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muffindaddystyles · 3 years

Text

Hates to, Hate you.

Word Count: 8k

Summary: Harry realizes that hurting Y/N broke him into pieces and tries to win her back with the confession of true feelings, will Y/N let him? If yes, how? How will he walk through fire for her?

Pairing: Famous!Harry x Reader!with anxiety.

AU: fake dating, slow burn, sexual tension, enemies to lover!

Warning: Mentions of violence, sexual assault, language, adult topics.

PART 1, MASTERLIST

"Please, stop." He says dolefully rubbing his eyebrows to get rid of the ache pounding in his head.

He's miserable. It hurts to not have her with him. It's been two tragic months of going through constant sleepless nights, disrestless stomach, intoxicating himself to forget her, staring at things like a hawk and missing her terribly.

He was alone before her and never felt this lonely.

He sees her everywhere. In his dreams and her shadows in his drawing room getting excited over a ceramic vase someone gifted him. Dancing in his kitchen to the beat of pink floyd and hip-checking him for a cheerful nudge, in his back garden rescuing a sparrow who broke it's neck and in his attic stressing over her assignments.

Everything reminds him of her. The fruity drinks that the barista's handing to the people, the fairy lights upon their heads and how she used to fond over them —- buying it for his bedroom too and when he refused to hang them, she just brushed off his snarky comment and did it herself.

The ring in Harris finger floods back all the bitter-sweet memories of the time he refused to have a lil fun with her, (Y/N and Harris made friendship rings and bracelets for eachother with the colorful beads to spend their boring time in his home waiting for him to write some lines before they went to a gumball shop) as they try to knock some senses in their friend's brain, "You tried to dodge a heartbreak and still ended up shattering your heart, yourself." They worry about him. That he's been bearing the pain all alone and not sharing it with anyone.

His voice croak-y and hoarse, "How's she?" The question haunts him. She blocked his phone number and even in the wee hours of night he wrecks his mind whether he should call her or not, he couldn't because she doesn't want to hear his voice.

He misses her voice. He misses her complaints and whines as if they filled the stoic parts of his life with happiness.

"How'd I know?" Harris lowers down to rest their elbows on the table, "I -- I thought . . she isn't in contact with ye'?" When Harris shakes their head with a gesture that he's being truthful it sinks his heart furthermore.

He clears his throat, twisting the jewels on his hand and sucks his bottom lip to muster some courage, "I've been seeing someone." Harris chokes on the boba they were chewing on for so long, "You what?" They are completely perturbed at his statement. Even though they've been working together and been friends before Y/N came in the picture, she's still their bezzy and we don't betray our bezzies like that.

"Yeah, someone to help me sort me feelings out." Harry frowns confusedly and then realization washes upon him so he becomes frantic in his chair, "No . . not what you're thinkin'." He runs his fingers through his hair to subside the twitch in them.

"A therapist, 'm talkin' bout a therapist . ." He sighs watching his tea waft down sympathetically.

"Oh. That's a good start, Harry!" Harris tries to bring the same dimply boyish smile that used to flutter over his lips whenever she used to tease him, unfortunately it never appears.

Y/N didn't handle her first ever heartbreak well. She lost her appetite, her focus on her studies and to her surprise didn't shed a single tear –-- it just kept piling in her chest and she waited for the moment it'd burst until she saw those pictures plastered all over social media. Pictures of him with some model that isn't a shorty pants like her at all, totally how those ladies described his type to be and someone with whom he wouldn't be embarrassed to hang out with.

She's everything, Y/N's jealous of. Those sparkling blue eyes compared to her boring brown ones, handsome figure and the radiance of richness.

Then she got stuck into her life responsibilities and worried about other things such that; she wasn't able to pay any bills and her flat's rent despite doing two part time jobs along with doing her class-fellows assignments in return of money and still got kicked out of it. Her close friend offered her to live in her studio and she has made it her kitchen, study, sleeping room with her stuff and clothes scattered everywhere.

She lives on noodles and toasted breads sometimes treating herself with delights of kit-kat bars in the middle of nights.

Watches her friend do her work and leave when the night comes by —- she has never felt this lonely in her entire life.

"So, was it love at first sight?" Nora her friend asks, handing her cuppa tea and a scone. Y/N let a weak sad smile slip, shaking her head and reminiscing all those moments where she was falling in love with him without even realizing, "Falling in love slowly patiently is the most beautiful . . . at some time I used to loathe his existence but staying with him and after knowing him, it was like --— an escapeless tunnel. I didn't realize it, till one day I woke up and my heart saw him in a different light, where I wanted to give him all me lovin' but he wasn't ready for it." She shrugs sipping the hot beverage and doesn't flinch from the burn that tingles at the tip of her tongue.

When she put her cup aside Nora takes her hand assuring her sweetly, "You'll have that person soon -- he's just on his way, with a big bouquet of roses and a teddy bear to give you the lovin' you deserve." Y/N giggles at that waving her off and not showing how her person is still Harry. What does she do to forget him? To fool her in thinking he isn't her first love.

"Aish, Nora aren't you gettin' late? Gooo." She had some clients to meet before she stopped here at studio to grab some things but it turned into a girlie hangout, "Take care honey and don't forget to put a bucket there." She points to the corner where water's dripping from the rooftop and Y/N exhaled an exasperated sigh of breath when the door clicks leaving her alone yet again.

It was past twelve and when usually she pulls an all nighter to study -- today she decided to sleep early. Her bad habit of overthinking kicks in again, this time it's not over some silly thing but she ponders over where she went wrong? She should've kept her feelings to herself and atleast would have been sleeping in her bed cuddled with her chonky cat Zippy.

She misses Zippy badly.

A noise of door unlocking loudly drags her from her reverie and her heart pounds against her ribcage ready to break it. Who could be at this hour of night? It could be Nora since she's the only one who got keys to the place.

Sitting up quickly she squints against the blinding lights and watches someone's boot stepping over her blanket that flopped onto the floor from the sofa she's sleeping on.

"Kevin? What are you doing here?" He's Nora's boyfriend and her classfellow. He just shrugs tumbling his way towards the sofa and she tries to scoot back from him as much as possible, "I'm here to see you. . ." He slurs. It knocks her breath out, filling terror in her veins as the heels of her feet rub against the leather of the couch in her effort to be away from him.

"What? This's not appropriate I -- I . . suggest you to call Nora s –- so, what're you doin —-" She squeaks in fear sinking into the couch when he towers over her and traps her under him with his hands on either side of her body aggressively, "I like you. Why don't you get it!!" She flinches when he shouts angrily with bloodshot eyes and the smell of alcohol disgusts her springing tears in her eyes.

"Please, stop . . ." She whispers with silent tears running down her throat using all her strength to push at his shoulders but he grips her hips tightly and yanks at her sleeping shirt revealing the strap of her bralette. She couldn't even cry for help. It's useless so putting some belief in herself for the last time she uses all her power and kicks him in his crotch pushing him roughly on the floor.

His nails tear at her delicate skin but she doesn't care before running out of the studio ignoring the names he's calling her from behind.

She runs away, away and away. Not thinking twice where she's going before crossing the bridges and tunnels. It feels like her ears are bleeding with the echo of loud horns of traffic and the hopelessness of her life makes her fall on her knees. She cries all the tears she was bottling up for months feeling like she's running out of time and reaching dangerously near to her end.

She's been in the same neighbourhood she's been before many times. The chilly wind doesn't prick goosebumps over her skin, the night's darkness doesn't scare her and the stray dog that's barking somewhere in far doesn't affect her at all as she stares at the door from where she has stepped into her comfort space many times.

Harry's with Scottie. His childhood friend who's here in London for some shoot. They were lounged in the living room talking their hearts out and their cringey memories from when they were small when he halted mid-talk, jaw slacking when his eyes took the sight of someone standing at his main door from the multiple security screens appearing on the telly.

He doesn't believe at first. Thinking he's hallucinating and that maybe he just saw a flicker of a ghost but when she looks up revealing her sad face and those big brown eyes he rushes to open the door.

"Fuck." He breathes out working on the heavy cold locks of the oak door with shaky hands anxiously and she was about to walk away with her back turned to him when he spurts out her name in haste, "Y/N." She listens to him. Insides breaking with the nirvana and scent of him surrounding her.

His breath hitches in his throat when she spins to meet his apprehensive gaze and she doesn't give him a chance to have a proper look at her before falling in his arms, her head hitting his chest and body shaking vigorously as she sobs sadly.

"Darlin'?" He asks worriedly, slipping his arms around her shoulders to lull her in his embrace, "Are you oka?" He feels like his stomach ate his heart as he anticipates an explanation from her and she isn't doing anything but crying.

"You're scarin' me, pet. What happened honey?" He pulls away to cradle her face in his calloused palms. His chests pangs with hurt and remorse upon seeing her tear stained cheeks, wobbly blue lips, and disheveled state.

He steps inside with her still in his arms and rubs his hand down her spine to calm her down as little sad sniffles and hiccups keep slipping out of her mouth.

He sits her on the sofa squatting down infront of her and Scottie brings her water. When she refuses to drink it because Harry strokes his thumb against the apple of her cheek, "Shh, 's okay . . you're okay. You're with me now, sweet girl." It's like the world and anything else has blurred around him and his ever priority's focusing on her only. His observant gaze dawdles from her face to her bruised shoulder emitting an afflicted gasp of trepidity from between his lips and it deepens to a growl when it fell over her hip-bone where the fabric of her pyjama's spotted with blood.

He glances up at Scottie who gives him a knowing look of horror. He gets closer to her and she doesn't retract as his thumb streaks away the blood oozing from her shoulder gently, saying nothing as he examines it.

After a brief pause Y/N's heart skips a nervous beat when he tilts her chin to have a better look at her face, taking in the evidence of someone handling his petal so brutally it left scratches at her face.

Harry looks her dead in the eyes. His anger barely restrained tippling from the pot ready to leave burns, his voice is tense and quite, ears heating with wrath.

"Who did this to you?"

"Kevin." The tears are back at her waterline more concerned that he's panicking because of her and Scottie sits beside her massaging her shoulders.

"Kevin, who?" Harry's question is curt controlling himself from finding this mother fucker himself and beat the shit out of him, "H -- he's my friend's boyfriend, I though --– was sleeping in her studio 'n 'n --- when he . . . he —-- " She hides her face in her palms unable to speak but Harry quickly pulls her down in a comforting hug whispering sweet things to stop her crying.

She parts from him with puffy eyes and swollen lips shaking her head at her stupidity, "I … I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here, 'm gonna leave — ' " She's a weeping blubbering mess trying to stand up on her jello legs with the help of the couch's armrest.

He catches her wrist crying out, "No! Don't! please, please stay . . . . fo' me?" Scottie has never seen him like this. Bended out of shape for a person, begging them on his knees to protect them as he rambles loudly.

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a burden on you, I -- I'll go in the morning." Since she has nowhere to go it's better she sleeps here for a night instead of on the streets.

Harry finds it ironic. That once he didn't want her overnights now he wants her all days and weeks, perhaps till the end of his life.

He's gonna win her back.

He hands her his tattered comfy sleeping clothes and the spare toothbrush leaving her to it. When he comes back downstairs Scottie's waiting for him at the main door.

"You should report a file against that bastard the first thing in the morning." Scottie tells him seriously and he nods. His head snaps when she spoke softly, smiling at him, "You're in love."

"What?"

"I haven't seen you like that with anyone, Harry. Make it to her foolish boi -- tell her what you feel." She laughs, jolting him with his shoulders and he smiles timidly bidding her a good-bye.

The door to her room's ajar opened as he peeks inside to make sure she's okay and sighs deeply when finds her staring blankly at the ceiling. The floorboard creaks when he pads inside quietly and her stare diverts to him while he stands on the foot of bed, "I read somewhere that cuddlin' helps ye'sleep better, you w'na try?" She hums in return, fisting the duvet under her chin and slip shuts her eyes remaining stiff in her spot when he slides under the duvet closer to her.

She turns into a puddle when his long arms wrap around her tummy, "Is this okay?" His voice a mere whisper of care earning an honest nod from her -- his thigh strings over her legs to cocoon her in his warmth completely, ". . and this?" She again nod at him so,

He smushes his cheek into the crook of her neck and she could feel something moist on her skin while his lips puckered to speak, "Y/N?" He murmures broken and sad snuggling more into her.

"Hmm?" She hums, the exhaustion from walking and crying this much forcing her to sleep, "I've missed you, terribly." Her heart leaps and she wants to exchange the familiarity of emotions but her tongue remains heavy in her mouth.

Her toes curls and fingers clutches the wrinkly fabric of the pillow case she had her head rested on but now it's slipping down from over it due to her body shaking vigorously as she tries to escape those filthy, gruesome hands like a terrifying shadows of evil choking her throat and sucking the life out of her.

Harry's head snaps down to where she was snuggled to his side moments ago when she murmur-yells no,no,no,no'. He feels like someone placed a heavy brick over his chest at the sight of his lovie writhing like a leaf petrified of whatever she's dreaming of and his shoulders rolls back while he perches on his elbow to shake her gently out of it.

"Y/N . . ." He remains dulcet. Chewing onto his already swollen bottom lip since he didn't even close his eyes the entire night manipulating the plush flesh, he doesn't know what kept him awake —- but it sure was this sense of responsibility to make her feel protected under his wings. She smacks his arm away pushing at his chest with her all might to skid away to the edge of the bed in her sleepy state, so he quickly hunches on wobbly knees to catch her before she falls.

"It's just me, Angel, Harry –- wake up darlin'," His heart beating ominously frantic and head jumbling with horrible thoughts of what she's going through as her warmed up cheeks soak with tears, he has never seen her like this, he never wanted to see her for the first time after months like this --- shattered to pieces and drained of her energy.

He smooths his thumb to caress her cheek slightly and swipe those sad tears away. She wakes up with a gasp making him jerk his chin back, blinking rapidly to confirm her surroundings and her fearful vision zeros to his panicked features. She places her palms against his pectorals to make sure he's real and there and that ugly nightmare just ended, "Harry?" He gulps the thick web of tears down his throat and bobs his head.

"Yes, sweet girl, Harry . . ." The very streaks of golden rays sneak through the curtains and dances between their faces as she fists the hem of his shirt, "It was just a nightmare." He assures her running his hand up and down her arms to calm her down.

"Don't be afraid, dovie' won't let anybody hurt ya from now on, g'na protect you —--" It was the last straw for her before she flipped him over and climbed out of his bed to get out from his room.

"Shit." He drives into a state of frenzy following her down the stairs like a puppy almost missing a step or two as she wears the slippers she came in last night, "Where ye' goin'?" His muscles twitch in a hurry to make his next move and save whatever's between them that's keeping him sane, " Dunno, away from you." She shrugs, lost in her own fog and the sting in his heart's unbearable with the inflammation of hurt.

"Why?" He tumbles through the last step and infront of her, eyes bloodshot and heart how from the squeezing agony of loosing her for second time for the same cause.

"Because, I w'na forget about you!!" The scream she had in her lungs to convey her anger gets stuck in her throat. His shoulders slump from the burden of guilt and regret.

"Why?" He feels like throwing up with the unbearable anguish of him hurting to a point he wants to wash his memories out of her mind.

"Because you make me so confused, Harry…" Her face pinches into an exasperated expression of hopelessness while she nudges him aside to pass by him and to the main door but he catches her wrist before she could step outside and never come back to him, "I wouldn't confuse you from now on …. 've been better fo' you y/n, 'cos I want you to know that I'm yours." His confession springes her off guard by pure stupefaction and when she looks at him -- he's already gazing at her as if she's the moon surrounded by singing stars.

"Please, let me fight for you baby." Tears springs at his waterline ready to welcome a sob out of his lungs. Because he knows he'll be unable to live his life without her, his love will rot in the cage of his heart because he'd never be able to express it for anyone except her.

He continues not holding back anything from her instead unlocking another love language and that's being vulnerable and completely defenceless to her, "While being with you I still thought a part of me was in love with my ex and I didn't want ya to be me second priority, could neve', was so so wrong 'cos even though you're not my firsts you're gonna be my lasts. I'll make sure that you're." He gulps down the tears blocking his wind pipes and making it difficult to speak.

"I want you to give us another chance, to forgive me and give me a proper chance to love you 'cos that's what you deserve . .." The sincerity and genuineness in his stained smaragdine irises turns her pudgy in his hold, ". . . you deserve all the lovin' in this world, honey."

"Work for it then." She tells him and his pretty eyes widen adorably as of some golden fish, a vivacious smile adorns his features and he doesn't take a moment before swiping her off her feet and into his arms to hug her tightly.

His insides feels like nourishing after a time with contentment and satisfaction.

To have his loved one in his arms.

In his life.

"Thank you, Thank you, Thank youuu." He rambles into the crook of her neck, elated and joyful. Swaying their bodies together and making her smile softly after a prolonged time of suffering.

She'll heal.

He'll make sure to put ointment of affection and love on her wounds to help her heal, for herself but nobody else.

"You've got to be kidding me!" She mutters putting the alcohol swab on his torn bleeding knuckles and he squeaks locking his calf around her ankle, "Ouch! Ye' mad woman."

Harry and her went to file a report against Kevin, along with Nora who became her witness because she despises that disgusting of a man to be even around her and her studio let alone her boyfriend.

Harry was her biggest support through the whole process and dropped her off assuring her he'll pick all her stuff from Nora's place. There he was, Kevin. Stumbling at the footpath after Nora kicked him and his luggage out.

Harry's very patient and optimistic but not when his loved ones get hurt. He didn't know what was happening around him before he sprinted towards Kevin and punched him square in his face, breaking his nose and busting his own knuckles with a fierce shout of "y'son of a bastard!"

"If I ever . . . ever see ya near her, I promise that you wouldn't be able to see the living daylight." He grunted, resisting to hit him in the shin with his boots and walked past him to the studio to collect her stuff.

He was grief stricken seeing the way she had to live and not finding her pet cat anywhere. His heart could be heard cracking into tinytinytiny pieces when Nora told him that Y/N gave it to the vet since she was unable to afford it.

When she catches him staring up at her like a love-stricken puppy she huffs wrapping a band-aid around his knuckles, "'M mad at you." He seems unfazed making her gasp when brings her closer with his legs wrapped around her's, "Why . . . you're always mad at me." He whines jutting out his bottom lip and she shakes her head at his silly dotiness.

"You -– you can't go hurtin' yourself fo' me, H." She's very unaware, because certainly he'd do it as many times.

She narrows down her eyes to squint him in offense when he brushes her comment off with nonchalance and raises his bandaged wrist up to her face, "Will you kiss it better' fo' me, pet?" Her insides crumbles like dry rose petals falling from a beloved book of her favourite romances.

"Hmm?" He nudges it in a questioning suppressing a smirk. She wipes her clammy and antiseptic hands down her trousers not meeting his gaze while taking his hand awkwardly but delicately closer to where her soft mouth is located; she halts glowering at him, "Only if you ask nicely."

"That wasn't nice? Thought I was being a good boy there." He mumbles diligently pulling at the hem of her shirt and she bites down a smile, fingers still wrapped round his wrist.

"Pretty please…?" He wheezes his words out begging-ly -- upper lip curving, pupils dilating and she shrugs, "..if you insist so.." His grin was immaculate that of golden sun when she pressed her lips to his knuckles carefully giving it a gentle pat afterward.

"Not doing that again." She breathes out the air she was winding up inside her for so long. Spinning on her heels to turn her back towards him and put the first aid back under the sink, "We'll see 'bout that, let's do some grocery." He stands up patting his thighs loudly, "Wouldn't be surprised if we'll find bugs in me cabinet instead of goodies."

They've been roaming isles for an hour now and they always end up fighting who will push it. Harry doesn't let her because she keeps on filling it with instant noodles, chocolate bars and sakurai oreos.

"How about we try to live till our fifties wouldn't be that beautiful?" He follows behind her closely. His chest brushes against her shoulders everytime she makes a stop to cooes over some brightly coloured food and candies, "'M trying to make it till next year, dunno 'bout you." She mutters grumpy-ly tossing another packet of cherry lollipop inside the trolley.

He puts it back.

With a strict warning glare to her way.

"I want you to stay healthy." He says sternly glaring up at her from his ducked position. She tosses the lollipop back from the shelf, "'M paying for my things." She dismisses him off panning deadly.

"Fo' fucks sake, 's not 'bout money!" He grits annoyed at her stubbornness and she arches her brow leaning against the trolley, "Harry…'m not an actress or some high-paid model. Lemme enjoy real things, okay? Or just say you'd look too outta my league standing next to me." Her brows pints down into a frown and her shoulder slumps with her body further relaxing against the trolley.

She's up for a debate with him right in the middle of the junk food aisle if that's the case.

"See. That's why I don't want to be married!" A couple from far banters off in astonishment catching Y/N completely off guard.

"Uh-ah!" She yelps getting startled from the boom of interruption and a high-pitch squeaks leaves out of her petite lungs when the trolley rolls from under her perched elbow making her stumble for a nice trip but the bang never came as Harry coiled his arm around her waist to pull her on stable feet with a firm hand over her smallest of back.

His gentle pupils flicker between her frenzied one's, noses tickling and teasing each other with each spurt of breath that rushes out of her parted soft mouth and against his cheek.

"Maybe it's not that bad after all." The couple who were planning their future based on another couple, who's not even a couple yet but trying to work on it with their shared amount of affection; sighs in awement leaving Harry and Y/N in their own bubble.

He takes her by the elbow and helps her with his lips thinned, "Careful there." His mumble is deep and coherent husk.

She didn't whine about his green vegetables, boring low fat cheese and planned meals, celery or whatever that shit is, after that. Walking by his side like a kid who just got relief from his time out punishment.

While on the counter she asked him politely rather than biting his head of, "Lemme pay please. I'm already imposing on you by staying at your place." She knows that he wouldn't let her. Harry wants to take care of her -- in every way. He just hopes she warms up to him slowly that there will be a day she thinks of his home as hers too, oh how the table turns!

T'not make her think that his love for her is only restrictive to materialistic things he lets her pay --- but for half of it.

"D'ya got a change, miss?" The cashier asks her and she cranes her neck up to him. He denies waving his credit card with a disappointed expression so she quickly takes a chewing gum from the racks beside in return for the change.

He stops in his tracks. Watching her with glinting eyes more like fawning at her when she sways on her feet happily swinging the bag in her hold side by side.

"C'mon Harry!" She grins twiddling her fingers in a gesture to usher him where she's standing beside his car, "Yup. On your command, darlin'." He shakes his head. To fetch himself from the fond-land he always enters with anything she does.

There's a low hum of telly buzzing in the room as they sit crossed legs on the coffee rug with their knees brushing if any of them moves their bum a tad, while they slurp onto the remaining soup in the noodles cup.

This whole time he wanted to say something, to talk to her, his heart out and make it a domestic routine of sharing stuff while they eat comfy in eachother's presence but seems like his tongue betrays him everytime and his needy eyes always want to admire her and the little things she does.

He licks his lips, nodding profusely when she asks for his cup and chopsticks to take to the kitchen. A huge sigh of relief vanishes out from his chest when she disappears inside giving him time to re-collect himself, he rummages through the bag to take out the chewing gum they bought at the last moment.

He rips the packet with his teeth but it remains pressed there between his morals when he senses the familiarity of the foil --- she bought a fucking condom out of accident!

At the same moment she pads outside halting in her tracks infront of him with a horrendous expression as her peepers wouldn't stop blinking. He doesn't not know what got into him but he throws it her way as if he's utterly disgusted by it.

Sinks into the couch and refuses to meet her gaze. She throws it back at him, "I don't want it, keep it you might need it." There he goes. The smugness fuels back as he outstretches his arm over the back of the couch and man-spreads scrutinizing the way her eyes linger at his meaty thighs before flicking them away with a nervous gulp.

"You've already planned it all out, hun?" He smirks rubbing the belly of his nose with his pinky's knuckle and she folds her elbows under her breasts shaking her head at his teasing, "Yeah planning to . . . murder you t'night." She laughs out evilly when his eyes widen comically.

"Hmm. I see. Didn't know ye' were this kinky 'n naughty." She rolls her eyes at his edgy nip. She wouldn't admit it but him testing her patience turns her hot and flustered.

"Night, H." She yawns and his heart grows ten times bigger at the softness of her appearance. She cranes her head against her shoulder to look at him from the spot she's standing at when his voice calls for her, "Y/N!? Ye'really into knives? In the bed I mean." His grin mischievous knowing fully well what he's doing to her as he waits for her answer propped on his knees.

She slams the door at his face and he plops back into the sofa with a pouty victorious smile.

Harry didn't realise that in the middle of watching Gilmore Girls on the telly he fell asleep straining his neck from keeping it in a weird angle, his arms hugging the pillow and feet dangling adorably nowhere. He groans knuckling away the sleep and tries to wake up when he heard a feeble noise of someone taking his name until he looks up and finds Y/N towering him with her fluffy cream blanket pinched around her head darlingly.

"What happened, pet? Y'okay!?" He gasps trying to sit up and take her precious face to inspect her properly but she shakes her head and lays him back gently.

Her nose runny and cheeks rosied as she asks for a favour from him, "Can I -- um," She wipes her nose with the sleeve of her sweater paw. He doesn't question her further and opens his long arms to welcome her for a warm embrace.

"C'mere, pet." His whisper delicate to her.

She lies down pressed to his front resting her head on his sprawled arm and scooches herself closer to him smiling shyly against his hoodie where a Harry is embroidered in pink thread. It's like a gust of fresh spring and dew of nighty mountains as Harry takes a relaxing breather snuggling her impossibly affectionately close to himself, petting down her sweet smelling hair.

"Y'can talk to me 'bout anythin'." Their heart-beats in sync as he keeps his palm spread at her back to protect her from falling, "Ye' know that right?" He pulls back to cradle her chin between his fingers and look her in eyes sincerely.

"I know that button. Sleep for now, hmm?" He smiles softly, shutting his eyes from giving out how much a mere love name's enough to fuse him into a cloud of giddiness.

In the morning though, Harry's a small spoon and Y/N a big one. Her limbs trying to latch to his body in every way possible with her cheek smashed against his shoulder blade.

His lips quirks up into a lazy loopy smile full of contentment and peacefulness as he weaves his each finger into her's to bring her knuckles to his mouth and smother it in kisses, "Rise n' shine you furball." He rasps. chin doubling adorably as he tries to look at his squirmy girl.

He turns to face her side, temples touching and lips hovering over eachother's skin. He feels her smiling against his chin as she cuddles up into him, "I'd like to make you a brekkie…." She murmurs playing with baby curls on the nape of his neck.

"Dunno 'bout that. What if you poison me, t'death?" He giggles and she smacks his belly pouting grumpy-ly.

"Offer, expired. no more brekkie for you." She tells him wiggling out of his grip and walks towards kitchen but burst into gleeful laugh when he wraps around her calves like a koala bear, "Was jokinnnn', babe." He emphasizes his words with a twinge of whine and she meanders her hand in his ruffled curls.

"Kay! Kay! But, I could only make you omelette and sour bread." He jumps back on his feet enthusiastically looping his arm around her clavicles, "No problem. Glad t'eat anythin' made from your lovely hands."

She made him brekkie and he made fabulous peach tea for them. She blabbered off and he listened with careful ears. He praised her with glinting proud eyes and she treasured these praises in her heart.

While she chewed slowly he messaged his manager that he couldn't come to any working place for a week or so. He wants to make it special and memorable for them, their honeymoon phase.

"D'ya have any class today?" He asks her leaning towards her atop the counter, "Nope 's Saturday dummy." She chuckles flicking her thumb against his forehead and he gives a dimpled grin with bolted shut eyes.

"Yeah … silly me."

"Why?"

"So that I could take ye' ona date." His inners bouncing desperate to know her answer, "Me?" She points at herself surprised with parted lips.

"Yes you, is there somebody else sitting with us? Hello?" He calls for that non-existent person and she suckles her bottom lip to subside her squeals down. She breathes out, "Some ghostie? Evil spirit? Jesus himself —-" She cuts his banter of. With a light slap to the back of his hand.

"Okay." She says with an excited shake of head happiness bare in her words and Harry literally slips from his seat padding towards her in haste, "I'd love to." She confirms with a sweet smile and he hooks his nimble finger around her jeans loop to pull her closer to him for a fervid emotional hug.

She was a frolic mess in her room trying out her outfits and fitting into her skirts, trousers anything that could match perfectly. Deciding to terminate any ideas to wear cotton floral sun-dresses instead ends up tucking a baby pink sweater into her chequered white and black plaid trouser along with a pair of Mary Janes booties.

She took huge puffs of breath to calm her wild heart down when the knock on her door appeared. He decided to be a full on romantic today doing all the date rituals without any shame dressing up in a silk shirt three shades lighter than her's, with a pussy bow around his neck and she thinks she couldn't be more in love with him as he has a bunch of sunflowers and jasmines in the cracks of his jewels adorned fingers.

"Well, well, well, Look who came to their enemy's door holding presents." She smirks and he scowls, "Oh cut it. 'M here to pick y'up fo' our date."

What makes her lose her mind's Zippy on his shoulder.

"Oh my goodness! Harry!" She leaps towards him and takes her fluffy beast in her arms and showers Zippy's crown with many many kisses, "Thank you!" She cries out joyfully wrapping her free arm around his waist and cuddles him for dear life.

"I lo —-- " She thinks it'd be embarrassing to say it on the first date and Harry almost had a mini heart-attack but she changed her words, "I can't be more grateful to you, thank you so much."

"Now, stop thankin' me hunny." He gives her the flowers he plucked himself from his backyard and kisses the apple of her cheek turning her into a gooey mesh.

"Where is it?" She avoids checking him out.

"Why should I tell ya?" He nudges her to lock her elbow around his and she gazes up at him with loving eyes, "'cos 'm your date that's why."

"Bribe me then." He grins bashfully.

"Harry!!" She gasps and huffs tipy-toeing timidly to plant a soft kiss to his chin but it lands against his throat making him thin his lips to give out a noise that could embarrass both of them.

"Not telling you." He squeaks dragging her outside into the porch and she whines, "You leech!"

"You did not!" She snaps her neck in utter exhilaration from the view in front of her and towards Harry who's watching her with puffed cheeks to not to give out his bunny smile as her face turns guppy. The sunshine dawdles around them and she pulls him down to her level with the tug of their intertwined hands, "You're somethin' else, Styles." It warms his blood. Bursting sentiments of pure love and amiability through each orifice that leads to his heart.

"Only fo' you." He whispers stroking the plush of her cheek -- restraining to place his needy lips on her alluring pillow one's inviting him to have a good taste of their sweetness before they could taste the ripeness of strawberries growing at the farm he just took her.

"Uhm. Let's see who could collect more!" She grins pushing herself three steps away from him with support of his pecs, "What's the prize?" He asks pawing at her hips to keep her in intimate distance and she giggles tapping his chin.

"A feeling of saccharine-ss and sweetness when we'll eat those strawberries out." She tries not to step on heavy branches that are still growing and makes her way to the fresh patch, "Perhaps, that could be acquired from eatin' somethin' else out too." His wet lips brushes against her earlobe as he speaks, sending a shiver down her spine.

"You're being very loud and lewd." She pokes him in ribs. Squatting down to pluck a juicy perfectly sized strawberry and hovering it against his mouth to give him a taste, "Hmm what could I say 'm a man of dirty words." His eyes darken to an intoxicating shade of emerald as his heart-shaped magenta lips wrap around the strawberry to split it in two with his teeth.

He still remembers. How her mouth tasted that night, how her lips came molding around his's like a stamp of a lover's letter and her body fitted against his's like a lost piece of puzzle.

Just made for him.

"Harry …" She's out of words. Maybe, breath.

"Yes dovie?" He hooks his finger into her belt's loop to saturate the thread like distance between them and makes tight hold at the nape of her neck to crane her head up to meet his honey eyed gaze, "D'ya know how to make strawberry mochi?" His shoulder slumps at her question and he rests his cheek atop her temple cutely.

"Noo." His voice sort of whine-y.

"No, problem. We'll make it together." She chuckles turning back to collect the strawberries into her basket.

She never had this fun. Messing around with him. Feeding eachother the sweet fruit. Him scaring her that some rat sprinted by her feet and enjoying the way she jumps at him, only wheezing comically when she throws a blow at him.

Her giggles bounces off each and every ivory flower and leafy plant as he pins her to the viridescent grass, with his thighs and tickles her non-stop. What started as raspberries turns into sloppy smothers of kisses all over her face.

"Harry!!" She bursts into another fit of laughter, "Stop." She warns him squeezing her thighs around his waist and he giggles challenging her.

"O'what? Huhh?" She closes her eyes nuzzling into his arm that's trapping her down, "Or I'll kiss you…" Her voice gentle and dulcet making his grip loosen and heartbeat fastens like a thunderbolt.

"'M not afraid of that." He gives a toothy grin sneaking a glance at her hand which's gliding up his throat to cup his cheek, eyelids fluttering like petals from breeze as she smudges her sweet mesh coated lips against his's in a tenderly ardent, and yearningly amiable kiss feeling her pulse ring in her ears with so much force.

His fingers make their home down her smooth hair to cup the nape of her neck, elbows digging into mud when he lifts her up to deepen the kiss sloppily. Just her. Only her. Swirling inside of him as his very thought.

Their noses crooking perfectly, skins kissing and bodies hitched to eachother with the knot of souls.

She whimpers into his mouth squishing the poor strawberry she was holding in her free hand from the intensity of fierce sentiments she's spiraling in; to have him all and swallow him all because he's that damn gorgeous. His tongue pokes and tickles the plush insides of her small mouth tasting the strawberry straight from where he loves the most. His belly burning with the fire of desire feeling the way her body's reacting with puriency to his subtle touches of affection.

He was dying to have a kiss from her the day she gave him her lips that night and he couldn't resist but to think about it regularly.

A wet filthy sound bubbles around them when they part away with the remnants of spit in the form of intricate strings connecting them; that breaks when he relaxes his forehead against her's taking a good breather of mossy air.

"S' messy." He tuts when his eyes fall at her palm covered in strawberry pulp.

She gasps giddy-ly when he pokes his pink tongue out and takes a huge swipe up her palm with an erotic hum that rattled her insides.

"H -- arry." She nibbles at her bottom lip to filter noises she's unable to hold meanwhile he sucks her fingers one by one to clean them, her panties twisting with an ache of want.

"Hmm. All nice 'n clean, now we should go." He says flipping her wrist to act as if he's inspecting it. Brushes the dirt of his trousers leaving her baffled and grumpy. When she doesn't stand up he squats down at her level arching a brow at her and before she could know what's happening she's thrown over his broad shoulder like a rag doll.

Her squeals hearty and giggly as she tries to punch his back but her breath gets caught in her throat when his large hand comes spanking her butt-cheek. He waits for her reaction —- grinning cheekily when she sucks in her weak mewls and grabs the back of his neck blabbering his name off.

He puts her back on the ground once out on the gravel path and hands her the basket piled with strawberries. Ducks down to sponge a kiss to her cheek telling her to stay glued to her spot as he leaves to pay.

She smiles down at her feet then at the sky revinding all the moments and their lovely kiss that makes her feel all warm and stupidly gooey.

While boarding the train he wiggles his finger behind himself to get a hold on her and keep her close to him, craning his neck with a lopsided sly smile, "Hold me hand."

"If you insist." She nods with a grin slipping her fingers over his palm and he wovens them with his own with a firm grip stepping inside the train and helps her to do so with his free hand behind her head.

She sighs. Sitting with her back pressed against the window of the train. One leg folded and other dangling from the seat as she stares at Harry with a pouty smile.

"Don't ya think you're sittin' too far away from me?" He says, grabbing her knee, "Come here." And slides her towards himself now their thighs overlapping. He doesn't like even the mere distance between them —-- might sound sappy but he wants to be like her scent.

"Happy?" She pinches his cheek and he winces dramatically ruffling her already loose tresses of hair making her look as if she was on a roller coaster minutes ago, "aren't you a one clingy bunny!" She huffs trying to blow away the hair falling in her eyes. He bobs his head in agreement and slings his elbow around her shoulders to tuck her under his chin protectively.

"Okie, now add some sugar in it —- aish slow down …" She coughs waving away the sugar dust tickling her nostrils as Harry poured so much sugar all at once. He has his chin rested on her head and her hips crooned against his thighs as they make the strawberry and vanilla mochi together.

His puffer jacket on her shoulders (To the time they went to buy grocery stuff it started being cold and Harry being a mommy he took out his jacket and bundled her up in it) —- She sneezes and he quips pecking her hair, "Bless your heart." Fetches her a tissue too.

"Thank you, bubs." She giggles grabbing his jaw bringing him down to smooch a kiss to his lips. She pulls back but he persists snaking his palm around the nape of her neck to keep her put —- she gives in with her heart fluttering like candle flame in a destructive storm.

Turns in his embrace and hooks her elbows behind his head patching tiny, tiny, tiny pecks on his pillowy lips until he gets desperate to kiss her mouth and tongue pushing her to his front by gliding his hand into the back-pocket of her jeans.

Her head lulls. Feeling as if the kitchen got filled with candy clouds floating around her when he cradles her cheeks in his both palms lapping at her bottom lip and nips at it with every whimper of desire that falls, "Mine." He breathes out rubbing the bridge of his nose up and down her cheek like a puppy nuzzling into his favourite plushie.

"Yours." She says without any hesitation.

He smashes his wet lips back on hers. Swirls of gleeful colours surrounding them as he feels like he could kiss her forever.

She gasps gazing down lustfully at his wine cherried lips when he holds her from waist and sits her on the wooden counter, "I want you to take me." She murmurs nailing at the silk of his top and he paws at her hip-bones cravingly, it makes her feel like one the most desired women alive.

"I'm all yours to pleasure you lovie'," He looks her in the eyes with so much love and affection it melts her whole, "Just ask me and I'll give me girl what she wants …. " He says trailing sloppy kisses down her throat. Her head falls against the tiled wall giving him more access to her skin --- so he could mark her as he wishes.

The heat from his mouth to her bare skin arouses her to an extent she feels wetness sticking to the insides of her thighs with each grind of his crotch against her's.

She tugs at the roots of his curls, mouth parted around a moan when he grazes his touch over her plump breasts, "Is this okay?" He asks breathlessly and she bobs her head vigorously latching onto him.

"Yes, please, more … " He blinks to let reality sink in when she raises her arms in the air for him to get rid of her clothes.

He smiles. Hard. Crinkles forming by his eyes and cheery lines around his mouth as she looks up at him with those doe eyes glinting with his own reflection.

She squirms grumpily and he cackles loudly when she hooks his fingers into the hem of her jeans as a sign that "just undress me right now and fuck me hard over this counter." But, the romantic sap he's just keeps on being a tease.

"Fuck me already." She huffs locking her ankles behind his back.

"Trust me, I want it as bad as y'do but are you sure —-- "

"I'm --- just fuck …. " She cuts him off, cupping his cheeks and kisses his mouth. He groans when she sucks his swollen lip in between his teeth and lifts her pelvis grinned against his swell lining in his trouser to elaborate her neediness through actions,

He undresses her finally folding them and putting them away nicely while she stays a breathless mess just in her undies, her sheer panties soaked in her juices and profanities of moans fuses into air from both of them as Harry places his hands on her knees. Irises darkening with lust when he looks at the delicate lines of her drippy pussy lips forming from underneath the material.

"Spread your legs, I want to feel how turned on I made you feel." His voice an obscene grunt and it tingles her core making her feel she should obey him, "Fuckin' hell." His moan is dirty as he rubs the pad of his long digits against her soaked centre. His piercing gaze flitting between her thighs crumbled her in the best way possible.

She fists the hem of his top, tugging at it with the blabbering of his name.

A series of pornographic whines leaves her through her nose when he demands her to raise her bum so he could get rid of the last thing being a bother to them.

"Oh my — " She arches her spine when his fingers withered in her stickiness, between her glistening pussy lips to her mound pinching her clitoris in the way and listens to the soapy noises he's creating while lathering his hand with her juices he'd love more to coat his tongue with.

"This is what you want, hmm? For me to bend you over this counter right fucking now and pump me thick cock inside your sweet cunt from behind till you're screaming for me to ram harder inside you, so deep that you feel me in your little tummy and I keep it there for hours making you cum on it again and again — many time that you're milky and cramped around my prick like a filthy girl you're." He dips his impossibly sweet pink tongue inside her mouth and makes her sip down his dirty words through her throat not letting her mewls slip out as his lengthy finger slicks inside her causing her melt against his chest with a turmoil of emotions and heat she never felt before.

Her brain whirles with the mantra of fuckfuckfuck but her guppy lips says otherwise, she coils her arms around his shoulders scratching her nails down his neck — eyes rolling back as she shakes with the build of ecstasy.

"You're so snug and warm, sweets. Can't wait to be inside you." He husks curling his digit to give her upper wall a good rub, "Harry!" Her scream comes out gruff vibrating with a sexy octave.

"Yes, baby." He pinches her chin between his thumb and forefinger staining soft wet kisses from the corner of her lips, to her rosy cheeks and down her throat sewing love bites along her veins.

"Does it feel good, hmm? 'M g'na stuff you full of my prick bet it'll make you feel like heavens --" Her brows tenses up as he forces her to keep her eyes locked with his's and groans with the throb in his cock bound to implode with each whimper of his name she lets out hiking up her knees on the counter — the heels of her feet sticking firmly against the edge of the counter giving a carnally pleasing view for him to enjoy and ooze with sticky precum.

He huffs out breathily, fingers sliding in and out at a fast pace while he moves down to take her perky nipple between his teeth teasing it with nip of his tongue, "Fuck. Mhmm baby I've so many dirty things to d'to you, would you be an atta girl and be naughty with me?" He nuzzles his curls against her skin grinding his knuckles up and down against her swollen clit.

"Yes, yes, yes." She moans trying to sink impossibly deep on his fingers. He admires her in amusement as her belly twists into ripples and she thrashes in his tight hold —- broken into pieces of vulnerability foxily.

He withers his gaze to where he's driving his fingers roughly inside her and a cold shiver runs down his spine, eyelashes fluttering and he sucks his bottom lip brutally praising her softly, "yes just like that darling taking my fingers so good —- they'll look pretty down your throat too while I'll fill your other holes with me, all me." He wraps a hand around her throat giving it a light squeeze and it was enough to spread warmth and the saccharine feeling of fullness in her every tissue gushing over his fingers.

"You're mine." He growls nipping at her sweet spot –-- wearing her out with his continuous different motions inside her. His wrist glistening with her come and her head lulls on his tanned shoulder, eyes slip shut, chest levitating with shallow breaths.

She cups his cheeks wrapping her trembling legs around his waist and kisses his smile, it's sloppy and barely a kiss with their lazy effort to keep their mouths on each other to soak into intimacy.

Next they're a moaning and crying mess on the kitchen floor with her knee hooked around his hip to keep him close as he stretches her out leaving a pleasurable burn against her squishy inviting walls.

His cock sits warm inside her pussy and his balls snug against her bum. It's torturous waiting for her to give a signal that he might move because he couldn't resist but to be rock hard inside her and fuck her for hours but his knees are laughing at him for being unable to bear the sting of cold tiles.

"You can move, 'm okay." She whispers hugging him for dear life and he nods grinding his hips slowly, the bulbous head of his dick hitting all the right spots —- he's so good at fucking.

He takes her fleshy tits in his palms caressing them with each lewd stroke of his cock inside her and treats her glistening lips from his spit back to his mouth, pecking it generously.

"Pull me hair." He groans pushing hard and guides her hand into his swirl of sweaty curls — hips stuttering, eyes rolling back into his skull erotically when she does so peppering loving kisses under his earlobe, "You're g'na ruin me lovie … fuck me please." He whines grabbing her ass and lifts her pelvis to slide inside her dripping pussy with much more roughness.

She has never seen him like this. Shredded to seams for her, sweat beading down his gorgeous face like glimmer of pearls and eyes mossed with so much lust and desperation it knocks air out of her lungs.

He rolls them over gently and her squeal turns into a shameless yawp when he feels much more bigger than before inside her with her being on top of him —- he was right she could feel him in her tummy.

She's clueless what to do. Not that she's gonna show it –- she doesn't want to give him an impression that she knows barely anything about riding but the way she begins with zealous back and forth movement digging the heels of her palms against his pecks wrecks him havoc.

"You're doin' so good pet, yes, yes, yes. Use me baby. Use me like your little fuck toy 'm c'mon." He grabs the nape of her neck and brings her down to skim his tongue over her lips, manipulating the plushiness of them with his teeth. His balls slapping against her skin as she bounces on his cock diligently and he fists the soft flesh of her bum with both of his hands to help her ride him knows she's labouring herself out, "I'm all yours." He says caressing her sides to make sure she's okay and brushes the wisp of sticky hair behind her ear.

"You're looking so sexy sitting on my dick like that -- how about I don't allow you to cum so you could keep me warm with your pussy like that fo' hours?" His pants out gripping at her thighs as his prick spills with wetness inside her and she cries out shaking, "No!" He smirks crinkled forming by his eyes and takes this chance to drive hard up inside her making her flop onto his chest.

She gasps moistly, pulsating around him feeling every ridge and vein of his cock stroking against her walls creating obscene noises of skin meeting skin and their moistures mixing soapily like gooe.

"Cum fo' me baby -- squeezing me s' tight. I know you're there." His pants laboured and heavy as he sucks his own digits coating them with his spit nicely and glides them down pressing them to her weeping bud, then flickers it in prolong circles. Toes curling. His thrusts consistent and fast. She crooks her nose against his's murmuring to him with a wavering voice.

"I'm gonna cum, fuck."

"You're gonna make me come."

Her eyes widen in surprise but her body reacts otherwise albeit she has never experienced it —- but her moans were uncontrollable when he spanked her butt cheek and she crampied down at him jolting tremendously with the wave of insanity spreading to her bones.

"I'm a naughty boy, give it to me." He kisses his teeth together man spreading and throwing his knees up to ram up inside her perfectly.

His eyes shuts till he could see white spotting behind them -- he spills inside her in form of thick ribbons and milks her cunt with it riding her out of her high. She clings to his body and snuggles into him to tone down the shivers running down her spine with each tiny orgasm she feels rushing out with his lazy thrusts.

"I'm jello." She tells him and he looks down at her with a mishevious grin, "Does that give me a reason to eat you whole?" She rolls her eyes poking at his cheek with a grossed out expression.

"I'm still inside ye', remember?" He stirs his hips to make her realise and she yelps not know if it's making her feel hot or utterly sensitive, "You're insatiable." She mumbles pouting her lips to indicate him she's dying for his lips to smooch kisses to her.

"No kidding I love the noises you make when you come undone." She confesses timidly drawing stars at his chest and he giggles kissing her temple gently, "Stop before you wake me buddy up again –- he quite fond of you." He blushes hiding his face into the crook of her neck with tiny voice.

They're canoodling under the fluffy blanket on the sofa watching telly after they just took a bath together, shampooing eachother with peach scents and drying eachother off with warm towels. She's nuzzled into his side wearing one of his baby yellow robes, his arm stays around her shoulder thumb addicted to caressing her silky cheek, sometimes spreading his fingers down her throat to tip her chin up to smooch sweet kisses on her lips.

"You're cute when you're not a pest." She giggles and he frowns comically pretending to munch her alive, "That's very rude -- you should be thankful that I lov — " Her heart almost stops functioning.

They were sipping onto their green teas and nibbling onto the strawberry mochi they made and refrigerated before when the doorbell rang making them groan in laziness.

She stood up going to see what took Harry so long on the door and got revealed to him talking instinctively to whoever rang the bell.

"Hi, Y/N." Scottie smiles at him. Carrying her luggage and Y/N looks down at her attire for a second then forwards her hand shyly. She was so scared that day –- it's a blur to her but now she watches Scottie properly she realizes …. She's the same girl from all the paparazzi photos.

Something switches off inside her. The rainbows and confettis, the moonlight and stars and the nebula of the whole galaxy she had consumed in her little body from making love to Harry just shuts down into a white noise.

Her bottom lip plumps into a pout. Eyebrows trembling from this confused feeling of some invisible thing squeezing the life out of her.

She's jealous.

"I just came here to say bye." Scottie's voice makes her focus back into reality.

"Oh…" She just nods. She doesn't return the hug even though her brain guilt trips her for that and when Scottie leaves with the air thick and tense, Harry corners her in between a wall and piece of furniture cradling her grumpy face in his careful palms speaking gently to her.

"You don't 'ave to worry 'bout her, she's just a friend …. Infact you don't have to worry 'bout anyone because I love you so so much baby that I don't see myself spending me life with anyone else." She glances up at him twice, jaw falling slack from shock and he chuckles smothering her in kind-hearted kisses when she stares at him like a hawk.

"You what!?"

"I love you, Y/N." Her eyes closing like a moth flapping nearer to fire and finding peace in burning inside it.

"I love you too so much." She whispers and welcomes his lips melting against her ardently. With the passion only lovers hold. Amiability she couldn't find anyone else but in his embrace, in his kisses and his lovemaking.

"Can we go back to cuddlin'? Me feet gettin' cold baby." He whines treading fastly into the living room while carrying her like a kitten from behind and makes squeaky noises once snoozed under the warmth of the blanket.

He touches their foreheads. Kissing the tip of her nose adorably.

"I love you." Then burst into giggles. When she returns the passion coyly.

"I love you too."

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles one shots #harry styles fanfic #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #Harry Styles fluffy duffy

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sunaswife · 3 years

Text

Summary: It’s been five years since you’ve seen your ex, Rin. He’s still not over you and you’re not over him. When he finds out you have children he thought he didn’t have a chance. Then he finds out they’re his? All of a sudden you’re teaching Suna how to be a single dad.

🔪: Y’all my heart 🥺 ngl I kinda cried as I wrote this

Warnings: Fluff, angst I guess, drama, and cuteness twin overload

Previously Up Next Masterlist

Chapter Twelve

“Hi hi are you our grandma?” Rini said with wide eyes, you, Rin and Kauru were outside grabbing the last of the groceries and talking. It was like his mother was frozen in time, they looked exactly like her son when he was a kid, when she was still learning how to raise a tiny human.

She finally realized she was a grandmother because the looks were uncanny. “Yes I’m your grandma.” She replied and she kids ran and hugged her legs. “It’s nice to meet you, we’ve never had a grandma before but we promise to be good grandkids for you.” Rini said and Akira nodded. “What do you mean you never had a grandma before?” She asked the twins, they didn’t see the glint in her eyes. She needs all the information she can get to show her son that she’s not a good mother and he can fight for custody.

“Momma doesn’t talk to her parents. They’re mean and think she’s a dispointment.” Akira chimed in. Obviously the kid met disappointment which made sense. If Rin was a girl she’d probably do the same thing.

“Hey guys guess what grandma got!” Rin walked in, his hands full of groceries. He placed them down and pulled out the pack of the frozen Chuupets. The kids eyes widened and they ran to their dad to hand them a chuupet. “You are only getting one because you haven’t eaten dinner yet.” He said and the kids nodded. After he handed them the chuupet, they ran off. “How’s everything mom.” He looks down to see the shorter woman. “Could be better without your dog and your ex.” She answered and Suna frowned.

“At least try to get along with her? Please. She’s the mother of your grandkids and hopefully we can be together again.” He said hopefully and her eyes widened. “You wanna get back together with her.” She said almost disgusted and Rin sighed. “Yeah mom.” He replied. “You’re gonna regret it.” She hummed and Rin rolled his eyes.

“Excuse me..um...Mrs.Suna..?” You peered from behind the wall you somewhat heard their conversation but that’s a talk for another time, “What.” She raised a brow and Rin facepalmed. “When was the last time you checked the oil of your car? And your brakes?” You asked. “I don’t know. Usually we take it to a mechanic, but we’ve been busy raising someone else’s dog.” She said and eyed her son. “Mechanic? Rin nor Kauru don’t know how to do that?” You asked. “I have a sports car, no way in hell I’m fucking it up.” Rin replied.

“Is it okay for me to change the oil and the brakes? I would hate for you to get into an accident.” You asked. “Accident? You’d probably tinker with my car so I’d crash the next time I use it.” She crossed her arms over her chest. You were beyond confused, “Mom, stop.” Rin scolded and she rolled her eyes.

You left the car as is but made a mental note to ask Kauru for permission to add more oil and fix her brakes.

Other than that conversation you haven’t spoken to her the rest of the day. What bothered you was that she didn’t try to get close to the kids. You sat on the small picnic table in the backyard while Rin was throwing a chew toy across the backyard while his dog, Chewy chased it eagarly. When Rin came to the back yard he whistled causing the dog to turn its head, it stayed frozen as if not believing his owner was truly there. But eventually Rin called him and his ears perked up and he began running and whining at the same time. He tackled Rin and he fell back. Chewy licked his face and Rin was giggling with a big stupid smile on his face, you smiled lightly at the scene and Akira tugged onto your leggings to tell you that Rin was crying.

Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion and turned again to see Rin and then you saw it. The way he held on to his dog and a small tear streamed down. “Who’s a good boy? Are you a good boy?” He talked and Chewy’s tail wagged. “Alright bud, sit.” He commanded and he sat obediently. You could hear a tapping noise but it was because Chewy was so excited to see his owner. “Chewy meet your brother and sister.” Rin introduced and you started laughing. “What do you mean he’s our brother? He’s a dog.” Rini pointed out, “Same difference.” Rin shrugged and you covered your mouth to stop yourself from snorting.

“Okay get close and tell him to shake. Then shake his hand.” He instructed, Rini was first and gasped when Chewy obeyed. Earlier they got around to playing but they didn’t know their dads dog—I mean brother was trained. Akira did the same thing and she giggled. “Alrighty, Chewy. Meet your new mom.” He introduced you and you stepped back. “Nope, not my son.” You waved off, “Are you really gonna leave him motherless.” Rin pressed, “Yeah mama, he’s our brother you can’t be like that.” Akira whined.

“I just never really liked dogs.” You admitted, “Me neither but he’s my best friend.” Rin said softly. You looked down at the brown dog with curly hair. His tail wagged as his tongue sticker out so adorably. Now you understood why Rin named him Chewy, he looks like Chewbacca. “Nice to meet you, Chewy.” You reached your hand out to pet his head but he jump and rested his paws on your stomach, causing you to lose you balance and fall back. Before you could fall and die from embarrassment, No one other than Rin was there to catch you. “I’m sorry he doesn’t really do that. He’s just too excited.” He said from behind and helped you up. “No it’s fine.” You said and you both stayed quiet.

“So are you gonna continue holding on to my waist or..?”

“Fuck..sorry.” He apologized with flushed cheeks and let go. The kids began scolding their dad’s potty mouth and you hated that feeling in your stomach from when he pulled away.

Rin’s mom looked from the kitchen window and gritted her teeth while scrubbing the pan a little too hard. “Good job, Chewy.” Rini and Akira quietly praised and continued to play with their new brother.

****

“Finally we can talk.” Rin’s mom said and sat at the head of the table, you and Rin both gulped and Kauru sighed. He just wanted to nap. “Okay I can tell without a doubt that those children are Rintarou’s. And it’s nice that they don’t look like you.” Rin’s mom spoke up and you gasped. “If you’re here just to fight then don’t even open your mouth.” Kauru told his wife and she gave a glare. “Okay first of all. Why didn’t you tell my son you were pregnant.” She crossed her arms over your chest and you cuddled with your fingers. “Well Mrs.Suna...like I said over the phone. We had just broken up and I was hurt and afraid. I wasn’t sure if he would support me in keeping them—“ “Well how could you know if you didn’t speak up?” She interrupted but you ignored the jabs she threw. “I also wanted him to continue on with his career, stress free. I guess at the time I still loved him a lot that I didn’t want him to suffer with me. Or else I could have easily filed for child support.” You said and Rin frowned slightly.

“That’s not a good excuse. Rintarou has missed out on so much because you were selfish. You just wanted Rin to go pro for the money.” She accused with a pointed finger. “Mom—stop!” Rin immediately said and Kauru raised his finger to stop his son. “Karin do you know that for sure?” He asked his wife. “Yeah. All she does is party and drink. I think the kids are unsafe under her care. All of her money is wasted on her fake breasts.”

“Ma’am I can assure you that these are real. Ask your son.” You waved off and she gasped before she could open her mouth to utter more stupid shit you said. “With all due respect Mrs. Suna, you don’t know me. You don’t know how I raise my children, you don’t know what I do for a living and you don’t know what I’ve been through. Please before judging me, see how I treat my kids and how I treat your son. I have been nothing but respectful and the least you could do is treat me like a proper guest.” You argued back but she just ignored you and went through her iPad.

Why does she have an iPad? She flips the device over so you and the two Suna men could see and Rin almost spit out his drink. Karin told Kauru to look away and your mouth hung open as she swiped photo after photo of you in revealing lingerie. In some photos you’re wearing a gag and in others you’re chained up but it’s all modeling for Jamie and her line. You looked at your stomach and thighs and you could see those stretch marks.

Even though the world has seen these pictures, you can’t help but feel nervous when Rintarou is looking at them. You weren’t the same athletic girl from highschool, you gained weight, developed stretch marks, and you hate working out. You know you’re beautiful, that’s why you asked Jamie to not edit the photos of you she posted on the web. Your stretch marks and tummy were there for the world to see. But their comments or praise didn’t matter. The only person’s opinion that matters is Rintarou’s. Which is ridiculous to say but, some part of you still wants his approval and to be with him.

“Is this a good example to show your daughter? You want her modeling and showing off her body like a filthy wh—“ “Enough!” Rin smacked the table and stood up. You flinched as well as she did and you began to cry. “You make it seem like I should be ashamed of myself...”

“You should be.”

“Have you told them why we broke up?” You turned to Rin and he saw the tears streaming down. He wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms and say that it’s okay. “No..” he shook his head and you sighed. “You won’t understand unless your son tells you what he did. Everything I did for myself and my children was for a reason. Now if you’d excuse me, I need to go, it’s time for their history lesson.” You wiped your eyes and left the table. Quickly you grabbed your bag with all their supplies and you met them outside. “Come on, time for school!” You called with a fake smile and red eyes. The kids understood to not argue and to just obey.

You sat on the picnic table with your two kids across from you and Chewy was laying on the bench right next to you, with his head on your thighs. “Mama...” Rini interrupted your thoughts, “Yes baby?” You asked and looked up from their lesson plan, “I love you, and you’re the best mom in the world.” He said with a small smile. “I love you more than Rini and you’re the bestest momma in the universe!” Akira chimes in and you chuckled. “I love you guys to infinity and beyond, forever and ever! It’s called unconditional love.” You said and their eyes widened. “Unconditional love...” akira hummed and you nodded.

“Hi Kuroo-san is everything okay?” You asked as you made your way to the patio outside. It was already time for the kids bedtime. “Y/N I’m sorry for informing you last minute but one of the commentators for tomorrow’s game is in the hospital so we were wondering if you could fill in.” He spoke calmly. “I—oh gosh I’m all the way in Hyogo..when does the game start?” You asked.

After going back in forth for tomorrow’s game you hung up after respectfully telling him you weren’t interested in going out on a date. You rubbed your face and looked at the time. The trains have already closed for the day, so you’d have to take your car.

“You good?” Rin asked as soon as you walked back inside. “I need to go in to work tomorrow. Another commentator is in the hospital. Nobody else can fill in.” You said and his eyes widened since it’s a very long drive. “Oh how fantastic, leaving your young children overnight to go work—“

“I’m taking them.” You interrupted the witch and her eyes widened. “What do you mean you’re taking them.” She asked. “They’re my children and I don’t want to leave them with you. I’d rather take them and ask Jamie to watch over them and I’ll come back the day after tomorrow.”

“Y/N...” Suna snapped you out of your rambling and you turned your head to see him. “I’m here now, remember? You don’t have to do this alone anymore. I can take care of them and watch them. I’ve done it before.” He assured. “I’m sorry but I really don’t want them near your mom.” You explained your reasoning. “Tomorrow we’ll be at Kita’s farm all day. They’ll be fine.” He said and patted your head. Without even realizing, you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around Suna’s torso, his face flushed and he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. “Thank you. It means a lot.” You mumbled in his chest.

“It’s my job, partner.” He chuckled and you pulled away. “Fist bump?” He asked and presented his closer fist, you giggled and nodded. “Fist bump.” You did the same and your knuckles met. Rin’s mother scoffed and rolled her eyes, walking away to her room.

You took a deep breath as you crossed lanes on the freeway going back home. You wanted nothing more than to stay with your kids or take them with you, but you can’t control everything yourself anymore. You gonna trust Rin.

You made it home by five am since the drive was eight hours but you made it in seven by speeding and automatically fell asleep in Rin’s bed. You decided to take the pull out bed in your office when Rin moved in and he slept in your old master bedroom. But you were too tired to pull it out so you slept in your old bed. You couldn’t help but notice how the pillows smelled like Rin.

His scent definitely changed, he doesn’t use the old spice fragrance from highschool. He now uses something more expensive and more subtle yet manly at the same time. You definitely needed to know what the scent was so you could buy more for him on a birthday or something.

You woke up at around 13:30 to get ready and leave by 15:00. You showered, did your hair and wore the white button up with the green dress pants and a green blazer on top. You slipped on some hot pink heels and some subtle jewelry and made your way. You called your kids and they said they were having a blast, they really missed you and wished you and their grandma were there and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

While Rin’s mom stayed home, her husband worked and Rin took the kids out, she began thinking about the day before.

“You won’t understand unless your son tells you what he did. Everything I did for myself and my children was for a reason.”

Rin’s mom was obviously confused and still annoyed at you. But then Rin sat her down after breakfast, the kids were outside and Kauru was already gone. He explained what he did with his friends and Karin couldn’t help but feel disgusted. If she would have been more involved in his teenage life then she could have prevented this. Prevented minors drinking, prevented her son getting sexually involved with you, and preventing an innocent girl getting hurt.

In reality you should have thrown a full can of coffee at Rin instead of an empty one. You should have cursed him and made him pay child support. That’s what she would do straight up. But you’re not her, and you explained why you did what you did. And she began to understand. “You have a lot of work to do in order to get back in her good grace.” She told her son. “I know I know..” he said softly. “That’s why we’re starting as friends. And eventually I wanna be with her romanticly and marry her. I want to be the man she can rely on and trust again.” He said and her mom smiled.

“I understand, I’ll make sure to apologize when she returns. And I’m rooting for you.” She said and Rin smiled. “Thanks mom.” She stood up and grabbed her bag, “I’m not in the mood to cook. How do burgers sound?” She asked Rin and he nodded. “There’s a place down the street that’s pretty good. I’ll be back in a few.”

Rin’s mother wanted to repent for her actions and she tried thinking of a proper way to apologize. She went into the restaurant to order and everywhere she saw, it explained that the food was made with peanut oil. But that’s what gave it the flavor. That’s why it’s so delicious. She happily payed for the food completely oblivious that her grandson was severely allergic to peanuts.

She arrived home and rounded up the kids. She gave them a kiss on the head and smiled as they showed her their drawings that she could keep. Rin’s mom passed around the burgers so Rin couldn’t see the bag that promoted the peanut oil being a main ingredient and the kids munched.

When Rini took the bite his eyes widened at the deliciousness. Bite after bite and his throat began to feel weird, as well as his stomach. He took a sip of the lemonade and he couldn’t swallow it properly. He began to cough and Rin patted his back confused and he face turned red.

“Rini are you choking?!” Akira asked scared and Rini shook her head. “My stomach hurts—“ he coughed and Rin’s eyes widened. “Oh shit.” He quickly ran upstairs to his old bedroom and looked through the bag with Rini’s inhaler and other vitamins. He saw the epipen and ran back out quickly unscrewing it. Rini’s face was turning purple and he continued to cough. Akira was crying and Karin didn’t know what to do. Rin fell to his knees and slammed the pen on his sons thigh. “Are you okay bud. Stay with me please.” Tears prickled his eyes. He seriously fucked up.

Rini’s chest heaved up in down as he tried to catch his breath. Rintarou instructed his mom to call 119 and an ambulance soon came and took Rini away with Rin in the ambulance. Akira was stuck with her grandma driving to the hospital.

Karin was so confused at the situation. And she was worried for her grandson. She tried her best calming the little girl who held the green pig plush and the fox plush in her arms. “Is Rini gonna die?” Akira pouted with watery eyes. “Of course not. Everything is gonna be alright.” She assured.

While all this was going down, you were talking and laughing as you talked about Sendai frogs and their intimating demeanor. You felt a weird feeling in your chest and felt like something was wrong. Your purse and phone was stuck in the lounge locker so you didn’t see the 20+ phone calls and messages you received from Rin.

He was afraid and didn’t know what to do. He really wished you were here by his side. He couldn’t do this alone and realized this is what it’s like being a single parent.

🏷: @therealwalmartjesus @differentballooncollection @aaesuki @atsunflower @dope-squish @prettysetterboiss @june-phantom @tomo-uwu @austriasmariazelle @xrnia @katsulia @aprettyfruit @shut-your-eyes-kiss-me-goodbye @tvbiio @sun-daddy-yoriichi @kamenoyaki @ppangiiroo @loeyprivvv @kmskj92 @lovinnoya @sarahvvictoria @tris-does-stuff @mokkeguts @sunaluvr6969 @bara-rose-would @sempiternal-amour @volleybloop @leykyuu @bokutoichigo @stfucanunot @iloveanime691 @tpwkatsumu @ohrintarou @shoutosimp @mqrinqcele @bokutosdivineass @anngelllla @toworuu @hidden-otaku-stuff @seijohiselite @caxsthetic @aquariarose @hhwanggu @bakuhoetoedoroki @yoozuku @osamus-onigiri @akaashi-todorki @donica95 @kakaokenma @airheadpillar

#suna rintarou fluff #haikyuu suna #suna rintarō #miya atsumu #miya osamu #suna x reader #haikyuu!! x reader

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wendimydarling · 4 years

Text

The Thirst is Real

Summary: Little Freya might not be who she says she is...

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Little Freya

Word Count: 1965

Warnings: uhhh.... slow burn; dirty thoughts; erotic thoughts; mentions of arousal, daddy kink, spanking, oral, masturbation, and thigh riding; size kink; slight manhandling; dom/sub kink if you squint.

A/N: So it’s been buzzing around The Cavillry that @littlefreya is either a mole in the community or Henry himself... @agniavateira (my beautiful goddess of a beta who also beta’d this fic for me) and I had a sensational conversation about what Freya and Henry’s weekly meet-ups would entail, and this beautiful birthday present was born! It’s also a little different that what I’ve done before, as I might have used some real life thirst examples in the fic.

Did I call you out? I guess you’ll just have to read. 😈

You’ll get another gift on your actual birthday my love, but for now, please enjoy!!

~~~~~

Freya adjusted her curls in the mirror, adding one last dash of eyeliner. She was preparing for her weekly meeting with Henry, but this time her stomach was twisting itself in a spiral like a shirt ready to be dyed.

When Henry first suggested the idea of her going on Tumblr to spy for him, she was hesitant at first. What if she couldn’t make friends? What if they didn’t trust her? But now, with a solid 6k followers under her belt, she knew she could say just about anything and people would flock to the thirst.

With a nervous look at her reflection, Freya gathered her things and headed out the door, sending a quick couple of texts to Henry.

I’m on my way. You should post on your IG stories… they’re wondering what you’re up to this morning.

Perfect, thanks. I’ll send you what I’m about to upload.

A couple of seconds later Freya received his text, quickly setting up a post and waiting for Henry to update his Instagram. She smiled to herself; Tumblr would be buzzing in a matter of seconds once she posted, and what better way to show Henry what went on in the torrential world of social media than to show him live? Freya’s phone chimed again, indicating Henry had done as she’d suggested.

She couldn’t help but grin like a demon as she hit the small blue button.

Pocketing her phone, Freya enjoyed the scenery on the short walk to Henry’s place. He was in London briefly as was she, so they were meeting at his home instead of Skyping like usual. Why she was so nervous, she didn’t know… Henry had been a friend for quite a few years now, even becoming one of her closest companions. He confided in her and she in him, and it was always a joy to see him. Every day she looked forward to their flirty banter. But that was easier when it was over the phone; doing so in person was an entirely different matter.

Freya reached Henry’s small home and knocked on the door. She’d only been there a couple of times, but the tiny house never ceased to give her a wonderful sense of charm and sensibility. A loud bark and clack of nails on the floor signaled that Kal was ready and waiting to greet her, which meant Henry wouldn’t be far behind. Freya fidgeted with her fingers and chewed on her lip in taut anticipation.

The door swung wide and there was Henry, sporting a puppy dog grin on his face and his large frame filling the entire entryway. His muscular chest was practically bursting from the snug grey shirt he wore, and his dark blue jeans couldn’t have looked more sinful. He had Kal by the collar as if the dog weighed nothing, and Freya couldn’t help but feel incredibly small. Henry reached out his hand, softly tugged her bottom lip from her teeth, then swooped her up for a one-armed squeeze.

“It’s so good to see you,” he murmured against her ear, sending chills down Freya’s spine. Her feet dangled helplessly as she wrapped her own arms around his neck, inhaling the sharp scent that had long since faded from the hoodie he’d let her “steal”. The fact that he was holding her petite stature in one arm and still controlling Kal with the other wasn’t lost to Freya, and the images it provoked in her mind of what exactly he could do to her with that kind of strength made her tingle.

Oh, the positions he could put her in...

All too soon Henry set Freya down, shaking her from her sudden daydream.

“Come on in,” he said, maneuvering Kal and ordering him to sit. Freya crossed the threshold, imagining what it would be like if she was in a long, white gown…

“I’m making a smoothie, would you like one?” Henry broke into her thoughts again and Freya flushed, hurriedly setting her bag on the table and pulling out her laptop.

“Just some water please,” she replied, swallowing thickly as she realized how dry her throat was. She logged into Tumblr as Henry bustled about in the kitchen and quickly reblogged a few thirsty comments, scrolling through to find some good ones while she waited for Henry.

“Go ahead and start, tell me what ‘The Cavillry’ has been up to this week,” he stated, not quite a command but it thrilled Freya nonetheless. Stupid filthy gutter brain. She pulled out her notes and dove straight in.

“Well, a few of them like Lisa and Berry have a theory that there’s a mole in the community,” she laughed. “Some of them even like to surmise that I’m you!”

“Do they really?” Henry’s deep chuckle resonated throughout the living space and Freya closed her eyes momentarily, picturing that chuckle after a rather exhilarating round of cardio between soft, silken sheets…

“What else are they saying?” Henry’s voice was in Freya’s ear and she jumped, startled yet again from her indecorous thoughts. Henry set her water down next to the laptop and placed his hands on the table, caging her in his warmth as he leaned over her shoulder to read. Freya felt the familiar flush of arousal start to creep its way up her thighs but she did her best to ignore it, continuing on with her notes.

“Marta made some really funny memes,” she stammered, “And Demi excels at clipping audios, where it sounds like…”

“How does it sound?” Henry’s hot breath ghosted over her ear, and his exhale came out nearly a growl. Freya felt lucky she was sitting down, positive her knees would have given out on her if she hadn’t been.

“Like you just had a--an orgasm,” she faltered, grabbing her glass of water for a big gulp. Henry hummed, and Freya nearly choked on the clear liquid.

“What else do they say? I want you to read it… out loud.”

Freya was shocked for a moment. What was he playing at? Wait a minute... this is a game; Henry is playing a game. Emboldened by her sudden epiphany, Freya switched personalities from timid bird to devilish vixen, determined to win whatever it was that Henry had set in motion. She arched her back and leaned her head against Henry’s shoulder, pointing at the screen.

“Well look, see what your post this morning has done? We descend into a thirsting frenzy every time.”

She scrolled through a couple of posts, landing upon one that would give her what she needed.

“For example, Miya writes:

‘I guess good to know he’s on a morning run instead of fapping off…

But good sir, you will have to shower after that no? And unless he’s a never nude, he’s going to be naked very very soon ladies. KEEP THAT IN MIND! IN A SHORT FEW MINUTES, HENRY WILL BE NAKED AND RUBBING HIMSELF IN THE SHOWER.’ ”

Freya emphasized the last sentence and was rewarded with a small hitching of Henry’s breath. He recovered quickly.

“However did they know,” he quipped in a low rumble, reaching over Freya’s hand to do some scrolling of his own. Her hand was trapped in his but her thoughts were elsewhere, immediately flooded with the image of Henry getting off in the shower, water cascading over his hairy torso down the line of his abs and through the rabbit trail on his groin to the surely insurmountable…

“This one next,” he stated, drawing her back to the present. His thumb brushed softly over her skin before landing just out of reach of her touch. Freya focused her attention on the screen and a small groan escaped her lips. He’d chosen one of Wendi’s Smutbombs.

“...My eyes were instantly drawn back to his fierce gaze.

“You wanted to use that mouth,” he snarled, staring at me with lewd concentration.

“So use it.”

Freya’s palms grew clammy at the thought of using her mouth around Henry, in exactly the way the raucous words depicted. The way he would stretch her tiny lips until they burned, the way he’d fuck her throat without a care, the way he’d…

Henry grabbed Freya’s hand and abruptly slapped his phone on her palm, severing the thought.

“Read this one,” Henry commanded her again, his voice now clear and authoritative. This time his tone left no room for argument; he was doing it on purpose. His arms still pinned her to the table with no way to escape, and she could feel the dominance that was dripping off of him tingling down her spine.

Freya looked at the small screen, recognition of the words dawning on her face. She faltered, and cleared her throat.

“Yes, my bottom is always bare, Sherlock. Bare and ready for you to spank me and take me any which way you want.”

“Who wrote that?” he questioned sternly. Freya took a deep breath.

“I did.”

“Read the next one.”

Freya whimpered, clenching her thighs together tightly.

“Fuck this shit I want to die on this man’s thighs.”

“Who wrote that?”

“I did.”

“Keep going.”

Freya’s chest was heaving. Her head was swimming with lust and need. Her arousal had long since wet her panties to the point of extreme discomfort. She was certain Henry could smell it too, as she certainly could and his head was still right next to hers. She watched his fists tighten on the table, the veins in his arms becoming more prominent with every passing second. Freya imagined what his hands would look like with one wrapped around her throat and the other buried knuckle deep inside her…

“I said keep going; you’ve got one more.”

It wasn’t just Henry’s voice this time that dragged Freya back to reality; he wrapped his hand firmly around her nape and pointed her toward his phone.

She blinked rapidly and scrolled to the last quote.

“...They share a mutual smile and she forces herself to look away.

They have always liked each other, he has always been kind to her.

Sometimes he would touch her as they sat with friends, a feverish stroke, innocent or by mistake, but that would be enough to make her heart flutter like a huge butterfly in the cage of her chest.

To see him physically hurts sometimes. Especially on a night like this when she is supposed to be happy, yet her heart feels sorrowful.”

The moment her lips finished moving Freya was pulled off the bench and thrust against the wall. Henry pressed his thigh between her legs, his own arousal evident as it strained against the ridged fabric of his jeans. His face was gentle and sincere but his eyes were as dark with lust as she was certain hers were, and the tremor of his voice left no room to imagine anything but desire.

“Who wrote that?” he whispered softly.

“I did,” Freya whispered back.

“Did you mean it?” Henry searched her face, looking for any scrap of evidence that would present him with permission. Freya brought a hand up to his curls, brushing the one out of his eyes that always seemed to disobey.

“Every word.”

Henry slammed his mouth against Freya’s, probing her deep and hard. She kissed him back with just as much fervor, tugging on his curls and wrapping her legs around his waist as he hoisted her in the air. Never in her life had she ever thought this moment would happen, that he would want her this way. But now, here in his arms with his lips on hers and on their way to his bedroom, she couldn’t picture anything else.

The man had ruined her for anyone else over a decade ago, and she’d been thirsty for far, far too long.

~~~~~

@wolvesandhoundshowltogether @killjoy-assbutt-1112 @achaoticaugust @demivampirew @raspberrydreamclouds I hope you don’t mind that I used your thirst! I though it might be fun, but if you don’t like it just let me know, I’ll remove it. 😊

#henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fic #author story #birthday present #i love you boo

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honestsycrets · 3 years

Text

Say Your Piece II: Heart Breaker

❛ pairing | hvitserk x reader, hvitserk x ?

❛ type | double triple? shot, mistakes were made au

❛ chp summary | after the reader says she doesn’t want hvitserk; he makes a bad decision. it gets worse from there.

❛ tags | plus size reader, verbal arguments, extreme social anxiety, extreme body insecurity, drinking, hateful words, illustrator hvitserk x writer reader, mention of infidelity, shame, OCs, sexual frustration, blackmail, cheating mentioned, verbal abuse, sexual blackmail, poor communication? it’s more likely than you think. tags to be added.

❛ request | So Hvitserk request (you a asked for it 😂) Remember the Little Lovers event and the self-conscient plus size reader who didn’t want to have sex ?Well I didn’t get the sex lol. I want my Hvitserk to show a woman how her body is enjoyable. Thank you 😊 for @alicedopey

❛ sy’s note | i’ll eventually get you your sex scene, DAMN IT.

He wakes with a blaring headache caused by a stream of fresh morning light against his soft cheek. He pulls his arms around you-- or, what he thought was you, as the moment he does so, he knows it’s wrong. Where soft folds and overflowing breasts were, he finds thin limbs and small breasts.

It’s not your body-- he realizes all at once. The high rise apartment that overlooked the city wasn’t, either. It was the fruit of an accomplished older woman, whose many books hovered on a white shelf beside a white bed. Everything in the room holds the same pure standard. He flings himself from the bed, his naked ass colliding with a nightstand. The items ripple over the surface and settle into new positions. The woman pushes up, dragging the painfully monochrome white fluffy sheet to cover her flat chest.

“Hvitserk?”

Erika, in all her sharp-eyed glory, stares right back at him. Vomit spins up his throat, incited by the affection by with her eyes considered him. Hvitserk scrambles over the perfectly plain hardwood floors, upchucking up what’s left of his agitated stomach after his pathetic night out on the town.

“Hvitserk!”

Her spindly hand is at his back. Ordinarily, she was a comfort in your absence. That despite her pushing, and pushing, and pushing to get your name off “his” book, she would always be there for him in ways that a lover could not. Author-illustrators make so much more than being an illustrator alone, she reminded him. Her considerate words now feel like measured steps against his relationship. Her touch rips his skin into gooseflesh. Hvitserk works his shoulder away, his knuckles becoming white around the bowl.

“You drank too much last night.” it’s a non-question. Obviously, if he were here, he had. He groans his miserable response into the toilet bowl, wishing he could smother himself in the water, as it would be a better punishment than anything his girlfriend could do to him. “I’ll make you some coffee.”

Her steps become distant echoes. When he finishes and cleans after himself, he starts his search for his clothes. He picks them from a singular pile, draws them back on, and reaches for his phone. It bleats a miserable eight percent battery life.

“She didn’t call if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Ericka stands in a silvery slip; although he’s not sure when she put on some clothes. She hands him his cup of coffee and takes a seat on her “divorce couch”, a plain grey chair that she scammed her ex-husband out of. As she sits there, all long limbs, and purposefully sultry clothes-- the guilt strikes him.

Hvitserk takes a sip of bitter, burnt black coffee. She’s never been a great coffee maker but her heart is in the right place. It wouldn’t feel right to snuff her. After all, he probably spent the night before buried in her cunt.

“You called me to pick you up at the bar last night. You were so drunk all you wanted to do was lay on my chest,” Ericka pulls a sheer black kimono over her thin collarbones. His eyes fall on her hands. “I told you she’d break your heart. Women like that-- once they get over a certain weight-- they aren’t emotionally available to do anything but eat. It consumes them.”

“She ain’t like that.”

“If she’s not like that, then why did you have sex with me? Be honest with yourself, Hvitserk. Your needs aren’t met with her. That’s why you needed me.”

His mouth runs dry. Like he’s been chewing on his regret as if it were paper. He couldn’t remember the night before. It was like a bad memory he never wanted to recover. Hvitserk glances down to his cup as he sinks onto her bed.

“It was an accident,” he glares at the surface. “I- You know I can’t be with you, right? You’re--”

“Old?” she asks. He’s never cared about something as simple as that. Twelve years his senior or not, it wasn’t an issue.

“It’s not that. C’mon Erika, you know I don’t give a shit about age. She’s my baby girl.”

“You’re going to stay with her? A woman like that?”

“Like what?” Hvitserk sets the coffee on the nightstand as he snaps at her before he could bite it back. He knew what she meant. Erika’s long ranging sigh reminds him of Aslaug. How tenderly her hands would wrap around him even though they were truly tainted with alcohol perfuming off her breath.

“I’ve been your agent for years Hvitserk. We go through this every time you find a girl. This oen is by far the worst. She doesn’t care about you. Look at all that work you did for her yesterday. The pendant you bought her. The work you’ve put into her books! You even pick up all the food she eats. She won’t go outside of her house and you still expect that she’ll suddenly become this fat trophy wife on your arm.”

“Just because she’s fat don’t--”

“It isn’t about the fat, Hvitserk. How many times does she have to show you, or tell you for you to get the picture through your stupid head, huh? She doesn’t want you! And you have the balls to call me a fucking accident.”

“Erika--”

She leaps up from her chair. Hvitserk sucks in a hard breath and tries to find sense through the nonsense, looking through his phone. Erika was right. You hadn’t sent a message. Not in his texts, not on his social media. More egregiously, he spots a new post. Ericka’s hands fold over his, pushing him back to sit on the bed. She slides over his thin hips and takes a seat on his empty lap. It was painfully simple, painfully domestic, and painfully wrong.

“Let me tell you what I’ve learned in forty years,” Erika whispered in his ear. Her thin lips move, gliding like butter in his ear. “If someone doesn’t want you, there’s nothing you can do to change that.” Her fingers comb through his hair, like slimy tendrils. “But I’m here.”

Hvitserk tips his head nack, gazing at the ceiling. Her palm caresses his scruffy jawline to drag his attention from the ceiling to her soft blue eyes, a painless depth, if only he would listen to her words. Hvitserk shifts her back on the bed, loitering around her waist with a supportive hand on the base of her back.

“I know you care ‘bout me. I just-- need some time, okay?”

It doesn’t slip him that she’s scowling as he walks out of her home. There was someone he could count upon, when things were difficult, his phone buzzing in his palm reminded him of that.

“Hey, Ivar.”

Or, maybe not.

“You fucked her?” Ivar stopped chewing his pastry, ambling his head one way then another, laughing against himself. He took his mug of properly brewed coffee to his lips. Hvitserk regrets agreeing to meet him at the cafe. “What were you thinking sleeping with your agent?”

“I wasn’t thinking! I was drunk--” Hvitserk set his hand to his forehead. He has no appetite as he cycled through what he had done, searching out the moment that he called Erika. He fails to locate anything but quiet sobbing behind the neck of a beer bottle and a distant, squeamish feeling of fingers down his nape. “I think she took advantage of me.”

Ivar sets down his cup of coffee, picking up a fork and knife as he leaned over the table, lips punctuating each word.

“Yes, well, I am sure that will go over with your girlfriend well. I’m sorry, I slept with my skinny, well-established agent who has been wanting me to get rid of you. That bitch has been after you for years. What do you think she will do now? She won’t let you go.”

“She understands,” he reflects at the monochrome crowd. His plate is full but has gone cold with his lack of appetite. Normally, this was the place he came with his brother to binge breakfast and muse about women. Ubbe wouldn’t care about his issues: he never had time for anyone but himself. Not really. Ivar scoffed, gazing into the foot traffic flitting by their cafe.

“Tch, I’m sure she does. She will probably break up with you.”

He bobbed his head.

“I think she already has.”

A normal man would come to beg.

But Hvitserk draws in the deep quiet of the park. With only the barks of dogs, the giggles of children, and the occasional frequency from couples watching movies in the park, it’s a place of solace by the small pond.

He starts with an outline of Xiao’s small face. It’s a rough outline, budding and ready to be kissed with by watercolours. Soft pinks like petals of peonies droop in his photo. He must have blended this shade wrong. Line after line that he sweeps, he weeps. His phone jingles in his pocket and his heart tightens around his chest like a straight jacket to someone in an insane asylum. He must be going crazy-- if he too can no longer paint.

“Where are you?!” you boom on the other end of the line. Hvitserk fumbles his phone, suckling in a breath. Had Ivar told you? No, his brother wouldn’t. Not Ivar. He was never a gossiper.

“In-- in the park?”

“What has gotten into you? You could have at least texted me to tell me you were okay. I was worried sick!”

You? Worried sick? This wasn’t the you from yesterday. The one that pelted out how selfish he was for craving intimacy. The one that told him that all he wanted was to sexualize you. As if he were some sixty year old pervert with a camera in hand to click a picture of under your beautiful pastel skirts. Hvitserk sets the brushes into his cup of water and sets aside Xiao’s painting to dry.

“Hvitserk!”

“I’m here,” he blurts out. “I didn’t think you’d care. You didn’t call.”

“Like I didn’t I call you all night.”

Something cracks, deep in his belly. With all the days of work he’d done for you and you alone, he forgot himself in the mix. He jerked his phone back, frantically looking at his phone app. No recent calls meant what they meant. When he finds nothing, it only thrusts him into a further rage.

“Bullshit,” he belts out. “You didn’t. You didn’t care about me last night. You never fuckin’ do.”

“Hvit--” he turns off his phone. There was a sliver of a moment in which he regrets that on the basis of last night. Maybe you rejected him, but he wasn’t an idiot. A man simply didn’t cheat on his girlfriend because she said no.

He packs up his bag and heads toward the football field. It’s time to play football.

He smashes Ubbe on the field. If he wasn’t at peace with being an illustrator, maybe he could have been a ballplayer. Flipping the ball from foot to foot with Ubbe on his trailing his tail was fun, but watching him try and miss as he thwacked the ball on its net was even better. Unlike Ubbe’s well-proportioned body, he’s all long limbs and quick feet. Just the right combination to slip out of Ubbe’s grasp. Well, that was, until Ubbe tackled his ass onto the blades of grass, sending the both of them rolling through the grasp.

“Bro, really?!” Hvitserk laughs, dropping back onto the grass. The skid marks on his clothes would be unreal.

“If I can’t catch you,” Ubbe heaves, digging his hand into his pocket. He finds his phone there, vibrating with messages from Torvi: probably. Hvitserk shoves his arms behind his neck, drawing out breath after ragged breath.

“Wanna go eat?”

“Na,” Ubbe shoves himself onto your feet. “Your girl is here.”

His what? Ubbe rushes off. A sinking feeling came over his clammy hands. He opens his mouth to beg him not to go, to take him along with like he used to as a child. He’s terrible at making up and hours ago, he’d hung up on you. His lips press together, soothing himself with the false pretense that-- no, it would be fine. If you didn’t apologize, perhaps neither would he.

He finds you on the other side of the soccer field, fashioning his favorite sundress. There’s something glamorous about its corset bodice and its draped sleeves that left him breathless. He wills down his terrible arousal, drawn to the pendant he bought you nestled between your large breasts. You wait for him by his things, pulling the rim of a broad pale hat and looking down at beautiful chunky nude heels.

You’re beautiful and terrifying all in one. He regains himself enough to make his legs solidify from the liquidy mass they were seconds ago. He might feel much like a newborn calf falling over himself to get his things, but perhaps he looked better than he felt. Women like sweaty, stupid men, right?

“What are you doing here?” he picks up his things. “I thought you didn’t like to be seen in public.”

“You hung up on me,” you hold his tablet flush against your dress and offer it out to him. He takes it and secures it back in his bag. “I had to come to find you.”

“Yeah? I’ll bet.” Hvitserk wills down the painful throbbing behind his joggers, pulling his bag to obscure the pain he was in. The sooner he went home, the sooner he could jerk himself off without the overwhelming guilt of being, as he was, a whore. Why couldn’t he stay mad? He wanted to stay mad! “You look... nice. Never seen you looking so nice. What’s the occasion?”

“You like it?” You pull out the skirt and stop to do a twirl that he curses himself for stopping for. Normally, his girl wouldn’t even go outside. Who was this? He’s aware of others watching-- the fat girl in a flashy dress. “I wore it for you.”

“Yeah, I do.” He moistens his lips, his voice raspy and thick. “Looks like an angel.”

“Does that mean you’ll come back home?” You reach out for him. Your soft hands winding around his well-corded arm. He realizes then, the confidence in which you carried yourself masked the desperation in your hands. They trembled over his bicep. “I’ll be good, I promise I won’t yell at you again like that. I wouldn’t even be mad if you-- you found someone else to fuck. I know you-- I know you need it. If you can’t get it from me, I can wait on the side. As long as you’re not in love.”

“Hey,” he softened, settling his hand atop of yours. He stops midstep, turning on his high tops on the sidewalk. He takes your hands and listens waits for your outpouring of emotion. Traffic passes by him. They speak in hushed whispers. “Hey, hey, hey. Baby girl wait-- that’s not -- what are you talking about?”

“I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to yell at you like that but you were pushing and pushing and wouldn’t stop! I didn’t know what to do. I want to have sex with you,” you squeeze his fingertips. “But you don’t know what it’s like to be fat, old virgin.”

He was trying to listen. He really was. The moment you spoke that word: that v-word, his mind went blank and numb. You’re still talking long after he’s stopped listening. Hvitserk sucks in a breath: it sends him into a flurry, pursuing the bone of your virginity long after you’ve stopped talking.

“What do you--” his lips twitch, drawing in a smile. “--mean a virgin?”

“I haven’t had sex-- I… I wanted to--”

His girl-- a virgin. He wants to smile, if not for the knowledge of the other night, waking up in Erika’s itchy sheets. Hvitserk knows that he has to tell you, he only doesn’t know how. You’re talking again.

“What did you say?” he asks.

“I want you to do it,” you answer. “Right now. Just forgive me.”

He about drops, a moistness coming over his mouth that he can’t-- exactly-- help. His palms feel just as hot, sweating as he pulls them free from yours. Clearing his throat, he slips his hand against the small of your back.

“Na, let’s… let’s take it easy. We’ll talk ‘bout it later.”

He wants that virginity.

But logically, oh woe is he, he knows it’s not really right to take someone’s virginity if they’re not all there. You’re not all there because you don’t know of that night. It’s like, consent, right? Bad consent was just jerking your ankle like some Viking and dragging you into bed with him. If he was going to do it, he told himself, you had to know what he’d done.

It was a slip-up.

Hvitserk finished another drawing for his new book independent of your input. It was a children’s book about good bodies-- because as he looked at your good body, he was reminded of Ericka’s cruel words. He wanted to do better for lil kids.

“Hvitserk, your phone is ringing,” you said pointedly from across the room where you sat like a madwoman. Your frantic papers sat nestled around a basket of shared chicken he made for lunch.

“Huh?” Tapping over, he recognizes Erika’s photo, planting a kiss on his cheek on his first big break. She had been the first one to really believe in him. It was a long time ago now, he reminds himself to change that to something more… suitable after last night. He gestures his fingers at you. “Thanks, baby girl.”

He answers the phone. The moment he does, he hears Erika’s flat voice snaking into a hiss. It’s a noise that he hasn’t heard. Not in all his years of having her as his patient agent.

“You’re with her, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m uh-- with Ubbe.” He throws you a glance. You tilt your head, he shakes his, and that’s the terrible loneliness of holding a secret. “Erika--” Hvitserk sighs, parting his lips to talk. She shushes him with such severity that he thinks she’s trying to lop his head off, too.

“Break it off.”

“What?”

He steps outside and leans against the cold metal door separating the high-rise apartments from, well, the outside world. He expects to see her standing out there. All he finds are the many cars parked on the street and the stillness of movement. It’s too quiet. The whistle of the wind through the street chills him.

“I know you’re with her. I can tell her for you if you’d like.”

“No. Don’t--” Hvitserk sighs, searching for the words in the silence. “I don’t think you understand. We worked through it.”

She laughs something from deep in her belly at him.

“I wasn’t asking. Either you do it— or I’ll make you do it. You obviously don’t know what’s best for yourself. Why else are you fucking around with some--” He collapses on the stairs, cradling the phone to his ear as she goes on. “Don’t think I won’t expose her for what she is. A thief.”

“She’s never-- Why the fuck are you doing this?”

“You told me you would take care of it. Something you’ve failed to do-- I should have known you couldn’t do it. ”

“If this shit is about yesterday--”

“I’ll give you one more chance to break it off if you come over tonight.”

“Are you blackmailing me?” There’s a pause on the other line. Then a chuckle. A long winded, painful chuckle. He should have known better. That night-- calling it an accident wasn’t exactly tolerable for a woman like Erika. She wasn’t the kind of woman who could be easily ignored.

“If that’s what I have to do.”

He chokes out a sob. Ivar was right. She wasn’t going to let him go.

“Fuckin’-- fuckin’ fine.”

@punkrocknpearls @flowers-in-your-hayr @tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys @bluearchersstuff @affectionrabbitt @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage @tgrrose @cookies186 @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim @msmorganforever @destynelseclipsa @soleil-dor @strangunddurm @superwolfchild-fan @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

#Hvitserk x Reader #Hvitserk x OC #Hvitserk/Reader #hvitserk's heathen feast #hvitserk ragnarsson x reader #it feels good to write my baby #Hvitty x Reader #hvitty/reader #vikings imagines #vikings imagine #hvitserk x plus size reader #Vikings x Reader

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rvmmm21 · 3 years

Text

[ V V S her diamonds ]

summary : seungwan is an idiot, joohyun is an idiot. cupid rips his hair out in frustration.

small note : please yell at galaxygerbil for me. for putting justin freaking bieber’s ‘anyone’ in my head on loop for centuries and for the hectic mess that i am when i read their fics. this is an attempt the only genre i have been skirting around because i just cannot read/write angst. if this ages decently, yay.

p.s. characters are from my first wenrene university au (you know who i am?) so it’s identical in regards to characters and the au itself, but a different plot.

tw : slight angst (but it’s all cupid’s), perpetual urge to scream.

[senior!irene x junior!wendy]

. . .

[5:15p.m.] Seungwan rushes past the temptation of bookshops, restaurants and arcades. She silently curses when she very nearly falls flat on her face from an uneven bit of pavement.

. . .

“Seungwan-ah!” Yerim calls out, retracting her debit card from the exasperated cashier and waving Seungwan towards her. “Come, hurry up and order something.”

The blonde shyly weaves through the crowded little arcade cafe, eliciting pointed looks and grunts from hungry patrons. She leaves the ‘I-dare-you-to-challenge-my-best-friend-right-now’ stare to Yerim.

Seungwan reaches the counter with a huff. “What are you guys getting?”

“I got bibimmyeon.” The younger glances over her shoulder at Seulgi who’s scrolling through her phone at the table in the corner. “Uh, i think Seul got pork mandu.”

Seungwan holds up two fingers and a polite smile. “Two bibimmyeon, please.”

The cashier inputs their orders with a click of a button, swiping Yerim’s card through the reader.

The duo shuffle away with a number card on a metal stand, heading for the table under the stairs. A harassed Seulgi barely notices her friends sitting down.

“You’re here?” She clicks her phone off and begins rummaging through her Muji pencil case for a pencil. “What did you get? I think we’re pulling an all-nighter.”

“Bibimmyeon, same as Yerimie.” Seungwan grimaces, more at the possibility of another sleepless night. But such is university life. Plus, she’d much rather her friends keep her accountable than procrastinate alone. Especially on projects that weighed so heavily on her final grade.

Yerim elbows Seungwan, who suddenly notices she’s the last to get her materials out.

Like clockwork, the three get to work, the clicking of their keyboards overtaken by frantic plastic clicking of various 90’s arcade machines.

Thankfully, food is served right as they’re wrapping up chapter three, the worst one of them all. Seungwan, Seulgi and Yerim scarf down their food like girls ten years starved, focused on feeding the demands of their stomachs rather than their assignments.

. . .

The sun retires past the blue-purple horizon, leaving three burnt out students standing outside a closed cafe, clutching laptops and notebooks in the dark. They hastily make plans again for next week’s study date, sweeping the forgotten all-nighter under the rug, all too eager to head home and shut the door in the faces of their due dates and exams.

“Same time next week?” Seungwan asks after a yawn.

Seulgi shakes her head, squinting at her calendar app. “I have dance tryouts then. Can we do Thursday instead? We can meet at the same time then, or even earlier.”

Yerim agrees to everything, seconds away from falling asleep on her feet.

“Alright,” the blonde sighs, plugging the aux cable into her phone and flipping through her Spotify. “See you guys then. Yerimie bring your own highlighter next time.”

Everyone mumbles, turning their own ways.

. . .

“YAH!”

The rude exclamation of a tall, red-faced boy while his smaller friend stands meekly behind him blares attention bells to the furthest corner of their university cafeteria.

Seungwan pauses mid-chew to shush a pouting Yerim, who’s upset that her funny dog story was interrupted right as it was getting good. They face the commotion and Seungwan beholds a pair of steely eyes gazing boredly from underneath the brim of a black Yankee baseball cap.

That signature glare belongs to none other than Bae Joohyun, someone the junior recognises instantly from (truthfully much more than) one of their shared literature electives. And of course, beside her stands her equally as intimidating friends, Park Sooyoung and Kim Jennie.

And the hothead is the only person who’d be stupid enough to challenge a trio like that: fresh campus casanova, Wong Lucas. Seungwan’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, but she isn’t surprised.

Everyone’s attention has been commanded now, but if the boy cared, he didn’t show it.

“Yah, freshman.” Jennie snaps, gripping her mocha latte and stepping to the front while Sooyoung suspiciously eyes him and his friend. “Speak with some respect. What’s wrong with you! We’re your seniors.”

The meek girl behind him looks terrified, curly mousy-brown ponytails shadowing the cold sweat visibly beading on her forehead. She almost moves to say something but Lucas stops her with a firm hand, turning back to continue berating the girl in the cap.

“You couldn’t even let her talk?!” The irony is lost on him, as a frown settles on his arched eyebrows, frustration frosting over his features. “She told me you rejected her before she could finish. Did you have to speak so rudely? Do you know how hard it is to confess?”

A hint of apprehension creeps into Sooyoung’s expression and Jennie fights the urge to splash her drink right in his face. Followed by the cup.

Bae Joohyun simply resists a yawn.

“Can you move? We’re busy.”

It’s the first time she’s spoken since the outburst, and Seungwan feels her palms sweat.

The girl behind Lucas finally speaks. Her eyes are glossy and wide, overflowing with hurt and betrayal. “It’s okay, s-sunbae. B-but I… I was hoping we could still–”

“I’m not interested,” comes the cut and dry reply.

A bystander innocently tries to diffuse the rising tension. He lightly places his hand on the boy’s shoulder, darting his gaze between the two teams. “Alright I think that’s enough.” He turns to Lucas. “No need to be so hostile, be a gentleman and apologise.”

“Whatever.” Lucas irritatedly shrugs him off, piercing stare fixed on the senior who couldn’t look more disinterested. “You deserve it. You think you can just talk however you want just because you’re pretty? Self-centred trash, fix your attitude first.”

Sooyoung’s jaw drops, Jennie goes wide-eyed, and Yerim is fumbling around with the record button as quietly as she can.

Seungwan’s heart quickens in pace.

Joohyun doesn’t even realise she’s lunging forward.

. . .

The cafeteria disperses with hushed whispers and repeated glances over shoulders until it’s just Seungwan, Seulgi and Yerim left. They’re glued to their seats, astounded at the sight of Wong Lucas on the ground, clutching his nose in pain while Song Yuqi stands frozen to the spot, paled in horror at witnessing her crush just sock her older brother square in the face.

It’s so silent save for the moaning and groaning from the floor.

“Did you see that?” Seungwan murmurs back at her friends, unaware that her eyes glint with obvious admiration. “That was kinda cool.”

Seulgi’s lip quirks in disbelief. “It’s definitely broken. Look at her, she’s insane.”

“Right?” Yerim snickers, already posting the video clip to their group chat. “Insanely co-ordinated. Best thing that’s happened all day.”

“I’m gonna offer her a Band-Aid,” Seungwan spontaneously decides, ignorant to the horror plastered on both her friends’ faces.

Yerim makes tiny, urgent neck slice motions while Seulgi quickly yanks an eager Seungwan down hard by the sleeve.

“Ow, Seul!” The blonde mouths, brows furrowing in annoyance.

The dancer takes the opportunity to knock some sense into her. “Seriously, are you crazy?” she whispers harshly, her own nerves flaring at the thought of being overheard. “It’s an insult! She’s going to kill you.”

Both girls try to stop their friend from making the dumbest decision of her life, but Seungwan frees herself from their frantically grasping limbs, slinging her bag over her shoulder and heading to the crime scene.

She reaches just in time to feel Lucas brush angrily past them and out the doors. Yuqi slinks after him, casting Joohyun an apologetic look.

Way to get rejected twice, Seungwan sympathises. Poor kid, with a sibling who’s an idiot Hercules.

It takes all her willpower to wrestle her racing heartbeat and her self-preservation instinct into submission. The junior approaches with care, trying with everything she has to convey that she comes in peace.

Joohyun shifts her focus to her and Seungwan’s legs almost go jelly, but something about Joohyun draws her in like a spell. She hated playing good samaritan in situations like these, but it isn’t as though Seungwan hasn’t been dying to talk to her impossibly attractive senior since the first day of class.

You miss any chance you don’t take, right? Yes, obviously.

“H-hi sunbaes,” Seungwan greets with a cautious bow. This is the closest she’s been to the black velvet trio and it’s certainly leaving an impression. She doesn’t even have to look back to know that her block-head friends are gawping at the scene, wondering how their loser of a friend is so okay with dying at the age of twenty two.

Blinking, Seungwan washes her thoughts of how dazzling Joohyun looks, even when she looks like she’s out for blood. Especially when she looks like she’s out for blood.

Suddenly remembering the other reason she came over here, the small blonde holds out some alcohol wipes and Band-Aids like gifts. “Are you h– are you okay?”

“Of course I am,” Joohyun responds curtly. She surely knows her icy stare crumples Seungwan’s insides like butter paper. Perhaps that’s why she does it. “It’s over.”

“A-are you sure your fist knows?” The junior tries, all too aware the girl in front of her could have her wiped off the face of the earth with the snap of her fingers.

A scowl ghosts across Joohyun’s face before she drops her eyes to where her fist is still clenched and trembling slightly.

Seungwan fills the silence with an awkward chuckle. “Just thought you might want to clean up after the battle.”

Jennie and Sooyoung’s unimpressed looks are replaced with shock when Joohyun actually accepts a wet wipe from the younger’s shaking hands. Her eyes are pinned to the wipe as it glazes over bruised, rosy knuckles.

The shorter girl internally swoons. Her mere offering has been received! – and not just received regularly, but received with a frosty ‘thank you’, to top it all off.

As the three seniors are leaving, Seungwan secretly prays that Yerim used her brains and recorded this moment too.

She flinches out of her thought bubble when Seulgi lands a palm clumsily on her shoulder.

“Wah, daebak,” the Cadbury-haired dancer congratulates her crazy, bodacious friend. “So what was that, like your first date or something?”

Yerim scoffs, hooking her arm around Seulgi’s bicep and dragging her out. “Come on Seul, we might as well start eating bugs and singing ‘Can You Feel The Love Tonight’. Wannie unnie can’t see us anymore.”

Seungwan rushes after her best friends, picking up her pace when they break into a power walk to the bus station.

“Yerm-ah! Did you get that? Please tell me you got that!”

#red velvet #wenrene #wendy #irene #seulgi #yerim #university au #light angst #slow burn #sorry lucas i love you #you are a true casanova #red velvet writing #yuqi you stay faithful to your soyeon okay #jennie has a latte always i swear

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lesetoilesfous · 3 years

Note

i dunno if they're open, but can i request from the kiss prompts, 30) kiss in the full moon, with NB!Handers? basically a Hawke who uses they/them pronouns, only goes by Hawke, and no specific descriptors or mentions of their sex? =)

Hey anon! I had way too much fun with this, thank you so much for the request!!! I really hope you like it. I am also going to be adding NB!Handers to my preferred pairings list specifically because of you :D <3

(If you’d like me to write you a dragon age fic, send me a prompt from here!)

@dadrunkwriting Pairing: NB!Handers

Characters: NB!Hawke, Anders

Tags: modern AU, post All that Remains, reference to mental illness, reference to police violence, reference to abusive institutions (the Circle is really, really awful y'all), reference to gun violence, smoking, strong language, everyone's an adult here Anders is just broke (hence the bike)

Rating: Mature

“I knew I’d find you here.”

The Kirkwall marina is quiet and mostly empty - boatowners have retired below decks with the rise of the moon and stars, and the place is mostly closed to the public otherwise. Anders had seen Hawke’s jeep, first, when he’d padlocked his bike to the iron fence. Now, as the wind pulls ripples across the ink-black bay, he finds the person in question.

Hawke is wearing a heavy brown leather jacket covered in patches, their long brown hair wavy with the humidity and blown about in the wind. They’re sitting on a stone pillar near the pier, staring up at the wide full moon. It’s such a clear night that Anders can make out the craters on it, and it’s harder to see the stars in the immediate radius of the moon, which diffuses into silver rainbows in the dark. The ocean falls in soft sighs against the thin beach, and ahead of them the bay closes between two promontories, which are darker black against the deep blue night.

Hawke looks back at Anders at the same time as their mabari, Dog, lifts her great head, sandy ears pricking in his direction. Anders waves at them both, trying to rearrange his features into an expression that doesn’t show exactly how worried he is. Instead, he folds himself awkwardly to sit on a pillar beside Hawke. The stone is cold even through his jeans, and Anders can feel a hole working its way through his battered converse. He’ll worry about that tomorrow.

For a long moment, Hawke is quiet, and the two of them sit there in the dark, listening to the eerie rattle and creak of the boats in the Kirkwall marina. Then Hawke says, softly, “I didn’t think you’d come.”

Anders looks at them, but they’re still staring ahead at the bay, and the moonlight skidding silver over the water. Their nose is smooth and bumped a little with the scar of an old break. Their eyebrows are thick and dark, as are their eyelashes. Their brown eyes glitter in the starlight. They tuck a clump of wavy hair back behind their ear, which is braced by silver cuffs over the shell and a row of hoops along their earlobe. Anders breathes, and the air is so cold that it tastes sweet.

“You didn’t tell me you were going to be here.” He’s trying for a joke, but even Anders can hear the way it falls flat as he feels the smile plastered onto his lips slip a little.

Hawke looks at him, and their eyes are rich and dark and brown and beautiful. There are thumbnail bruises of purple sleeplessness beneath them, too. They speak again, hushed as if the pair of them were in a cathedral and not a car-park outside a half empty marina. “Still.”

Something in Anders’ chest lurches as the wind makes the trees and grass behind them hush a sighing chorus to the sea. He shrugs, and feels the awkwardness of it across his shoulders. He’d never eaten well, in the Circle, and his body as a result felt stretched out and distended: he wasn’t fat or muscular enough to pull off the broadness of his proportions, but ever since he’d hit puberty what food he could get just didn’t seem to stick. He pushes away the memories of old hunger and focuses on the present, instead. “Yeah, well, you’re an idiot.”

Hawke huffs a laugh then, one of their canines hooked a little in front of their other teeth. They look down at their hands, where their nails are chopped short and painted with haphazard, chipped black polish. “Maybe.” They bite the inside of their cheek, and swallow twice before they speak. “I just. Keep thinking that if I dream it hard enough I’ll be able to go back and save her. You know? Like I’ll figure it out, somehow. And this time I won’t be too late and -”

Hawke cuts themself off, blinking rapidly, their dark eyes brighter in the moonlight. Anders swallows the lump in his own throat, and the urge to lean across and squeeze their arm or something similarly saccharine. With a feeling like chewing on breaking glass, he forces himself to pull up his memories of the months following Karl. It’s difficult - most of that time is a blur spent flinching every time he saw a templar in kevlar. Too many nights spent waking up with the sound of a bullet in his head. Anders winds his fingers together, squeezing them tight enough to hurt to ground himself back in the present. He can feel Hawke’s dark eyes on him, their gaze questioning. Anders looks up instead at the moon, and calls himself a coward.

“After...After Karl I, couldn’t really think straight. For a while. I mean, not that I ever thought straight.” Anders tosses half a grin in Hawke’s direction, but they don’t smile back, just watch him, quietly. Listening. Anders always feels as if he doesn’t know what to do with all that attention. He isn’t really used to people respecting him when he speaks. He doesn’t want to waste it. He clenches his teeth, and the wind whispers over the back of his neck, pulling at the hair in his ponytail. “But, um. I didn’t really feel like I woke up until I... Let myself accept that this is just. What the world looks like now. Without him in it.” Anders’ eyes burn, and he blinks rapidly and hopes that Hawke doesn’t notice the way his breath hitches.

If they do, they don’t say anything, instead fishing a packet of cigarettes from their pocket, lighting one before offering him the pack. Anders takes it gratefully, slipping a cigarette between his lips and leaning forward for Hawke to light it. Their lighter has a bright, chipped progress flag on the casing, and Anders can’t help but find it reassuring, for all the cliche. The cigarette lights, and Anders breathes in deeply, savouring the warm ache of it and breathing out a long gust before he speaks again.

“It’s like. They were part of another chapter. And you’re already onto the next one. And you kind of, have to stop trying to go back to those pages, otherwise you’ll miss what’s happening in these ones.” Anders laughs, and scrubs at his cheeks, feeling the graze of his stubble and wishing he’d remembered to shave. “Sorry, that’s stupid.”

“No,” Hawke says, firmly, taking a drag of their own cigarette and breathing it out in a gust of smoke before they speak. “No, that makes sense.” They look at him sidelong, then, and when they blink a tear runs rapidly, silently down their tanned cheek. “I don’t know how to keep reading.”

Anders rests his hand against the stone he’s sitting on. It’s rough and cool. His eyes move from the great belly of the moon to the dusting of stars over the horizon, trying to trace the shapes of the constellations. “I think…” He says, slowly, sounding the words out as he says them, “It starts with this. With people you care about. Quiet places. Places where you feel like you can be everything you are and feel everything you’re feeling without holding it in. Places where you feel safe.”

Hawke shakes their head, and their hair falls over the shoulder of their jacket, catching on the ridges of their patches. “I don’t feel safe.”

Anders ignores the wrench in his chest at that, and takes another drag of his cigarette before he looks down to meet Hawke’s eyes. “You will.” Hawke holds his gaze for a long minute after he says it. Then they nod, once, and glance away, bringing the cigarette back up to their lips.

For a while they sit there in the quiet, smoking, peaceful. Dog has rested her head on her thick paws, and Hawke is careful to tap their ash far away from her. Eventually, the ever-present blur of memory and feeling at the back of Anders’ head threatens to overwhelm the silence, and he tugs his phone out of the pocket of his coat. It’s an old suede thing with feather detailing he’d got second hand. Isabela teases him about it, but it always makes him feel safer than anything else does. He figures that’s enough. Anders taps the cracked screen of his phone, blinking at the blue light. Hawke glances at him, their brown eyes almost black in the dark.

Anders tilts his phone screen at them. “Mind if I play some music?”

They blink, once, then nod, and take another drag on their cigarette. “Sure.”

Anders hits play with a sense of near physical relief, and the tinny, soft sound of some alt rock eases into the air between them. After three songs Anders has finished his cigarette. After four, Hawke has finished theirs. For a moment, they sit there, unmoving and terribly still. Anders sits forward, feeling the weight of his phone shift in his pocket as he does so. “How are you feeling now?”

They offer him a shadow of a smile, heavy coat and baggy jeans disguising long lines of wiry muscle that Anders couldn’t forget if he tried. “Better. Anders?”

“Yes?” Anders wishes he didn’t feel as much like a heroine in some silent film, but Hawke always seems to have that effect on him. They make him feel like some damsel in need of saving. They make him want to be a hero.

Hawke’s lips curl up into a crooked smile that creases the corners of their eyes. “Thanks. For coming out here.”

Anders shrugs and lies. “It’s nothing.” When Hawke snorts, he goes on, grinning, “No, really. What else was I going to be doing? Now my friend, on the other hand. This poor sap is opening his free clinic at 5am this morning which…” Anders gets out his phone, tapping the home button. “Is in about three hours. Now that idiot, him, yeah, I’d feel sorry for. But luckily neither of us know anyone so masochistic.”

Hawke huffs a laugh, their voice rough and climbing into a giggle as they squeeze their eyes shut, scrubbing at their cheeks. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” They say it with a smile.

Anders tilts his head, and tries to ignore the warmth that flushes through his chest whenever Hawke looks at him like that. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”

Hawke shrugs, and pushes their hair back over their shoulders, moving so that they’re facing him, their legs spread wide and their jacket hanging loose over a white t-shirt. They look up at Anders boldly. “You’re my idiot.”

Anders’ flush pushes its way up into his cheeks and on into his ears, the cold of the early morning forgotten in the way that Hawke is staring at him. “Really? I must have missed the memo…”

“Anders,” Hawke’s voice is soft, and as they speak they rest their hand on Anders’ cheek. Their skin is soft and cold with the night air, and Anders leans into it as if he’s lost at sea and their touch is the only thing keeping him from drowning. It takes him too long to unstick his tongue from the roof of his dry mouth.

“Yes?”

Hawke smiles at him, warm and soft and indulgent, and their thumb strokes gently across his cheek as they lean forward. “Stop talking.” Their breath is warm as it blows across his lips, and smells faintly of cigarettes. And then they’re leaning even closer, and they’re kissing him. Their lips are soft and taste like cherry chapstick, and Anders doesn’t care as they tilt their head, the scar on their nose scratching softly against his skin, the warmth of their breath filling his lungs. Hawke licks into his mouth with a hunger that feels like burning, and Anders opens for them, lifting his hands to cradle their head and pull them closer, his fingers tangling in their thick, soft hair. Anders’ heart feels as if it’s going to beat its way out of his chest and that’s meaningless against the way the world is spinning, every inch of him lost except the point where his cheeks brush Hawke’s, where his chin bumps theirs, where their lips move to lock and loosen around his own as they move.

When they pull back, Anders isn’t sure he remembers how breathing works. But they grin at him, and their eyes are silver in the moonlight when they lean forward to bump their foreheads together, cradling the back of his head. Sighing, they shut their eyes. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

Anders breathes, and swallows, lips wet and sore with the force of their kiss, wrists resting loosely on Hawke’s strong shoulders. Above them, the moon is bright and full and beautiful. Anders tries to speak past the lump in his throat. “Do it again?”

Hawke looks up at him, and their eyes are almost black in the dark. Then they kiss him.

#nb!handers #dadwc #nb!hawke #anders #my fic #da2 #anon

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teenwolffanclub-me · 4 years

Text

Season 1, Episode 1: Wolf Moon (Part One)

Hey there beautiful reader! If you’re new here, this is a series I’m writing where each chapter is an episode from the first season of Teen Wolf. If you’ve been here before, hey! I missed you! Previous and future chapters are linked at the end of each part if you want to catch up.

Pairing: Stiles x Psychic! Reader (eventually)

Notes: Welcome to Episode One! Buckle in, this series really takes on a mind of it’s own...

I enjoy writing it so I hope you have just as much fun reading it! Let me know what you think! I love hearing from you lovely people.

I rested my head against the cool glass to my right and let out a tired sigh. We’d been in the car for what felt like days. I wrapped my arms around myself and tried to get comfortable against the door. It was a couple hours past sunset by the time the first sign of our new home came into view. It was made of wood and looked no less than a hundred years old. Four words were sprawled across it in big, white letters.

WELCOME TO BEACON HILLS

As soon as we passed it, moms fingers tightened against the steering wheel.

“Hey, no more incidents, okay honey? This town is our last option.”

I closed my eyes tightly and tried to ignore her condescending tone. I was well aware of my mistakes and the fact that this was our fourth move in the last year. I knew it was my fault. I didn’t need her to remind me.

The rest of the drive was silent. It wasn’t exactly tense, but it wasn’t pleasant either. This unspoken rift had formed between us not long ago, and it grew with each of my slip ups. With every new move. She was trying her best, that much was obvious, but there are only so many new places to go. I guess that’s why she said this is our last chance.

My last chance.

It was nearly midnight now, and I was no closer to sleep than I had been when I plopped myself down onto my new bed. Mom bought everything and had it delivered before we got here, like she always does. It was kind of our routine at this point.

Just then, I heard screaming from outside my bedroom window. It was like two people were taking turns scaring each other. One yelled out, then the other, until they eventually fell into silence. I sat up in bed and wandered over to my window. I peered toward my neighbors house, where the noise had come from, and saw two boys out on the porch.

One had a baseball bat that he was waving around animatedly, while the other was somehow hanging upside down from the roof. I opened my window as quietly as I could and let my elbows rest on the edge. A shiver ran down the back of my neck as the chilly night air brushed against it. I stuck my head outside to listen in on their conversation.

“Look, I know it’s late, but you gotta hear this.” The upside boy said excitedly. “I saw my dad leave twenty minutes ago. Dispatch called, they’re bringing in every officer from the Beacon department and even state police.”

The other boy lowered his bat. “For what?”

Despite being outside in the middle of the night, the two weren’t talking quietly. I could hear everything they were saying clearly as their voices echoed my way.

“Two joggers found a body in the woods.” Upside down boy gracefully fell into the bushes below.

My breath caught and my stomach tightened uncomfortably at his words. A body was found nearby? I thought Beacon Hills was a secluded, safe town.

“A dead body?” As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I noticed that one of the boys had slightly shaggy hair and was wearing a red zip-up hoodie. He leaned over the wooden railing to look at his friend.

Upside down boy popped back up and slammed his hands on the railing. “No, a body of water. Yes, dumbass! A dead body.”

I couldn’t help but snicker at that. The guy was funny, although this didn’t seem like a joking matter.

“You mean like...a murder?”

Upside down boy, who for some reason was wearing way too many layers to count, swung himself over the porch railing. Seriously, he had on a t-shirt, a flannel, and a thick jacket. It wasn’t that cold. “No one knows yet. Just that it was a girl, probably in her twenties.”

“Hold on. If they found a body, then what are they looking for?” They were facing each other now, the bat forgotten on the floor.

“That’s the best part! They only found half!” My brows pinched at the guy’s excitement. Why would either of them care about a dead body? Especially if it were as gruesome as that?

I stepped back into my room and shut the window tightly, my stomach churning. I chewed on my bottom lip anxiously. That was weird. They were weird, and I wanted no part of it. I padded back toward my bed and crawled under the covers. I sighed as warmth enveloped me and tried to forget everything I’d overheard. I needed to get some sleep. The first day of school was tomorrow and I had to make a good first impression. It was only my first night in this town. I couldn’t be tangled up in anything weird.

I couldn’t make the same mistakes already.

————————

I woke with a harsh gasp, my throat constricting in pain. I blinked rapidly, trying to force my eyes to adjust to the darkness around me. My palms were damp, and the tips of my fingers numb, as I pushed myself up into a sitting position. I stilled at the squishy feeling under my ass and brought my hand up toward my eyes slowly.

My breath caught again at the sight of dirt on my skin. My head whipped both left and right as I realized I was outside. Not only was I outside, but I was nowhere near my house. I was in the middle of a forest.

“No, no, no...” I muttered, staggering to my feet.

This cannot be happening again. Not already. I haven’t even been here for one freaking night. My teeth started chattering as the freezing air brushed against my bare skin. I was only wearing a pair of leggings and a short sleeved shirt. It was enough to keep me warm inside my bed, but not here.

I took a few steps forward, but stopped as the sound of crunching earth echoed my way. Lights flashed, and a dog barked aggressively. I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sudden noise and moved to hide behind a tree. I peered around and saw one of the boys from before—the one with buzzed hair and too many layers—fall to the ground with a shriek. His friend ran off somewhere to hide.

“Hang on! Hang on!” An angry voice shouted. “This little delinquent belongs to me.”

A man who I quickly registered, due to his uniform, as the Sheriff stepped between the boy and a still barking dog. The few officers around him backed off at the wave of his hand. He turned on a flashlight and shined it in the boys face, who bounced back to his feet and wiped his hands on his loose-fitting jeans.

“Hey dad, how ya doin?”

So the Sheriff is his dad. Makes sense given the two boys earlier conversation. Maybe that will prevent all of us from getting into serious trouble if we’re caught. I chewed on my bottom lip nervously. How the hell would I explain why I was here?

“Oh hi, I’m the new girl by the way, and I just sleep-walked myself deep into this unfamiliar forest. No big deal though. It’s not like this has happened before.”

Yeah. I don’t think so.

“So...you, uh, listening to all of my phone calls?”

“No! Well, not the boring ones.”

“Where’s your usual partner in crime?”

“Who, Scott?” The boy tried to catch his breath while he thought of a believable lie. “Scott’s at home. Said he wanted to get a good nights sleep for the first day back at school tomorrow. It’s just me. In the woods. Alone.”

Not bad, actually. Except for that last part. I got the sense that he talked a lot when nervous, but figured he had more than enough practice lying to his father.

“Scott, you out there?” The Sheriff’s voice echoed through the dense trees. He moved his flashlight in my direction and I quickly pressed my back against the other side of the scratchy bark. I winced as it bit into my skin through my thin shirt. “Scott!”

My heart was threatening to burst out of my chest, it was beating so hard. I sealed my eyes shut as a moment of quiet passed.

“Well, young man, I’m going to walk you back to your car, and we’re going to have a discussion about something called invasion of privacy...”

Their voices slowly faded away. I stood painfully still for several seconds afterward to make sure they were gone. Just as I was about to move, I heard a twig snap to my left. My gaze fell on the other boy—Scott, apparently—who’s back was to me. He took off running before I could even fully register that he was there.

I blinked once, twice, three times. My body sagged against the tree in exhaustion. Whatever I had just witnessed was not good and I needed to get home before mom noticed I was gone. Or now, preferably. I groaned in pain as my head suddenly began to throb harshly.

“No, no. Not right now...”

My knees hit the wet ground and I clamped both hands over my temples. Images flashed behind my eyes as I squeezed them shut tightly.

Scott running, glowing red eyes, a guttural scream of agony.

I let my eyes pop open with a gasp. Before I knew what was happening, I was sprinting in the direction he’d gone. I could hardly control my body as it took me to where my vision was about to happen. I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw Scott rolling down a hill. I grimaced as his body practically bounced with each hit to the ground and ran to the top so I could see better.

Once he stopped moving, I took a step to check on him, but stopped almost instantly. A pair of glowing red eyes illuminated in the depths of the forest, just a few feet away. My jaw went slack in shock and fear. Whatever the hell it was, it wasn’t good. It was almost like the air had shifted into something darker with its presence. I watched in stunned horror as a huge black mass ran by Scott. It was only visible long enough for me to see the thing dig it’s teeth into his side. He screamed in pain, just like I’d heard before, and I covered my ears.

It was all too real.

The monster ran off and Scott looked around, startled. He groaned and clutched his side tightly as he slowly managed to get to his feet. A moment later, he was gone. I wasted no time in following him, hoping he’d lead me to the edge of the forest. I stayed far back, not wanting him to know I was there.

Within minutes I was standing in the middle of an empty road, Scott nowhere to be found. I was surprised I hadn’t gone into cardiac arrest already with how fast my heart was racing. I was exhausted and on edge after what I’d just seen. Whatever it was.

I ran a shaky hand through my hair and started what I knew would be a long journey home.

Episode 1, Part Two

#stiles stilinski #scott mccall #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #stiles x reader #stiles x y/n #teen wolf fic #teen wolf series #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles #teen wolf season one #dylan obrien #stiles x oc #stiles x original character #stiles imagine #stiles stilinksi imagine #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien imagine #teen wolf rewrite

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justthehiddleswrites · 3 years

Text

Follow My Lead | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 3 | Hello my sunshine boy

A/N: This will update every Thursday. There are 13 chapters. There are all sorts of kinds of D/s relationships. This is the one I choose to write this time.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Vivian Swann)

Summary: Tom and Vivian have both been unlucky in love, searching for something outside of the bounds of a typical relationship. When the two of them connect via a dating app, Tom is introduced to the idea of being submissive to Vivian. Which is the one thing he never knew he needed. Under the firm hand of Vivian, Tom learns what it means to submit and Vivian learns what it means to be in a loving dominant relationship. But not everyone seems to understand what they have and the best intentions can destroy the strongest relationship.

This Chapter: Tom and Vivian slowly move forward and Tom discovers a thorn in his side named Benedict.

Warnings for story: Dominant/submissive relationship (sub!Tom), lots of smut including but not limited to: vaginal sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), edging, denial, teasing, use of restraints, spanking, multiple orgasm, anal play, use of toys.

Taglists are open! Please let me know if you wish to be added! Thank you for reading.

“You are positively glowing, Viv.” Her best friend Ashley commented as they sat down for lunch that Monday. “Don’t tell me you finally got laid. What has been seven, eight months?”

“Twenty-two, but who’s counting?” Vivian snapped back.

“You.” Ashley stabbed her fork at her. “So if it wasn’t sex, then what? Did you find a new esthetician? You have to give me the name. My pores are crying.”

“I found someone, but not an esthetician. A boy.” Vivian responded, coy, not wanting to reveal too much after just one date.

“A boy?” Ashley clapped her hands together in excitement.

Ashley’s perpetual joy could grate on Vivian’s nerves on worse days, but as her best friend throughout law school, she couldn’t imagine her life without Ash. Vivian shot her a glare.

“Yes.” She stabbed at her salad.

Ashley’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “You mean a boy boy?”

“Possibly. We’ve only been on one date.” She held up a finger. “Before you ask, a normal ‘vanilla’ date. Dinner.”

“But…”

Viv smiled. “But there is a… a… quality about him. So full of life and stinking positive. It’s intoxicating.” She shivered, remembering that kiss.

“Anything else?” Ashley blinked at her, knowing there was more to tell.

“He is also drop dead gorgeous and an amazing kisser.”

“Details, or it didn’t happen. First off, tongue or no tongue?”

“Not telling.”

“Boo.” Ashley pouted. “Give me something. What celebrity does he look like?”

Vivian stopped chewing to stop herself from choking. What a loaded question.

“Tom Hiddleston.”

“Ooooh,” Ashley cooed. “He is so hot.”

“But enough about me,” Vivian changed the subject before Ashley pushed much further. “How are things with Eric?”

Ashley poked at her food. “Things are not. He ghosted me a week ago.”

Vivian’s phone buzzed. It was Tom. She said a silent prayer that she had labeled him in her phone as T and not his full name as Ashley leaned over to read the message.

Thinking about you. Already finished one book you recommended. Thank you for that. They have been most helpful.

She smiled at the message.

“Is that the boy?” Ashley craned her neck. “Let me see.”

Vivian flipped the phone around for her to read.

“Awww. He is just the cutest. When are you seeing him again?”

“He is calling tonight and I imagine we will make plans then.”

Ashley danced a bit in her chair. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

Tom ran double his usual miles that Monday morning. His body and brain were a jumble of nervous energy. He felt well… as giddy as a schoolboy. A feeling which had eluded him for quite some time. Once he returned and showered, he settled onto his couch with the second of the books Vivian suggested while listening to some music at a low volume. He ignored the buzz of messages on his phone until he finished the book.

Three missed messages and one phone call from Benedict. That man was like a dog with a bone for meddling and prying into Tom’s personal life. This had only gotten worse since Ben married and had kids. Now that he was coupled up, it seems Benedict was intent on getting Tom to the same status. Tom didn’t have the time, guts, or inclination to explain his desire for a relationship less ordinary. And reading those books only confirmed Tom’s suspicions about what he wanted.

He ignored Benedict and instead typed up a quick text to Vivian. She should be at lunch around now. While he waited for her to respond, Tom grabbed a script from the table and flipped it open. He wasn’t sure how he felt about starring in another period drama, but he promised his agent he would let them know yes or no by the end of the week.

There was a knock at his door. Tom opened the door. Benedict pushed his way into Tom’s home.

“You don’t write. You don’t call.” Benedict’s arms flailed about.

Tom frowned at his face. “Come on in, Ben. I’m not busy at all.” His voice oozed with sarcasm.

“If you answered your phone, I wouldn’t have to barge in like this. Hello.” Benedict continued to pace the floor.

“Hello.” Tom replied. He glanced into the living room and saw his stack of books in plain sight on the sofa. “Now what is so urgent it required you to come to my house in the middle of the day?”

“How did the date go?” Benedict flashed a gigantic smile at Tom.

Tom groaned and walked back into the living room. He shoved the books out of sight under a table. Benedict flopped down in their place.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Come on. I would tell you.” Benedict continued to smile as though he was a maniacal clown.

“Fortunately, I’m not you. Now if you please…” He gestured for the door. “… I have work to do.”

Tom shoved Benedict off the sofa and towards the door.

“Please something. A morsel. A tidbit.”

“Not even a scrap.”

“A name?” Benedict called out, a Hail Mary effort to extract something from his best friend. He can’t ever remember Tom being this tightlipped before.

“Vivian.”

“Last name?”

“None of your business. Goodbye Benedict.” Tom slammed the door in Ben’s face as he opened his mouth to say something.

Tom slumped onto the couch and stared down at the script he was reading. His phone buzzed.

Thinking about you too. Glad to hear about the reading. Talk to you soon.

Tom smiled and double checked to make sure his alarm was set for 10:55 that night. With a sigh, he grabbed the script and continued reading.

Vivian didn’t get home until almost 10:30 that night. The paralegal in charge of organizing the documents for her deposition tomorrow had up and quit, and she spent most of the day along with three first-year associates getting everything in order. Her body ached even after a quick shower, her brain was buzzing. It was also like that the day before depositions. She made a cup of tea and then settled into bed. Vivian tried reading, but her brain wouldn’t shut down. She didn’t keep a TV in the bedroom.

Her phone rang. Tom. Right on time.

“Hello?”

“Evening, darling.” His voice smooth and rich. Vivian’s shoulders relaxed. “How was your day?”

“Long. Yours?”

“Boring. Would you like to tell me about yours?”

“I don’t want to burden you.” Vivian pouted.

“I would be happy to listen.”

She perked up a bit and ranted about the kerfuffle that afternoon. Tom listened intently, interjecting words of encouragement along the way.

“It sounds like the whole thing is in your capable hands. I was wondering…” He paused. “Never mind.”

“No, what were you wondering about?”

“I was wondering if you would like to come over to my place and I could cook you dinner on Thursday.”

She smiled. “I would like that.” There was a pregnant pause over the line. She could sense his shyness and nerves through the phone. “Was there something else you wanted?”

Tom sighed into the phone. “Perhaps we could try a few things. Nothing sexual.” He quickly added. His stomach twisted into knots.

“I think that could happen. How about tomorrow I email you a list of some possibles and see what works for you?”

“Thank you. I would like that very much.” The pep in his voice returning. “I don’t want to keep you awake.”

“I wasn’t sleeping. I can’t get my mind to shut down.”

“Have you tried reading?”

“I can’t focus.”

Tom hesitated. “I could read to you.” His voice quiet.

“You would do that for me?”

“Yes. Would you like me to read to you?”

Vivian’s body warmed over. “I would like that very much.”

“Let’s see you’re reading Anna Karenina.” She could overhear shuffling as Tom moved to his bookshelf to find his copy. “What chapter?”

“Thirteen.”

Tom thumbed through the pages until he reached the spot.

He cleared his throat before he began. “After dinner, and till the beginning of the evening, Kitty was feeling a sensation akin to the sensation of a young man before a battle. Her heart throbbed violently, and her thoughts would not rest on anything. She felt…”

Tom got halfway through Chapter 14 before Vivian dozed off, her breath heavy and even over the phone. Tom ended the call and headed to his bedroom to sleep himself.

Vivian woke up early the next morning feeling refreshed. Her phone lay next to her on the bed. With a stretch, she rose and set about making breakfast and a cup of coffee. She hadn’t planned on falling asleep during Tom’s phone call, but his voice soothed and slowed down her brain. Which reminded her to open her laptop. She shot off a quick email to Tom giving him some ideas for Thursday.

This is a list of what may happen, not will happen.

Kneeling

Petting/stroking

Kissing

Shirt off (you)

Pants off (you, underwear stays on)

Referring to me as “ma’am”

symbol of ownership (cuffs/collar/leash)

Hair pulling/tugging

Pet name for you (boy, puppy, etc.)

She requested he let her know and to add anything for discussion, and they could talk about it more tonight. She requested he call again at 11. Vivian then clicked send and readied for the day.

The first thing Tom did when he woke that morning was check his email. He found Vivian’s and opened it.

His eyes widened as he read the list. He hadn’t thought about the idea of “ownership” yet. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that just yet. But the kneeling, petting, and titles all sounded exciting. He shot back a response, letting Vivian know his preferences and then headed out for a run.

Vivian responded to Tom’s email during the lunch hour, saying they could talk more about it that night. She spent the rest of the afternoon in ongoing meetings on a new corporate fraud case her firm just took on.

Tom read a few scripts that morning, one a drama based on an obscure book he never heard of and another a romantic comedy. After a quick lunch and more pressure from Benedict via text, Tom grabbed for the third book Vivian recommended to him. He glanced at the title Leading and Supportive Love: The Truth about Dominant and Submissive Relationships by Chris Lyon. As he delved in, Tom realized how woefully inadequate his own research had been.

The more he read, the more Tom wanted this. How he wanted to surrender and submit within a lovely romantic relationship. He had always been attracted to strong women. However, Tom found time and time again that his girlfriends looked to him to initiate. And not just sex. And with that, the relationship soured as resentment and disappointment permeated on both sides. He resigned himself to settling, convinced what he wanted didn’t exist. and then he discovered the dominant/submissive relationship community. Too scared to hunt out a pro-domme, Tom settled on the dating profile on a vanilla website.

His alarm rang at 10:55 and he grabbed his copy of Anna Karenina and settled onto the couch to call Vivian.

Vivian settled into bed ahead of Tom’s phone call. She planned on asking him to read to her again. He called at exactly 11 again and she wondered if he stared at his phone waiting for the minutes to count down.

“Hello my sunshine boy.” She greeted him.

Tom smiled. “Sunshine boy?” his tone not accusatory but questioning.

“Because you are as golden and bright as the sun.”

“I like that. I enjoy being your warmth and sunshine.”

“Good, because it’s your pet name now. Speaking of…. Thursday.”

“Right.” Tom squirmed. Thursday was a big day. “Tell me how it will work.”

“So we will establish the rules and protocols tonight, and they are in place until I leave. Anything on the list is fair game. I expect you to comply with my requests. If there is anything not on the list we wish to explore, consent and discussion will happen beforehand. If at any point, you feel uncomfortable and wish to disengage, you can use a safety word. What would you like your safety word to be?”

“Sushi.” Tom responded. “That all sounds fine. And I should call you…”

“Ma’am for now.” She smiled. “Now will you read for me again, please?” Her tone gentle but firm.

“Yes, ma’am.” he tried it out. It felt nice. “Where did I leave off?”

“Please.”

Tom grabbed his book and flipped it open to where he marked his spot with a bookmark. “That must be Vronsky, thought Levin, and, to be sure of it, glanced at Kitty. She had already had time to look at Vronsky, and looked round to Levin. And simply from the look in her eyes, that grew unconsciously brighter, Levin knew that she loved that man, knew it as surely as if she had told him so in words.”

Vivian dozed off soon after Tom began, and he ended the call before falling asleep on the couch himself.

Wednesday seemed to drag for both of them in anticipation for Thursday night. Tom busied himself with cleaning his house, which had grown cluttered now that he was back living there full time. In between the mopping of the floors and shoving a third load of laundry in the washer, Tom finished up the third and fourth books Vivian told him to read. He had two left. Tom also made a special trip to the store and gathered the ingredients for dinner. He was tempted to make Bolognese but thought Italian two dates in a row might be a bit much and instead settled on a lovely roast dinner with all the fixings. Tom even went so far as to call his mother for tips.

“Trying to impress a girl, I take it?” Diana Hiddleston mused as she explained how to make Yorkshire pudding.

“A woman, Mother.” he corrected her. “She’s not just some girl.”

“Clearly if you are contemplating baking for her. I hope she is worth all this trouble.”

“It’s no trouble.” Tom scribbled down notes in handwriting he was certain to be unable to decipher later. “Now for a pudding…”

Diana chuckled as she listed off a few simple recipes for Tom to try.

Vivian left work two hours early on Thursday in order to get and ready and head over to Tom’s in time. He texted her the address that morning. He continued to call her at 11 and read to her every night. It was a small comfort, and she looked forward to it every evening.

Her fingers ran along the clothes hanging in her wardrobe, contemplating how dressy to go. She lighted on a long floral cotton maxi dress with a high slit on the side. Vivian paired with a wedge and a light jacket and grabbed her phone and purse before catching an Uber over to Tom’s.

Tom couldn’t remember the last time his palms sweated before a date. But they were and causing him to bobble in the kitchen, nearly dumping all the roasted potatoes on the ground. He was just pulling out the Yorkshire puddings when his doorbell rang.

Tom sprung into action, running to the door, shedding the apron along the way and smoothing down the front of his button-down shirt. He opened the door to find Vivian standing there smiling.

“Evening,” he started, smiling. “ma’am.” he added quickly.

“That’s my sunshine boy.” she responded, stepping into his foyer. She grabbed him by the back of neck and kissed him. Tom’s hand landed on her shoulders. She pulled him forward twice by the neck as they kissed before releasing him.

“Allow me to take your jacket, ma’am.” Tom moved to behind Vivian and waited until she nodded before slipping it off her shoulders and hanging it on a nearby hook.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Care for a tour?” He extended his arm towards the living room.

“Lead the way.” She reached out and held onto the back of his neck before sliding it down to the small of his back. He shivered at her touch. “Okay?” She checked in with him.

“Fine. I just… I’m not used to people touching me there.” he replied, shy and self-conscious.

“If it makes you uncomfortable, use your word.” She used her other hand to smooth down his hair.

“Yes, ma’am. I like it.”

“Then I’ll keep doing it.”

Tom smiled as she smoothed down his hair and he continued with the tour. Vivian took in every inch of Tom’s home. It was clean and well furnished. She enjoyed the large bookcase covering an entire wall in his study, along with an impressive DVD collection. She spied a few family photos in the bedroom on the dresser in front of his king size bed. They returned to the kitchen right as the oven timer went off.

Tom stepped away and grabbed an oven mitt and pulled his tart from the oven. Vivian glanced over his shoulder to see a full roast dinner, Tom had gone all out for her.

“I’m impressed, good job.” She kissed his cheek.

He blushed at her praise. “I may have gone a bit overboard.”

“Nonsense. Now get me a glass of wine please.” She directed before sitting down at the table Tom had set.

“Red, white, or I have champagne, ma’am?” He stood by the fridge, waiting.

Vivian wrinkled her nose. “Champagne makes me sneeze. Red.”

Tom nodded and grabbed a bottle from the counter which he opened and poured them both a glass. He handed Vivian’s hers first before setting his on the table and returning to the kitchen. Vivian slid his glass over to her side of the table and sipped hers. Tom had great taste in wine.

He returned to the table and set her plate down for her and then himself before sitting. Tom glanced around for his glass of wine.

“No wine for you tonight.”

Tom opened his mouth and contemplated his next words as Vivian sipped her wine, staring at him. “Yes, ma’am.” He sounded disappointed but pulled his glass of water close.

Vivian reached out and stroked his arm. “Don’t worry, my sunshine boy, there will still be plenty of fun to be had.” He perked up a bit. “How is your reading going?”

Tom finished chewing before answering. “Great. I am on book number 4. Just two more to go and then my 500 word essay. May I write more than 500 words?”

“Yes, but no more than a 1000.”

Tom nodded and Vivian tucked into the roast. It was juicy and seasoned to perfection. “Whose recipe did you steal?”

“My mother’s.” Tom replied. “Excuse me for a moment.” He stood and left for the kitchen, returning with a gravy boat and the bottle of wine. He held up the gravy. “May I, ma’am?”

“Yes please.” She held up her plate to close the distance. Tom poured a healthy amount of gravy on the plate before serving himself. “And your work? Your scripts?”

Tom sat back down. “Tedious. If I am not playing a spy, they want me to play a stuffed shirt in a cravat and waistcoat.”

“I bet you are dashing in a cravat and waistcoat.” She smirked at him, aware Tom would be dashing in a potato sack and tissue boxes.

“There is one that caught my eye. I wondered if you like to take a look at it.”

“What kind of movie?”

“Romantic comedy.”

Vivian giggled. “Do they still make those?”

Tom narrowed his eyes for a moment. “Yes. Would you like to take a look? Ma’am?”

“Maybe later.” She sipped her wine. Tom held the bottle up. “No, thank you. I have work tomorrow.”

Tom nodded and set the bottle down. “How are the depositions going?”

“As well as can be expected, but this case isn’t won or lost through depositions.”

“How is it then?”

“By who blinks first.” She deadpanned. “And I am a world class champion in staring contests.”

Tom shook his head, taking his last bite of potato before standing to clear the plates. “Remind me never to cross you.”

Vivian leaned back in her chair. “I guarantee in six months you will beg me to punish you.”

She chuckled as the plates clattered in the sink before he turned on the water to let them soak during dessert. Vivian enjoyed pushing when the mood suited her. And Tom suited her just fine.

He returned with his Bakewell tart, two plates and forks. “I noticed you didn’t eat much of the chocolate dessert on Sunday.”

“It was fine, but not my favorite. Thank you for noticing.”

Tom cut up the tart and served up a small slice to Vivian and took a larger piece for himself.

“Don’t you worry about gaining weight?” she questioned.

“I run at least three miles a day, although since I met you that has doubled. And I have a fast metabolism. It is very hard for me to put on muscle mass. Ask my trainer.”

“I just might.” She took a bite and moaned. “Delicious.”

Tom licked his lips and took a bite, moaning. “That is delicious.” he mumbled, his mouth full.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” She pointed a finger at him.

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry.” He covered his mouth and swallowed.

“You don’t need to apologize, Tom.” Vivian reached out and rubbed his arm. “Fix it the next time.”

Tom leaned into her hand. “Yes, ma’am.”

Vivian ate most of her dessert while Tom polished his off.

“All done?”

She wiped her mouth and finished up her wine. “Yes, thank you. That was delicious. I need you to cook for me more often.”

Tom chuckled as he cleared the plates. “I’ll keep that in mind. If you like, you can take a seat in the living room while I clean up.”

“I’d rather stay in here with you.”

“Of course.” He hustled over to the sink and turned on the water. He rinsed the plates and utensils while Vivian sat at the table and watched. She took the sight of his backside in the jeans he selected for the evening. Very nice. She couldn’t wait to redden those cheeks when the time came.

She stood and joined him after Tom put away the leftovers and turned his attention to the pans. As he scrubbed, Vivian came up behind him and petted the back of his head and neck. He leaned against her hand and Vivian swore he purred.

“That feels nice, ma’am.” he hummed, but not stopping his washing.

“Finish up and come to the living room, sunshine boy.”

She tugged his hair once before releasing his hair and walking out of the kitchen. Vivian surveyed his DVDs while Tom finished up. She could hear the water turn off and the pans clanging together as he put them away. Vivian remained standing.

Tom walked into his own living room as though he were a stranger. His hands fidgeting in front of him.

“I won’t bite, Thomas.” she smirked. “At least I won’t bite tonight.”

Tom gulped and shifted his weight. “Yes, ma’am.”

She circled him like an animal on the prowl. Her fingers ran along the width of his shoulders. He shivered again. Vivian stopped and took a step back.

“Are you still doing okay?”

“I’m fine.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Please don’t stop.” His blue eyes begged her to touch him again.

She nodded and slid her hand down his back before bringing it up his neck and into his hair.

“Take off your shirt.”

Tom hesitated for a moment before unbuttoning his shirt. He pulled it off and tossed it onto a nearby chair.

“Fold it and place it on the table.”

Tom’s mouth dropped open, and he stood still. Vivian walked in front of him.

“I don’t enjoy repeating myself, sunshine.”

Tom scrambled into action. “Yes, ma’am.” He folded the shirt like they would in a retail store and then spun in place. There were three tables in the room.

“The small one with the lamp, please.” Tom sighed in relief and placed his shirt down.

“On the couch, on your back, hands behind your head.”

Vivian leaned down to unbuckle her wedges, slipping them off and placing them by the armchair. Tom positioned himself on the couch, taking up the entire length. Vivian licked her lips at the sight of Tom. The hint of chest hair. His Adonis belt and treasure trail. She made a mental list of things to do in the future to Tom.

She hitched her skirt up to straddle Tom’s torso. “No touching.”

Tom nodded eagerly. “Yes, ma’am.”

Vivian leaned down to his face, her hands slid up his bare chest to his neck. One hand pressed Tom’s shoulder into the cushions while the other cupped his cheeks. Her thumbs ran along his sharp cheekbones before reaching the temples. Vivian’s fingers laced into Tom’s hair and then she tugged him into her.

Tom’s lips sighed into her. Vivian took the opportunity to slip her tongue into his mouth. He wiggled underneath her but his hands stayed behind his head. She pulled back and Tom leaned forward, wanting more.

“Do you want more?” she teased. Her hand firmly in his hair.

“Yes, ma’am.” He panted.

“Beg.” She tugged his head towards her, stopping just short.

“Please!” He begged not only with his words but his eyes too. “Please kiss me, ma’am.”

She tugged his head around again and pressed her lips against his. He breathed into her and she slipped her tongue in again. Tom did the same. He wiggled underneath her again. Vivian stopped, and shifted her position, her knees on Tom’s chest, her toes teasing along his crotch. His pants tenting from the feel of things.

They continued kissing like that for some time and Tom stopped wiggling. She pulled away, Tom leaned forward, wanting more.

“More, please, ma’am.” he pleaded.

Vivian pushed off of him. Her hand skimmed along his cock. It twitched under her touch and Tom moaned.

“No, not tonight. Sit up, please.” Vivian stood. Tom sat up, his lips swollen. His eyes glassy.

Vivian sat down at one end of the couch and settled in. “Kneel.”

“Yes ma’am.” He slid down the couch to kneel on the carpet by Vivian’s leg. “Never imagined anyone would say that to me.” he commented.

“Get used to it, sunshine.” She smoothed down his rumpled hair. He leaned against her legs at her touch, pressing his side against him. Vivian smiled as Tom hummed while Vivian continued to stroke and pet his hair and neck. She scratched his scalp, and he gasped.

“You’re such a good boy, sunshine.” Vivian purred. “My good boy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Vivian looked around the room and spied a small bookcase stuffed to the brim with books.

“Read to me, Thomas. Please”

He stood, not ready to miss out on Vivian touching him. He reached for Anna Karenina. Vivian touched his arm.

“No, something from your bookcase. Surprise me.”

Tom walked over to the bookcase and examined the shelves before selecting a small notebook.

“It’s a collection of poems.” he offered, he ran his finger along the spine.

“Perfect.” Vivian beckoned him back. “Kneel and read to me, please.”

Tom’s face lit up, and he resumed his position, head leaning against Vivian’s lap.

Tom cleared his throat and Vivian’s hand laced back through his hair and his shoulders relaxed. “Leda and the Swan by William Butler Yeats.”

“Interesting choice.”

“A sudden blow: the great wings beating still Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill, He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.”

After he finished the first poem, Vivian asked him to read another and then a third. His eyes closed as her hands continued to smooth and stroke his head. Tom’s body hummed. He felt… safe. Like he was home and everything would be alright.

Vivian feared he had fallen asleep. “Thomas?” she whispered.

“Yes, ma’am?” He turned his head.

“You okay?”

He nodded. “Better than okay.”

“Stand up, please.” Tom stood. “It’s time for me to go home. Walk me to the door.”

Tom’s head dropped but nodded. Vivian lingered by the front door. Her finger drawing intricate circles on his chest.

“That was…” Tom’s chest heaved as he put Vivian’s jacket on her. His body ached as though he ran fifty miles. Tom’s brain felt fuzzy and heavy. His heart full and content.

“Yeah,” Vivian finished his sentence. “For me too, sunshine boy.” She reached up and cupped his cheek with one hand, he leaned his head into her, wanting to kiss her palm but not daring to do so.

With her shoes back on her feet, she stood almost as tall as Thomas. She pecked his lips, soft and sweet and Tom returned the kiss in kind. Her stomach fluttered.

“I would like to do this again.” Tom commented as they parted.

“I was hoping you would. How would you feel about having a kissing date on Saturday night? I’m afraid I’m busy tomorrow.”

“What’s a kissing date?”

Vivian pecked his lips and rubbed his neck one more time before opening the door. Tom stumbled forward, craving her skin on his.

“I’ll text you the protocols tomorrow morning. Sleep well, sunshine.” One more kiss and then the door shut behind her.

Tom leaned against the wall, clutching his chest. He didn’t know if he would last until Saturday.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston x ofc #sub!tom #follow my lead #hiddlestoners #hiddlesfic

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louloubarnes-99 · 3 years

Text

Darcy the Librarian part 1

Darcy x Steve x Bucky nsfw (eventually! omg)

this is 7k 🥰✨

“Casey, I’ve read this sentence six times.”

Darcy pulled the earphones out and gave the younger woman her full attention. The poor thing was shrugging helplessly, her hand covering the mouthpiece of the landline receiver.

“It’s Ned, I’m sorry –”

Darcy took the phone, swapping seats with her, putting the phone to her ear as she tried to remedy the situation.

“Hello, Ned? It’s Darcy.”

The man on the other end was already yelling, sounding frustrated.

“Hello? Can I – Am I calling the foot doctor? Hello?”

“Ned! I don’t think you can hear me! It’s Darcy. Hello? Ned?”

“Darcy?”

“Yes, it’s Darcy,” she half-yelled, giving Casey a thumbs-up. “You’ve got an appointment with us tomorrow at 11. We’ll see you then!”

“Eleven?” Ned repeated. “Okay. I’ll see ya.”

Darcy hung up and she let out a low sigh, swapping seats with Casey again. She glanced at the clock, then at the screen in front of her. It was mid-morning at the podiatry clinic, both of the receptionists on duty running steadily through the routine. Darcy had been writing another letter to be sent out for auditing purposes, and if it was her working alone she’d be doing them in her sleep. She’d had plenty of dreams of her writing reports and doing work that was piling up and up. Today she was training Casey, reviewing what she’d already written, listening to the Dictaphone, her boss’ voice in her ear.

“Please confirm Ned’s appointment, Casey. The right-click, yeah…”

Casey sat back, giving a little smile when she was done. She was beginning to remember everything, and Darcy could remember that distinct relief. That Thank God something’s finally going right kind of feeling. She didn’t want to burst her bubble, but she found several errors in the letter Casey had typed out.

“No, it’s hyperkeratosis,” she said, picking up her pencil and crossing out the spelling mistake. She tried not to see Casey’s face fall. “And onychauxic.”

She handed it back to Casey, standing up.

“All good. Just fix those and we’ll send it off. I’m going on my break.”

She patted Casey’s shoulder and stepped away, walking down the corridor to the break room, seeing Patrick sitting at the table with his sandwich in his hands.

“Hey,” he mumbled, mouth full. “She doing okay?”

Darcy made a so-so movement with her hand. She hoped he’d keep that to himself, since Casey was his wife’s little cousin. Patrick was the podiatrist, and probably the best boss Darcy had ever had. He was at least one of the friendliest ones she’d had, pulling out the chair beside him for her to sit down with her yoghurt she retrieved from the fridge.

“She’s fine,” she amended, pulling up the chair as she sat down, the legs scraping across the linoleum. “You can tell Linda she’s doing a great job.”

Patrick gave a little chuckle, shaking his head. “I swear, I won’t bring another one like her in again, I like you too much.”

“Well, maybe not so much when I abandon you at 5.30.”

She was referring to what she’d already reminded him of twice that day. She needed to leave a little early tonight because Ian asked her to that morning when she jumped out of bed. Her boyfriend didn’t ask her to do that often, to come home early, unless it was a special occasion. She had already read into it enough to start thinking about engagement announcements. She didn’t want to call her mother but she knew she’d be the first one of her family to know. She hoped Ian didn’t cry too much, because Darcy knew she would when he got down on one knee. She always liked hearing how other people got together, even when people said “oh we met online”. She wanted to ask what exactly drew people to one another.

She took a spoonful of her yogurt and shoved it into her mouth, smirking at Patrick.

“How’d you and Linda meet?”

“Group of friends, mutual friends at a bar,” he murmured, looking away. He blinked. “Christ. I think about that time, all the uncertainty, and now…”

He’d been married several years. Darcy didn’t necessarily like Linda very much, since she was perpetually condescending and always acted like work was what kept Patrick from her, and therefore Darcy was in part to blame, but she thought Patrick seemed happy with her.

Also he’d paid for her boob job last year, not that they ever spoke about it, but Darcy more than noticed those things when she was at his fortieth birthday party last year.

“I feel like we’ve been married longer than we’ve known each other,” he murmured. “I know that doesn’t make sense.”

“I get it,” Darcy said, ducking her head, smiling. “Me and Ian met seven years ago, and I can’t remember life without him. I don’t remember how I used to feel. It’s so weird.”

Patrick nodded, finishing his next mouthful.

“I was a kid when I met him,” she added, rolling her eyes. “How’d you propose?”

“Didn’t really, sort of decided it together,” Patrick murmured. “I didn’t get down on one knee, it was after – uh…”

Darcy watched his face change, his cheeks flushing, and she began to chuckle.

“Yeah, we were both in a really good mood, you could say.”

“Right,” Darcy said, laughing. “Good to know.”

They lapsed into silence and Patrick nodded, chewing. He finished the rest of his food and balled up the plastic wrapping to throw away, checking his watch.

“I better get back.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “I’ll be right out.”

He paused at the sink after he washed his hands, drying them on the towel that hung over the oven handle.

“Hey, congratulations, when it does happen,” he said, and Darcy looked up.

He was smiling at her and she returned it, feeling a familiar warmth in her stomach.

“Thanks, Pat,” she murmured.

He left her there and she watched him leave. Unable to truly be professional, her eyes fell to his rear as he went out the door. He wore forty well. She knew his schedule, she knew what he ate for the most part, and she knew that he worked out. If she met him on the street, she’d think he was some kind of sports psychologist or physical therapist if he told her he was a doctor. His clientele was mostly elderly people, the majority of them diabetic, and feet was the last thing that came to mind where Patrick was concerned.

Darcy’s best friend Jane had the pleasure of meeting him once last year, grinning at him like she couldn’t stop herself, and ever since then he was Hot Doctor, or Hot Boss when she and Darcy spoke on the phone.

He was very handsome, and very kind to Darcy, considering how much shit she put him through for the first six months she was there. The office manager had quit, the archives were a mess, and Darcy wasn’t going to put up with it. She drew a line in the sand and fixed so much, and made sure it wouldn’t be so disorganized ever again. It had happened soon after she finished her library studies diploma, and she’d been hoping to use her new qualification somewhere else, but she still got to flex her diligent cataloging skills from time to time.

She returned to the front desk five minutes later, after sending Jane a text:

I think Ian is proposing tonight

She couldn’t keep the thrill from coursing through her, grabbing her bag from under the desk with her phone. She smiled at Casey.

The waiting room had an elderly couple waiting, the Needlers, who both rose their hands to wave goodbye to her as she slipped out down the corridor.

She stuck her head in Patrick’s office, seeing him throw out a plastic sheet, preparing for the next client. She knocked on the doorframe and he spun around.

“You’re gone?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I have my phone in case, y’know… something blows up. Or if Casey blows something up.”

“Have a good night,” he said, and she smiled. “I’ll have a beer in your honor.”

She laughed, turning away and walked out, her stomach flipping. On the drive over, she tried to keep herself calm, but she kept bopping along to the songs on the radio. She kept watching the people in the street. She saw a couple with their toddler in a stroller with a dog on a leash.

She could picture it. A few years ago she’d have rolled her eyes at such a suggestion – her, as a married woman with a kid? But now she’d settled into the podiatrist clinic, she could feel things were stable enough. It wasn’t so crazy. People fell in love all the time, and stayed together...

She pulled up at the apartment block, switching off the car, taking a few deep breaths. She got out and walked up, seeing kids playing in the street.

She paused in the hallway, taking out her deodorant to spritz as subtly as she could. It was August, and her A/C was still broken – she was saving up – and she didn’t want any memory of the proposal to be tainted by her body odor. She stuck the can back in her bag and unlocked the front door, stepping inside and looking around.

“Hi!”

She was tempted to yell out “honey, I’m home” but she was so excited she blurted out the first thing that came to mind, and Ian appeared a few seconds later, his hands in his pockets as she moved down the hallway.

She moved to kiss him on the cheek and he took out a hand, touching her arm.

“I got here as quick as possible. Patrick wasn’t too swamped, thank fuck…”

She gave a little laugh, taking his hand in hers, their fingers twining together. He walked with her in silence, until they reached the living room, and he promptly let her go, gesturing to the person sitting on the couch.

“Darcy, you remember Amy.”

Amy was a petite blonde woman, her hair so light it was almost white. She wore a pastel pink dress, looking like she’d come straight from a garden party. Darcy tried to place her and finally did – she was a friend of theirs through Ian’s sister. She flashed a wide smile, and Darcy watched as Ian moved to sit beside Amy.

“Hi,” Darcy said, shaking her head a little to right herself, trying not to feel the disappointment begin to settle in. She’d completely mistaken this occasion. It was unusual that he didn’t tell her it was Amy coming over. She felt like she’d be better prepared.

She froze as Ian’s hand slipped down to rest on Amy’s thigh, squeezing it.

“Could you sit down, Darce?”

“What’s going on?” she said, staring at his hand. She looked at Amy, seeing her smile falter.

Ian turned his head to look at Amy.

“Darling, could you get her a glass of water?”

Amy nodded, standing up. Darcy gaped after her. She knew where the glasses were in her apartment.

“I was hoping we’d talk about it like adults,” Ian said, his voice soft.

She snapped her eyes to meet his.

“I appreciate you getting here quickly tonight.”

Amy returned with a glass of water, handing it to Darcy. She held it, staring at Ian and Amy on the couch.

“Sit down.”

“I don’t want to take this sitting down,” Darcy blurted. “Whatever this is.”

“I’m moving out,” Ian said, his tone changing. He was edging toward defensive. “I thought it was better that way. I’m moving into Amy’s place.”

She woke up this morning with a completely different person. At least, it felt that way. Darcy could feel she’d gone into shock, unable to feel much at all as he went on in his English lilt.

“I’ll come by when you’re at work, to take my things. We started packing this afternoon.”

Darcy studied Amy’s hand resting in her lap, her nails squared off and clean.

“How long has this been happening?”

Ian stopped mid-sentence, something about an internet bill that Darcy had tuned out. He blinked, clearing his throat.

“Uh, I suppose about eighteen months.”

She let out a breath, looking down at the glass in her hand.

“Okay.”

“I know it’s hard to hear –”

“You don’t know how it feels to hear this,” Darcy said, looking up again, staring him down. “You have no idea.”

She hadn’t been cheated on before. She’d seen her mother go through it.

“Those trips, the ones to California?” she asked, looking at Amy.

The blonde nodded. “Yes.”

“Well,” Darcy murmured, finally putting the glass to her lips to drink, unblinking. “That makes sense.”

He had a West Coast franchise she knew nothing about. She let out a harsh little chuckle, only because it was the only other thing she could do instead of crying. She felt her eyes prickle.

“We’ll go,” Ian said, glancing at Amy.

In that moment, Darcy truly hated them both. She wasn’t sure who she’d attack first if there were no repercussions. Ian would be harder to overpower, since he had the reach of a basketball player. Attacking Amy would be satisfying if she managed to make her scream. She looked elf-like in her features, except for the ample cleavage she had partially hidden beneath her dress.

He was her type, then. Little and curved in all the right places. Except she seemed to be daintier than Darcy ever could be, moving off the couch gracefully, moving into the corridor.

Ian lingered, and Darcy clutched the glass a little tighter, glaring at him.

“Darcy, I know it’s not right –”

“It’s not,” Darcy bit out.

“- but I wanted to be honest.”

Why couldn’t he have broken up with her months ago, years ago? She thought of the last time they had sex and it had another dimension to it – he’d teared up at the time, and she thought he was in one of his rare overwhelmed moments. At the time, she’d comforted him, thinking he’d be embarrassed by being overcome with love.

He’d been crying because he felt guilty.

“So when you came inside me the other night –”

Ian’s eyes widened slightly and she hoped Amy heard every word.

“- you didn’t think that was the ideal time to be honest?”

“Darcy –”

“Whatever, you’re in love. You don’t want anyone to think you’re an asshole,” she muttered, scowling at him. “But are an asshole, Ian. You’re an asshole.”

He drew back, his jaw set. He let out a sigh.

“Fine, I’m gone.”

“Go,” she snapped, and she turned away, doing her best to suppress the sob that bubbled up.

When she heard the front door shut and she knew she was alone, she let out a gasp, the echoing quiet of the apartment haunting her. She put down the water and sunk to the floor, putting her face in her hands.

She spent the night looking back on seven years, wondering when he decided to betray her. She tried to think of a moment that was the catalyst. Was it when they moved in together? Eighteen months ago she was at the podiatrist clinic. Ian was working for the investment firm.

She remembered they told each other they were soulmates. She’d never been closer to someone in her entire life.

He’d hardly spoken to Amy the night they met her. It was his sister’s engagement party and she was a random stranger in the background, someone Darcy had never thought she should note. Ian was her person, and she was his.

Amy?

She hardly slept, crying and fuming, rolling around, so alone. She wanted a time machine. She wanted ignorance. She wanted to find the moment when he switched. She still wanted him, despite how confused and furious she felt.

How had she not seen this coming? Had he hinted at it, ever? Had he laid clues somewhere for her to find? She’d never suspected it. He was always such a dork, he had no ability to flirt with anyone but her in his clumsy, awkward way.

She dragged herself down to the clinic and opened up for the morning, feeling puffy-eyed and exhausted. She heard Patrick come in and walk up behind her like he did every day, and she thought of what to say, every option sounding so humiliating and stupid.

“Hi,” she murmured, unable to force the smile. “Your files are there for the morning.”

Her voice was rough and she cleared her throat. She kept her eyes on the screen, pulling up the emails. She began scrolling and heard Patrick pick up the stack of files.

“Bit of a rush today?”

“Yeah,” she replied, nodding. She was thankful that he wasn’t asking her anything personal. He sounded subdued.

She turned around, seeing him search her face and she smiled, a little one that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Ned Campbell will probably run late. His daughter’s meant to pick him up and she’s in Buffalo.”

“I’ll try to work around it,” Patrick replied, and he gave a little smile of his own. “Get yourself a coffee, okay?”

“Yeah, I’m on it,” she said, standing up fast, walking out before he could say anything else.

She covered her mouth as she waited for the coffee to pour through the machine. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue when she returned to her desk, hearing the first clients come in.

“Shelly, hi,” she called to the little old lady. “You didn’t bring Buffy!”

Buffy was her dog. Shelly waved at Darcy, shaking her head.

“Too hot in the car. And on the pavement, too…”

“Right, that’s a good call,” Darcy said.

She was able to lapse into the role soon enough, except every half an hour or so she’d come back to the realization that last night was not a dream and she’d blink up at the ceiling. It was harder when Casey came in, fifteen minutes late, her smile dropping when she saw no ring on Darcy’s finger.

“Bummer,” she said. “I brought you prosecco.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” Darcy said, waving her off. “We… we broke up, actually.”

Casey’s eyes bulged and she scooted closer to Darcy, her mouth falling open.

“No! Why? What happened?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Darcy said, and she went back to the paperwork in the pile next to her, scanning the text. “We need to work on this letter together.”

She took her lunch break later than usual, but she wasn’t able to avoid Patrick, since Casey passed on the bad news. His eyes were trained on her as she slipped into the chair next to him.

“Are you alright, Darcy?” he asked, his voice quiet.

“I don’t need to go home,” she murmured.

She opened her yogurt and scooped some out, taking a mouthful. It tasted too sweet. In truth, she wanted a stiff drink, but this would have to do for now. She realized she hadn’t answered his question.

“I’ll be okay,” she added.

“Are you sure?” Patrick asked, and he looked toward the doorway. “We could manage, if you want to go…”

“I’ll stay,” she said, patting his hand on the table. “I might even stay back, there’s shit to do.”

Her cursing always made him smile at her and he didn’t disappoint. They ate in silence, until Darcy heard Casey calling for her, sounding out of sorts.

The rest of the afternoon flew by, and Darcy sent Casey home, telling her she’d do the end of day banking and paperwork. Casey gave her a little sympathetic hug that made Darcy want to shove her away, but instead she patted her shoulder twice before they drew apart.

“You know, if you need someone to talk to, I’m always here,” Casey whispered. “I’m the one all my girlfriends talk to.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks,” Darcy murmured, trying her best to grin and bear it.

Casey held up the little bottle of prosecco, enough for two drinks, handing it to Darcy.

“Thanks,” Darcy said again.

When she was finally alone she let her head fall onto the desk, hitting it there a couple times, sighing when she sat up again. She grabbed the prosecco, twisting it open and put it to her lips, taking a long gulp. She added up the cash in the till, taking sips from the little bottle, moving steadily through the work.

“Hey, Darce?”

Patrick was calling to her from down the corridor and she stopped midway through shutting down her computer.

“Yeah?”

He didn’t answer and she frowned, ducking down to grab her belongings, snatching her prosecco before trudging down the corridor, stepping into his office.

Patrick was sitting back in his chair, a beer open, his sleeves pushed down to his elbows. His eyes fell to Darcy’s bottle and he smirked.

“Glad to see I’m not the only one who can drink on the job,” he murmured.

“Yeah.”

She walked in, throwing her bag on the floor as she sat in the special chair, putting her bottle to her lips again. Technically, neither of them were working.

“How long will you stay back?” she asked, Patrick’s back to her once more as he opened his emails up again, scrolling down.

He gave a little shrug. “I dunno. Don’t really want to go.”

He clicked off, turning again, and Darcy watched him move closer, looking at her sneakers. She’d replaced her kitten heels with them, since no-one was meant to be impressed by her after 5PM, at least no clients.

She nodded, thinking of having to drag herself back to the empty apartment, to see the photos on the shelves and the two sets of everything all over the place. Ian had left his toothbrush in his hurry yesterday, and that morning she’d contemplated scrubbing the toilet bowl with it and not telling him.

“I don’t wanna go home,” she whispered.

Patrick got up and Darcy stared at him, sitting back in the chair as he moved toward her, his hand coming up…

“Darcy –”

“What’re you doing?” she cut in, and she felt his hand touching her face, tracing her cheekbone.

He’d never come this close to her before. She’d given him a hug before, like at his birthday party, but this felt like something beyond a platonic touch. He was watching her, licking his lips nervously.

“We could maybe – I thought, I-I…”

“Patrick,” she whispered, and he lowered his face to meet hers, pulling her into an embrace.

She felt his lips brush against her neck and she went still.

“Patrick. Pat. Honey –”

“God, I want you,” he breathed, and he drew back, searching her face. “I think you and Ian breaking up was a sign, for me to finally do something…”

“What are you talking about? Since when?” Darcy said, her eyes widening.

“Since always,” he said, and he kissed her, a peck on the lips.

Darcy’s face felt hot and she felt like she couldn’t breathe, her heart racing as he kissed her again, deeper, his tongue pressing into her mouth as he moaned.

“I love you,” he breathed, pulling back, and Darcy shook her head.

“You don’t love me,” she whispered.

“Yes, I do,” he said, and he kissed her neck, moving down.

Darcy kept still as his hand went under her skirt, reaching between her thighs, and she was pulled back the second his fingers brushed the seam of her, over the crotch of her underwear.

“I have to go,” she yelped, and she pushed him against his chest, stumbling off the chair and grabbing her bag from the floor.

“Darcy, can we talk about this?” he said, and she shook her head. He was sitting on the floor, reality catching up with him, too. “Oh, fuck…”

He passed a hand over his face and Darcy closed her eyes to steady herself.

“I won’t come in tomorrow,” she said, and he nodded.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he said, and she nodded, just trying to get out the door, inching toward it. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“Please don’t,” Darcy breathed, and she ducked out, feeling the blood rushing in her ears as she fled, the door slamming behind her.

She got to her car and slammed the door shut, breathing heavily as she tried to understand what the fuck had just happened. And she felt, beneath it all, that she was turned on.

“Oh, God,” she gasped, putting her face in her hands, letting her face rest on the steering wheel.

She tried to think of what to do, her mind going to that office, picturing racing back in and confronting Patrick by climbing on top of him and kissing him. The last 24 hours had been hell, and she might be lonely enough to do that – but she knew, not even deep down, that she’d hate herself for it. He was married, for fuck’s sake.

“Oh, God,” she said again with a groan.

She shoved the keys in the ignition and took off down the street, flipping through the channels on her radio until she found a song she knew.

She began to sob as she sat at the traffic lights, Angel Of The Morning unable to drown her out. A woman stared as she crossed the road, since Darcy made such a racket. She cranked up the speakers louder, her car shuddering with the bass.

She bought a frozen pizza and a giant family-sized Caesar salad, before stopping by the liquor store, where she grabbed two cold 40s and retreated to her apartment. She drank and ate while she watched Love Actually and cat videos, growing more miserable the drunker she got.

She fumbled for her phone the following morning, her head throbbing with the hangover headache she sustained, and she saw Jane was FaceTiming her as she squinted down blearily at her phone.

“Hey – what the fuck, what happened to you?”

“I guess the radio silence could, um, be a red flag,” Darcy mumbled, rubbing her eyes. She didn’t remember taking her makeup off, so there was a high chance that she was resembling a raccoon.

Jane looked good, the sun in her hair, her brow furrowed with concern.

“Uh, Ian left me. And my boss tried to hook up with me,” Darcy said, and Jane’s eyes bulged.

“Oh, Darcy. Darcy –”

“I don’t want the –” Darcy waved around, the movement a terrible idea in her condition. “- fuss. I’m fine. I drank too much last night, but I’ve got the day off.”

Thinking about having to make herself go back tomorrow had her filled with dread so sudden and shame-filled that she shut her eyes, groaning.

“You should get another job.”

“Yeah, probably,” she muttered. “But where? I don’t have any references.”

“Put me down.”

“I can’t keep doing that. I helped you out one summer. I need Patrick…”

Jane’s lips were pressed together in a thin, grim line. Darcy hated that she tended to only hear about her problems, never good news. She hoped she’d be telling her she was going to be her Maid of Honor. That hopeful, pleasant little world felt so far away. Darcy sighed.

“I’ll ask around. Some places are trying to hire new librarians for the new school year. They’re going back soon.”

“Right,” Darcy said, but she didn’t think much would come from it.

She was a qualified technician with limited experience. She didn’t know the right people, and she knew it was all about networking. She learned that far too late, which was how she ended up at Patrick’s office instead of in a library.

“Seriously, I’ll check for you. Ian left…?”

“He did, he went to stay with his girlfriend.”

“What?” Jane snapped, appalled. “Since when would he -? That fucking weasel –”

“It’s Amy, his sister’s friend. Go on Instagram, she’s got tits out to –”

Darcy gestured holding two heavy things in her hands, shrugging.

“Well, they’re out like mine…”

“You can’t stay there,” Jane said. “It’s full of Ian.”

Darcy picked up the remnants of her Old English 800 that sat by her bed and took a swig, making a face. She tried to remember last night and only could get snapshots of things.

“Darcy?”

“Yeah. Just – moving? A new job? I don’t wanna do that again…”

Jane went quiet and Darcy felt a wave of dread like yesterday, her eyes misting. She’d known Jane longer than she’d known Ian. She wondered if she’d be able to tell her what she was like before he came around.

“Darcy, it’s going to be okay.”

“Yeah, well,” Darcy whispered, her voice thin. “It’s gonna have to be.”

She nursed the hangover, cleaned up the mess of the leftover pizza, the empty salad carton, and the empty bottles. She did laundry, threw things into boxes, and tore up pictures.

By the late afternoon, she sent an email through to Casey, informing her that she was taking tomorrow off as well. She tried to not think about the clinic falling to pieces without her there.

She changed by the hour. She’d be destructive and throwing Ian’s belongings around, ripping up mementos while playing loud music through the TV, and then she’d be wracked with sobs and wishing he was there to hold her.

She looked at the classifieds and tried to find somewhere to go – she wasn’t sure how desperate the situation was when she didn’t have a job to go back to, not if she wasn’t going to show up again on Monday. It felt less likely with each hour that passed on that Friday.

She called up landlords the Saturday, feeling wretched, since the last time she didn’t have to do this alone. She’d had Ian, and the process was shared. She wished she had someone to bear that weight with her, but she knew she had no choice. She had a fleeting moment of clarity – she should move out and sleep in her car! Then she reeled at the thought of being that alone and vulnerable in the world.

She found a listing an hour away from her and took the plunge, calling the number. In the rush, she asked to see the place as soon as possible. The owner sounded friendly enough, maybe a little surprised that she was insisting on seeing the advertised piece of shit.

“How much is the bond?” Darcy asked, within a few minutes of being there.

The owner was a middle-aged woman named Maureen, who for whatever reason didn’t seem bothered by the stifling heat that was affecting Darcy. She was sweating through her shirt, dripping down her bare legs.

“It’ll be about eleven-hundred,” replied Maureen. She frowned. “Do you mind me asking what the rush is, hon?”

“I’m not fleeing, like, a bounty hunter or something,” Darcy said, and Maureen didn’t laugh. “I, uh, ended a relationship.”

She got a few texts that morning from Ian, asking when he could come over to get more of his things. She’d told him she’d be out for a few hours, when in truth she’d packed up most of her things when she could sleep last night and had shoved them all into her car, ready to escape the apartment as soon as possible. She’d even taken the key off of her chain and left it on the table.

“Can I move in today?”

“Sure,” Maureen said. “You got cash?”

“I can go get some.”

Darcy departed, came back ten minutes later and Maureen handed her the keys, giving her a shrewd look when she was done counting the notes Darcy laid in her unturned palm. She signed the tenancy agreement, handing it back to Maureen, waiting for the signal that everything was okay.

She rose her fingers to give Maureen a cautious peace sign, a little smile forming.

“Yeah? We good? Awesome.”

She only cried later that night, nursing her beer as she heard the echoes off life outside the walls.

She got a phone call on the Monday, when she’d been expecting Patrick chasing after her, only to find an unknown number on the display.

“Hello?” she said when she picked up, shifting to sit up on her elbows.

She’d slept on the floor in her sleeping bag. She hadn’t bought a mattress yet. She was close to asking for money from her mother, who had only been told the bare minimum about the breakup with Ian.

“Hi, am I speaking to Darcy Lewis?”

She didn’t recognize the voice. It wasn’t Patrick’s wife as far as she could discern, and she cleared her throat.

“Uh, yeah. This is she.”

“Great, I was wondering if you could come in for a meeting. My name is Maria Hill, I work at Sacred Heart –”

“I’m sorry?”

“Doctor Foster passed on your resume, and we’re hoping to find someone to help us with the library at our school. Is this a bad time?”

Darcy began to crawl out of the sleeping bag as fast as possible, looking around, before taking the phone away from her ear to see the time. It was after 10AM and she wondered if it was that obvious she’d been sleeping.

“This is a great time, Maria, thank you for calling me,” Darcy said, frantically snatching her bra from the floor, looking around for her pants. “I would love to meet.”

“Is today too soon, or -?”

“I can-I can do today,” Darcy said. “Whereabouts?”

Maria gave her the address and Darcy made a vague affirming sound, pretending she knew exactly where it was. She walked over to her laptop on the kitchen bench and flipped it open, Googling the name of the school as Maria confirmed a time.

“See you then.”

“Yes, I’m looking forward to it,” Darcy replied, promptly hanging up and scrolling through the search results.

A “rich tradition, with Christian values”, the website read. The children on the homepage wore navy and yellow uniforms.

“What the fuck,” Darcy muttered, making a face.

She pulled up at the school’s front parking lot, stepping out in her pencil skirt, hoping she hadn’t sweated through the sharp blazer she wore on top of her silk blouse.

She shoved her feet into her kitten heels and grabbed her handbag, looking around.

It was a quiet street, which was understandable for the time of year. No-one would be around, except maybe maintenance staff, and Darcy’s car was the only one parked there. She felt her phone buzz and she checked it, seeing Ian texting her back:

What the fuck????

He must have found her key, and the note that told him the lease was his problem to solve. She turned off her phone, shoving it back into her bag as she took a deep breath, walking up the front steps.

She knocked, trying to peer into the stained-glass window in the door. It was trying to see through a piece of boiled candy and she stood back, glancing over her shoulder. There was loud, distant banging sound that made her jump and Darcy went rigid, eyes wide.

The door burst open and she startled again, the sweat on her brow dripping down.

A woman with a short brown ponytail met her eye, offering her hand.

“Darcy?”

“Yeah,” she replied, taking her hand to shake. “Maria?”

“Yes,” she said. “You find everything okay?”

“Yeah, am I – can I park here?”

“You probably could get a spot in the teachers’ one around the back, but we use both during the summer anyway. Follow me.”

Darcy nodded, watching as Maria turned her back and walked inside. The front hallway was dimly lit, and Darcy was hit with the scent of paint and dust. She saw a large painting of Mary holding baby Jesus and tried not to react to it, her eyes swivelling over the walls as they walked down the hall into a larger corridor.

“Classrooms,” Maria said, gesturing. “Kindergarten down here and then first grade. I’ll take you in somewhere here…”

“I kinda heard a loud, uh, ruckus earlier?” Darcy said, and Maria glanced at her, her brow lifting, and she smirked.

“A ruckus?” she repeated.

“Was that not an appropriate word –?”

There was a second bang, much louder, unadulterated by the school’s walls. Darcy flinched, while Maria only glanced toward the sound, vaguely interested.

“That’s Mr. Barnes, he’s moving things around,” she murmured. She smirked again. “He’s the ruckus.”

She pushed open a door marked 1R and Darcy followed her. She was met with a couple dozen tiny desks, all of them lowered, with tiny chairs, sitting in a horseshoe shape. There were posters for the alphabet and numbers on the walls, along with a painting of Jesus above the clock, his eyes fixed on Darcy as she moved to copy Maria, who was grabbing a regular-sized chair from the front of the classroom.

“I was sent your resume at a pretty good time, all things considered,” she said, and Darcy nodded, looking away from spooky Jesus, only to see a photograph of the Pope waving at her on the whiteboard.

Maria didn’t seem to notice how distracted Darcy was.

“Our situation has changed a lot in the last semester, even in the last couple of months,” she said, placing her hands in her lap. “Our library is in dire need of organization, re-organization. We’d want our students to have a better library environment in this new school year.”

Darcy bit her lip.

“I’m – I’m a technician, I’m not a librarian,” she said. “I can’t teach.”

She wasn’t selling herself at all. She figured the unconventional style of this interview had thrown her off-balance. There was another distant bang but she didn’t jump that time, instead staring at Maria, waiting for her reply.

“We had needed to juggle our staff after our librarian left quite suddenly in May,” Maria said. “Other teachers are stepping up, but our collection is in dire need of help. From what I heard from your references –”

“Y-You spoke to Doctor -?”

“Yes, I spoke to Doctor Foster and Doctor Chandler,” Maria said, flipping open the file she had, showing what Darcy recognised as a copy of her resume. “They both said you were a remarkable young woman.”

Darcy’s brows lifted, especially since Doctor Chandler was Patrick.

“Really? What did the podiatrist say, specifically?”

“Basically that I’d be a moron if I didn’t hire you immediately,” Maria said, another smirk forming. She shut the file, glancing out the window. Her eyes swung back to meet Darcy’s. “I’m not the principal. I’m the deputy. To make a long story short, Miss Lewis, we’re in a pretty messy situation as a school. The kids are back in less than three weeks and the library looks like a pipe bomb went off in it.”

Darcy blinked. “Right.”

“I would be taking you on as a technician, not a teacher.”

“I don’t know if I’m… I didn’t apply for a job here, I don’t remember anything being advertised –”

“Your name popped up in my network,” Maria said, and she stood up suddenly.

There was another bang.

Darcy mirrored her, smoothing her skirt down, hoping she hadn’t left a sweat patch on the chair. Maria didn’t seem interested, instead moved to walk out, pausing when she took hold of the doorknob.

“I’m not going to sugar-coat it. It’s a big job, and you wouldn’t have a lot of time if you were aiming to finish it enough for kids to use the library on the first day back.”

Darcy nodded. “Right.”

“I have other people to see as well. We didn’t advertise for this role but word of mouth tends to work better than any recruiting website.”

Darcy nodded again. She didn’t think she’d get this job. A better qualified person, maybe a teacher librarian looking for a change, would get it. She departed from the classroom, slipping into the corridor. Maria took her hand and shook it.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll be heading toward that ruckus you heard earlier,” Maria said, and Darcy nodded, feeling her face flush.

“Good to meet you,” Darcy said.

She stopped walking and watched Maria walk down another hallway and out of sight, another bang ringing out in the distance, and then a couple yells. It sounded like Maria was investigating, muffled yells going back and forth, and Darcy gave a little sigh, adjusting her bag on her shoulder before she moved back the way they came through.

She stopped at the Mary painting, leaning forward to see the tiny brushstrokes on the blue gown she was swathed in, along with the tiniest text beneath.

Sister Siobhan O’Keefe, 1908

“Holy shit,” she whispered, stepping back. “Go Siobhan…”

She walked outside, the sun in her eyes, and she got in her car, putting her keys in the ignition. She turned them, but the car remained silent.

At that moment, another car pulled up, parking several spaces away from her, and she felt her cheeks flush again with embarrassment. Her car had been idling the other day when she was in traffic but she hadn’t taken any notice, of fucking course, because she was on her way home the day Ian told her about Amy.

Her battery was dead. She waited for the person in their car to get out, hearing their door shut. She tried again in vain, closing her eyes.

“Please…”

She couldn’t afford a tow truck. She gnawed at her lip, feeling the bullets of sweat glide down her back as she tried to shove down the growing anxiety. She had money for a bus ticket, at least…

She glanced over at the car and saw a man standing there wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, watching her.

“Fuck me,” she said under her breath, because he was cute as hell.

Blonde with blue eyes, muscular and tall like a football player. He frowned, signalling her to lower her window. Darcy shook her head hastily, opening her door.

“My battery’s dead,” she called, feeling like her face was on fire.

“I thought so,” he said, and she nodded, flashing an awkward smile.

He went to his trunk and held up a jumper cable and Darcy blinked.

“You want help? Unless you wanna call someone –”

“No, please, I mean, thank you –”

She motioned for him to come closer. He walked over, leaning down, and Darcy wiped some sweat from her face.

“I just – I was in there before, I don’t want – I mean, I already fucked up the job interview, I don’t want this to end in mortification.”

The man’s eyebrows lifted. “Really? Interview?”

“Yeah, you work here?”

“Yeah,” he said, and he gestured to her hand resting on the keys in the ignition. “One more time, see what happens.”

She tried again, but nothing happened. She let out a sigh.

“Yeah, I’ll need that jumper cable.”

“Just a sec,” he said, moving back.

Darcy watched as he moved the car closer until it was facing hers, and he slipped out again to pop the hood, which was when Darcy decided she needed to move out of the front seat and try to pretend she knew what was happening.

She’d only been in this situation once before with Ian and he took over. She’d taken that for granted, not knowing something as basic as this. She knew how to change a tyre, too, but she didn’t think it was something she should do, necessarily.

He seemed to be doing fine without her pretending to supervise him, and Darcy watched him attach the cables, moving back and forth between the two cars.

Her car sprang to life after he told her to give it another try, and she let out a laugh, so relieved.

“God, thank you so much,” she said, and he smiled at her.

“Anyone else woulda done it,” he said, and Darcy kept smiling.

She was fucking lucky he showed up when he did. He went to his trunk to get out a carton of books and rose a hand in a short wave.

“Thank you!” she called from her window, pulling her seatbelt on.

He walked up to the front door and disappeared inside as Darcy drove off.

#darcy lewis x steve rogers x bucky barnes #darcy lewis #steve rogers x reader #darcy lewis x steve rogers #darcy lewis x bucky barnes #wintershieldshock #fanfiction

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searchingwardrobes · 4 years

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The Convenient Groom: 6/13

I just want to apologize for how long it took to get such a short chapter out. You know that saying, “when it rains, it pours”? Well, that’s been me lately. On top of a procedure last week at the gynecologist (which was as fun as you would imagine), an elderly dog that is keeping us up at night like a newborn baby, and my kids taking turns falling off their bikes and requiring an obscene amount of band aids, yesterday we also lost our internet connection. So I was originally going to post this yesterday, but finally, here it is. (And it’s only 8 pm here, and I’m struggling to stay awake to do it.) It’s only a little over 1k, and frankly, not much happens, but our OTP has cute banter and are forced to display PDA, so there’s that . . . I feel like I’m not making any sense, so I’ll just post this already . . .

Summary: Killian Jones just happens to be there when Emma Swan gets the phone call that changes everything: her fiance is leaving her at the altar. The thing is, it could also mean the end of her career. Convenient that Killian has nothing better to do that day. Convenient that he’s secretly in love with her. Not that Emma has to know that. Written for @spartanguard .

Rating: M

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Emma didn’t know why she was staring at him as he took a bite of the sandwich she’d made. It was just turkey meat from the deli with a slice of cheese and a piece of lettuce between two slices of bread slathered with mustard. Kind of hard to go wrong there. Except . . . well, people usually had a specific sandwich order, right? Like everyone took coffee a certain way or had a way they liked their eggs. Or at least, that was Richard Grere’s theory in Runaway Bride.

She had to stop with these rom-com cliches.

“I didn’t know how you like your sandwich,” she finally admitted, popping a chip in her mouth.

Killian swallowed and then wiped at the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

“We had those sandwiches on the hon - er, the trip.”

Would either of them ever be able to refer to “the trip” as their honeymoon?

Emma shrugged. “Yeah, but they were just generic and then all the condiments and stuff were on the side.”

Killian nodded and leaned back in his chair, regarding her with that infuriating grin of his. “I like it just this way.”

Emma narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re lying.”

He leaned forward. “Fair. Okay, you got it all right except I would have added pickles.”

Emma leaned forward as well, mimicking his serious expression. “What kind? Dill? Sweet? Gherkin?”

“Does it matter?”

Emma gasped and reared back. “Does it matter? Killian Jones, I don’t think we can be married if you think the kind of pickle doesn’t matter.”

He chuckled as he picked his sandwich back up. “Bread and butter.”

Emma nodded as she picked up hers.

“You, Swan?”

“Dill. There is no other kind of pickle.”

Killian arched a brow. “Agree to disagree?”

She gave him a dramatic nod as she “clinked” her sandwich with his. “As long as we keep both stocked in the pantry.”

“Done.”

They ate in silence for a few more minutes, until Emma noticed that Killian was fidgeting. He kept glancing from his phone, which sat on the patio table, then at her, then back again. He also began drumming his finger on the table while practically glaring at his phone.

“If you stare at that any harder, you’re going to burn a hole in it.”

“Hm?” he asked, gaze snapping back to her.

She gestured with her chin as she chewed and swallowed a bite of her sandwich. “Your phone. You keep staring at it.”

“Oh,” he chuckled nervously, picking up the object in question and clenching his jaw as he pressed his thumb to the screen, “it’s this text I got earlier. Elsa made a huge pot of that chowder last night, and she’s rather adamant that we join them for dinner tonight.”

Emma’s eyebrows rose. “Rather adamant?”

“Aye,” Killian answered apologetically as he palmed at the back of his neck.

Emma set her sandwich down and propped her elbows on the table. “You think we should go.”

He shrugged. “Well, we can’t avoid it forever, and the longer we wait, the more suspicious it will seem.”

“Hmm,” she mused, propping her chin in one hand, “or, they might assume that - like most newlyweds - we’re over here fucking our brains out all day long.”

Killian blinked rapidly, his face growing red. She found his discomfort at times incredibly amusing, especially considering the shameless way he had always flirted with her in the past. He stuttered for a moment, cleared his throat a few times, then found his voice.

“Well they’re my family, you see, and I know they won’t be put off for long. Liam’s already suspicious, I can tell, and then there’s the chowder -”

“Your sister-in-law is really hung up on this chowder, isn’t she?”

He spread his hands in front of him innocently. “What can I say? She’s won the blue ribbon three years running at the Storybrooke Crab Festival.”

Emma snorted out a laugh that died when she realized Killian wasn’t laughing. “Wait - are you serious?”

“About the blue ribbon part or the crab festival part?”

She shook her head. “I know about the crab festival, I remember it from last year. I just didn’t know there was a chowder competition.”

“We Mainers are very serious about our clam chowder, love.”

She barked out another laugh as he waggled his eyebrows at her, then she sighed. “Sure, dinner is fine. I mean, I do love clam chowder.”

************************************************

Emma wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting when she agreed to dinner with Killian’s family, but this casual setting sure wasn’t it. Liam had lit the fire pit in their backyard which, like Killian’s, felt more like an extension of the beach. Everyone served themselves, then carried their bowls of chowder down the steps of the back deck. Cans of beer and softdrinks were crammed into coolers filled with ice, and a patio table nearby was spread with the fixings for s’mores later. It was more of a casual, beachside get together than a family dinner, and it made Emma feel much more at ease. Elsa and Anna were at her side from the beginning. Anna peppered her with questions, but Elsa was more quiet. Yet something about Elsa’s gentle smiles made Emma feel welcome.

“So,” Anna said as a grunt passed her lips. She wavered halfway down into a beach chair and began frantically waving for her husband. He rushed over and helped her heavily pregnant form down onto the seat. “As I was saying,” she chuckled, brushing strands of red hair out of her face, “how did you two manage this without any of us finding out?”

“Yes,” Liam quickly put in from across the fire pit, “I’ve been wondering the same.”

Emma caught Killian’s eye, and he quickly answered his brother for both of them. “Well, until a few months ago, as you all know, Emma lived in New York City. After months of chatting online, she agreed for me to meet her there.” He crossed the lawn to come stand at her side and put an arm around her. “The rest, as they say, is history.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you never once mentioned her,” Liam commented before taking a sip of the beer in his hand.

“Emma’s in the public eye, Liam,” Killian quickly explained before Emma could even open her mouth. “We didn’t think it would be a good idea. There would be way too much scrutiny on us.”

“We would never scrutinize you!” Kristoff insisted.

“Exactly,” Liam agreed.

“Yeah right,” Killian muttered into the mouth of his beer bottle before taking a swig. Only Emma heard him, and she pressed her face into his shoulder to muffle her laughter.

“And we would have kept it quiet,” Liam added.

Emma felt like she couldn’t put all this on Killian, so she jumped in. “Well we took it slow at first. We didn’t even want any of you to know, just in case nothing came of it. But then -”

“It was kind of exciting sneaking around,” Killian finished for her cheekily. He then surprised her by claiming her lips. It was a quick kiss, but far from chaste. She could taste the beer on his tongue as he swiped it quickly against hers. When he pulled away, she had to blink to get her bearings.

“You two are adorable!” Anna sighed.

“I don’t remember you driving to New York any more than usual in the past couple of years.” Liam had set down his beer and was crossing his arms as he narrowed his eyes at them.

“Oh Liam, stop,” Elsa admonished, smacking her husband in the arm, “they aren’t on trial here.”

“I’m just trying to understand how my brother fell in love, got engaged, then had a huge spectacle of a wedding without including any of us.”

“About that,” Emma said, clearing her throat, “we were wondering if 4th of July would work for the family ceremony. Killian said you all have a huge party that day anyway.”

“That sounds fantastic!” Anna cheered. “How can we help?”

Emma shrugged. “Honestly, I am so tapped out with planning one wedding, you can have free reign on this one.”

“Did you hear that, Elsa?” Anna asked, twisting in her chair to look at her sister.

Elsa laughed. “Emma, you may regret telling my sister that.”

“You never answered my question, you know,” Liam said stubbornly. “I don’t remember that many trips to the city.”

“Bloody hell, Liam!” Killian cried out. “I took the boat, if you must know. Elsa’s right, you’re acting like we’re on trial.”

“You like boating, Emma?” Liam asked.

“Uh, yeah, Killian got me hooked on it.” Emma’s head pounded as the lie slipped off her tongue. She hoped Liam didn’t start quizzing her on nautical terms or something. In actuality, the only boat she’d ever been on was one of those you paddled with your feet at that carnival Sarah took her to when she was fourteen. She’d never even taken the ferry in New York.

“Then we need to all go out on the Jewel sometime!”

Emma looked quizzically at Killian. “The Jewel?” “Aye love, that’s Liam’s boat. It’s a bit bigger than The Jolly Roger.” He leaned over as if to brush a kiss to her cheek, but instead turned his head to whisper in her ear. “The Jolly is mine.”

“Oh,” she said with a nod, “that sounds . . . fun.”

With bright eyes, Liam raised his beer bottle in salute. “It’s a date then!”

Emma faked a smile before taking a huge gulp of her beer. How many lies were going to pile up before this marriage blew up in their faces?

#cs ff #cs modern au #cs marriage of convenience #slow burn #humor #and some angst #for spartanguard

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justreadingfics · 5 years

Text

Looking For a Heartbeat (17/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Series Summary: You and Bucky used to be in a relationship. Feelings were hurt, you left. It’s been two years and you’re back. You both will handle the reunion well, won’t you?

Chapter Summary: New bonds.

Word Count: 5,2K

Warnings for this chapter: fluff again (don’t get used to it), children, mutual pining.

A/N: @suz-123 is my angel and I love her. Here I am writing fluff again. I suspect this is why I’ve taken longer than most times to write this chapter, lol. I can’t wait to hear your thoughts. Links are ruining posts, you can find the masterlist link on my description.

It´s been four weeks since Bucky has shown up unannounced to the ultrasound appointment- that he discovered by himself after some private research, he told you- and you still can’t shake off a stupid smile from your face. Without a doubt, these have been the best weeks of your pregnancy so far. Everything seems to be great with the baby, who, according to Doctor Nadine and her team, is healthier than normal, developing better than expected. It seems to be so because the serum Hydra has used on Bucky altered his genetics system and its goodies have passed to the baby.

Bucky has been present in all of the appointments, right at your side the entire time, listening carefully and asking every single question he had. His presence, soothing and grounding, keeping you steady throughout the whole thing. You know he had been worried to death about the possibility of being responsible for any complications to the baby. The news that everything was ok was a huge relief for him too, despite you still sensing in him a deep worry about how the enhancement on its system would affect the baby's life in general. A concern you both share.

However, for now, you both have been trying to stay positive and focusing on finding a pace – the right one- to reconnect and shape your relationship as parents of your child. Aside from the appointments and some occasional times he drops by to see how’s everything with you and the peanut, you have also been talking on the phone, whether through voice calls or text messages. Not a day goes by without you talking to each other.

You’re not gonna lie, it still feels awkward at times. You’ve never been friends to Bucky. Before your intense and passionate relationship, you two were nothing but acquainted co-workers. And after that, you’re not sure what the two of you have become. Now, on top of that, it’s not like you two can just turn into friends. You’re going to have a kid together, for God's sake. Yeah, it’s still awkward.

The conversations have been centered exclusively on the baby and anything that concerns them. That's why you don’t know if something has changed between him and Anna, if they have talked or anything. You prefer it that way. It’s a sensitive topic to him, but it’s the same for you. You’ve taken the part of trying and being the bigger person, saying you didn't blame her, that you understood her point of view, giving him advice about his relationship with her… and it was in good nature, but… thinking about him and her together has never been easy and you suspect it never will be.

Oh, well… It's hard. Something you should discuss more with Heloise in therapy. She gave you a strawberry lollipop saying it was positive reinforcement for your civilized conversation with Bucky. You wonder what she would have in store for you when you truly become able to talk about and live through the jealousy that takes over you every time a thought of him and Anna together pops into your mind.

You continued going to the support group encounters, you feel like you’re not completely alone anymore, but the group, giving justice to its name, has truly become an important support system for you. Plus, it’s an easy way for you to see Harry regularly, who was pleased to know about things taking a turn to a better path with you and Bucky. You and Harry ended up going to the Hot-Dog trailer next to the group’s place - the one you missed because of the car accident - and then you scheduled for you to finally meet his kids, which you were excited and anxious about, you had heard so much about them you felt like you already knew each one of his little chipmunks, like he called them affectionately.

You had planned for a picnic in their favorite park, but the rainy day forced you to move the party over to the common room at the Tower’s living quarters. Wanda has helped you set everything up, moving the furniture to place the big cloth in the center of the room, spreading pillows to accommodate everyone as you prepared the snacks with all the goodies Harry had told you the kids liked. You also put some toys and games for the kids – and for the adults, who are you kidding? You live amongst children.

That’s where you are now, along with Harry and the vivacious Luna and Jon, the three year olds that make sure to remind you every five minutes that they are turning four in a week. Luna is the spitting image of her father with her dark curls falling graciously over her big brown eyes laced with curiosity as she keeps them glued on you. Jon must’ve taken his looks from his mother, with a lighter tone on his straight short hair and his eyes are green with shades of blue. He seems quieter than Luna, who takes the lead and asks all the questions and tells all the stories, allowing her brother to make a comment or two. In his shyness, he reminds you of his father.

Wanda joins you, and soon so do Steve and Sam, who had arrived from a mission the day before. Tony’s absent on a solo mission of his own, much to the kids' disappointment, which is reinforced by the Iron Man images on both of their shirts. Crazy for kids as much as she is, Nat is there, but she has mostly been giving you the silent treatment lately, as a result of your decision of making the baby’s sex a secret. You can only wonder what she’s been putting Bucky into.

You keep a huge smile on your face as, right in front of you, across the picnic cloth, Wanda uses her powers and the red mist to make moving drawings in the air, prompted by all sorts of excited and loud requests from the kids, whether it’s a dog, a sheep- no, a bigger sheep, an elephant, Iron Man fighting that big purple monster, or daddy with those colored swords he likes…

“They’re called lightsabers. God, how many times do I have to tell you this, guys? Show some respect…” He sighs at your side, looking at you and shaking his head in frustration as he’s completely ignored by his kids, who keep the row of requests to Wanda.

You chuckle; prompting him to smile at you, “They’re really awesome,” you whisper, bumping his sides with your elbow, as everyone else around the cloth seems drawn by the kids energy and interested in Wanda’s little performance.

“They are, aren’t they?” He beams at you, “Thanks for this by the way, they’re having so much fun.”

“Oh, no. I’ve been wanting to meet them for so long,” You dismiss him with a wave, before grabbing a handful of popcorn. Chewing on it, you cackle at Wanda’s latest art: a Chihuahua pulling The Falcon by the wings while Captain America tries to catch them. Sam shots some protests, but the burst of belly laughs from the kids is undeniably contagious.

When you look back at Harry, you’re still laughing as the others, but he is not. Instead, he’s observing you while holding a half smile on his lips, “What?” You frown at him.

“You look happier. I like it. It’s a great look on you.”

You offer him a wide grin as you feel a wave of warmth overcoming your chest… and rushing to your cheeks.

“Daddy,” the high-pitched, but sweet voice makes you both turn to Luna, now directing her narrowed eyes and full attention to both of you as she stands on her knees over the pillow.

“Yes, chipmunk?” He says, bringing a plastic cup of orange juice to his mouth.

“Is Y/N the girl you’ve been talking to on your phone all the time and then stay with that funny smile on your face and does like this?” She exaggerates a deep and long sigh to show what she’s talking about.

Harry chokes on the juice, as all eyes snap to the direction where you two are seated. Wanda hides a laugh with her hand and Nat sips on her coffee, but you glimpse the devilish smirk on her lips. Sam and Steve pretend to focus on the little checkers board they’ve been playing with when you glance at them.

“Luna!” Harry shrieks, trying to glare at the little girl between coughs.

You frown at his embarrassment, a disproportionate reaction on your opinion.

“What? What have I said wrong?” Luna pouts adorably and stands on her feet, crossing her arms in front of her little body.

“Daddy didn’t want us to know, yet, Luna.” Little Jon whispers loudly, pulling the hem of his sister’s shirt.

Wanda laughs fully and loudly while Nat sports a proud smirk at the two siblings, probably pleased by the spying skills the kids are showing.

“Jon!” Harry exasperates, eyes roaming around everyone in the circle, before turning to you, dumbfounded and red as a pepper, “That’s not-this isn’t-”

“Calm down, Harry.” You laugh, placing a hand on his shoulder.

You’re sure you’re not the girl the kids are referring to, that’s not what your relationship with Harry is about, but he hasn’t told you anything about someone that makes him sigh and now you’re curious, especially because he’s acting like a deer caught in the headlights. Before you can torture him with teasing you hear someone cleaning their throat, catching your look.

Bucky stands by the door, with a bag in his hands and an unreadable expression on his face.

“Bucky,” you exclaim, feeling the inevitable tug at the corner of your lips, but trying to ignore your heart skipping a beat. How long has he been there? Has he heard anything? As happy as you are to see him, you can’t help the hint of apprehension at the pit of your stomach that makes your heart falter, you know he still has reservations towards Harry and you really don’t want him to assume anything, which is bullshit, of course, you and Bucky have nothing and if you wanted you could date whoever, of course, that’s definitely settled between the two of you. Was the room this hot before?

Bucky nods timidly at you and at the others, who chant their greetings all at once: “Hey, Buck,” “Hey, Man,” “Barnes”.

“Come on in, we ́re having a picnic,” You wave him in from your spot, swallowing down any trepidation and kicking the inner rambling off of your mind, focusing on his presence only.

“Oh no, it's ok. I can come another time,” He answers in a small voice. Recoiling his shoulders, he presses his lips in a tense line.

The protests from everybody – except from Harry, who seems to be trying to make himself invisible at your side- resound around the place while the kids fasten their curious eyes on the new person in the room.

Knowing damn well how uncomfortable Bucky is capable of feeling when he’s in the spotlight, you raise your brows at Wanda, which is enough to make her promptly go back to entertaining the kids, now lifting the food over the cloth to the air. The sounds of bewilderment coming from the tiny little creatures distract everyone else as you get up, using the sofa behind you as a support for your growing body.

“Come on, Barnes, you made a pregnant woman get up from the floor just to drag you by the ear. I’m a mom now, I can do that,” You taunt, getting closer to him, twisting your expression into a mocked scowl.

Letting out a heart-fluttering smile that ignites one of your own, he relents, stepping into the room and shooting that fondly look at your growing belly, like he does every time he sees you.

“Hi,” you softly say when he stands inches from you.

“Hey, I called you a couple of times, and you didn't answer my messages, I got worried,” He cringes.

“I must’ve left my phone in my room, but it's ok, Bucky, you don't need an excuse to drop by,” You assure in a teasing manner, before your eyes drop to the bag in his hand, “What do we have here?”

“Oh, on my way over, I saw this and I couldn't help it.” With a broad smile on his face, he pulls the object from the bag.

Your eyes go round and you practically squeal, grabbing the little colorful unicorn, “This is amazing, Bucky, so damn cute. And fluffy.” You squeeze the soft little stuffy against your chest.

He chuckles, brushing a lock of his own hair behind his ear, “I bought it for the peanut, but I suppose you can play with it, too.”

You roll your eyes and pull your tongue out playfully.

“Hello.”

At the tiny voice who takes you and him out of your little bubble, you see his eyes going comically round, before he lowers his head to follow the sound. Luna stands beside him, with her hands laced behind her back and mischievous interest plastered on her sweet features.

“Hi.” His stumpy answer is a bit more than a whisper.

“I’m Luna,” the girl says her name proudly to him, “I’ll be four years old in a week. What’s your name?”

“Bucky.” He replies shortly.

As little Jon runs to stand beside his sister, you choose to remain a silent observant of the scene with great curiosity, and from the corner of your eyes you catch the rest of the adults in the room doing the exact same thing.

“This is Jon. He's my brother.”

“We’re twins,” Jon announces.

“But I’m older,” Luna reminds him.

“And that’s daddy.” The boy points at Harry, who quickly and shamelessly looks up to the ceiling, trying to cover up the fact he’s been watching them.

“Ok.” Bucky purses his lips and nods, seeming ready to bolt away from the interaction.

In fact, you can’t recall having seen him talking to a kid before, except for maybe Clint’s and Scott’s kids, but he always preferred to remain at least one arm’s length away from them. You know this has everything to do with the fact he still struggles to think children would want anything to do with him...

“Your hand is shiny.” Luna states straightforwardly.

As you feel Bucky freezing beside you decide to step in, but probably not in the way he would want you to, “His whole arm is shiny, Luna.” You whisper, leaning down and half covering your mouth like you were telling her a secret. You choose to ignore the betrayed look you receive from Bucky.

The information makes the little girl gasp and stare longingly at said arm, covered by the long sleeve of his Henley.

“Oh, you ́re the Winter Soldier,” Jon yells, pointing at Bucky with astonishment as his jaw drops.

The nickname Bucky used to dread so much, but which in time - as he formed his name as an avenger - got a different and more positive meaning to everyone else, sounds nothing but adorable in the kid’s soft voice when said in such an enthusiastic way. It doesn’t go unnoticed by you the phantom of a smile that threatens to curl Bucky's lips.

“Oooo, I know you,” Luna grins, bouncing on her little legs, “You're Captain America ́s boyfriend.”

“Oh, my God! Luna!” Harry mortified attempt of reprimanding his daughter is muffled by the thunder of loud laughs filling the room, including one of your own. Horror twists Harry’s features as Bucky and Steve share widened staggered looks.

“Don ́t laugh,” Luna turns to the party, putting her hands on each side of her waist and stomping her little foot to the ground as the laughs are swiftly held back at the respect the small figure imposes, “Daddy said it’s ok that boys date. And girls, too.” Her features turn into a scowl.

You glance at Harry and you glimpse the pride which his daughter’s words brings to his expression being swiftly replaced by apprehension when he spots Steve.

“And your daddy is right,” Steve straightens up his posture for Harry’s relief and then putting on his Captain voice, he turns to Luna again, “But Bucky and I are not boyfriends, we’re buddies.”

You think Sam will explode when he puts his hand over his mouth to hold back the laugh even harder.

“Maybe it's a secret, Luna. Just like dad ́s.” Jon innocently shrugs and that's what kills everybody’s strong will and the sound of multiple laughs bubbles into the room again.

Even Bucky has given in and sports a small but beautiful smile on his face as his head shakes slowly and warm heartedly. You smile right back at him when your eyes meet and you notice how much more at ease he seems.

“Aright, alright. You two get back here.” Harry commands.

“Ok,” Luna answers and starts to move towards the party again, but not before she laces her chubby little hand with Bucky’s metal one to pull him with her, being followed close by her brother.

When he looks back at you, being pulled by the girl, there’s no plea for help or embarrassment on his face; he only keeps smiling and shrugs. Your stomach flutters inside you as you take a deep breath in.

Luna makes Bucky sit in the middle of her and Jon, as you sit where you were before, beside Harry, placing the little unicorn between you and him. Everyone catches on conversations or eating and drinking.

“Oh, Bucky. Have you met Harry, already?” You ask, trying to act cool, especially about the fact he has seen him before at Steve’s party and not mentioning all the times Bucky has asked you about your relationship with Harry.

“Hey,” Bucky nods and extends a hand, leaning over to catch Harry’s from across the cloth, “We’ve seen each other before, but I think we haven’t been introduced yet.” He says, pressing his lips in a polite smile.

“Hi, yeah, that’s right,” Harry answers in a matching polite tone, “It’s such a pleasure, I’m a huge fan, of course. I’m sorry for my chipmunks-”

“Ugh, daddy.” Luna, huffs.

Before any of the grown-ups could add anything else both the kids launch on Bucky. Leave it to kids to dissipate any kind of awkward situations…

“Is your arm heavy?” Luna leans on Bucky’s shoulder, resting her chin over her hands there.

“A bit, yes.”

“Are you strong, Mr. Bucky?” This time Jon asks from Bucky’s other side.

“Of course I am.”

“Stronger than him?” Luna cocks her head towards Steve, who snaps his look up from the checkers board.

“Sure, he’s all jacked now, but deep down he’s nothing but a skinny little angry man…”

The super soldiers make a face to each other and you chuckle.

“What about him?” Jon points at Sam.

“Kids, please…” Bucky’s eyes roll as he lets out a smug snort.

“You wish, tin can,” Sam shots a handful of pop-corn on his direction.

“And them?” Luna points at Wanda and Nat.

“Well…”

Attentive to the scene so far, you spot the red mist Wanda casually pours from her elegant hands as Nat cracks her fingers, staring blankly at Bucky.

“Definitely not.” He turns widened eyes at Luna, enticing a little giggle to come out of her lips and a laugh of you.

“You’re not stronger than Iron Man.” Jon affirms, rather than ask.

“Hey!” Bucky playfully yelps, as the boy places his little hand on his chin, furrowing his eyebrows as if he’s concentrating real hard to come up with Bucky’s next challenger.

“Oh! Are you stronger than daddy?” He finally yells, partnering up with his sister as the two people who made her father choke on his juice that day.

“Ahm… I don’t know-I,” Bucky fumbles with his answer as Harry keeps struggling for air.

“I know how we can find out,” Luna swiftly raises her hand, looking excitedly at Jon.

You pat Harry’s back as he coughs harder.

“Daddy can lift me and Jon on each arm, I bet you can’t.” She cocks a daring eyebrow at Bucky as Jon eagerly nods his head and gets up.

“Oh, yeah?” Bucky raises his eyebrow back at her, before turning his eyes at Harry asking for permission, which is granted with a nod and a smile. Now that the latter knows Luna’s idea doesn’t involve him getting his ass kicked he seems a lot more relaxed.

Then, with an exaggerated grunt, Bucky grabs and lifts the two little creatures by their feet using only his metal hand. The squeaks and giggles bubbling out of their lungs mingle with Bucky’s groans as he tosses the twins around as if they weigh nothing.

“Who’s the strongest person in this room, huh?” He challenges, as he holds them by their behinds and presses them into the air as a couple of dumbbells in each hand.

“You, Mr. Bucky,” They both yell in unison between little screams and loud giggles.

Your heart melts and the smile on your face is wide when you realize that, just like that, he also becomes their favorite person in the room. You totally get it, who can be better judges of character than kids? Besides, falling in love with Bucky is that easy and inevitable, you're one to talk...

The kids keep themselves glued on Bucky’s side all the time, asking questions, proposing games that he promptly accepts, offering him food, telling him stories about themselves and about their father – to Harry’s very dismay… They even get him to show them part of his arm, gaining claps of admiration from Luna.

At some point you reach for the jar of juice to find it empty, but before you even think of standing up to go grab some more, you feel the jar being promptly stolen from your hand.

“I got this,” Bucky winks, getting up, as Sam and Nat finally get a bit of the kids attention, doing some magic trick with a few cards for them as Harry watches.

“It’s ok, Bucky-”

“Na-ha. You stay comfortably there.” He gets up, glaring at you to show he means business.

You let out an annoyed huff – only a stunt to hide how you’re secretly loving the attention coming from him. Wanda calls on your bullshit aiming you a teasing smile that you choose to not indulge.

“Steve, get your lazy ass here and help,” Bucky calls, walking inside the kitchen, as the kids giggle at his choice of words.

~~~

Bucky places the jar on the sink and, before he could walk to the fridge to grab more oranges to squeeze, a wall of enhanced muscles captures him in an impossibly tight hug.

“Ugh, what’s that for, punk?” He grunts, but promptly hugs his friend back.

“You’re gonna be a dad,” Steve croaks out.

Bucky lets out a quiet laughter. He hadn’t seen Steve yet, not after the ultrasound when Bucky’s real feelings towards the news became clear. He guesses his friend wasn’t really sure of what his decision would be to actually congratulate him and express his emotions about it before, “And you're gonna be an uncle.” Bucky beams.

Steve only whimpers and tightens the hold around his friend.

“Alright, alright,” Bucky pats his back and let goes. “This is why everybody thinks we're a couple.” He adds, without taking the smile off his face.

Steve chuckles and shakes Bucky by his shoulder, with his eyes clearly red, the Captain wipes a tear with the back of his hand “You deserve this,'' he says.

No more words need to be said as Bucky’s smile falls but his eyes remain soft and he only nods as an answer. The two friends exchange meaningful and watery gazes before they move to go grabbing the oranges and the necessary utensils, forming a team side by side by the sink to slice the fruits and squeeze the juice using the squeezer.

“I know Y/N has banned you from telling anyone what you two are having, but you won't deny this information to your oldest pal here, are you?” Steve nudges Bucky as he slices the oranges.

“By the image on the screen, it sure looked like a kid.” Bucky keeps squeezing the oranges, unaffected.

“Ah, come on, Buck.”

“Not a chance, pal. If I didn´t give in to Nat, you won’t make me talk, either.” He turns to Steve, “And stop with the damn puppy eyes, you’ll have to wait, like everyone else.”

“Spoilsport,” Steve grunts his displeasure of being kept in the shadows about the baby’s sex before the smile comes back to his face, “You´re happy, aren´t you?” He softly asked after taking a good look at his friend.

“Like I’ve never thought I would be. Not even back in our days. It’s funny…” Bucky’s eyebrows furrow as a small breathy laugh comes out of his lips, “A couple of days ago I had no idea this kind of feeling, this sweet agonizing happiness, existed. Now it’s all I feel, all the time.”

“Sounds intense,” Steve chuckles, clearly pleased, “You and Y/N? What’s the deal with the two of you now?”

Bucky clears his throat and bites the insides of his cheeks, “We agreed we should focus on the baby. Let go of what happened before in the past.” He keeps his eye focused on the task of squeezing oranges.

“Oh…and how ́s that working out for you?”

“Good”

Steve stops what he’s doing altogether and turns to face Bucky, placing the hand holding the knife on his side, “Are you lying? Is this something we do now? Lie to each other?” He waves the knife on the space between them, “You couldn’t even be around her before, it can ́t be changed all of a sudden.”

Bucky shakes his head as he huffs. The damn punk… “It’s… I don´t know,” He turns to face Steve as well, “A mix of heaven and hell. Fighting with her was easier, to be honest.” He snickers, “I could handle that. And now, we talk, actually talk without fighting or anything… I get to be around her without jumping on each other’s throat and now I can really, really see her. She’s still her but, I don’t know…different,” He turns back to the sink, grabbing another half orange to squeeze as he talks, “She seems more content, level headed, elegant…” He sighs, “She looks even more beautiful each day that passes… fucking sexier…” His whisper is barely audible as his eyelids close for a moment, “It must be the pregnancy, I don ́t know, haven't you noticed it?” He looks back at Steve to find the latter holding back a smile.

“Seems the same good old Y/N for me,” Steve shrugs, “Maybe a little more… joyful?” He asks himself, “Yeah, but what do I know, I ́m not in love with her.” He resumes slicing the oranges, acting nonchalantly.

“Stop it.” Bucky glares at him.

Steve throws his arms to the air and scrunches up his chin as a sign of resignation.

After a few moments more of silence as they work together, Bucky briskly stops and turns to his friend again, “It's just, it's complicated,” His eyes shut as he scratches his eyebrow, “With the baby, and all.” He sighs, looking down, “I don´t wanna ruin the peace we’re finally achieving between us by trying again with her, but God…” He looks up to the ceiling before and his eyes close before he looks down at Steve, who has stopped his work to pay attention on the man beside him, “I have to physically restrain myself from kissing the fuck out of her every time I lay my eyes on her, every time she comes closer and I smell her perfume...goddammit…” He confesses for the first time out loud, before turning to the sink to lean his hands on the marble taking in a deep breath, “She said we didn ́t work as a couple, and she’s right, isn’t she…” He murmurs.

Steve places a kind hand on his shoulder, “I know the way it ended was rough and then everything else that happened after that, but everyone could see how you two loved each other, Bucky…” He softly says as Bucky remains silent, staring down, “And I don ́t know, you both seem like growing from the place you’ve been, when you’ve hurt each other…”

Silence lingers between them as Bucky feels his jaw clenching. He loves you. Of course he does, he always has and everything he did to try and deny this only resulted in pain. And that’s what scares the shit out of him. He knows you two agreed on trying to not focus on each other as anything more than parents, and as much as he agreed on it, the all-consuming love he feels for you only grows each day he stays at your side, each time he talks to you and he watches you becoming the mother of his child…

Fuck, he doesn’t want to ruin everything. Not again.

“Buck, everything will be alright, I’m sure,” Steve seems to hear his thoughts as he tries to comfort him.

Bucky forces a smile at his effort and squeezes the last orange, before wiping his hand with a knapping hung on the wall. Giggles coming from the living room catches their attention.

“Do you think there's something there,” Bucky tentatively asks, eyes stuck on the door that leads to the living room, “With Harry, I mean.” He clarifies in a low voice, when his eyes meet Steve’s.

Steve sighs before shrugging, his forehead creasing, “They seem close.”

Bucky nods slowly, worrying his lower lip between his teeth, “I heard his little girl, Luna, asking if Y/N was the girl he’s been-” He sulks down a harsh intake of breath, “I wouldn't blame him…” His lips form a taut line.

When Steve presents him with silence and something that resembles empathy in his eyes for him – old Steve Rogers’s style- Bucky clears his throat and moves to pour the juice on the Jar.

“Come on, I’m gonna say goodbye to them, I have to go.” He adds, turning towards the door with the Jar in his hand.

“Where to?” Steve cocks his head, narrowing his eyes.

“I’m gonna meet Anna in a few.” Bucky mutters as his shoulders round downwards, “I called her yesterday.”

“Oh.”

“You think I shouldn’t.” Bucky states.

“No, not at all.” Steve shakes his head. “I just wasn’t expecting to hear this now after-” Steve licks his lips and nods once, “I do think you should talk to her, though, Bucky. Set things straight. I know how important she’s been to you and I know it hurts you how things played out between the two of you. Now that you cleared your head a bit, maybe it’s the right time to really listen to her and tell her how you feel, too.”

Steve… always the voice of reason. Of his reason.

“I know.” Bucky nods. He needs to set things straight once and for all.

~~~

Chapter 18 coming soon.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky series #bucky fanfiction #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #angst

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disneygirl626 · 4 years

Text

Patrol Gone Wrong :An Irondad Oneshot:

A/N: Alright y’all, I know the title is terrible and the ending is rushed, but I was in a very big hurry to write this and finish it so this is as good as it’s going to be. Enjoy!

In Peter’s defense, no one was harmed. Well, except for him. But in the short morning he was robbed of his eyesight, everyone else stayed relatively safe.

It had started out like a semi-normal weekend. Until May told him he was going to Mr. Stark’s for the weekend.

“But May, I’m sixteen! I don’t need a baby-sitter!”

“He’s not baby-sitting you, Peter, he’s just going to hang out with you for the weekend,” May had said as she grabbed her purse and keys.

“That’s just a fancy way of saying he’s baby-sitting me, May,” Peter had grumbled.

May rolled her eyes and sighed, mumbling something in Italian that was too quick for Peter to catch.

“Honey, I’m not going to be home at all this weekend. I can’t go to work knowing you’re going to be here by yourself. What if you hurt yourself while out on patrols? Before you even try to lie to me about getting help next time you patrol, remember last week?”

Peter did remember last week, but he wasn’t going to tell May that.

Patrol had gone wrong. Very wrong. He’d crawled into the apartment hoping to stitch himself on his own, but he couldn’t reach his back where the stab wound had been. May found him in the bathroom that morning and… let’s just say she wasn’t happy. Peter got an earful of Italian after she was sure he wasn’t going to bleed out.

Anyway, after Happy dropped him off at the Tower Peter walked in and FRIDAY took him to the lounge floor to find Mr. Stark talking to Miss Potts.

Mr. Stark did a double take and grinned. “Hey, Pete! So I was thinking we could spend some time in the lab, then eat way too much junk food and binge-watch some cheesy-sitcom.”

“Sounds good, Mr. Stark,” Peter said with a small smile.

“Great! Go put your stuff in your room then meet me in the lab, ok?”

Peter nodded and set off for his room.

After the internship became an actual thing every Friday after school, Mr. Stark gave Peter a room in the Tower for when they went extra late, which happened quite a lot.

So that’s how the day went. They spent a little too long in the lab, Pepper practically forced them out to eat, and they spent the rest of the binge-watching ‘Friends’. After Peter realized he wasn’t being a burden to Mr. Stark, he was able to relax and have a lot more fun.

Everything was going great! Until Peter went on patrol.

“Peter, there is a robbery on 5th Avenue,” Karen said.

“On it! Thanks, Karen!” Peter said.

Peter reached the robbery in a matter of minutes. “Hey fellas, it’s not nice to rob people.”

The robbers looked up from the cash register they were stealing from. There were two of them, but they didn’t look that threatening. They didn’t even wear a mask! What kind of robber doesn’t wear a mask? Peter figured they were probably pretty new to the ‘robbery’ gig. So he decided to have some fun.

“What- who are you?” the left one shouted.

“You don’t know who I am?” Peter placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “That hurts guys. That really hurts.”

The robbers looked at each other and raised their guns.

“Whoa! You guys are in need of all kinds of lessons in manners, aren’t you?” Peter said, webbing the muzzle of the gun. “It’s rude to point guns at people.”

“What the-?”

“Language!”

Peter webbed their mouths shut, grinning under his mask.

The guy on the right dropped his gun and pulled out something else. It looked vaguely like a gun, but there was no chamber for the bullets. Instead there was a small container of some sort at the bottom of the gun.

“Whoa, what’s that?” Peter asked, joking aside and beginning to grow alarmed.

The man grinned and held down the trigger. Peter heard a high-pitched whining sound and he widened his eyes.

Peter coughed as the gas burned his lungs. He tried to take a breath but his throat and lungs felt like they were being lit on fire.

“Peter, should I call Mr. Stark? It seems an unknown toxin has-”

“No, I’m-I’m fine, Karen don’t bother Mr. Stark.”

When Peter finally stopped coughing, he rubbed his burning eyes and looked up. A string of curses in Italian flowed from his mouth when he realized the men were gone and had taken the cash register’s content.

He ran out of the store only to realize the men were long gone.

The rest of the evening wasn’t nearly as eventful as that one. It mainly consisted of an old Italian lady that was lost, a couple Puerto Rican kids wanting a picture with him, and stopping a man from mugging a young mom and her kid.

When he returned to the Tower, exhaustion hit him like a brick wall and he stepped out of his Spider-man suit before practically collapsing in his bed.

The next morning he woke up to his growling stomach. “Stupid metabolism,” he grumbled, rollling over and rubbing his hands over his face. He sighed and sat up. Then froze.

��Where am I?”

“You’re in the Tower, Peter,” FRIDAY replied.

He waved his hands in front of his face then rubbed his eyes violently. All he could see was darkness. “Why-why can’t I see?”

This didn’t make any sense! He was fine the night bef- wait. Those guys! Whatever they sprayed him with must’ve blinded him!

“Would you like me to get Boss, Peter?”

“No, no, I’m fine. Um, where is Mr. Stark?” Peter asked.

“He left for a meeting this morning. He wanted me to tell you he’d be back after lunch and to call him if you need anything,” FRIDAY said.

“Who’s in the Tower?” Peter asked. He swung his legs over the bed and stood, placing his arms in front of him and waving them around wildly as he took a couple steps to what he hoped was the door.

“Miss Potts is in the conference room on a phone call and Captain Rogers is in the training room.”

Peter frowned. What was Captain America doing here? Mr. Stark hadn’t mentioned anything about that.

New plan. Avoid Captain America, avoid Miss Potts, get to the kitchen. His stomach grumbled loudly in agreement to the new plan.

“FRI, am I heading to the door?” Peter asked.

“No, you’re heading to the closet. Turn left and walk approximately ten steps,” FRIDAY said.

Peter did as told and slowly made it out of the room without hitting any walls.

“Peter, are you sure I should not alert Mr. Stark?”

“Yes, I’m sure, FRIDAY.”

If an AI could sigh, FRIDAY would have.

Peter ran his hand along the wall as he walked. “Turn left,” FRIDAY said.

FRIDAY guided him to the kitchen and from there helped him get a protein bar without hurting himself.

A cold, sharp, tingling sensation ran up and down Peter’s spine as he ate, making him pause his chewing. “FRIDAY-”

“Oh, hello. Sorry, I didn’t realize anyone else was here.”

Peter jumped. “H-Hi. Um-I’m Tony-uh, I mean, I’m Mr. Stark’s intern.”

“Intern? I didn’t know Stark had interns.” The female voice travelled across the room as the woman walked.

Peter didn’t recognize the voice… He couldn’t exactly ask FRIDAY. He swallowed anxiously and continued in his charade.

“It’s a… uh… thing with my school,” Peter said, trying to subtly feel around for his cup as his mouth grew dryer and dryer. He had gotten a cup right?

“What do you do with the internship?” the woman asked.

“Get him coffee, run errands. Sometimes I’ll work on small little projects in the lab,” Peter lied.

Where was his cup?!

“I thought Tony was at some meeting today?” she said.

“I.. uh.. got here a few hours ago,” Peter replied.

He tried to quickly hide the smile that tugged at his lips when he finally found his cup. He picked it up. And promptly spilled it all over himself.

“Are you ok?” she asked as Peter jumped up.

“Y-Yeah, I’m great. Um, I knocked my cup over,” Peter said. He realized the cup was still in his hand and quickly set it down on what he thought was the table, only to hear it drop to the floor.

“Do you need help?” she asked.

“Uh… no, I’m good. I’m just gonna… head to the… the… bathroom. Yeah. I’ll be right back, nice talking to you,” Peter said, walking off briskly.

He ran smack dab into a wall. An Italian curse escaped his lips and he rubbed his nose.

“Do you have a cane or a service dog that I can get for you?” the woman asked.

“Uh… no, I’m fine. Thank you. Would-would you be able to help me to my room?” Peter asked, his face burning with embarrassment.

“Sure.”

A hand gently touched his arm, making him jump. “Sorry,” the woman said.

With FRIDAY and Peter’s help, the woman led Peter to his room.

“So you’re Stark’s kid?” the woman asked.

“What? No, I’m his intern,” Peter replied, trying to find his backpack that had his clothes in it.

“What regular intern has a room here?” the woman asked.

Peter didn’t have an answer to that. He had no idea who this woman was, he couldn’t just come out and tell her he was Spider-man!

“Where do you keep your pants? I’ll help you find some,” the woman asked.

“My-my backpack should be around here somewhere,” Peter said.

He picked something up. “What’s this?” he frowned, feeling it and turning it around in his hands.

“That’s a... Spider-man suit. Wait. Are you Spider-man?”

Well so much for that. Peter stood dumbfounded. Could this day get any worse?

“Yes, but-but please don’t tell anyone!” Peter said.

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me, kid. I just didn’t know Spider-man was blind,” the woman said.

“I’m not! Well, I mean I am, but it’s-it’s new. I haven’t always been blind,” Peter said.

“When did you become blind?” the woman asked.

Peter sighed. “This morning.”

“This morning?! Does your dad know?”

“He’s not my dad! And no, he doesn’t know. Don’t tell him! I-I can figure this out,” Peter said.

“Kid, this is something Tony would want to know,” the woman said.

Peter sighed again. He won’t be able to figure this out on his own. He can’t see. He needs Mr. Stark’s help.

“Fine. FRIDAY, where’s Mr. Stark?” Peter said.

“Walking into the elevator. Would you like me to tell him about your sight?” FRIDAY asked.

“Yes,” Peter grumbled. He sat down on his bed. Well, he thought his bed was behind him. He fell to the floor.

“Kid?” the woman asked.

Anxious footsteps grew closer and closer to him. “I’m fine, I just missed the bed,” Peter said, sitting up.

“Peter, Boss has informed me that… in his words ‘tell him he needs to stay put’.”

“Got it,” Peter said, holding up a thumbs up.

The woman stayed with him until Mr. Stark got there.

“You’re blind? What- when did this happen?” Mr. Stark shouted. Peter could hear the door hitting the wall and his footsteps quickly approaching.

“This morning. I fought these guys last night on patrol that sprayed me with some sort of gas and today I woke up blind.”

“You didn’t think this was something I need to know? What’re you doing here?”

Peter struggled to come up with an answer, but when the woman answered he realized that second question was for her.

“The kid needed help. Rogers was busy and I hadn’t eaten yet so Pepper told me to come get some food,” the woman said.

“FRI, is Bruce here yet?”

“He just walked in, Boss.”

“Tell him to meet me in the medbay,” Mr. Stark said.

Peter stood and Mr. Stark gently took his arm and led him to the medbay.

“Tony, what’s going on?”

Peter couldn’t help the pure joy and excitement that filled him. “Oh my gosh, you’re Bruce Banner. I-I love your work, I’ve read your papers so many times-”

Mr. Stark spun him around and Peter quickly realized he’d probably been talking to the wall.

“Uh, thanks,” Bruce said.

“He said he got sprayed with some sort of gas and today he woke up blind. Can you help him?” Tony said.

“I can try, but I’m not exactly that kind of doctor, Tony,” Bruce said slowly.

Mr. Stark helped Peter sit on a bed (or what he thought was a bed) and after some silence, Bruce said, “I’m going to give you some anit-biotics to try to fight this toxin, ok?”

Before Peter could question that meant, he felt Bruce giving him a shot. “It should kick in in about ten minutes,” Bruce said.

Peter’s eyes started to feel like a weight was being lifted off. After a few minutes of blinking and rubbing his eyes, the darkness cleared away. Everything was a little fuzzy, but other than that he could see!

Mr. Stark, Bruce, and Natasha Romanoff stood in front of him with expectant faces. “It worked!” Peter said with a grin.

“Glad you’re ok, kid,” Natasha said.

Peter froze. That voice. The Black Widow had been the one helping him all morning. “I think he just went into starstruck mode. Don’t worry, Pete. You’ll have all the time in the world to talk to them after the meeting. Have you eaten today?”

Peter thought back to the catastrophe that was breakfast and shook his head. “Ok, go get some food, I’ll meet you there in a little bit,” Tony said.

Peter nodded and got up to leave.

“Oh and Pete?”

Peter turned.

“Next time you get blinded by a bad guy, maybe tell me?”

Peter chuckled and said, “I will, Mr. Stark.”

#iron dad #peter parker #tony stark #natasha romanoff #fanfiction #oneshot

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thistangledbrain · 3 years

Text

Ok y’all, I’m sorry I’m having to catch up! We got a new foster in a few days ago - a particularly broken soul - and my mind has been *entirely* on him. But he’s settling in a little now, so here’s the last 3 days in one post ☺️

Autism Acceptance Month

Day 10!

“Sensory Life”

This is sort of hard to describe, but I’ll try! This is different from the next entry about stims, though both are sensory related.

It’s like being on microdosed ‘shrooms *all the time*. If you don’t know what that’s like, I’ll try to describe (this is collaborated with a friend who regularly does this - I don’t...it would probably be far too overwhelming).

Colors are far sharper to me & I emotionally react to them far more than most people. That results in some colors being genuinely offensive - not just “I don’t like that color”, but it will make me intensely angry or physically sick. This makes me curious about chromotherapy, but I haven’t really looked into it that much. My tolerance of certain colors can ebb and flow depending on my emotional state/mindset. (This crap is so sharp, I’m actually getting a twinge of irritation just *thinking* about my most hated colors LOL 😂 🤦🏻‍♀️)

Textures/skin sensations are another big one. (By now you may be asking, how TF did this chick manage Marine Corps training/exercises?!) I guess if you want something bad enough, you can shut down some of the overwhelming aspects of the sensory thing...this ability to disassociate probably isn’t what NT’s would call “healthy”, but it’s quite handy if you’re autistic, and those of us who have been through real trauma seem to be especially skilled with our ability to just shut off all circuits and “embrace the suck”). Like...I’ll nearly panic to get out of a store or something if my underwear starts feeling uncomfortable, but I’ve literally been soaked head to toe, covered in mud and sand in my *everywhere* (and I HATE SAND anywhere but on my feet) AND I pissed myself, because nobody’s gonna stop shooting/training just because you have to go potty 🙄), and I remember literally giving zero fucks about it...so it really is entirely a mindset thing. But let’s talk about when I’m NOT in “Marine mode” (cuz let’s face it, it’s been close to two decades since I got out, and I no longer HAVE to tolerate overwhelming sensations).

Sensory input is just basically dialed to 11 & the knob’s been snapped off. Bright lights, loud discordant noises, too much touching/not touching the right way, things like that. I am particularly sensitive about body hair (my own). I *strongly* prefer to have my head shaved on the back and sides (but I leave the top long). The only time I haven’t done this, was in the Marines (it was considered “eccentric” and not allowed, so they made me grow it out). Even though I leave the main part long, it’s *always* in a bun or ponytail - well, unless I’m super dressed up for something, but even then I prefer some sort of updo. Despite the fact that I like my long hair (well on the top anyway), I can’t *stand* the way it feels on my neck or especially my face - I HATE IT when my hair touches my face. If I wasn’t married...there’s a decent chance I’d just shave it all off and be done with it LOL 😆 My ponytail pulled through the back of a baseball hat is I guess what they’d call my “signature look”.

And you think NT’s have bad misophonia? *I’ve jumped out of a moving vehicle before* to get away from the noise of someone chewing loudly/smacking their lips in the back seat (he was a coworker and punching him in the mouth - which is what I DESPERATELY wanted to do - would have gotten me fired 😕)...but humans eating, or dogs licking their junk, makes me want to crawl out of my own skin. It’s mostly humans though....you have *no idea* the level of self discipline it takes to keep me from either rage crying or actually getting violent around someone smacking their mouth during a meal. I *cannot* be around my husband when he’s eating breakfast cereal even though he’s a very mannered eater - I don’t know why, but it’s *so loud* (and I’m terribly hard of hearing) - it sounds like he’s chewing rocks. It took us years to work this problem out LOL - he thought it was dumb that I had such a deeply emotional reaction. Then he tried to “chew quietly”, which all that did was slow down the rock tumbler inside his mouth 😂...gradually, for everyone’s sanity, we realized that cereal eating should not be done in close proximity to each other lololol....and now, when it’s time for family meals around the table, I’ve learned to either keep the range hood fan going (white noise is definitely my friend), or have the TV on. If it’s just mainly the sound of everyone chewing, I simply won’t eat at the table. I lose my appetite. (And all of my dinner guests/family are very polite diners. It’s MY hangup.) Phone calls are another big one. I could probably come up with several reasons why I hate it...I LOATHE it. This is one sensory hangup some people in my family just refuse to accept. I don’t think they realize I equate unexpected or immediately demanded phone calls to running naked though a mall or getting a root canal. Hissssssssss!! Give me some time to prepare myself for this shit please - you’re actually asking a *lot* from me. (And when I do have a call? Ugh I babble and am so awkward, because I’m so effing uncomfortable, which I also hate.)

But here’s an area where my “sensory overload” serves me very well:

Dogs.

I am usually *intensely* dialed into the energy and body language of an animal, but particularly dogs. I’m *so* sensitive to them, that I often actually can feel things even happening behind my back - can basically sense the energy in the area shift. (Roughly 75% of the time. I’m spacey sometimes too LOL.) The work I do with “behaviorally challenged” dogs is the biggest area where I am *grateful* for my autistic mind. I don’t think I could really do the things I do without it, successfully. (I can do this to a large degree with people as well, as can my youngest son. You cannot lie to that boy about your feelings or mood.)

We all have different levels of sensory sensitivity and different triggers, but every autistic I know has several “sensory hangups”. It often is one of our biggest hurdles to deal with, when it comes to “normal functioning”. So, many of us constantly have headphones (or muffs) on, some of us wear sunglasses *all the time*, etc (I wear a baseball hat - and I genuinely don’t like going anywhere where I have to get dressed up and can’t wear my hat. Been like that since my early teens. That hat shields me from all sorts of real and imagined sensory triggers.) You do what you can to mitigate, you know? But my “microdosing shrooms” and “knob dialed to 11 and snapped off” is really the best way I can summarize. (And that’s not all bad - my trips into a new natural space, like the redwoods, is an absolute *thrill*. I also occasionally love sensory overload - many auties do - like rollercoasters. My youngest son and I can ride till we pass out LOL!) So sensory life is love/hate, really....but I don’t think I’d change much about it.

Except the fucking misophonia. I hate that I go into almost a murderous rage over someone just chewing food loudly 🤦🏻‍♀️ - but seriously. It’s impolite anyway. Don’t do it. 😆

———————————————————

Day 11!

Stims

This is one of the biggest areas where neurotypicals struggle to understand us.

We all have stims. Stims are basically any stimulus that brings us joy or comfort. It could be rocking, flapping, walking in tight little circles, clicking your fingernails together, spinning, making weird sounds or whistling, etc. And it’s usually repetitive - that’s the part that gets on people’s nerves.

I’ve found that most *women* hide most of our stims. We only let go and stim our little hearts out when we’re alone. I do that, because some of my stims grate on my husband. Sometimes I don’t WANT to feel “watched” anyway...I’ve noticed males don’t have quite the same issue with that.

I have quiet stims I do to soothe myself, and happy stims. One of my quieter stims when I’m trying to soothe myself (like in public) is clicking my teeth, particularly my right canines. I also have this silicone bite stick I wear around my neck sometimes, that I chew on (my sons like the bite sticks as well). I carry a little bag of fidget toys in my purse, to soothe myself with when I’m stressed. There’s a thing sort of like a fidget cube, a little cowrie shell and twine bracelet that I fiddle with almost like a rosary, a small stuffed axolotyl (her name is Blossom), and a few other toys. My little stash also comes in damn handy when I encounter a bored child LOL!

One of my sons makes funny little sound effects randomly (and he’s grown & still does it). The other used to randomly shriek when he was younger - then he learned how to whistle, so he couldn’t say a whole sentence without punctuating it with little whistles (we actually thought it was adorable).

My favorite stim is putting my headphones on, putting on some favorite music, sitting with my legs crossed, closing my eyes, and rocking. I’m happy to TELL you about this stim, but it’s one I do alone, because I like to get completely lost in it and I can’t do that if I feel I’m being watched...and you’ll damn near give me a heart attack if you touch me while I’m lost in that world. (And boy does it irritate me to get yanked out of that before I’m ready, for some bullshit non emergency reason.) Better to just isolate myself (except my dogs are always with me). Another one I do alone - and I have no idea why i like it so much - is squeaking my bite stick across my teeth. (This one is weird to me because I usually HATE my teeth being touched...yes dentists are a problem.) This one I enjoy doing kind of mindlessly while I read, but damn would it irritate anyone in listening distance LOL...I mean, it would irritate the shit out of ME if someone else was doing it, because *other people’s* repetition, especially if it makes noise, gets on my damned nerves. 🙄 Figures lmao!

Stims can be damaging sometimes, though. Like I used to twist and twirl my hair when I was younger so much that the areas I usually grabbed were frayed and broken (I also chewed my hair sometimes). One stim I cannot break myself of even though sometimes it’ll make me bleed, is chewing the insides of my cheeks or my lips. That’s my most frequent (several times a day) one, and the one that is both gratifying *and* soothing. It’s also the one that’s hardest to suppress.

Some auties are either unaware or literally don’t care how you feel about their stims, but I am and do. I’d like to think I’m pretty “appropriate” *most* of the time with my stims and other people around, except the lip/cheek chewing. If my husband notices I’ve gotten pretty furious about it (even using my hand to push my cheek into optimal biting position), he’ll gently put his hands on mine to bring me back to awareness - if I’m gnawing away, I’m either super stressed or way lost in thought. Either way, I can accidentally hurt myself, so he gently guides me away/distracts me.

Stimming is an important part of Autie life and should not be discouraged unless it hurts Your Pet Autie ™️.

And if you’re looking for a neat gift for an Autie? They actually make stim toy packs. Get them one, they’re fun. ☺️ (Most stim toys are designed to withstand being put in mouths and bitten/chewed, too - LOTS of us have oral fixations.) And hey, even if you’re a NT, try stimming sometime (lots of normal people have stims, they just don’t realize that’s what they are - like nail biting. Bite your nails a lot? Get a bite stick!! God they’re so satisfying!)....

Happy stimming!

———————————————-

Day 12!

“Favorite Autism Charity”

This one is short and easy: ASAN. Autism Self Advocacy Network.

“The Autistic Self Advocacy Network is a nonprofit organization run by and for individuals with autism. According to its mission statement, the Network’s goal is ‘to empower autistic people across the world to take control of our own lives and the future of our common community, and seek to organize the autistic community to ensure our voices are heard in the national conversation about us.’”

————————————————-

Day 13!

“Family”

Well that’s kinda ambiguous, isn’t it? 😒

I’ll start with this tack:

Being an autistic mom with autistic kids.

I mean for years, none of us KNEW LOL - and maybe that’s what took me so long to get around to pursuing a formal diagnosis for my youngest. To me, for the longest time, he was just sensitive and different like me (same with my oldest, for the most part, but I’m pretty sure that was me buying into the “brilliant people are just fucking weird ok” mindset also), yannow? So it was like, “well mama always told me I’d have one like me & then know what I put her through” 🙄 My oldest got lumped into the “all bright kids are quirky” category - but as I learned about ASD through my youngest and myself, it became damn obvious the oldest was also in our camp. (He’s taken the prelim test now anyway, but is not formally diagnosed.) I genuinely believe that our “shared weirdness” binds us very tightly to each other - and I’m super pleased about that.

It brought a whole new level of understanding and awareness within our little family when we realized it was ASD I guess - and acceptance. (I 100% believe that diagnosis - or even affirmation - is critical to our self acceptance and understanding.) I wouldn’t trade my little family for anything, and consider myself remarkably blessed. I can talk about how complex and brilliant my boys are ALL day (and often do LOL). Hubby is neurodivergent, and can identify with (or at least sympathize with) MANY of our hangups....but he’s “normal” enough that he’s been able to guide us (mostly me) with things like how to use tact (not often a skill we naturally possess lmao). My heart breaks when I read posts by auties whose families either don’t understand or don’t accept them & are constantly trying to basically mute who they are. Auties “live out loud”, and some people find that off putting. I know growing up, I was constantly getting my ass chewed for being “dramatic” or too sensitive, too, so I shut down and hid my sensitivity far, far away. I’m only *lately* (last few years) discarding that silly tough girl mask. (I can still be quite the little wolverine at times, but I’m not afraid to show my soft sensitive actual self anymore...to stay soft in today’s fucked up world takes actual courage - a lot of it - and strength. I was looking at the concept of being “strong” entirely the wrong way.)

I swear my husband has lived with nearly as many phases and facets, as years we’ve been together. Sometimes I ask him if this ever bothers him. He says no, because who I am at my core never changes...and he grins and says “and you damn sure aren’t boring” 😂

But since I’ve known I’m autistic, I’ve given myself more freedom to discover who I am without these socially dictated parameters. And permission to be precisely who I am, without cringing apologies when the real me shines through awkwardly.

And my husband and boys have been there every step of the way, embracing me, as we do with them. ♥️

Yeah. I love my family. We’re some pretty cool people. 😁

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Wondrous Creature (Branjie) - Athena2

Summary: Brooke and Vanessa are roommates crushing on each other, both with no idea that the other likes them back, or that the other isn’t human.

A/N: I am officially in the spooky mood and finished this to celebrate it! This is loosely based on the web comic “Fangs” by Sarah C. Andersen. This is pretty weird and chaotic, so apologies in advance. I would love any feedback or comments if you have any, though! Writ is the best beta and brainstorming partner and I love them. Title from Monster by Florence + the Machine.

read on ao3

“Brooke!” Vanessa sighs in relief when her roommate shuffles in, tossing her purse on the kitchen table, shoulders dropping after her overnight shift.

“What?” Brooke asks around a yawn.

“Have you seen my black boots?” Vanessa’s been sliding around the apartment in her pizza socks, toothbrush dangling from her mouth, because her boots are not in her closet where she’s fairly sure she left them. But if anyone will know where they are, it’s Brooke. She could find anything from boots to keys like a bloodhound.

Brooke’s eyebrows wrinkle as she thinks. “Did you check under your bed?”

“Oh!” Toothpaste flies out of her mouth and splats on the floor, and Brooke rolls her eyes fondly before wiping it.

“You’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached to you,” Brooke mutters.

“I know!” Vanessa runs to her room and peeks under her bed. There, past Riley’s elephant chew toy and her old knee brace and a bag of chips, are her black boots.

Vanessa happily puts them on, and Brooke snorts behind her.

“You could make a game out of finding stuff under your bed,” Brooke teases. “Two points for clothes, three points for food.”

“Five points if the food is still edible.”

“Vanessa, don’t you dare eat those chips–”

Vanessa removes her toothbrush and crunches as loud as she can, making eye contact with Brooke all the while. Even with the lingering minty taste, the chips are still good. But even if they weren’t, she still wouldn’t be harmed, for reasons Brooke doesn’t–and can’t–know.

“Okay, how about you brush your teeth for real, in the bathroom?” Brooke suggests, and Vanessa nods.

They stand side-by-side in front of the sink, because Brooke brushes her teeth after work every morning for some reason. Vanessa doesn’t mind. It’s nice having the bathroom to herself for most of the morning, not having to fight for shower times or counter space. This little routine is enough, and Vanessa likes the rhythm they sink into, the way Brooke sways along to Vanessa’s Get-Ready Spotify playlist, the way Brooke grins at her in the mirror. Today, the grin is wider than normal, and Vanessa’s grip slips, toothbrush swiping across her cheek and sending Brooke into a fit of laughter.

They spit in the sink, and Vanessa sees drops of bright red clinging to the porcelain.

“You’re bleeding,” Vanessa says.

“I am?” Brooke shrugs. “Must’ve brushed too hard.” She rinses the sink, tells Vanessa to have a good day, and collapses into bed, the frame squeaking under her weight. She’ll get a few hours of sleep, Vanessa knows, before waking up and writing. She does fashion and news pieces for some media site—she told Vanessa it’s like a low-budget Buzzfeed—and her stuff’s pretty good, from what Vanessa’s looked up on nights she was bored, desperate to have more of Brooke through words on her phone screen. Brooke likes her job, even if she has to work overnight grocery store shifts to keep herself afloat. Vanessa thinks of Brooke curled up in bed and wishes she could help her sleep more, get rid of those gray circles constantly under her eyes.

But Vanessa will be late soon, and she grabs her travel coffee mug and heads to work, thinking too much about Brooke’s smile and the blood in the sink.

Maybe she isn’t the only one in the apartment with secrets.

—

Brooke wakes around 2 with both cats sprawled across her legs. She sits up and pets them absent-mindedly; the cats had to stay in her room because Vanessa is super allergic, “sneezin’ and wheezin’ and itchin’ allergic, Mary,” in her words. It’s easier for everyone to just keep the cats sequestered to Brooke’s room; she gets to cuddle them more, and everyone gets to avoid Vanessa’s sneezes, which are loud enough to send small children running in fright.

She pulls out her laptop and checks her work emails, making notes for her new piece. Nina runs the media site—West’s Best, home to culture, fashion, humor, and more, according to the description Brooke wrote—and Brooke is one of her best writers. But in the name of Brooke’s secret, she lets Vanessa think she’s an underpaid intern, scraping for any piece she can get. She doesn’t like lying, but it’s a necessary evil; under the cover of her “overnight job,” she’s free to spend her nights with her friends, doing things Vanessa can’t ever know.

The blood this morning was a rare slip-up—a remnant from last night’s drink. Brooke has to be more careful. It’s been six months since Vanessa moved in, and Brooke knows she doesn’t suspect anything about her being a vampire.

Hiding it isn’t as hard as Brooke thought it would be. The overnight job lie takes care of most of it, and Brooke stores her blood supply at Nina’s, because she doesn’t think she could lie her way out of that if Vanessa found it. She keeps stories about her past generic, mentioning that she used to dance but not that the dancing took place in a speakeasy 100 years ago. Or how she rode horses sometimes as a kid, leaving out that they were an actual mode of transportation. She’s sure Vanessa doesn’t mind the lack of details; her own stories are over the top enough for both of them, making Brooke laugh until her stomach hurts.

So no, not hard. Just a tiny secret. Though one that’s growing hard to keep, admittedly, because of another secret.

She has a crush on Vanessa.

The crush is a recent development, though her friends insist Brooke’s had feelings for longer, brought on by Vanessa asking opinions on outfits and nights yelling at reality shows together and all the times Vanessa lets her towel hang a little too low after a shower. Brooke’s never been around someone so fun and lively, who finds joy in something as simple as fresh laundry, burying her face in warm, lavender-scented clothes.

But secret number two has to remain secret because of secret number one, obviously, and Brooke just ignores those feelings. Her heart’s been cold a century, after all; it’s not hard to do.

Her phone buzzes with a text.

Vanessa: Can we make grilled cheese tonight?

Two emojis follow it: a loaf of bread and a wedge of cheese.

Vanessa: There’s no grilled cheese emoji but you get the idea

Brooke grins, and she thinks her dead heart skips a beat.

—

“This is one of the best grilled cheeses I’ve ever had! You could open a grilled cheese food truck,” Vanessa says around a mouthful of bread.

Brooke shakes her head. “Sometimes I swear you were raised by wolves.”

Vanessa crosses her arms and pouts indignantly, but there’s a glimmer in her eyes, like a laugh she won’t let escape.

“Just ‘cause you drink tea with your pinky curled—“

“I do not.”

“Do so.”

Brooke smiles, taking a bite of her own sandwich. Vampires could eat human food, and Brooke likes to. It just doesn’t fill her the way animal blood does. But she’ll make up for it tonight, while Vanessa thinks she’s at work.

“Oh, that vanity you ordered came today,” Brooke says.

“Yes!” Vanessa fist-pumps the air. “Wanna help me put it together?”

Brooke thinks of the time she helped Nina put together her bedroom set and wound up with a giant splinter in her thumb, a smashed finger from Nina’s lousy aim with the hammer, and a bag of extra screws that Brooke hopes to this day weren’t important (Nina’s bed hasn’t broken yet, so it’s probably fine). Brooke has no desire for furniture-building again, but for Vanessa and those big brown eyes…

“Sure,” Brooke says.

Which is how she finds herself nudging aside clothes and magazines on Vanessa’s bedroom floor, Vanessa’s dog licking her leg and 20 pages of instructions fluttering in front of her.

“Come on, Brooke, what do we do?” Vanessa swings a hammer aimlessly, waiting for something to hit.

Brooke frowns, trying to make sense of the instructions and all the pieces and nails–could this thing need that many nails?

“Um, I think this big piece goes first…” Brooke grabs a square of wood and passes it to Vanessa. “Then we put on the sides.”

“What about the legs?”

“Shit.”

After nearly two hours of reading, Googling, YouTube tutorials, swearing, and Vanessa pretending to be Thor with her hammer, the vanity stands strong and sturdy in the corner.

“We did it!” Vanessa cheers. “Teamwork makes the dream work, baby!”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that.”

“Fair.” Vanessa cackles. “You’ll be okay at work, right? I didn’t tire you out too much?”

Brooke swallows hard. Is that gleam in Vanessa’s eyes from concern, or does she know exactly what she’s saying? Does she have the same feelings Brooke does?

“I’ll be fine,” Brooke says.

She doesn’t see Vanessa for the rest of the night, and slips out when Vanessa is breathing softly in her bed.

—

The best part of Brooke’s overnight shifts is that she’s not there to wonder where Vanessa goes at the full moon.

She, Silky, and A’keria pile in an Uber and go to the edge of the city, then walk to the woods. Vanessa loves the city, loves all the people and shops and places to eat, but there’s something about the woods. Everything is calmer out here, still and silent except for the occasional rustling of leaves or an owl’s hoot. There’s a sort of peace between the trees, freedom to just breathe and think and be.

The silence is a little too eerie tonight, her thoughts too loud. Or maybe it’s just because she can’t stop thinking of Brooke. There’s been nothing unusual about the past few weeks, but something feels different. They made cupcakes last week and spent hours on Saturday sucked into a 90 Day Fiance marathon, yelling and roasting the couples. Vanessa found herself enjoying it all more than usual, unable to take her eyes off Brooke. She knows what it means, but that’s not an option. Not with her secret.

“Vanessa, it’s almost time!” A’keria yells.

Vanessa snaps up and sees the moon is almost at its highest as it shines through the trees. She pulls off her clothes and sets them in the bag at the base of the largest tree.

“What’s with you?” A’keria asks in concern.

“Nothing.”

“It’s about Brooke, isn’t it?” Silky guesses, and she and A’keria trade looks.

“What’s with the looks?” Vanessa demands.

“It’s nothing,” A’keria says.

“We think Brooke’s a vampire,” Silky says, dodging the furious arm A’keria swings at her.

“You think she’s a vampire?” Vanessa laughs out loud. She can see where they’re coming from, admittedly. Brooke is tall and pale and quiet, with a dry sense of humor and a wardrobe that’s almost entirely black. She can be broody sometimes, especially when Jeopardy! isn’t going her way. She glides around the apartment so silently Vanessa wants to put a bell around her neck. And there’s a mysterious air around her, maybe from how secretive she is about herself–so much so that Vanessa truly doesn’t know much about her past.

But the idea of Brooke being a vampire is ridiculous. Her Netflix recently watched list is just Jane Austen adaptations and The Princess Diaries, and she keeps the freezer stocked with Ben and Jerry’s and pizza bagels, not bags of suspicious liquid or anything like that. Hell, when Vanessa got a paper cut a few weeks ago, Brooke practically flew out of the room to get her a Band-Aid, eyes avoiding the blood. And she uses a baby voice when she talks to her cats and falls asleep cuddling them, for crying out loud—the woman is hardly a horror movie figure.

“Look, she’s not a vampire, okay?” Vanessa keeps one eye on the moon as it shifts imperceptibly, her muscles tingling as they prepare for the transformation. “She goes out in the daytime and stuff.”

Silky rolls her eyes. “Vampires can do that! Sun hurts them, but it only kills them after a long time.”

“She’s fine in the sun,” Vanessa insists. “She doesn’t go out in it much because it gives her a headache and her skin’s really sensitive, so it burns easily.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s sunburn.”

“And an overnight job? Could it be any more obvious?”

Vanessa huffs. “Enough, okay! She’s human!”

Silky shakes her head. “You just don’t want to see it because you’re in love with her.”

“I am not!” Vanessa shouts, but she can’t even kid herself, let alone her friends, who are staring at her pointedly.

“Got a big old lesbian crush,” A’keria says with a grin. “So big you can’t even see your roommate’s a blood sucker.”

Vanessa sighs, knowing that vampire or not, her feelings for Brooke are filling the entire forest. “Look, I really like her, and she probably doesn’t feel the same way. It could ruin everything if I tell her. It just… it just can’t happen.” She shakes off how small her voice is getting.

“I think you should tell her, V,” A’keria says softly. “Vampire stuff aside and everything. How could she not like you back?”

Vanessa wants to believe it, but she shakes her head. “She’s my friend, and she’s human, and I’m–” The rest of her sentence is cut off by a groan as the pain starts. Vanessa’s gotten used to it now–the way her bones stretch and muscles clench, her whole body on fire–but it doesn’t make the pain any easier. She curls into a ball as her claws emerge, as fur sprouts, until finally a thick brown wolf stands tall beneath the moon. Vanessa nods toward the other two, and they traipse through the forest.

Vanessa keeps her mind when she transforms; she normally likes the way everything gets sharper, the way she can smell moss and flowers and animals, can see even the tiniest bugs flapping their wings. Tonight, though, she wishes she could turn it off, because all her thoughts of Brooke are heightened too. The sheer beauty of her soft, smooth skin. The way her hair shines like gold in the light and always smells like tea tree oil. Her rare laughs, the way her shoulders shake with the movement and her green eyes sparkle. How much Vanessa wishes she could see Brooke’s pale skin uninterrupted by clothes, melting into Vanessa’s sheets, before falling asleep in Brooke’s arms.

Vanessa sighs, running through the trees and leaving it all behind.

She really can’t be in love with her roommate, but it’s too late.

—

Brooke is extra careful the next few weeks. She rinses her mouth carefully before entering the door each morning. She eats half the garlic bread Vanessa makes one night. She even goes shopping with Vanessa, rare sunshine beating down on them. The only reason Brooke manages without pain is because of the special sunscreen her witch friend Yvie made, but Vanessa doesn’t need to know that. Brooke just wants to flaunt it, hey, look how human I am. Vanessa is blissfully unaware, and that’s what Brooke needs. No threat to her secret, no chance she’ll have to run and leave her friends behind.

“Brooke, can you help me make posters?” Vanessa gets home one night with her arms full of construction paper and Crayola markers. “They’re for the dog shelter.”

Vanessa volunteers at a dog shelter every Sunday, coming back with fur on her clothes and a bunch of videos of dogs playing fetch and running in circles. She loves going, yapping about all the dogs after, and even though Brooke is more of a cat person, she listens anyway.

“I’ll help,” Brooke says. It’s only fair after Vanessa made yesterday’s dinner when Brooke was busy with work.

Markers roll across the table as Vanessa lays her supplies out, and they get to work.

“What’s that, a hippo?” Brooke asks at Vanessa’s drawing.

“It’s obviously a dog, Brooke!”

“A dog with a hippo’s nose.”

Vanessa sticks her tongue out at Brooke and Brooke bursts into laughter. The night continues as they pass markers back and forth and Vanessa pops enough popcorn for a movie theatre, ending when Vanessa begins her nighttime shower and skincare routine, the one that leaves her skin soft and glowing, smelling of citrus and coconut. Brooke’s head is full of those scents when Vanessa calls her from the bathroom.

“What do you need?” Brooke asks.

“We’re out of towels.” There’s a smug tone to Vanessa’s voice. “There should be a clean one in the laundry basket, if you wanna bring it to me.” Brooke can practically see Vanessa batting her eyelashes through the door.

Brooke opens the door a crack, extending the towel. She can’t look at Vanessa, she can’t–

“Thanks, Brooke!” Half of Vanessa’s broadly-grinning face peeks out, running into the soft lines of her collarbone and gentle curve of her shoulder. Brooke’s dead heart almost jolts back to life. She wants to blast the door off its hinges, grab Vanessa, and throw her on the bed–

But the alarm on Brooke’s phone goes off, reminding her to get ready for work.

—

Brooke slides up to the corner table, her vampire gang awaiting: Nina sipping her drink, Priyanka checking women out, Kameron deep in thought. Red neon signs flicker on the dark walls, glasses of blood and beer sliding across the bar counter. Whoever thought of a vampire bar is a genius, in Brooke’s opinion, and being here with her friends is one of the best parts of her day.

“Sorry I’m late. Got caught talking to Vanessa.”

“How is she?” Kameron asks.

“Fine! She’s fine.” Brooke laughs nervously, reins her voice in before it rises another octave. No need to share what almost happened. They’ve all heard more than enough about Vanessa–Vanessa made cookies, try one; Vanessa scored 42 points when we went bowling; Vanessa made the worst pun ever, you have to hear it–and Brooke knows it’s not helping her in the ‘just a crush’ department.

“You know, Brooke,” Nina says slowly, like she’s been sitting on this a while, “sometimes I think Vanessa isn’t fully … human.”

Brooke scoffs. Vanessa, who cries over movies and gives old people her seat on the subway and can’t sleep without fuzzy blankets or a squishy pillow, is one of the most human people Brooke has ever met. Then she looks around the table and sees Kameron and Priyanka matching Nina’s cautious, thoughtful expression.

“What, you think she’s a witch or something?” Brooke barks out a laugh. “There’s gotta be a cleaning spell she would’ve used in her room by now.”

“Not a witch,” Nina continues, being the spokesperson of the group. “We think she might be a werewolf. Kam saw her in the woods last full moon.”

“So what?” Brooke asks, playing nonchalant even though it is odd that Vanessa would go in the forest at night. “She can go in the woods, it’s not my business.”

“I’ve gotten wolf vibes from her before,” Priyanka says.

Brooke shakes her head fiercely. “She’s human. She just really likes dogs–”

Nina purses her lips.

“–and her table manners leave something to be desired,” Brooke continues, “but she’s human. Besides, I’d know if she wasn’t.”

Kameron frowns.

“What?” Brooke demands.

“You can be kind of oblivious sometimes.” Nina takes over. “I mean, Kameron had a crush on you for months before…” she cuts herself off as Brooke and Kameron look anywhere but at each other, not needing the reminder of their old fling. If vampires could blush, they’d both be flaming.

“But that’s fine now,” Kameron says quickly. “I have Asia, and you have–”

“–A crush on Vanessa,” Priyanka interrupts.

Brooke sighs. She knows her face can’t feel hot, but somehow it does anyway. She knows she has a crush; knows she rushes home after nights with her friends just to see Vanessa before she leaves for work, knows she laughs over the stupidest things just because Vanessa does them. But it hurts to hear it out loud when she can’t do much about it. Vampires and humans didn’t mix. If they had any kind of relationship, Brooke wouldn’t be able to hide the secret forever, and Vanessa would probably run when she found out. Who wouldn’t?

But Brooke doesn’t know how much longer she can keep her feelings inside, pretend she feels nothing when Vanessa sings to herself in the shower, or plays with her dog, or tells Brooke to listen to new songs she discovers, both of them huddling around Vanessa’s phone and smiling.

“I really think you should tell her you like her, Brooke,” Nina says, and Kameron nods.

Brooke shakes her head. “Nothing can happen.”

Priyanka winks. “I think it can. I see romance in your future.”

“We all know you just pretend to be psychic because you’re in love with Alice from Twilight,” Brooke mutters, and she lets the erupting laughter distract her from Vanessa.

—

Silky and A’keria’s paranoia rubs off on Vanessa for a while. She keeps Brooke out in the sun for hours, bumps Brooke in front of mirrors, “accidentally” makes too much garlic bread. She stops just short of running at Brooke with a cross. Brooke’s human, just human, even if Silky and A’keria aren’t convinced.

Vanessa decides to make breakfast to gloss over any odd behavior Brooke might have noticed. Brooke usually eats a protein bar before she goes to bed each morning, and Vanessa wants her to have a real breakfast.

The idea of telling Brooke her feelings runs through Vanessa’s mind as she flips pancakes. Her being a werewolf is just a small secret, really. A lot easier to hide than her feelings. Lately it’s been all she can do to stop staring at Brooke’s soft skin, to not grab her and finally see how her lips feel.

Keys jingle in the hall and she knows it’s Brooke and her keys with the cat keychain. It’s just a stupid little detail, but Vanessa’s heart swells with love for Brooke, and it makes her mind up for her.

Vanessa sets the pancakes and scrambled eggs on the table just as the door creaks open.

“Vanessa?” Brooke blinks in confusion. “What’s this?”

“I made breakfast.”

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Brooke says, but she’s already drowning her pancakes in syrup.

Vanessa sits across from her. “I wanted to. I wanted to make sure you ate a real breakfast.”

Brooke raises an eyebrow.

“Protein bars aren’t breakfast and you know it!” Vanessa’s yell morphs into a laugh that Brooke matches.

“Okay, okay.” Brooke grins. “These pancakes are amazing, by the way.”

“I know.” Vanessa laughs.

Brooke sips her coffee, and maybe Vanessa bumps the table, maybe she doesn’t. Maybe Brooke’s sure, steady hands just fumble a bit. Either way, there’s a spot of coffee soaking Brooke’s shirt, and when Brooke grabs a washcloth, Vanessa stands up, legs wobbling.

“Maybe you should take that off,” Vanessa says, watching Brooke drop the cloth in the sink.

Brooke raises an eyebrow, her eyes gleaming devilishly. “What did you say?”

“I said,” Vanessa breathes, “maybe you should take that off.”

Brooke bites her lip, and Vanessa’s heart speeds up, wondering if she’s made the wrong move. But then Brooke grins. “You first.”

Vanessa’s whole body is on fire as she lifts up her shirt, her face bright red when Brooke’s eyes linger.

“Bed. Now,” Brooke commands, and Vanessa runs.

—

Vanessa doesn’t realize until later. How could she have realized when Brooke’s hands were roaming her body, when her cool lips touched Vanessa’s, when her ears were full of nothing but her own gasps and moans?

No, she doesn’t realize until later, when Brooke is at work and Vanessa’s head is finally clear again, able to think of something besides the blonde hair that Vanessa’s hands tore through and left messy, the soft lips she finally got to kiss, the arm that wrapped around her waist until she fell asleep.

Through all the gasps and touches and excitement, Vanessa’s heart was a bird in her chest, fluttering frantically in response to each and every touch. But when she thinks about it, there was no pulse thrumming through the still rivers of Brooke’s veins as her wrists brushed Vanessa’s body. When she thinks about it, all she heard from Brooke’s rib cage was silence.

Brooke has no heartbeat. And they need to talk.

—

Nina’s mouth hangs open when Brooke walks in the bar that night, no doubt knowing what just happened. “Brooke, you–”

Brooke sits down and rests her head on the sticky bar table. “I had sex with Vanessa,” she groans into the wood, knowing they’ll hear her.

“I told you bitches!” Priyanka yells.

“Shut it, Miss Cleo,” Brooke says, raising her head and taking in everyone’s expressions–all of satisfaction and acceptance, not a shocked face in sight.

“What are you gonna do now?” Kameron asks. “Does she know? Did she notice you don’t have a heartbeat?”

“Hers was going fast enough for us both,” Brooke says. “Besides, she wasn’t close enough to my chest to hear anything… I don’t think so, at least.”

“What are you gonna do?” Nina asks.

Brooke groans again. “I don’t know. I’m hoping it’ll be a one-time thing and we’ll go back to normal.”

“And if you don’t?”

Brooke sighs. If Vanessa wants a real relationship after this, it wouldn’t be fair to her to do that. Brooke would have to run, and she looks around at her friends and knows she never wants to leave them, just like she never wants to leave Vanessa. She forces those thoughts away. “I don’t know. What am I supposed to do? Get a cake that says ‘Hey, I’m a vampire?’”

Kameron shrugs. “That’s how I told Asia,” she says, so deadpan Brooke can’t even tell if it’s a lie.

“You can’t do a cake, you gotta do some classier shit,” Priyanka says. “Cream puffs are classy, right? Do cream puffs.”

Kameron suggests eclairs, and Priyanka insists that cream puffs are better. Brooke buries her face in her hands. If she wasn’t a vampire, her friends would’ve given her a stress-induced heart attack by now.

“Okay, cream puffs and eclairs are basically the same thing!” Nina hisses until Priyanka and Kameron quiet down. Nina then turns to Brooke, a hand on her arm. “Look, things are still new, you don’t have to tell her anything yet. Just… do the romantic shit. You’ve been single for decades, just be in love for right now.”

Just be in love for right now. Brooke considers it. She hasn’t had anything remotely like love since her and Kameron had their brief thing in the 90’s, before deciding they were better as friends. Before that, well… Brooke doesn’t think she ever has. There were crushes, sure, like the waitress at that diner who knew Brooke’s coffee order, the grocery store cashier that always flirted with her. But they were human, and Brooke knew nothing could ever happen, that she could never have anything with them. But something about Vanessa, human or not, makes her want to try.

“You’re right,” Brooke says to Nina. “I think me and Vanessa need to talk.”

—

The sun is shining when Brooke gets back to the apartment, and Vanessa is standing in the kitchen with her hands on her hips.

“Everything okay?” Brooke asks. Vanessa obviously has something to say, and Brooke’s stomach lurches with the fear that it’s something bad. What if Vanessa wants to move out after what happened?

“I think I should be asking you that, considering you have no heartbeat,” Vanessa mutters, clenching her fists.

Brooke gulps, rubbing through her actions the past week, wondering if she did something to reveal it, because how does Vanessa know? It doesn’t make sense, and she decides to turn the tables.

“How do you know I have no heartbeat?” Brooke demands. “You would’ve had to be right against my chest to notice, and you weren’t. Unless…” Nina’s theory runs through her mind, and it’s like a fog clears right in front of Brooke. “You’re a werewolf!” Brooke yells, pointing at Vanessa. “That’s why you have advanced hearing. That’s why my cats have to stay in my room!”

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Vanessa tries, crossing her arms.

Brooke crosses hers too. “Then I don’t know what you’re talking about either.”

They’re in a standoff, and Brooke isn’t going to give first. She’ll stay for decades, if she has to. She narrows her eyes at Vanessa, who’s having trouble holding her expression as the seconds tick.

“Fine!” Vanessa yells. “I’m a wolf.” Her face softens suddenly, and she looks at Brooke with love in her eyes. “But I promise I’ll never hurt you, ever. I keep my mind when I change, and I go far away, just in case. I’d never put you in danger.”

Brooke’s head spins with it all. So Vanessa really is a werewolf—but from the steps she takes to protect herself and others, she’s clearly as kind and caring as she always has been, helping old ladies cross the street. And what does it matter, really, that Vanessa isn’t fully human, when Brooke isn’t human herself? And if Vanessa isn’t human, Brooke being a vampire won’t matter to her, and Brooke warms at the thought. She moves closer to Vanessa, pulls her into a hug. “I’ll never hurt you either,” she promises. “I only drink animal blood. I just didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to scare you.”

It seems so stupid now, considering the secret Vanessa’s had this whole time, and Brooke can’t believe she didn’t notice. Maybe she really is as oblivious as Nina said. But maybe, from the love in Vanessa’s eyes, it doesn’t matter.

“It’s hard to scare a wolf.”

“I’m stupid, aren’t I?” Brooke sighs.

Vanessa shakes her head. “I’m just as stupid, don’t worry. Silky and A’keria told me you were a vampire but I didn’t want to see it. All I saw was you, and I knew I couldn’t have you because I’m—“

“A wolf,” Brooke finishes. “I didn’t see it either. I really should’ve, though, considering the mess you make when you eat.”

“Hey!”

“And how every dog in a 3-mile radius runs to you.”

“Says Miss Brooke Lynn ‘I only wear black’ Hytes!” Vanessa yells, and Brooke snorts.

“I wear gray sometimes!” Brooke protests, and Vanessa rolls her eyes.

Brooke squeezes her gently, breathing in her apple shampoo, letting it calm her. Vanessa looks up at Brooke and grins hopefully. “So can we do this, then? You and me?”

You and me, Brooke thinks, slightly daunted by how large those words seem. With Vanessa being a wolf, the risk of a human knowing her secret and being in danger is gone. Werewolves even age abnormally slow, so her and Vanessa will have lots of time together. And they already live together, already cook together every night and share their lives each day. How different can it be to make it a full relationship, let their feelings show instead of dancing around them?

“We can do this,” Brooke says.

Vanessa reaches up and kisses her, and Brooke has never felt so human.

#rprdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #nina west #kameron michaels #priyanka #silky nutmeg ganache #akeria davenport #branjie #lesbian au #supernatural au #fluff #implied smut #wondrous creature #athena2 #tw blood #concrit welcome #submission

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generaldisdainn · 4 years

Text

Four of a Kind

AO3 link

Rating: MA

Summary: After accepting a job as the head of marketing for a local animal shelter, Anna finds herself in a new city in need of a place to live. Luckily, 3 guys know just the place.

Previous chapter

Chapter 6 (another reminder of the fic rating for this chapter!!!)

This whole fic has been written in collaboration with my friend happycap77 on ao3, and this is another one of his amazing chapters! <3

“I think we make a pretty damn good team,” Ryder boasted.

Ryder and Anna both stepped back from the banner they had spent the better part of the afternoon on. The words “Adoption Day” were written in huge multicolored letters, followed by enough exclamation marks for a short novel. Several large and small illustrations of dogs and cats were dotted around and between the letters; Ryder was particularly proud of the one he drew poking out through the “O” of “Adoption.”

“Yeah, we do,” Anna agreed, holding up her hand for a high-five. Ryder obliged, making a satisfying slap that rang through the apartment’s common area.

“Thank you for helping me with this, Ryder. It really means a lot.”

“It’s no trouble at all. I’m happy to help you with creative stuff.”

“Yeah, but really. It wouldn’t have looked even half as good if it was just me doing this.”

“Don’t say that, the design was your idea!”

“Yeah, but actually being good at arts and crafts was yours.”

“Agree to disagree, then?”

“Sure, let’s go with that.”

They stood and admired their work for a bit in comfortable silence.

“It really does look good, though,” Ryder said.

“I can’t wait to show it to Kristoff,” Anna said eagerly. Ryder gave her a sideways look. “...And Sven,” Anna continued. “It’s just that...that Kristoff has visited me at work and Sven hasn’t yet, so...I don’t know, I think he might appreciate it more.”

Ryder turned his head back slowly, then checked the time on his phone. 4:30 PM. He looked back at Anna, and a shadow of a smirk appeared on his face. “Well, it’s a good thing he’ll be home soon.”

Anna shot a puzzled look Ryder’s way. “No, he...he always gets home a few minutes after 6:30 on Fridays.”

Ryder smiled. “Thought so.” He decided to take the scheme one step further. “It’s too bad Sven has to stay at the school late today, though.”

“Oh...yeah,” Anna said absent-mindedly, lost in the hope that Kristoff will show her his adorable, boyish smile when he sees the banner. She almost didn’t notice Sven walk through the door.

“Oh, wow, hi Sven!” Anna spun around to greet him. “I thought you-”

“Can’t talk, must eat,” Sven interrupted and headed straight for the fridge. “Y’all better not have eaten the last slice of pizza. Someone will die if-” He opened the door to find the slice still there in a plastic bag. He offered the two of them a sweet smile. “I never doubted you.”

“Bon appetit,” Ryder said. He turned to Anna, unable to contain his mischievous grin.

“What?” Anna asked, a nervous smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Oh, nothing,” Ryder answered. “I just really think the shelter will love the banner.” He started to walk away. He paused, as a thought occurred to him. “Hey Sven, can we break into the liquor tonight?”

“Fine,” Sven said, a morsel of chewed pizza erupting from his mouth. “Leave me in peace.”

“Thanks, buddy,” Ryder said, and he walked off.

Anna remained perplexed by their interaction. First, he said Kristoff was coming home early, which she was certain he wasn’t. Then Sven walked through the door seconds after Ryder said he had to stay late. Was he really that unaware of his roommates’ schedules? The people he’d been living with for well over a year now? And why did he say “thought so”? Anna knew he was the most reserved of the four of them, but he seemed to be good friends with the two of them; she imagined he would at least know when they usually get home. Then again, she didn’t know when Sven was off work today--

Then it hit her like a bag of ice. Of course Ryder knew when the two of them were supposed to get home today. He wanted to see if she knew. That sneaky little bastard, Anna thought. She strode over to Ryder’s door and quickly rapped on it. “Ryder, can we talk?”

The door swung open a few moments later. “Yeah, of course. Come on in.”

She walked right past him, making sure to avoid Carlos the cactus, and sat down on his bed. The instant Ryder closed the door, she started talking.

“Look, Ryder, I don’t know what you think you know about how I feel about Kristoff, or why I knew when he was supposed to get home and not Sven or whatever, but it really felt like you were testing me out there and...well, I didn’t appreciate that.”

“Yeah, I was thinking about that. I’m sorry, I was just trying to have a little fun.”

“Okay. Apology accepted. But still, I want you to know that there’s nothing between Kristoff and me because that would be weird.”

“Anna, it’s-”

“And I really don’t want to make things weird, I mean I just got here—well, I didn’t just get here, but compared to you guys I’ve barely been living here at all and to just show up and start dating one of you would be, like, overstepping boundaries or something.”

“Okay, can I-”

“And also me knowing when he gets home doesn’t prove I’m into him, FYI, it just means I pay attention to people’s schedules, like you always water the bathroom plants every three days in the afternoon.”

“Anna, can I say something?”

“Yes, sorry, go ahead.”

“It’s okay if you’re into Kristoff.”

Anna’s eyebrows shot up before furrowing just above her nose. “I...um-”

“And I’ll let you in on a secret.” He leaned in a bit and spoke in softer tones. “I’m pretty sure Kristoff’s into you too.”

Anna wanted to smile from ear to ear, but she didn’t want to seem overexcited at hearing the news. Still, despite her best efforts, the corners of her mouth lifted ever so slightly upward. “...Oh.”

“Kristoff...he just acts differently around you. I don’t know about Sven, but I’ve certainly noticed that his whole demeanor changes from…” He paused, as though trying to find the right word. “...sulky and...and standoffish to uncharacteristically cheerful. You just have that effect on him. And I’ve never seen him get that way before, even with-” He cut himself off.

“With who?” Anna asked.

“Never mind, it doesn’t matter,” Ryder responded. “What does matter is that you’re bringing out a side of him that we haven’t seen in a while.”

Anna’s face reddened against her will. Did she actually have a chance to realize her fantasies? All of a sudden getting there seemed so easy. She swelled with anticipation.

“...Really?”

“Here’s my advice to you,” Ryder continued. “Show him that it’s working. I’m not going to give you details, but he’s had it rough. Sven and I, we do the best we can, but...to me at least, it seems like you’re exactly the kind of person he needs in his life right now.”

Every word Ryder said gave Anna a rush. She had no idea she meant that much to Kristoff. That, or he was scheming again, Anna thought. But he sounded sincere in everything that he said. She knew Ryder fairly well at this point, and she knew that he wouldn’t want to embarrass her.

“That, um...yeah, I’ll...I guess I’ll try,” Anna said.

“No pressure, Anna. If you don’t want to, you shouldn’t have to. But I just want to see you and Kristoff be happy, and I really think the best way to do that is for you to be together.”

“No, yeah, that definitely makes sense,” Anna murmured. “We’ll see what happens.”

“I guess we will.”

Anna stood up and turned to leave, but stopped to say one more thing. “Ryder, I’m...I’m actually kinda excited for tonight.” A smile touched her face.

Ryder laughed and returned her smile. “Me too. Now get outta here,” he teased.

Anna scurried out of Ryder’s room and shut the door behind her. She really was excited for tonight, but the excitement was bogged down by uncertainty. She knew almost for certain that Kristoff was a big softie underneath his stoic exterior, but she didn’t know if it was actually because of her or if it was just because she was getting to know him better.

There’s history you don’t know, Anna, she thought to herself. Don’t assume anything.

***

“Drink, bitches!” Sven shouted.

Drinking socially wasn’t something that Anma did often, but she was determined to venture beyond her comfort zone. It was already paying off; tonight, she discovered she had a taste for rum and coke.

Anna growled in protest. Sven never told her he was so good at quarters. Of the twenty-five turns they’d taken, he’d landed twelve quarters in the glass that sat in the center of the four of them. Ryder, who was on his team, had scored four times. Kristoff, who was on Anna’s team, had fared slightly better with a score of seven, and Anna had a score of...zero. Not to mention aiming at the glass was getting harder and harder with every swig she took.

Anna tried to stay as sober as possible by remembering how the evening started. She spent almost half an hour trying to pick out an outfit that she hoped Kristoff would think was cute. She settled on a floral-print tube top that exposed her midriff and the freckles on her shoulders, and a pair of denim cutoffs that were the tiniest bit too short. She checked herself out in the mirror and decided she looked hot, but also couldn’t help but feel self-conscious. Was she showing too much skin? Would it seem like she’s trying too hard? Would Kristoff even pay attention to her? What would Sven and Ryder think?

All the questions flew out of her head as she heard the front door slam. She opened her bedroom door to find Kristoff working his boots off of his feet.

“Welcome home, good sir,” Anna jokingly announced in a posh British accent.

“Thanks,” Kristoff responded absentmindedly. “Have you talked to Sven recently? He told me he wanted to get wasted tonight and I don’t think that’s a, um...uh…” His words trailed off as he looked up at Anna. A few more seconds, and he completely forgot what he wanted to say.

Anna relaxed. Her reservations about her outfit dissipated as she smiled and bit her lower lip. “Yeah, it was actually Ryder’s idea. I haven’t gotten drunk with you guys before and I think it would be fun!”

“Uh...yeah,” Kristoff forced out.

“Awesome!” Anna said. She turned around to walk back to her room. She could feel his eyes on her as she walked, but it didn’t seem creepy; rather, she had cast a line and he had taken the bait. “Let us know when you’re ready!”

“Uh...I gotta-” Kristoff was cut off by the slam of Anna’s bedroom door.

Anna never found out what he was thinking, but it must have been good because they were now sharing the large papasan chair, the curved sides of it encouraging the two occupants to be pressed up against each other. Though Kristoff hadn’t tried as hard with his outfit as she had; he wore a black V-neck tee that was a size too small and, Anna noticed, the same jeans he wore when he helped her with her dresser.

Maybe he did try , Anna thought. He does look sexy.

Kristoff looked at Anna every chance he got, though he tried to be discreet about it. Throughout the entire night his nose was inundated with the scent of her shampoo, the sweet strawberries-and-cream aroma to which he developed a Pavlovian response. His heart lifted and his blood rushed whenever he smelled it.

He watched her turn the quarter over in her fingers, trying to find the right angle, or the right technique, or the right whatever she was looking for to score her first point.

“Hurry it up, honey,” Sven said.

“Don’t listen to him, Anna, you got this,” Kristoff said. “I believe in you.”

Anna shot him a dirty look that couldn’t contain the smile behind it. “Don’t patronize me,” she said, enunciating clearly in an attempt to keep from slurring her words, mostly effectively.

“I’m not!” Kristoff’s smile broadened. “I really do believe in you!”

Getting a few drinks in him loosened Kristoff up without making him too loopy. He found himself feeling really happy having fun with friends, but mostly being this close to Anna. He couldn’t remember why he never let himself get this close before.

Anna squinted her eyes and curled her tongue up to her nose as she aimed and aimed again, before finally letting the quarter loose. It bounced off the table, spun in the air, seemed to hover there for a second or two...and landed in the cup with a satisfying clink .

“FUCK YES!!” Anna shouted as she shot her hands up in the air.

“Ah, Christ, Anna,” Kristoff said as he clapped his hand over his ear. Anna’s elation immediately turned to concern as she turned to lay her hands on Kristoff’s arm.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god, I’m so sorry, I was just really excited,” Anna said, tripping over the words. “Are you okay? Do you want me to kiss it?”

“Kiss the inside of my ear?” Kristoff laughed, causing Anna to burst into laughter. Her laugh wasn’t reserved or bubbly like the ones Kristoff couldn’t stand; it was loud and irregular, full of snorts and gasps. He loved it.

“Yeah, just limme git in ther-r-re,” Anna giggled, pursing her lips into a tight ring. Anna talking into and breathing on his ear sent a euphoric chill through his body.

“No, no, come on, Anna,” Kristoff said. “Let’s keep playing. Ryder, it’s your turn.”

“Um, uh, I’m actually out of quarters,” Ryder said. “I’m pretty sure that was all twenty-five.”

“Looks like we win!” Sven said. “Victory, Team...uh...Svyder? Ryden? Ren?”

“Aw, fuck you guys,” Kristoff said. “We’ll get you next time, right, Anna?”

“Pfffffft, no we won’t,” Anna said, laughing and flopping over onto Kristoff’s lap.

“Anna, come on,” Kristoff protested, trying to lift her off of him. “God, how are you…” No matter how he tried, she kept falling out of his hands and back onto his lap. “You’re like liquid! Stop!”

“I’m just happy-y-y-y,” Anna said, almost melodically. “I’m so glad I moved here, I love you guys.” She looked up at Kristoff, her eyes half-open and dreamy. “Even you, grumpy man,” she said, pitching her voice down as she spoke.

Kristoff didn’t know what to do. Here was Anna, inebriated and uninhibited, in the cutest outfit he’d ever seen her in, literally throwing herself at him. He knew what he wanted to do, but he didn’t think now was the right time.

“Anna, seriously, you’re drunk.”

“No I’m not!” Anna shouted as she sat up. “Watch! Z, Y, X, uh, V-”

“You couldn’t even make it three letters in!”

“No no no no no hold on hold on hold on, uh, Z, Y, X, W ,” she said, pointing a finger at Kristoff. “V, U, T...um…”

“Okay, Anna-”

“ S!! ” she shouted.

“Alright, we get it,” Kristoff responded. “You’re not that drunk.”

“Hey Sven, wanna try playing Halo drunk?” Ryder asked all of a sudden.

“What? Ryder, we’re-” Sven cut himself off when he turned to look at Ryder’s face. His head was cocked at a slight angle, eyes wide and lips pressed into a fine line. He shot a quick sideways glance at Kristoff and Anna before looking back at Sven.

“Oh. Uh, sure thing. I have to get another drink, though,” Sven answered.

“Okay, great, I’ll get it set up,” Ryder said and scurried off to his room. Sven followed shortly after, an unopened beer can in his hand. They were gone before either Anna or Kristoff had time to respond.

“Oh, alright, bye guys,” Kristoff said to no one in particular.

For a moment the two of them sat in silence. It was a comfortable silence, just as it usually was with them, but this silence in particular was charged with potential. Anything could happen from this moment, and it all depended on the two of them.

“So…” Anna finally broke the silence, “...what do you wanna do?”

Get you out of that adorable outfit, Kristoff thought. “Umm…” is what he said.

“We could...keep drinking, we could watch something, we could-”

“Oh, yeah, what’s that show you’re into right now? ‘Throne Games?’ ‘Throne...Battle?’ ‘Throne…’”

“‘Gilmore Girls?’”

“Yeah, that. We could watch that.” Kristoff started to stand up. “I’ll turn the-”

Anna grabbed his arm. “Kristoff...wait,” she said. He turned to look at her and saw her eyes, wide and heavy with emotion.

Kristoff sat back down. “...Yeah?”

“I just...I’m sorry if I come off strong sometimes, I know I can be overbearing, and our personalities are so different, I just, I don’t know, I just kept trying to get to know you better and I try to be nice around you, but I’m also loud a lot and I don’t know if you’re okay with that-”

“Anna.”

She looked up at his face. His bright, hazel eyes that bored into her own eyes. His gentle, soft smile that imprinted directly on her heart. Kristoff, she thought. She couldn’t think of anything else. Kristoff.

He opened his mouth to speak. “It’s oka-”

Before she could stop herself or even realize what she was doing, her mouth was pressed against his. He recoiled, pulling away from her.

“Anna!” he shouted, seemingly upset. In an instant, Anna sobered up.

“Oh my god, I didn’t--I don’t know--I’m so sorry-”

“Stop.” The world froze for the two of them.

This time, Kristoff couldn’t resist. I want this, he convinced himself. He laid his hands on the sides of her face, stroking the softness of her cheek and brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. He leaned in and kissed her. Anna tensed for a second, then relaxed, wrapping her arms around his neck. Pants and moans escaped their mouths as they kissed, tongues moving in to explore. They whispered each other’s names. Hands roamed to unexplored places. They couldn’t stop themselves.

Anna climbed on top of Kristoff, straddling his broad frame with her legs. She could feel the bulge in his pants straining against the denim. She pressed herself up against him and he moaned into her lips. His arms tightened their grip on her. She laid a hand on his arm and guided it down her back until his hand was on her ass, which he took a firm hold of. His mouth and tongue left trails of hot breath and gentle kisses on her neck and cheeks. She threw her head back and shuddered as he worked.

Without warning, Kristoff placed his other hand on Anna’s ass and lifted her into the air. A small cry escaped her lips as she wrapped her legs around his waist and giggled. “I’ve waited so long,” she breathed, before pressing her mouth to his again. Kristoff chuckled as he carried her into his bedroom and shut the door behind them.

“Put me down,” Anna said, and Kristoff obeyed.

She wasted no time in pulling her top off, revealing her black strapless bra. Kristoff’s mouth went dry as he marveled at her.

“Take off your shirt,” Anna demanded, the deep, uncharacteristic rumble of her voice breaking him out of his trance.

Kristoff wordlessly complied, revealing his large and slightly chubby, but ultimately finely sculpted form that Anna had been dying to see. She ran eager hands up his sides, placing kisses on his firm chest.

She rushed to undo the button on Kristoff’s pants as he struggled to unlatch her bra. The two worked at each other, hands and fingers feverishly trying to get each other out of their clothes to reveal all they had been fantasizing about. As Anna’s bra fell away to reveal her perky, freckled breasts, a quiet “holy shit” escaped through Kristoff’s lips.

“Do you like them?” Anna asked, a twinge of self-consciousness in her voice.

“I love them,” Kristoff responded as he filled his hands with them. She moaned softly at the contact.

Anna tugged his pants down past his bulge, pulling his underwear with them, revealing his completely hard cock. “Oh my god,” she said. “This is really happening.”

“Should we-” Kristoff started to say.

“Don’t think,” Anna said, and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. Kristoff sucked air through his teeth as she wrapped her hand around his shaft and began stroking it. Kristoff responded by reaching down to her pussy and trailing a finger through her folds. He smiled into her lips as he heard the hitch of her breath when he touched her. She was sopping and eager.

“I need you inside me,” Anna said breathlessly after a moment. She couldn’t wait any longer.

“Turn around,” Kristoff directed. It was Anna’s turn to obey. She turned, braced herself against the wall, and presented herself to him.

Kristoff couldn’t believe what he was looking at. The freckles dotting her smooth and otherwise flawless skin, her orange hair seeming to glow in the otherwise dimly-lit room, her slim waist, her wide hips, her incredible ass, the lusty expression on her face as she looked back, impatiently awaiting him to enter her. There was no doubt in Kristoff’s mind anymore. She wanted him, and he wanted her.

Tonight, he would give himself to her.

Anna let out a gasp and Kristoff grunted as he slipped his cock inside of her. Anna’s head dropped as she pushed back against his cock, taking his entire length and pressing her ass to his hips. Kristoff threw his head back.

Kristoff’s rough, strong hands wrapped around Anna’s waist, gripping her tightly. He threw his hips forward and back, pulling her onto him with his hands. His pace was slow at first, but quickly became rapid as his lust grew exponentially stronger.

Anna reached between her legs with one hand to massage her clit. She felt victorious. This was the culmination of well over a month of waiting and turning hopes into actions. With every one of Kristoff's thrusts, she became more and more pleased with herself.

Kristoff grabbed Anna’s idle arm and pulled, forcing her upright and pressing more of her ass against his pelvis. “Fuck, you feel so good,” Kristoff breathed into her ear.

Anna moaned through a smile as a response to Kristoff. “Pull my hair,” she begged. Her head jerked back as he grabbed a handful of her wavy locks and tugged, forcing a moan out of her. With his other hand he cupped and massaged one of her breasts, pinching and caressing the nipple. Her moans arced and soared as Kristoff’s own moans deepened and lengthened.

Anna threw herself back against him, a satisfying slap ringing out every time their skin made contact. She felt him building up inside her, approaching his peak. The pulsing of his cock within her brought her closer to her own.

“Fuck, Anna, I’m gonna cum,” Kristoff moaned. “Where can I-”

“I’m on the pill. Cum inside me,” Anna said between breaths. “I’m almost there too.”

Anna’s legs began to shake. Kristoff’s vice-like grip grew tighter. Their moans grew more frequent and fiery, full of desire for each other, their unspoken promises becoming fulfilled. Kristoff called out her name and she shuddered against him.

She pressed herself up against Kristoff as much as she was able as she felt him release inside of her, the warm fluid erupting from his cock and filling her. Her walls closed and constricted around him, forcing out every last drop.

They fell in a heap on a pile of unwashed clothes. They were huffing and panting, content with each other, sitting in the glowing aftermath of their orgasms.

“Holy fuck,” Anna said.

“Yeah,” Kristoff responded. “I can’t believe we did that.”

“I can,” Anna said, climbing on top of him to offer a kiss.

Kristoff chuckled and kissed her back. He couldn’t lie to himself; he was happy. But there was still that speck of doubt, that modicum of guilt.

I’ll worry about it tomorrow, he thought. I’m happy now. I don’t want to ruin that.

They stayed with each other that night. They both remembered how wonderful it was to fall asleep next to someone.

#four of a kind #frozen #frozen fanfic #kristanna #kristanna fanfiction #kristoff

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