as he entered and he dipped his head slightly in greeting, moving to the tv and pressing the on button before moving to turn on the dusty DVD player Akagi had wired in for him. He placed the movie in and sat back, watching it flicker to life.

He grabbed for the remote, barely remembering how to use it. It was different from his old one, instead of a long strip it curved almost in two, with two sticks that Shinsuke was certain moved. For longer than he wanted to admit, he stared blankly at the device until he heard Atsumu’s voice.

“Are… you okay Kita-san?” He asked slowly, shrinking away slightly when Shinsuke turned to look at him. Shinsuke held up the remote in explanation.

“Remember when I told you that I was very boring? That includes not knowing how to use one of these. Do you know?” Shinsuke asked, offering the remote over.

Atsumu took it, looking it over with Osamu before they both grabbed it and pressed one of the sticks. The screen clicked as it moved over from a blue background to a picture of a DVD, Shinsuke watched with interest as they hit another button. The movie went black for a second before fading into an animated scene. They pressed another and music started to filter through the room quietly.

Shinsuke waved for them to keep the remote, moving to grab the blanket on the couch and laying it over Atsumu’s lap who quickly moved it to cover him and his brother.

“I’m going to be over here and make lunch in a few, let me know if you need anything okay boys?” Shinsuke said softly, only getting minute nods as they stared into the screen already enraptured. He watched them for a moment longer, taking in the hiccups in Osamu’s breathing as he tried not to cry and Atsumu’s aggressive fussing as he tucked the blanket as tightly around his brother as he could.

Quietly, Shinsuke moved to the back office again. He grabbed a notebook and a pen, hesitating before snagging a few more movies from the pile he had uncovered. The boys would be bored over the next few days while Shinsuke got them signed up for the closest school and they waited for the weekend to end, this would help stave off some boredom atleast.

He sat on the armchair when he returned, only nodding his head when they looked up at him. Osamu’s cheeks were shining with a few tears that had fallen but his eyes were dry and his breathing was even. A wave of relief washed over Shinsuke as he pulled his gaze away from the two and started to scratch out the characters for their names on the notebook.

He looked at Osamu’s name, glancing up at the child for a moment before starting to write.

Osamu was sweet, naturally inquisitive and playful. He enjoyed his comfort items more than Atsumu seemed to but he wasn’t completely helpless. However, he was a lot more naturally shy than his brother and prefered the background position his brother allowed him to play. He struggled with letting his own emotions be known and feared being punished for them.

He was going to need a much softer hand to nurture him into someone who could stand up for himself. While being attached to his brother wasn’t an issue right now, they would have to be monitored to make sure it didn’t shift into unhealthy codependency. Though Shinsuke wasn’t particularly worried about that right now, Atsumu was protective but Osamu had made it clear he was able to say what he wanted.

Atsumu though, was a little tougher to write about. He hadn’t shown much of his own nature beyond being protective of his brother. He seemed to keep it locked away, eyes only on his brother and any threat that could arise. He was fierce, ready to fight the world for his right to stand up. If anyone was going to get unhealthily attached, Shinsuke would put his bets on Atsumu.

Atsumu hadn’t shown many interests outside of his brother and it worried Shinsuke, even with the snow he hadn’t cared until Osamu had commented on it. He didn’t care much about the shop, unlike Osamu who had been endlessly fascinated by everything. Even now, watching the show, Atsumu was only half watching. His head turned to eye Shinsuke and their gaze met for a moment before he was looking away again.

Hopefully with the start of school on Monday, Atsumu would be able to branch out for himself. Shinsuke wanted to help him break out of the cycle of being Osamu’s unspoken parent and guardian. It would never go completely away, but Atsumu had endless potential he could unlock if he looked into what he wanted instead of how to protect Osamu. Shinsuke wanted to watch both of them flourish, not just Osamu

Shinsuke scratched out the last character, humming softly to the song coming from the tv as he looked over his notes. They weren’t complete, he couldn’t know the boys in one day but it was a step towards finding them a good home. The more information he knew about what the twins needed and how they acted, the better he could assess potential parents and let them know exactly what the boys needed in their life.

Shinsuke looked up again, taking in Osamu’s completely enraptured look on the tv and Atsumu’s fidgeting feet. Atsumu’s gaze wasn’t on the tv again, instead it was caught on the clock above it. Each click was copied by a flick of Atsumu’s fingers against the bottom of the blanket. His eyes roved over the room again, picking through items before landing on the tv as Osamu gasped at whatever was on the screen.

Shinsuke paused as the doorbell rang, watching the boys both look at him immediately. A mix of apprehension and curiosity was scrawled across their face as they watched Shinsuke put the notebook down and make his way to the door.

Shinsuke knew Oomimi had said he would be visiting later with the boys’ files, but he expected a text before anything. No one else would be dropping by without calling first.

A quick peek through the window made Shinsuke sigh as he recognized the wild hair. He pulled the door open and looked up at the grinning face of Akagi with disappointment.

“Hey sexy, where are the little ones?” Akagi winked, before holding up a packet of papers in explanation. “ ‘Mimi got called in to a meeting so I said I would bring this over to you because I want to meet my new nephews.”

“Akagi, I didn’t adopt them.” Shinsuke said slowly as he opened the door, glancing at the twin faces peeking over the back of the couch curiously.

“Doesn’t matter, they’re my new nephews!” He grinned, wiggling his arm and the plastic bag rustled on his elbow. “I brought presents. Heya! Didja tell your brother about me?”

Both boys had perked up at the word present but they shrank down again when they realized they were being looked at. Atsumu looked at his brother before shaking his head.

“I didn’t…. Fox-kun.” He said, wincing slightly as Akagi’s name escaped him. Akagi burst into laughter, stepping into the house to let Shinsuke close the door.

“Close enough, Atsumu-kun. Just call me Michinari or Ojisan. Osamu, I’m Michinari, I helped bring you guys home last night and brought over that little Ruppell’s fox that you’re holding.” Akagi greeted, smiling brightly at him even as Osamu shrank down. Osamu’s gray eyes looked to the fox before slowly pulling it free of the blanket and holding it out for Akagi.

“Oh no, honey, it’s yours. I brought them over for you. They’re yours forever.” Akagi explained, nodding when Osamu’s eyes widened in disbelief. Osamu immediately turned and stuffed it back between himself and his brother, eyes shining as he looked at his brother.

Atsumu looked a little hesitant but he was quickly relaxing again as Akagi moved to steal Shinsuke’s chair. The ex-libero pulled open his bag, pulling out objects of different sizes. He waved a case at Shinsuke with a bright smile.

“I’m glad you got the playstation to work, I was starting to think I bought you that for nothing.”

“That’s what it’s called? And I thought you bought it so you could play it when you stayed over.” Shinsuke said dryly, taking the case he was being offered with a frown. Ark: Survival Evolved, it said.

“This looks inappropriate for children.” Shinsuke could see the twins looking at the game with excitement obvious in their eyes. His heart softened at the hopeful looks, had they ever even had video games before? They probably had to deal with other kids using it against them too.

“I mean, you capture and train dinosaurs, you can change the settings to creative so they don’t have to actually kill anyone but it’s fine, really. I also got Minecraft and Spyro which are super family friendly, but I mean, It’s dinosaurs Shinsuke-kun. Just play with them?” Akagi asked, eyes fluttering slightly as he looked up at Shinsuke. Shinsuke pressed his lips together as he thought it over before he turned to look at the boys.

Osamu was nearly on top of his brother’s back as they leaned closer, eyes on Shinsuke. Hope and excitement glittered in them as the end credits of the movie played, they both gave identical smiles, excitement making them seem to shake with excitement. Osamu’s cheeks were still a little wet and he wasn’t getting as close as Atsumu was but he was branching out, even if it was nonverbally. It was a start that Shinsuke couldn’t ignore.

“Oh… Oh alright, if I can sit with you then they can play this game. But if it’s too violent then you can only play the other two, okay boys?” Shinsuke asked and all three of them let out a cheer. Shinsuke could have sworn Akagi was the loudest of the bunch, his own mind feeling incredibly lucky to have the three of them here.

“I’m going to start lunch then, can I trust you two to keep Akagi from breaking anything?” Shinsuke asked, fighting back a smile at Akagi’s offended shout.

The twins burst into giggles, nodding and sitting back down so they could pat the couch and offer up the Playstation remote. Akagi whined, grumbling as he made his way over with the three games held out for the boys to look at. Atsumu waited until Osamu had grabbed one to look at before taking the other two for himself, they leaned together, looking them over with hushed whispers and soft gasps of awe.

Akagi turned, giving Shinsuke a soft smile.

“I’ll keep an eye on them, go on. They’ll still be here when you get back, you dad.” Akagi teased, turning back to Osamu’s bubbly questions.

Shinsuke gave them one last look, trying to push down the affection rising up. He was a foster parent, he wasn’t looking to adopt right now. Especially not when he was alone and would be raising them by himself.

He paused in the kitchen, listening to Akagi’s dramatic storytelling and sighed. Scratch that, he wouldn’t be raising them alone, he had a family it was just a little different.

#HQ #Haikyuu!!#Haikyuu #Miya Atsumu #Miya Osamu #Kita Shinsuke #Inarizaki #Fanfiction #Making a home AU

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alittletournesol · 4 years

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Kingdom Of Jinju {MinKey} 33/33

Epilogue

The royal palace was high-spirited and filled with warmth despite the coldness of the approaching winter. The ceremony had yet to start, but every single employee was running here and there to make sure not a single preparation had been ruined by who knew what. The wedding table had been set in the royal gardens, like the first time, but the space was surrounded with beautiful torches to bring as many light and warmth as possible, in this late autumn evening.

Unlike their initial marriage that had taken place when the sun had reached its zenith, both King and Prince had decided to remarry under the light of the moon. It was a rather bold move, in conflict with traditions, but they considered they had yielded to these traditions many times already. They wanted to do as they wished, this time, and not even Jihwan, who had now lost her title by marrying the former General, had stood against it.

While all their guests were taking place around the wedding table, with the King and his helpers — Jinki and his father, just like the first time — already there, she was standing in her son-in-law’s quarters, carefully pinning her nuptial hat to his hair. It was meaningful to both of them, for Kibum had already worn it at his first marriage, though he had seen it as a material show of his shame.

“It looks even better with your hair down.” The woman gently said as she took a step backwards to observe her work. “It should hold well.”

“Thank you, Mother.” The Prince replied, standing up to turn towards her. “It feels strange to wear this again… but I like the little change.”

“Yes, I like it a lot as well.”

They both looked at his outfit, the same white and gold one he wore the first time, but enhanced with even more ornamentations and the most important detail : the symbol of Mongje on his chest had been replaced by the pearl of Jinju. It wasn’t about binding two kingdoms anymore, but about binding two souls from one same place. Kibum’s long black hair was falling graciously on his back and shoulders, beautifully contrasting with his immaculate attire.

He turned round to check if everything was good, and was interrupted by the sound of a gong, coming from the gardens. The ceremony was about to begin.

“Shall we ?” Jihwan smiled and offered him her arm, which he gladly took. “This time, it will be better.”

“Yes… Yes, it will.”

Their arms interlaced, they both left the royal quarters and walked through the corridors and staircases, until this very same door that led to the space in the garden where the young man would remarry his husband. This very same door he had come from one year ago, anxiety tightening the knot in his stomach. But that night, he felt as light as a feather, only pure excitement and haste making his whole being tremble. He waited there, accepting a kiss on the forehead from his mother-in-law before the latter half-opened the door and left.

As soon as he was alone, he felt two presences behind him but didn’t have to look to know who it was. By his left, Jonghyun ; by his right, Taemin. Both of them smiling with pride, their ceremonial attire different than the first time, brighter and with more colours. They had had the difficult task to force his gestures, but now they were conscious that they would really accompany him and not pressure him anymore.

Outside, Jihwan stood before the door, looking at all guests who turned their head towards her. The table was even more beautiful than the first time, covered with a white clothes and decorated with golden flowers. It seemed even the carafe of alcohol and the cup weren’t the same, changed for something more suitable, perhaps created for this sole event. And standing there, at the east end of this table and surrounded by his helpers, included her newly husband… her son was glowing in his ceremonial outfit.

Minho had had enough of the red and golden attire he would always wear, so he had traded it for one that was complementary of his husband’s. Where the Prince’s outfit was white with golden ornaments, the King’s was golden with white ornaments. They completed each other and wanted the world to see it. The younger man had still tied his hair under his hat to yield to the tradition at the very, very least, but he was a whole new man.

Silence.

And the gong resounded a second time.

Jihwan heard the door behind her open again and she started walking forwards, leading her son-in-law to the wedding table and placing herself on the spot left empty for her. Following her steps, Kibum walked with grace and confidence, and his once soulless eyes were now filled with so many emotions at once that they sparkled more than the night sky at this same moment.

While moving forwards, his eyes looked at every couple standing around the table, here to celebrate his wedding.

Queen Hyoyeon and Lord Eunhyuk, from Maguk, smiled at him and bowed their head, their eldest daughter standing by their side and shyly imitating her parents. Her father placed his hand on her shoulder as a show of pride, her bright blond hair betraying the scar of the illness she had healed from, unlike her young brother earlier that year. Seeing Jonghyun and his same hair walking behind the Prince reminded her of this distant, nice cousin was like her, and she giggled when he winked at her.

Princess Yoona stood behind, her hands joined and a truly moved expression lighting up her features, enough to make the tears in her eyes shine like pearls. She bowed her head and her smile turned into a quiet laughter, as she was unable to hide her happiness, after she had been the first ruler to witness Jinju’s rulers blooming relationship. Present by her side despite his expressionless face, Prince Siwon still bowed his head and pretended to be unbothered.

On the other side of the table stood Lady Taeyeon and Lord Changmin, the same emotion as Yoona shining in their eyes. They bowed together and presented their hands, which carried a small, decorated case filled with bright, lively black kisses. Kibum couldn’t help but feel emotional when he saw the flowers, so beautiful in apparence but also the memories of what could have been a tragedy. However, they were there as a present, a meaningful message to congratulate both husbands for having survived their poison.

Finally, standing behind them but not shadowed, Queen Boa and King Yunho had both already shed one or two tears when the Prince had appeared. There were gleaming trails on their cheeks, but their smiles were the brightest. They were the last ones to bow, the Queen holding her stomach with her hands and catching Kibum’s attention right away ; it was swollen, and Pugye’s heir hiding inside wouldn’t be long to come to the world.

A third gong resounded, and the groom walked to the west end of the wedding table, his friends standing behind him. Facing him, Minho looked at him and smiled with his eyes. It was like they could hear their respective heartbeat, like there was no one else around them, like they were alone.

A fourth gong resounded.

And the ceremony began.

The exact same gestures than the first time were repeated, but this time with more heart to them. The four helpers spread the carpet at their sovereigns’ feels and carefully, gently cleaned their hands with pure water gathered from the river just an hour before. The tradition required for both husbands-to-be not to show any emotion, but they couldn’t yield to it that night. They looked at each other, their eyes conveying absolutely all the feelings they had for each other, and their smiles never left their lips.

Jonghyun and Taemin took their place back behind their friend and placed their hands on his back and arms. But they didn’t have to apply any pressure, Kibum bowed by himself before his King. Once, then twice, his eyes shining whenever he straightened up. Bowing twice for the bride, once for the groom, as was the tradition. But this wedding wasn’t like others, and the guests all pleasantly whispered when Minho bowed a second time, showing that they were equals.

The Prince had to hold back his tears when the second bowing came, but a salted pearl rolled down his cheek despite himself when his lover, once again, bowed twice to him in return. It might look like nothing, but it meant the world to both of them. They weren’t a traditional couple, and they would shout it from the rooftops, show it to the world, whatever the consequences.

Finally, they kneeled as one man on the carpet, with only the table separating them, and stared at each other while Taemin poured alcohol in the cup and handed it to his childhood friend. Instead of making him drink, he let him take it and swallow a mouthful of the burning liquid by himself. The soldier then took the recipient back and handed to Jinki, who gave it to the King. The latter smiled, and made the cup turn until he saw the print of his husband’s lips on the edge. He drank from there.

This same ritual got repeated once more, both men making sure to always drink from this same spot where they lips met with the metal. None of the guests missed this detail, and none of them complained, for the symbolic of all these changed gestures was too strong to go against them. Even Siwon stood calmly as he watched them, and didn’t seem to be boiling with anger because of such affront to the Gods.

Minho and Kibum eventually stood up with the help of their respective friends, and walked towards each other in front of the table. They stood side by side and turned towards the assembly, joining their hands together and fulfilling all their bows : to the King’s mother, to the representative of the Prince’s father — Lord Taehyun hadn’t been able to leave Mongje to attend the wedding — then to the ritual statuettes representing the ancestors, and finally, to the guests.

All bows were returned, and the gong resounded one last time in the night. King Minho and Prince Kibum of Jinju were now remarried, and they were celebrated with a round of applause that made them blush.

The door behind them opened and they all stopped their congratulations to look at the old woman who was coming their way, a little girl walking by her side while holding her hand. She was wearing her own small ceremonial attire, all yellow like her grandmother ; the latter covered her mouth, for she hadn’t been warned about it and it felt like a surprise intended for her.

Both husbands turned towards the newcomers and smiled warmly, as Kibum held his long coat and crouched, stretching his arms. Sooyun, who had been startled by the amount of big persons around, eventually noticed her favourite person and giggled, letting go of her nanny’s hand. Her little steps were clumsy but she never fell, and she even gave her speed a small impulse when she was close enough to the Prince, almost throwing herself into his arms.

The man laughed and immediately carried her, sitting her on his arms as he stood up and faced the crowd. He placed a kiss on her cheek and looked at his husband, who smiled tenderly before addressing the guests.

“You had heard of her through our envoy, a few months ago.” Minho said with a confident voice. “But you are meeting her for the first time tonight : the Royal Princess and Heiress of the Choi Dynasty… our daughter, Sooyun.”

The little girl got startled when all big persons started applauding, but she eventually applauded herself to imitate them, what made everyone laugh and awe. Queen Boa held her stomach, the sight of this pretty little princess making her even hastier to meet her own baby. At the same time, Taeyeon let a sneeze out and it was decided that everyone should gather in the Pearl Room, where Jihwan had prepared a tremendous feast. All guests followed her lead, while her husband brought up the rear.

Only remained in the gardens the King, the Prince and the Princess. Sooyun was mesmerized by the almost full moon above her head, big and shining so bright she covered her eyes. Kibum laughed and adjusted her little hat.

“Do you remember our waltz, during my mother’s birthday reception ?” Minho asked his husband.

“Of course I do, I think that’s when I fell in love with you.” The other man shyly smiled. “Why ?”

“Because I asked the musicians to play one after dinner. This time, I will be the one requesting a dance from you.”

“And I will accept with a great pleasure, my King. But if I may surprise you before…”

“Surprise me ?”

With an enigmatic smile, Kibum cleared his throat and caught his daughter’s attention. Her big eyes stared at him, questioning, and he kissed her forehead before pointing at Minho.

“Sooyun-ah.” He called, making sure she looked at who his finger showed. “Who is this ?”

“Appa.”

The little girl giggled once she said the word, and immediately waved her arms towards the King, who stood there, gaping, unable to say a word in return. If it wasn’t for his husband approaching their daughter, he would certainly have remained frozen on spot. With a heartwarming smile, Minho grabbed Sooyun and hugged her tight, his silence turning into an irrepressible laughter that betrayed his happiness.

“We trained a lot.” The Prince said, caressing the other man’s back. “Days of showing you whenever you enter her field of vision and saying the word. She eventually understood it was who you were.”

“But… you ?” The King looked at his husband, his eyes wet with tears. “You spend more time with her than I do, why did you ensure that her first word would be for me ?”

“Because you deserve it. You saved my life, more than once. I might have saved yours, once or twice… but you saved me from my life, this horrible life I was suffering. You deserve the world, Minho, and… and that’s all I came up with to thank you.”

“Nothing could have been more beautiful.”

Minho smiled and leaned on his husband to kiss his lips, making sure to caress his daughter’s back at the same time to prevent her from interrupting them too soon. Both men kissed under the moonlight with their child in their arms, like the perfect scenery of a book of poetry…

“Minho !” Jihwan’s voice resounded in the gardens, coming from the open door. “The feast ! You’ll catch your death, all of you come inside immediately !”

The King and Prince laughed together, blushing from the unexpected interruption. Holding each other’s hand, while the princess rested on her father’s arm, they all obeyed the matriarch and headed inside. And by stepping in the palace this time, linked by their wedding, by their interlaced fingers and by the single existence of Sooyun, they felt complete.

_________________

This is the end of this story...

Thank you very much for waiting for every update, despite the last ones coming extremely slowly. Thank you for following this adventure and making me feel validated with all your reactions. This was one of the best experiences I've ever had, if I can say it. It was more than just writing a fanfic, it's a whole universe we created together and I'll keep it forever in my heart.

This story is over, but I might think of some extra chapters sometimes, shorter and telling about the daily life of our "newly-rewed" couple, their daughter growing up, some stuff for the General and the Teacher, even... who knows? Does it really have an end?

Thank you again.

BONUS HERE

#minkey #minho #key #kibum #shinee #fanfic #historical #kingdom of jinju #complete #jongyu #jonghyun #onew #jinki #taemin #epilogue

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timelordthirteen · 5 years

Text

In All Things 3/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit (eventually)

Summary: A Rumbelle arranged marriage AU.

Chapter Summary: Immediately after the wedding, Gold and Belle depart and spend a slightly awkward carriage ride together.

Notes: This got so damn long. Oops. Have some idiots trying to figure out how to person around each other.

[AO3]

Previous: [1] [2]

As soon as Lord Gold announced their departure, Avonlea became a flurry of activity.

Astrid fretted about everything. She flitted between chests and dressers in Belle’s chambers, directing two other maids until as many of Belle’s dresses, underclothes, and shoes were packed as possible. The steward, Edmund, was in a tizzy as his usual authority was usurped by the presence of Gold. A fine carriage pulled by four horses waited at the front steps of the manor, with a small wagon behind it for the bulk of Belle’s belongings.

“Do you want me to pack the red dress?” Astrid asked, holding up the garment in question with the bulky skirt draped over her arm.

Belle made a face at the garish dress with its layers of frills and ribbons, and shook her head. “Heaven’s no!”

Astrid giggled lightly at her own joke as Belle rolled her eyes, and pulled another out of the large armoire. “How about the green?”

Belle tilted her head as she studied the dress. Like the red gown, she’d only worn it once, but that wasn’t because she disliked it. It was a different style from her usual outfits, more slim and sleek, clinging gently to her curves in a way she wasn’t accustomed to. It was a lush velvet lined with silk, and the gold thread embroidery at the neck and cuffs gave it a simple but rich look.

Finally, she sighed. “Yes, fine, I’ll bring it as well.”

Her head wasn’t in the right place to be picky about her outfits. She turned to open the trunk at the foot of her bed and pulled out a worn leather satchel. Just as she was slipping her book inside, pausing to check that Gold’s letter was still tucked inside, she turned back to Astrid.

“Oh, and the new blue one!”

Astrid stopped and looked at her wide eyed. “You’re sure?”

Belle gave her a small smile and nodded firmly. “Yes. I’m not going to let one bad incident with Sir Gaston ruin a perfectly lovely dress I had made special.”

Astrid’s mouth curve as she dipped in a quick curtsy. “Of course, my Lady.”

After a few more minutes of commotion in her rooms, Belle hurried off to the library, and tried to calm her nerves by focusing on the selection of books that would get her through the first weeks in her new home. She tucked each one into her leather satchel, laying them flat on the bottom, one on top of the other, seven high, and then an eighth along the side. The flap of the bag strained as she folded it over and latched the buckle.

“You could bring them all, you know.”

Belle startled and nearly dropped the bag on her foot as her head snapped up. Gold was standing in the door of the library with a bemused smile, and she felt her face flush.

“Oh, Lord Gold -” She stopped and chided herself silently. “Cameron. I was just -”

“I mean it,” he said, pushing off the door frame and ambling slowly towards her. His cane thumped softly against the wood floor, and her hands tightened around the strap of the bag.

“You can bring them all,” he repeated, casting his eyes around the room. “My library has plenty of space.”

“Oh, I really couldn’t.” She gave him a sheepish shrug, secretly pleased that he seemed to have a large library as well. “They’re not all mine.”

Gold let out a soft chuckle and looked down at her bag. “We could send for the ones that are later, if you like.”

She nodded and relaxed. “Thank you.”

“It’s no matter,” he said quietly. “I assume you like to read then?”

Her eyes drifted to the shelf as she spoke. “Yes, I - I do. Very much.”

“Good,” Gold muttered. “That’s...good.”

Belle wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but the fact that he was so willing to allow her space in his library and to pay for all her books to be moved was enough for now. Gaston abhorred not only reading anything that wasn't a battle plan, he also seemed to have a distaste for well-read women. Gold was, at the very least, not in that category.

“Your, um, maid -” he started to say.

“Astrid,” she supplied.

“Astrid,” he said, his eyebrows lifting, “is a bit...anxious.”

Belle bit her lip, smiling. “Yes, she’s - she’s a dear friend, but excitable at the best of times.”

“Indeed.” His fingers flexed around the hand of his cane, a motion she’d noticed while they were in her father’s office, and later in the garden. “Did you, um, want her to come with you?”

Belle’s eyes brightened. “You don’t mind?”

He made a face, the corner of his mouth curving. “Of course not. I have plenty of staff available to you, but if you like, we can send for her and your books as soon as we’re home and settled.”

Home.

She swallowed. This was home, her father’s manor, and the lands owned by her mother’s family. Right now she couldn’t imagine calling anywhere else her home, but that would be changing all too soon. At least having Astrid and her books would help her feel more at ease.

“Thank you,” she managed, and Gold gave a short nod before he turned and left.

The carriage rocked as they cross over a rough patch of road, rutted by rain and the heavy war wagons that passed by a few days ago. Belle pitched forward with a squeal as the wheels bounced, catching herself on the handle of the door. Gold reached for her, taking her by the arm and guiding her until she was seated next to him, her back to the driver and horses.

“There,” he said, once she was stable. “Better?”

She nodded and pressed a hand to her belly, feeling the laces of the corset under her gloved hand. Her left leg was pressed solidly against Gold’s and he was still holding her hand in his. She glanced up at his face, catching a hint of concern in his eyes. Facing the opposite way made the ride much more stable, if a bit bumpier, but instead of it nearly throwing her to the floor when the carriage lurched, it tipped her backwards, against the seat cushion.

‘Yes,” she managed, a bit breathless. “Much better.”

She looked out the window, catching a fading glimpse of Avonlea as they started down the hill to the main road. Her lips trembled and she pressed her lips together as the front gate and the large trees to either side disappeared from view, dipping down behind the tall grasses swaying gently in the wind. As they came around the bend at the bottom of the slope, the golden glow of the late afternoon sun warmed her face and dried her unshed tears, making the corners of her eyes feel tight. She turned her face away from Gold and rubbed at them, swallowing against the lump in her throat.

Gold was still holding her hand, a fact which she only noticed as he gave it a gentle squeeze. “Are you all right?”

She exhaled slowly and nodded. “Yes, yes I’m fine.”

He leaned forward a bit, dipping his head to try to catch a look at her face, and she finally turned to meet his eyes. “I’m fine,” she repeated, more to herself than to him.

His lips curved slightly and he sat back, seemingly satisfied for now, though he did not let go of her hand. She wondered at the small contact between them now that he had shifted further to the other side of the seat and leaned his elbow on the edge of the window. His hand was warm and loose around hers, as if to allow her to pull away at any time, but she found it oddly comforting, even from a man she barely knew.

There was an implicit trust bestowed by his letter, and strengthened by his request that she stand by his son at the appropriate time. It was as if he was making a deal with her and not her father, that the repayment of her family’s debts was more a means to secure this favor rather than a wife. It made her curious and nervous at the same time. She wanted to know the full story of how he had come to need to make such a request and understand his need, but a caution stirred low in her belly that the answer might not be pleasing to hear.

“How far is it to - your estate?” she asked finally.

Gold glanced at her and then fixed his eyes out the window once more, rubbing a finger over his lips before he spoke as if he had to calculate the distance in his mind. “I’d say thirty miles.”

Her eyes widened at that. By carriage that would take several hours, meaning they would arrive very late and long after dark.

“Don’t worry,” he continued, as if sensing her concern. “It’s good road and we’ll make better time than you might think.”

She sighed a little. “It will still be quite late by the time we get there.”

“Yes,” he conceded, giving her hand one last squeeze before he pulled it away and settled it in his lap. “But there will be time to see Thornhill in all its glory in the morning.”

“Thornhill?”

Gold nodded and flashed her a small smile. “The name of the estate.” She let out a small ‘oh,’ and he let out a short, soft laugh. “I kept the name when I purchased it.”

Belle frowned. Most of the nobility named their manors and estates to something associated with the family, but then again most had built them from nothing, not purchased them like a common house.

“Why?” She heard herself ask the question, and immediately clamped her mouth shut, pressing her fingers to her lips as Gold gave her a curious, sideways look. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry.”

He shifted in his seat until he was tucked in the corner, facing her, and she noted once again how much smaller he was compared to Gaston and the other men who had been possible suitors.

“You’re not prying,” he said. “It will be your home, and you have every right to know its history.” She smiled at that and he continued. “I kept it because it seemed fitting. The land around it aren’t very suitable for farming, though they do well enough to support the estate and the people. I didn’t understand at first why anyone would name their home something that seemed so...negative, but the gardens, well, they’ll explain it soon enough.”

Belle’s head tilted. “Gardens?”

He hummed in affirmation. “They are...extensive.” Her eyes went wide, and his face cracked into a wide grin. “Am I going to be regularly sending out a search party when you get lost in the hedge maze?”

She startled and gasped, and he laughed. It was a warm, pleasant sound, and she let her head drop, snickering softly to herself as well. “I’ll just take some bread with me and drop crumbs as I go so I can find my way back.”

“The birds will love you for it,” he said, still smiling.

She bit her lip, cheeks flushing with mild embarrassment. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

The lines by his eyes crinkled, and in the faint light from the setting sun the flecks of gold become more prominent. Her mind flashed to what they might look like in the firelight if they sat together some winter evening, and the thought was so sudden and strange, that her grin immediately faded and she shifted in her seat.

“I was teasing, by the way,” Gold said after a long moment.

She looked at him sideways, her eyebrows lifted. “There’s no hedge maze?”

“No, there is. But it’s not very large and I have every confidence you’d be able to find your way without issue. Bae loves playing in it, and I’m sure he’d be glad to have another party to lead through it.”

She sat back and breathed out, her nerves returning at the mention of Gold’s son. She wasn’t sure about being a step-mother, but then she also wasn’t sure that Gold intended her to be one at all.

“I suppose I’ll have to wait until morning to meet him.”

Gold sighed. “Yes, unfortunately. Perhaps we should have stayed in Avonlea for the night?”

She shook her head, unsure if she would have preferred delaying the inevitable or not. “No, it’s - it’s best we got moving, I think.”

“We can visit anytime you like, Belle,” he offered, fingers stretching out to brush her hand where it rested on the seat. "I'm not stealing you away from your father to lock you in a tower."

Her gaze darted to the side, watching as his index finger traced the bump of her knuckle, and barely suppressed a shiver.

“I know,” she managed, letting her eyes trailing up to meet Gold’s. "And thank you - Cameron."

He gave her another of his crooked half smiles, and they both settled into a comfortable silence.

The sun had fully set less than an hour later. All that could be seen through the windows of the carriage were spotty, distant flickers of light from the cottages and farms that dotted the landscape between Avonlea and Thornhill. A larger glow could be seen in the next valley, and Gold looked over, ready to comment on their passing of Longbourn, the village nearest to Avonlea and the farthest North edge of Lord Maurice's lands.

He smiled and sighed as he saw Belle's sweet face, deep asleep. Reaching down, he pulled a wool blanket out of the bin under the seat and laid it over her. She let out a soft sigh, and he swallowed, looking away as the carriage began to climb the slope of the next hill.

He hadn’t expected Lady Belle to be so beautiful or kind, or for her personality to be so appealing. His hope had been to find her well read, trustworthy, and tolerable enough to suit his plans, but the moment he laid eyes on her, he began to hate himself. She could have any man she wanted, and here he was taking advantage of her family’s financial situation, using it to trap her into a marriage that she clearly didn’t want.

The carriage went around a bend and the wheels caught in the ruts, rocking the entire thing side to side. Gold brace against the door and looked over at Belle just in time to see her tip to the side and come to rest against his shoulder. She sniffed in her sleep and made a small, quiet noise. He held his breath until she settled, and then exhaled slowly. Instinct made him want to put his arm around her and help her lay more comfortably, but propriety held him back. A promise had been made, in writing. Nothing more than she was willing to give, even if she was unaware and blissfully asleep on a bumpy road.

His fingers curled against his leg, fisting over his trousers as he inhaled her scent. The perfume she was wearing reminded him of the gardens in the peak of summer, when the warm breeze carried a hint of rose and wisteria. He wondered about the circumstances of her broken engagement to Sir Gaston. While no one could blame any woman for not wanting to marry such an overbearing lummox, the entire thing had seemed to be tinged with some unknown scandal. He assumed it to be entirely on Sir Gaston’s side, given the man’s known propensity for drink and women, but the way Maurice had spoken of it hinted at more.

Another rough patch of road left Gold groaning and rubbing at his leg as a sharp pain pulsed through the muscles from foot to thigh. He shifted and stretched it out as best he could, careful not to jostle Belle too much. Her hand came up and curled around his arm, and he couldn’t help but smile even through the agony in his ankle as he rotated it one way and the other until the cramping ceased. His hand came up and covered hers, feeling the smooth warm skin beneath his palm, even against his better judgement and the nagging voice in the back of his mind that told him to keep a safe distance. His future held nothing but sorrow, save for his son, and the last thing he wanted was for Belle to be hurt by association.

Everything he was doing was for Baeden, but he did hope the boy liked Belle, at least as much as Gold feared he himself would.

Belle awoke in the carriage with a start, and heard the telltale sound of the wheels rolling over stones instead of dirt.

She sat up and looked around, confused momentarily until she realized she’d been leaning on Gold’s shoulder as she slept. “Sorry,” she mumbled, flushing red with embarrassment.

He gave her a strange look and shrugged. “It’s no matter.”

“We’ve arrived,” she said, leaning forward to look out of the window of the carriage.

He inclined his head. “We have indeed.”

He pushed open the door on his side and came around to hers, offering her a hand as she stepped down. She looked up with wide eyes at the large structure, so much higher and wider than Avonlea.

“It’s...”

“Much prettier in the daylight,” he finished for her, with a flat look that gave away his sarcastic intent.

Belle let out a soft laugh, and then Gold gave orders to the valet and two servants who had come out to greet them.

“All of the trunks in the wagon go to Lady Belle’s rooms in the south wing.”

The men nodded and began unloading, as meanwhile Belle stared up at Thornhill with apprehension. It was so much bigger than she’d imagined, more like the king’s palace than an estate home, and she marveled at how Gold had come to acquire it. Had it been available so cheaply, or was his wealth even more than she’d first understood.

A touch at her arm shook her from her contemplation and she turned to see Gold watching her.

“Shall we?” he asked, offering her his arm.

She could do no more than nod, and took his arm, letting him lead her through the front archway into a wide courtyard. There were sculpted shrubs and potted plants lining the way as they walked through it to what she presumed was the front door. Inside, a wide staircase lead up to the second floor, wide enough for three people to walk side by side. There wasn’t time to look around the rest of the foyer, or any of the other rooms before they headed upstairs.

“This is the way to the family bedrooms,” he said as he lead her down a hallway that ran from the front of the house to the back. She gave him a sideways look as they came to an end, and he added, “They have the best view of the gardens.”

Belle smiled at that, and let him guide her around the corner to the left. The corridor was shorter than she expected, and lined with three doors on either side. She began to wonder how long it would take her to decipher the labyrinth of halls and rooms and stairs that made up Thornhill. A month? A year? Perhaps young Bae would be as delighted to show her around the house as he would be the hedge maze.

“This hall is yours,” Gold declared. “There’s two sitting rooms, here and here, a bathing room, small library...”

She gasped in surprise and delight, and then covered her mouth with her hand. Giving her a bemused smile, he continued on. “A dressing room there, and this...” He stopped and slipped his arm from hers to open a set of double doors at the very end of the corridor. “This is your room.”

Belle stepped inside, her lips pressed together as she took it all in. It was more rooms than she’d ever occupied at Avonlea and she wasn’t sure she’d ever find enough things or purposes to fill them all. The bedroom was wide but not too large that the single fireplace, which itself was sizable, couldn’t warm the space. At one end was a canopied bed with curtains tied back on either side. There was only a small chest of drawers and a vanity, she presumed because an entire room was devoted to storing her clothing, a fact that still had part of her mind spinning. A curved chaise and two chairs made a small sitting area near the fireplace, and along the back wall was a set of four large windows, two of which opened onto a terrace.

“Consider these a blank canvas. You can change anything that isn’t to your liking,” Gold added from the doorway. “I fear I’ve left them rather plain and awaiting the right touch.”

She barely heard him as she moved forward, running her hand over the edges of the furniture. She approached the window nearest the bed and lifted back the curtain to peer into the darkness. A few torches lit the patio below, but she couldn’t see much more than a few feet of grass and more potted plants set along the edge of the stone pavers.

“It looks rather nice in the sunlight,” he said, standing just behind her.

Her lips twitched and she glanced up at him over her shoulder. “And if I don’t like the view?”

Gold’s eyes twinkled with mirth. “Then I’m sure we can find another room with another view that you will like better.”

She shook her head. “I’m sure this one will be lovely.”

“Well,” he said, smoothing his hands down the front of his coat. It was lightly creased from so long in the carriage, but she thought he still looked quite nice. “It’s late and -”

“Where is your room?” she asked abruptly. She didn’t know where the thought had come from, but once it was there she couldn’t help but let it out.

“The other end,” he said simply. “Of the hall.”

She blinked, surprised that he’d be so close by. Sir Gaston had promised her space in an entire wing of his estate, enough to keep her far away from his rooms and whatever went on there. Her own parents were separated by the entire width of Avonlea manor. Gold was so near that she could poke her head out of her bedroom door and see his at the opposite end.

Gold’s hand twisted against the hand of his cane. “Is that - a problem?”

“No!” She paused and swallowed. “No, it’s - it’s fine. I was just - curious is all. I’m sorry.”

“It’s no matter.” He said before he took a step back and bowed at the waist. “I will bid you goodnight, at and let you get settled before bed.”

“Goodnight,” she replied. “Cameron.”

A small smile crinkled his eyes again, and he bowed a second time. Goodnight, Belle.”

A long slow breath left her after the door close and she dropped down on the mattress, closing her eyes for a moment.

Thornhill.

Her new home. With her new husband just at the end of the hall.

Opening her eyes, she looked around the room again and starting to smile. Her hands roamed over the fabric, testing with gentle pushes. The mattress and pillows were plush and soft, perhaps the most decadent she’d ever touched, and she’d stayed several nights at the King’s summer palace with Ariel. Her hand traced the faint pattern stitched into the creamy white duvet, the delicate blue thread tucking the fabric to make fluffy hills and narrow valleys.

She smiled and bit her lip. Lord Gold - Cameron - she corrected herself, again, had told her that her rooms were a blank canvas, awaiting her touch, her preferences. Yet as she looked around the already well appointed room, with its soft colors and wide balcony overlooking the ample gardens, she wasn’t sure if there was anything she would change.

In fact, she was considering that perhaps there was nothing she would change about the situation at all, her marriage included.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #my rumbelle fic #belle x mr. gold #arranged marriage au #in all things #fic

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