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fangirl-dot-com · 6 months

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Chapter 3 - Head out the Window

After you were allowed to leave the building, you and Vito headed back to the hotel. Your heart was racing at what seemed to be a million miles per hour. You could barely focus on anything. The radio was too noisy, but not loud enough at the same time. The usual calming effect of the car was not doing its job. Your finger nails found solace in picking at the loose skin around your nails. You hadn’t even felt the car stop until Vito said it was time to get out.

Yet, when you looked up, the hotel building was nowhere in sight.

“Do you just plan to drop me off and see if I make it back to the hotel alive?” you quipped. He shook his head before gesturing to the small shop that stood in front of you. The big words Ice Cream stood out in the neon lighting.

“I thought a little celebration was due.” He shrugged his shoulders. On this inside, you were practically melting at the mention of ice cream. It had been entirely too long since you had some. Your diet always came first, but as of right now, you weren’t on one. Celebrations were in store. Yes, you had one more race weekend, but ice cream was more important.

You and Vito walked inside, a little bell announcing your presence. The worker behind the counter looked as though he didn’t even want to be there. But, he took your orders quickly and you both were in and out in less than 10 minutes.

Not wanting to get back into the car, you found a little table to sit at. Sure, the table and chairs were off balance and probably hadn’t been cleaned in years, but it worked for the time being.

“I still can’t believe you got chocolate of all flavors. It’s literally so basic,” you berated him as you licked at your own ice cream cone.

Vito gave you a look. “It is not. It is a classic. And says the one who got the most boring flavor of cookie dough with sprinkles.”

“At least it tastes good. Do you just like it or are you a picky eater?” You squinted your eyes and gave a smile. You thought you had gotten the last laugh as you got back to your ice cream. But a cold sensation on your nose startled you. Vito leaned back, laughing hysterically, while holding his ice cream that had a nose-shaped dent in it.

You couldn’t help but laugh with him too as you tried to shove your ice cream in his face. He was much quicker though and was able to evade your attacks.

Your breathes evened out a couple of minutes later, and a comfortable silence enveloped the two of you. Until you inhaled sharply.

“Why didn’t you tell me? About the contact.” You looked over, eyes boring into his. You wanted the truth and not some half-assed answers. But, you knew that he wouldn’t do that. Not about a discussion like this.

He finished his ice cream before answering.

“Because I know you. You would have driven yourself into the ground with training and overthinking if you had known there was a possibility that there might have been an offer.”

You did not answer, because you knew he was right. If there was even a slight glimmer of hope for a 2024 seat, it didn’t even have to be with a big team, you would have gotten stuck in your head. The overthinking would have taken over, and it might have cost you your championship.

“You’re one of the best drivers out there Y/n. You just need to realize that.” He put a hand on your shoulder as you turned to him.

“Thank you. Again, for everything. I hope you know that this means I’m not getting rid of you.” You shone a smile at him. You couldn’t image a life without him. He was there for you for all of your accomplishments. What you didn’t know is that he felt the same way. Vito always thought that you were the daughter he never got. And he was thankful for you as well.

“Never kid, never.”

Your ice cream had dripped all over your hand by now. Sighing, you tried to clean up the mess. Soon enough, your ice cream and cone were gone.

Vito looked over to you, “We better head back to the hotel. You have a couple of busy days coming up.”

You only nodded as you used stood from the outside chair, the metal scraping against the concrete.

“When do you think I’ll get to meet them?” you ask as you climb back into the car.

“Meet who kid?” Vito responded as the car came to life. You quickly put on your seatbelt before he carefully pulled out of the parking spot.

“You know…Max and Checo?” You nervously twirled your fingers. What would they think of you? You know that Checo wouldn’t have much thought, or would he – since you were the one taking his seat. Maybe he thought that Red Bull could have chosen better.

Max was who you were most nervous about. His teammate would no longer be older than him, or have more experience. He would be paired with a rookie, in both experience and age. Six years younger and no previous chances in Formula 1. And to put a cherry on top, a female. All that he knew in a teammate, would be gone and reconstructed.

“They’re both nice. I don’t think you’ll have any problems with either of them kid.”

“Will I have to call Max, Mr. Verstappen? Since he’s older and such.”

Vito let out a giant laugh, shoulders shaking as he pulled up to a red light. The bright crimson shone on two of you.

Once he had stopped laughing, Vito was able to say, “No kid. I don’t think so.”

You sighed in relief. They were older yes, but not that much older. Oscar was only two years older than you. However, you might have to call Fernando Mr. Alonso. The age gap was considerably larger.

Would you even make friends on the grid? Or would they avoid you to stay out of the media. You bet that the moment you’re seen with one of them, dating rumors would spread. And you didn’t want to upset them, or the grid’s respective girlfriends. You shuddered at the thought.

The rest of the drive was silent. You figured that tomorrow would go well. You would be fitted for a Red Bull suit and would be given the green light to drive your first F1 car.

The first.

It had a nice ring to it.

The drive continued on for a bit. You leaned up and pressed the power button for the radio. The distinct sound of “What Makes You Beautiful” filled the vehicle. Your grin grew as you started to sing the familiar lyrics. Vito smiled as well, more-so mouthing the words while you all but screeched.

“BABY YOU LIGHT UP MY WORLD LIKE NO BODY ELSE!,” you sang along with the well-known boy band. Your window suddenly was rolled down. You had the grand idea to stick your head out the window.

“YOU DON’T KNOW, OH-OH, THAT’S WHAT MAKES YOU BEAUTIFUL!” The wind picked up your hair and pushed it back into your face. Sure, it was now sticking to your lip gloss, but right now you didn’t care. Until you pulled up to another red light, and there were multiple guys in the car next to you. You flashed an embarrassed smile before clamoring back into the car. Your finger could not find the button for the window any faster.

Across from you, Vito had started laughing again with full body shakes. For the life of you, your window would not go up. Looking over, you could see Vito’s finger pressed down on the button for your window. You reached across the dash and swatted at his hand, desperately trying to get your window rolled up.

Finally, the tinted thing slowly but surely reached the top of the window. You looked over at Vito with a look of betrayal. You reach over and hit his shoulder. He, in comparison, is still shaking with laughter.

“You bitch!” you barely shouted, the words covered by giggles. Ok, it was kind of funny, but not really. “I literally just embarrassed myself in front of those boys.”

“They probably thought you were very pretty,” he said, snickering. You could only look in disbelief at your manager. You refused to look back over until you knew that the car had definitely passed. Your arms were crossed and lip in a pout for the remainder of the drive.

Vito looked over at you. “Don’t be like that kid. It was all in good fun.”

You mumbled back, “For you sure.” The pout however was relaxed and a grin replaced it. You couldn’t be mad at him for very long. It had been a while since you were allowed to have a bit of fun.

Winning races was fun, but that was your job, that took up most of your year and free time. You never noticed how far the drive way the first time. A yawn escaped your mouth and your hand quickly came up to cover it. You definitely needed to sleep well tonight.

Thankfully, the car came to a halt in front of the hotel. Vito turned to you as you unbuckled your seatbelt.

“You better get some good sleep. Tomorrow is going to be fun but exhausting.”

You mocked a salute and said, “Sir, yes sir. You have a good night as well. See you in the morning?”

“Yes, I will. Goodnight kid.”

“Night Vito.” You shut the door and watched as he went to park the car. Why he didn’t use the complementary valet, you hadn’t a clue. But that wasn’t your problem.

You were quickly let into the building once you scanned your card. The people at the front desk greeted you as you made your way to the elevator. It didn’t take long for it to ding, signaling your arrival to your floor. The pristine carpet led you to your white hotel room door.

Using the card again to get into the room, you opened the door once the lock had whirred.

The sight of your bed almost had you in tears. The stress of today was now hitting you as you walked to the bed. Following in George Russel’s F1 intro footsteps, you put your arms out and fell face first into the soft top blanket. You could have honestly fallen asleep here, but you knew you needed to take off your makeup first.

You let out a groan as your body protested moving. Your skin care and toiletries had already been set out, since you used them earlier to freshen up after the flight.

Deciding not to do every single step to your skin care routine, you took out the micellar water and a reusable cotton round. Once your makeup was off, you quickly washed your face and changed into some pajamas.

Funny enough, they consisted of some shorts and a Red Bull shirt that you had been given during Dams’ Christmas gift exchange. It had come from Ollie and Arthur both, but you knew that Arthur wouldn’t be caught buying anything with the RB logo on it.

Now he’d have to get used to it.

Oh my gosh. What would Arthur think.

Were you allowed to tell your best friend? You guessed that he could find out early, but you didn’t want to get in trouble for anything just yet. He could find out with the rest of the world. Maybe you could ask Christian if you could tell him the night you posted something before Red Bull came out with an official statement.

Before bed, you found yourself scrolling through Twitter and Instagram. A couple of posts made you laugh out loud. You caught your finger hovering over some posts that talked about “connecting the dots” that were scarily accurate. What you would give to like at least one to send Twitter into a frenzy. But, you withdrew your finger and decided to jump onto TikTok.

A few videos made you chuckle. Especially the McLaren one of Lando and Oscar trying to build card houses. Lando’s goggles were hilarious.

To think that in a couple of months, they would be your “co-workers.” That was terrifying. At least you had met Charles a couple of times through Arthur. He was…nice. You hadn’t really spoken to him much the last time you saw him at Arthur’s birthday party. If anything, you think you might have said a maximum of 10 words to him the entire night.

But that was a start.

You eventually scrolled through almost all of the new posts. Looking over, you noticed that the clock read 12:30 a.m. Quickly, you set an alarm for the next morning before putting your phone on the charger.

Vito would kill you in the morning if you hadn’t slept well. You closed your eyes and fell asleep, dreaming of the life you were able to be thrown into.

At least you could get a red bull if you were tired.

(Your story)

(Vito's story [I know it'd be impossible to take this picture if he was driving but just imagine :)] )

Tag List : @awekbachira @lightdragonrayne

#charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x driver!reader #max verstappen x reader #platonic grid x reader #arthur leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #formula 1 x you #ollie bearman x reader #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #logan sargeant x reader #alex albon x reader #george russell x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #formula 1 x reader

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writerpetals · 1 year

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cookies & icing | 🔞

; optional male lead smut | ☁️

You shouldn’t be so surprised he gets a little carried away in the middle of baking Valentine’s Day treats together. While he becomes distracted icing cooled-off cookies, you are hands deep kneading the next batch of dough when his touches find your body. A smile forms over your lips, giggling as his hands roam every inch he can reach. It’s clear to you his mind wouldn’t remain focused when his body wants other things.

You call his name in a giggle, working the dough between your palms and the counter after sprinkling fresh flour over top. “Aren’t you supposed to be icing the cookies?” He had one job, you think, and of course he gets distracted. The thought has you laughing as he hums and his fingertips find their way beneath the hem of the white dress decorated in pink hearts you wore for the occasion.

“How can I focus when you look this good,” he says, a groan threatening to leave his lips as his hands travel farther up your thighs, “and you smell this good.” His mouth is in the crook of your neck by the time he finishes the sentence, causing you to giggle from the ticklish way he places kisses against your skin.

“Hey,” you say, his name falling again more breathlessly from your lips. “I need to roll this dough and cut out the next batch. And you shouldn’t give me such pretty perfumes as Valentine’s Day gifts if you don’t want me to smell nice.” The small and large heart-shaped cookie cutters lay waiting on you, but he seems not to care. He only groans against your flesh as his palms find your bare ass beneath your skirt, and more importantly, he realizes you aren’t wearing any panties. Maybe it was a surprise for him later, and maybe it’s your own fault for knowing how distracted he can become when the two of you are alone. It’s not like this would be the first time his hands on you have pulled you from certain tasks you were supposed to do together, and the longer he caresses your bare skin, the less you begin to mind.

“Mm, no panties,” he mutters before drawing his tongue up your neck to reach your ear. In an instant, goosebumps flood your skin as the heat swells inside your body. Your hands slow their work and you can hardly even remember what you were supposed to be doing.

His name falls from your lips in a whisper. Your lashes flutter as an ache settles between your thighs. “The… cookies…” You should be ashamed of the way he has left you so breathless, not even being able to focus on the simple task of rolling dough, but who could blame you? When his lips are soft against your skin. When his touches are so gentle, yet urgent.

“Still worried about the cookies, baby?” He chuckles, his voice suddenly deeper, darker. Clearly he’s on a mission to make you just as distracted and the longer he touches you, the easier it becomes to stray from your task. “Should I offer a little reminder of how good I can make you feel?”

You know the words are said playfully. After all, he’s chuckling as he pulls away, only wanting to have a little extra fun on Valentine’s Day. Yet there’s a rush surging through your body. Heat floods every inch just from his words. And it only makes it worse the moment you feel a strong hand on your back, pushing your chest to the counter covered in flour while he raises the hem of your skirt over your ass. Your flesh is on display for him, causing the heat to rise to your cheeks as the need takes over. Your body aches for him, finding desperation in the way you whine his name.

“Maybe I can help you focus a little more, baby…” With that, you feel his palm against your ass, soothing his skin over your own as he caresses in small, soft circles. All before his palm is replaced by the coolness of a wooden spatula, causing your eyes to grow wide.

“What are you…”

“Ah-ah…” he interrupts you, placing a firm grip on your waist. “Focus, baby.”

“If you think you’re really going to use a spatula…”

All he can do is chuckle while caressing your ass with its soft, wooden surface. Even if the idea is absolutely ridiculous, it sends another wave of warmth through your body. You admit to yourself it is a bit exciting, even if he is only being playful and silly to distract you in the moment.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?” he asks, and his tone darkens to hint at his own desire. His voice tells you he is being anything but playful in the moment, getting into a dominant role just to turn you on to occupy your mind further.

“Really?” But you can’t help the giggles that spill out. You feel silly and yet turned on. Ridiculous, yet full of desire. The fact that you’re bent over your own cookie dough with your ass on display for him doesn’t help in the least.

“Hm, guess I will have to spank you since you’re so mouthy today.” His grip on your hip tightens, causing your mouth to snap shut seconds before he brings the spatula in the air, only to swing it back down to your flesh. The smack echoes through the kitchen to reach the rest of the house. Your body jumps with the delicious impact, feeling the sting soaking into your skin to create an even greater ache of desperation between your legs.

His name is released in a squeak. Suddenly you’re not so giggly anymore.

“Are you going to be good?”

“Y-Yes,” you exhale, feeling his hand come down against the spot he smacked. He soothes the stinging with a gentle palm, and you can’t help but to push your ass against him. “You’re annoying sometimes, you know that?” Of course he knows all the right buttons to push, all the places you love to be teased, and tortured, and spanked, and pleasured.

“What was that?” he asks, but without warning he brings the spatula to your ass once again. This time, the sting burns more fiery than before, the smack falling a little louder. Electricity jolts through your body and ends right between your thighs. The idea of getting spanked in the middle of baking cookies doesn’t seem so ridiculous now that you only want to get off. You decide he can have his way, finding the pain blissful and his teasing drawing a certain need from your body.

Whimpering, you push your body toward him, letting him know what you need. “Please…”

He’s quick to catch on, of course. He always is. You hear the sound of him dropping the spatula on the counter behind him.

“What is it baby?” He presses his body to your own, allowing you to feel his hardened, needy cock against your ass. It’s clear the moment has gotten to him as well. Before you can even answer, he’s lowering his hand between your thighs from behind. His fingers ghost over your folds before parting your flesh to feel how wet you’ve grown from him spanking you. He groans at the feeling of your slick essence against his flesh, hot and wet and all for him. All because of him. “What do you need?”

“I need you,” you exhale the words desperately.

“Mm, weren’t we supposed to be doing something, baby?” He teases you with laughter, all the while playing with your pussy. His fingers slip up and down your slit, finding your clit for a few moments just to hear you moan, before slipping the digits to your entrance. He pumps his two fingers inside of you with ease, slowly pushing them deep until your legs start to shake. “Shouldn’t we get back to baking?”

You want to express your annoyance at his words mocking you, but all you can concentrate on are his fingers deep inside of you. He thrusts them in so you can hear just how wet you’ve become, messy sounds filling the kitchen to mix with the moans that begin to spill from your lips.

“What do you need me to do?” he asks, curling the digits towards your g-spot to leave you gasping. “Tell me.”

“I need you to fuck me,” you say without hesitation, beginning to rock yourself against his fingers, fucking them into you to receive more pleasure in return.

He wastes no more time teasing, realizing his own needs have doubled since beginning to taunt and mess with you. You hear the fumbling of buttons and a zipper before he pushes his jeans and boxer-briefs down, and a second later the tip of his cock presses against your slippery wet folds.

“Is this what you need, baby?” The words are strained against his tongue. A groan follows as he begins sinking his cock into your pussy.

You can’t answer the question. Your legs feel weak as they tremble beneath you, unsteady hands reaching for the counter to keep yourself balanced. He places a tight grip on your hips as he buries himself inside of your dripping heat, a deep groan building inside his chest before he exhales a heavy breath you weren’t aware he was holding.

Once his cock is completely inside of you, filling you up, making you dizzy, the room begins to spin around you. You feel so full of him, but you instantly need more thanks to his teasing. You push your hips back against him, and he pulls out of you nearly all the way, only to thrust himself back in with more force. His name falls from your lips in a gasp, clutching the counter tighter while your walls engulf him entirely.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, picking up a pleasurable pace of fucking you from behind. His fingers dig into the dress you wear, the skin beneath, holding you tight and keeping you in place as he fucks you. Moans and groans and curses all fill the room from the two of you. He feels so good inside, but you’re desperate to come after he worked your body up so much.

You cry out his name as he picks up pace, and it doesn’t take you much longer to sink your hand between your trembling thighs to find your clit. The added pleasure of fingers circling the swollen nub drives you wild, mixing with the way he thrusts his cock so deep into your soaked warmth. You squeeze yourself around him, making him curse beneath his breath before a groan builds deep within his chest. He’s lost in you and you’re lost in the bliss, knowing it won’t take much longer for you to reach your end as you caress your own flesh while he fills you up. “I’m getting… getting close…”

You’re so breathless as you speak, but he doesn’t slow down. He continues giving your body the attention it deserves just as you like. Heat floods every inch of you, from your quivering legs to your spinning, dizzy head, and it only takes a few more seconds before the pleasure is spilling over. You push your body into him, rolling your hips and riding the wave of pure bliss against his cock. You breathlessly call his name as your knees threaten to give out beneath you, but he keeps his steady hold on your hips. The electricity of his pleasure leaves you weak, and soon you’re coming back down to reality as he continues to fuck you.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groans, loving the feeling of sinking his cock into you after he’s made you come. “God, it feels so good,” he goes on, head rolling back, fucking you harder, quicker, completely lost to the way it feels inside of you.

It only takes a few more moments before he’s spilling inside of you, reaching his own end as his pace slows and he grows weak from the bliss. His grip loosens on your hips, his groans and heavy breaths filling the air. You take the opportunity to pay him back, beginning to move your hips though you know he will grow too sensitive in a moment. You slip down onto his length until he’s buried inside of you, then you pull away slowly, earning him hiss from the friction. You repeat the moment, pushing your ass toward him to have his cock filling you up, but a tight grip on your waist returns to keep you in place.

Carefully and slowly, he pulls away, leaving you a mess of his own cum dripping out to your folds and mixing with your juices. Your legs are still a bit shaky and he is completely out of breath, the both of you taking your time to recover before you help each other clean up and return to actually getting your baking and decorating done.

#bts smut #marvel smut #call of duty smut #twilight smut #harry potter smut #jungkook smut #loki smut #nct smut #got7 smut #monsta x smut #stray kids smut #harry styles smut #ghost smut #jimin smut #taehyung smut

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gowonders · 4 months

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spell it out. ♥ c.sb

notes: HEYYY YALL .. funny seeing you.. erm!!! i know i said i was gonna quit and that writing was inconvenient as hell?? that was a lie.. girl that shit pulled me back like a MAGNET. so ohhh nooo the bitch is back😱😱 anyways this is for @nightlyawnzz event :3 gotta at least do that, hope you all enjoy this !! it’s really short.. but i do hope you’ll enjoy regardless??

warnings: not proofread, english isn’t my first language, fem reader, food is mentioned through pretty much all of this.., soobin is said to be taller than reader, AND soobin in cringy as hell with his flirting im so so sorry, reader is kinda ditzy.. lmk if i missed any ~

“choi soobin i swear to god if you throw that at me, i am going to scream so loud.” you say quietly, backing away from the taller boy with a big spoon of flour in his grasp, a dumb grin on his face. “whaaaat?” he asks, taunting you by pretending to start an attack of flour… but he never fully commits.

“besides, this flour is too expensive, and you’re.. uhhhh…” soobin stalls, eyes darting all over you. he couldn’t really commit to flirting, either.

the thing is, he invited you over for two reasons. fo make cookies, (yay!) and to at least try and flirt with you enough to have you thinking. but so far? he was actually cringing on the inside at the thought of.. well.. being more intimate than usual.

“soobinnnn?” you call out in a singsong tone, waving your hands infront of his face. he snaps out of his trance, and he nods coyly with a smile. “u-uh, what i meant to say was, the flour is too expensive and you’re too scared to get messy.” he didn’t want to say that. he wanted to say that you’re to pretty to get all ruined by some flour, but as soon as the words leave his mouth, his cheeks glow red. what if you thought there was some.. secret meaning behind that whole thing???

but you didn’t. you just let out a quiet “oooooohhhhhhh.” and go back to preparing the dough, just mixing the dough with a spatula a little more before a small chuckle leaves you. “can i get a baking sheet, soobin?” you ask, tilting your head to look at the boy. “uhhhh, yeah!” he says, hand moving to the small of your back, guiding you to the cabinet he keeps them in— which goes unnoticed by you. of course.

“that one right there, ynie.” he says, moving back to the counter he was leaning on, almost analyzing the way you grab the tray, and roll balls of dough to put onto it. maybe it was just so he could think. about anything. because he really didn’t know what to do. you seemed so.. oblivious! not even seemed, hell, you were!

he had no idea how to approach flirting as is, so when youre literally repellent to his advances.. it definitely makes the whole thing a little harder. more like alot harder.

“hey, the cookies are done, and i made the icing.. do you wanna decorate them..?” soobin asks from the kitchen, looking almost defeated. but a small smile is brought to his face when you jump from his couch to walk to the kitchen. you were so.. cute. but he just found that so hard to say.

he hands you a few little bowls of icing and puts some sprinkles near you and sighs out. rolling his eyes. he can’t really focus , and the night definitely wasn’t going as planned. you weren’t picking up on any of his hints, and all of his hints just.. were not enough. there was really only one last way to do this. being the most obvious, bold and out there guy he can be. because his flirting game is straight ass.

soobin nods his head in your direction, smiling at the cookie you had been working on. “that’s cute.” he mutters out, spreading icing onto his own cookie. what he was about to say was going to kill him mentally.. but it was the only way he could think of to try and get you on board with the flirting thing he’s been trying all night.

“that cookies cute, just like you..” he says under his breath, putting some sprinkles on the iced cookie. “hm? what was that?” you ask, putting your treat down as you look at your friend.

oh. he really couldn’t take it anymore. he had taken multiple swipes that were somewhat hidden, and he was fed up with trying to get you to understand his sly advances. it was now or never.

“yn. i’m being so for real when i say this, you’re like the prettiest girl i know, and i know i don’t ever say it but that’s because i can’t? and every time i do try and hint how much i like you, you’re too oblivious to see anything! and it’s so hard to call you what you are, when you make me so flustered all the time, okay?! i- i think.. no! i like you!” soobin spits, rocking on his feet as he rambles.

“oh!” is all you have to say for a second. he was right. you really had no idea he had been hitting on you for a bit, you just thought he was being extra nice.

“so.. you’re saying you wanna be with me? like. couple?” you ask, taking a bite of your cookie. “yes, yn! do i need to spell it out for you?!” soobin asks in a raised tone, crossing his arms.

“yeah you do. i’m stupid.” you mumble. “not stupid enough to reject my crush though.” you say with nonchalance, holding out the cookie you just took a bite of. “you want some? it tastes good!” like nothing even happened.

“uhhhh.. w-what about something more than cookies?? like a kiss?” soobin says as a last attempt at flirting.

at least he won you over.

#gowonder: writes #soobin #soobin soft thoughts #soobin soft hours #soobin fluff #soobin imagines #soobin x reader #soobin scenarios #soobin drabble #soobin x fem reader

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tswaney17 · 2 years

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Kneading Dough

A very Happy Birthday goes out to the lovely @impossiblescissorspeachpaper! I owed you a fic, and I decided to give it to you for your birthday. I hope you enjoy this fluffy, mostly smutty trash. 😅 Much love to you, babes!! Also, this went through one round of edits, so please excuse any errors. It's also not my best work. Apologies.

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Trigger warnings: smut. Lots and lots of smut. Dom!Az and shadow-play.

Word Count: 5,162

Elain may have bitten off more than she could chew when she volunteered herself to cook for her family’s Starfall dinner party. They were having a whole host of people over before the actual time when the stars began to fall in the night sky and she needed several days to prep for the number of people expected to attend. With the event only two days away, today, she was focusing on getting all of the bread made and baked. And there was a lot of it.

Focusing on the tasks at hand, she had no idea somebody else was even there until he purposely scuffed his boot upon entering the kitchen to not startle her. “Good morning, Elain.”

Her head snapped up from where she was mixing up her last batch of dough—readying herself for kneading it all. “Azriel,” she breathed. “What are you doing here?”

His full lips quirked up at the corner. “We were supposed to be training this morning. Did you forget?”

“Oh!” Elain glanced down at her flour-covered self, hair tied up in a knot at the crown of her head with strands falling around her face and neck. She looked disarrayed. Chaotic if she were being honest. Her cheeks heated as she returned her gaze to his. “Yes, I’m afraid I did. If I’m being truthful, I think I took too much on for this party and I don’t believe I’m going to get everything done on time.” Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as a sense of guilt and shame washed over her. Elain prided herself on her hosting abilities. She’d done wonders with it so far.

But with the Wraith twins out of town, she over-extended herself and it had finally caught up with her.

Azriel cocked his head to the side, surveying the mess of the kitchen.

Further embarrassment clung to her skin like a burn from the sun at how badly she had managed to destroy the Townhouse’s kitchen today.

What she didn’t expect was for him to double-tap his chest siphon to release his Illyrian leathers for a simple black tunic and trousers as he stepped further into the room, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows as he approached. “How can I help?”

She blinked at him. “You want to help?” she asked as he made his way around the counter and sidled up next to her.

He threw on a lazy smile. “You said you took on more than could handle. I’m supposed to be here anyways to train with you. Might as well make use of the time. So, how can I help?”

It had been a few months since that disastrous Solstice night; when she had read the signs wrong and thought he had wanted her in the same way she wanted him. But here he was, offering his help to her when he didn’t need to. Giving her those smiles that made her heart flutter in her chest. And gods, it was all kinds of stupid to feel like that about him still, but if she could just keep it to herself, then she was only hurting herself—right?

Realizing he was still waiting for an answer, she lurched forward for one of the bowls of dough. “Yes, oh! Yes, that would be great, thank you. Um.” Focus, she chastised to herself, trying not to look at those gorgeous, muscular forearms. “These all still have to be kneaded and set aside to rest.” She flicked some flour on the counter in front of him and set a glass bowl near him. “Go ahead and lightly coat your hands.” He did as instructed, then watched as she poured the sticky goo onto the floured surface and sprinkled a touch more on top. “There we go. About five minutes on this batch and then stick it back in the bowl and start on that one there,” she explained, pointing to the others lined up against the back of the counter.

Elain grabbed one of the finished bowls that had been resting and dumped it out on a flat sheet, forming it into a rounded loaf shape. Wiping her hands on her apron, she took the first batch and stuck it into the oven, then turned to see how her helper was faring.

The shadowsinger was hunched over the counter, looking like he was attacking an enemy with how brutally he squeezed the dough.

“Azriel!” she squeaked, making his wings flutter in surprise. “You’re supposed to knead the bread, not interrogate it.” Elain swiftly moved to his side, placing her hands on top of his scarred ones and showing him how to properly handle it. “Gently fold it in on itself. Like this.”

She peeked up at his face, seeing an unreadable expression had taken over it, and realized that perhaps the spymaster didn’t like that explicit contact on the tops of his hands. Elain snatched hers back. “Sorry.”

A shadow darted out from him, moving to tuck a loose hair behind her arched ear. Her cheeks heated under the attention he showed her. “Um, that one looks good. Let’s move on to another.”

He remained silent as she swapped bowls around, set the first one aside, and covered it with a towel to rest. Finally, a playful smile broke on his mouth. “You have flour on your face.”

She looked at him. “I do? Where?”

His grin went positively mischievous as he swiped his thumb across the tip of her nose. “Right there.”

Elain blinked in shock. “Did you—did you just brush flour on me?”

Azriel chuckled. “Perhaps.”

Without thinking, she wiped her four fingers over his jaw. “Well look at that. So do you.”

His eyes flared in a challenge and for a split second, Elain forgot how competitive the shadowsinger was. He gripped her wrists and brushed his fingers over her brow.

But she was the middle Archeron sister. And stubbornness was born into her. She reached into the bowl of flour.

“Elain, don’t you da—”

Pinching her fingers, she flicked it right at his face. It wasn’t enough to cover, but plenty to lightly coat one side of his face. And then she ran.

There wasn’t far she could go seeing as she was on the inside of the kitchen and she’d have to go around the island to try and get out. But Azriel had anticipated her taking off and reacted quickly, catching her around the waist and hauled her into his chest. Twisting her in his arms, he rubbed his face all over hers, making her shriek in laughter.

“Azriel!” she squealed. “Stop!” Elain was pushing against his chest, leaving more white handprints on his black tunic. And just when she tried to pull away, he snatched her around the back of her neck and crashed their lips together.

Startled by the kiss, she gasped into his mouth, which he must’ve taken as her not wanting it because he immediately released her and stepped back.

His face was flushed, lips slightly swollen. Those burning hazel eyes stared down at her. “Elain,” he breathed. “Forgive me.” He took another half-step back.

But that was a step too far for her and she had had enough. Moving with fae speed she didn’t even know she possessed, Elain slid her hands into his hair and tugged his taunting lips down to hers.

The force with which she used against him had caught him off balance and he snapped his wings out to steady them, his arms snaking around her waist as he aligned their bodies together. Her soft, sensuous curves with his hard, chiseled form. She fit perfectly into the cradle of him, her hips slotted into his, the way his body molded around hers.

His mouth passionately explored hers, worshipped hers. Biting on her lower lip to make her knees tremble, then sucking it between his teeth and letting his tongue soothe the small hurt. When he licked at the seam of her lips, she opened for him, inviting him to take what he wanted.

Offer and permission.

It was what she had given him that night on Solstice and yet, here they were again.

This time was different—Elain knew it was. Because he was not just kissing her, he was devouring her.

Azriel hoisted her into his arms and moved to set her on the island where he could settle between her thighs. His mouth traveled from hers, down to her jaw and neck. He sucked lightly on the soft skin there, growling when he smelt exactly what he was doing to her.

Elain’s chest was heaving, fingernails scraping along his scalp, across his shoulders. She wanted him, needed him. “Azriel.”

His name from her lips in that breathy little voice had his eyes darting up to hers.

“Please. No more running. No more hiding. I need you. I want you.” She watched the words crack open something inside of him; a broken piece of his soul soothed by her confession.

His hazel eyes glowed and he seemed to swallow the lump in his throat. “You want me?”

She brushed a gentle hand over his cheek; felt the rough stubble there. “Yes. Very much so.” They had a lot of things to talk about, to get through, but right now, they had this. And that was the only thing Elain wanted to focus on for the moment. Just this.

“You have me, Elain.” He kissed her once more, roughly and possessively and she felt the dominance of that kiss between her legs. Pushing her chest with a flour-covered hand, he ordered, “Lie down.”

She did, taking a breath in anticipation of what he was going to do to her. Her underwear was already wet from their heated make-out, but Elain had a feeling she was about to see why Azriel was the spymaster and feared for his torturous abilities and expert control.

He wiped his hands clean on her apron before reaching underneath her to untie the strings and pulled it off. Those scarred palms slid under her dress, dragging slowly up the backside of her calves, tracing over her knees, up the inside of her thighs, raising her skirts as he went until he found what he was looking for. His thumbs worked on the junction of where her legs and hips met and Elain couldn’t stop the small whine from escaping the back of her throat.

Az smiled. “My sweet girl, have you been with a male before?”

Her hands gripped the outside of her thighs, needing something to hold onto. “I’m no maiden,” she started, face heating, “but my experience is limited.”

His eyes tracked the movement of her hands, her breaths, and the way her body squirmed against his. “And what exactly,” another stroke of those tantalizing thumbs, “would you like me to do to you?”

There were several things she wanted him to do to her, but Elain needed to pick her words carefully. Azriel was a dominant male, that was clear, and she read enough about those in the few books from Nesta’s collection that they liked their partners direct, responsive, and submissive within their comfort levels. She met his gaze unwaveringly and said, “I want you to pleasure me. And then I want you to fuck me.”

He growled that control of his snapping into something more animalistic. He shucked off her dress, slippered shoes dropping to the floor, leaving her in just her underwear and bra. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Elain,” he groaned, dropping kisses along her body, her belly, anywhere he could. His wings flared out again, the sun from the large bay windows making them glow with strands of red, blue, and gold.

They were really beautiful and Elain couldn’t stop herself from reaching out and running her index finger along the ridge, feeling the smooth membrane.

Azriel’s entire body shuddered, his hips involuntarily snapping into hers. Faster than she could anticipate, his large hand engulfed her wrist, and then the other, and pinned them both above her head. He clicked his tongue. “There will be none of that or our fun will be over a lot sooner than it should be.” His grin turned a bit devilish and her stomach went molten. “In fact…” he started, releasing her hands to skim down her body.

But her wrists were still bound and she tipped her head up to see them restrained by shadows. She could move her arms but was unable to pull her hands apart. Her core throbbed at the idea of being tied up by him. “Azriel,” she whined.

“Keep your hands there,” he murmured, dragging his mouth over her body. “I also think you’ve seen enough for a bit.”

The world went dark.

Elain cried out softly, but he was there instantly, his hands on her waist stroking over her ribcage soothingly.

“I’m right here, Elain. It’s just my shadows. You’re safe with me; just breathe.”

She listened, taking a few deep breaths. The darkness had startled her; made her flashback to that time in the Cauldron. But where that darkness was lifeless, Azriel’s darkness was soothing.

A hand touched her cheek and cradled her face as he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “Talk to me, love. Are you doing all right?”

Her heart settled into a steadier rhythm. “I’m fine,” she told him.

“Do you want me to remove the blindfold?”

He would, she realized. If she said yes, he’d remove it without a second thought and continue as he was. But she didn’t want him to. She trusted him with her life, her body. She wanted to give him the reins of her pleasure. “No. I trust you Az. I want to try with it on.”

His thumb stroked her jaw. “My good girl,” he murmured. “Tell me if you want it off.” And then he kissed her filthily, his tongue licking into her mouth and telling her exactly what he planned to do as he made his way down her body. He popped both of her breasts up out of her bra, using the material to prop them up, and sucked on her pert nipples.

Her back arched and she had to grip the other edge of the island to prevent herself from reaching for him. She was panting heavily, felt how soaked she had become and he hadn’t even touched her between her legs yet.

Once he had thoroughly ravished each breast, he moved downward. Elain couldn’t see him, but she could feel him. Feel his hot breath ghosting over her drenched underwear.

“I don’t think you’ll be needing these,” he purred. Hooking his fingers into the scrap of fabric, he tugged them down her legs and exposed her to him completely.

Elain’s breath hitched, feeling vulnerable knowing she was naked and he was completely clothed still. Her skin heated as a blush crept over her body.

Azriel must’ve sensed her slight discomfort because he said, “You have the prettiest pussy, Elain. Feel how wet you are for me.” And then he grazed a knuckle through her slit, circling her clit and adding a delicious amount of pressure that had her moaning. He nipped the inside of her thigh, smiling into the soft flesh. “I want to hear you while I claim this pussy, baby. Scream for me.”

The first stroke of his tongue was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. Elain’s body lurched, her hands releasing the edge of the counter to find purchase in his hair as she cried out.

He pulled back, grabbing her wrists and pinning them back above her head. “I said to keep these here,” he breathed into her ear. “If you move them again before I say you can, I’ll leave you desperate for me. Understood?”

If Elain could see, she knew her eyes would’ve widened in surprise, but the blindfold held firm, blocking all sight. She gulped and nodded.

“Tell me, Elain.”

“I understand,” she murmured breathily. Gods, his sex voice was so damn attractive. Elain thought he might’ve been able to get her off with that alone.

She didn’t need to see him to know he was smirking. “Good girl.”

That damn praise would be the death of her.

With the next swipe of his tongue, her hips jerked, but she maintained her grip on the edge of the island.

Azriel threw her legs over his shoulders, careful of his wings, and set a brutal pace. Licking at her entrance, he dipped his tongue inside and thrust in and out, gathering more of her slickness before gliding it up to flick over her clit.

Elain moaned at the first suck, feeling the divine pressure it brought low in her belly. Her hips rutted against his face, moving on their own accord. When he slid a long, thick finger inside of her fluttering sex, and then a second, her back arched, hands gripping the counter hard enough that she thought it might break beneath her fae strength.

With Graysen, sex had been about him. About him finding his high and his pleasure. Elain had tried to find her own, but nothing could compare to what was currently building in her gut. With her sight gone, it heightened her other senses—made her feel everything that much more.

Azriel splayed a hand across her lower belly, pinning her to the counter.

“Azriel, please,” she begged. “I’m close. Please don’t stop.” Heady moans escaped her parted lips. That beautiful, beautiful edge was so close. So damn close. And with another hard suck on her clit, she shattered, screaming out a litany of words and his name.

Elain’s back came off the counter, heels of her feet digging into his shoulder blades as he leached every ounce of pleasure from her. He licked and sucked and took everything she gave him and more. She felt herself pulse around his fingers when he gently removed them, maneuvering up her body to kiss her lips. Tasting herself on his tongue was singlehandedly the most erotic thing she’d ever experienced.

The shadowed blindfold disappeared and she had to blink at the flood of light. But there he was, leaning above her, a smug smile bursting with male ego. He held up two fingers to her mouth. “Clean these off for me?” he asked, voice hoarse with desire.

She eyed the two digits, glistening with her release, and opened her mouth.

He thrust into her mouth slowly, letting her get acclimated to him invading her oral cavity. “Suck, sweet girl.”

So, she did, bobbing her head over his fingers, her tongue swirling around each one, between them. She worked his fingers, ensuring every drop of her orgasm was wiped away by the stroke of her tongue.

Azriel watched her closely, his pupils blown wide with lust. When he felt like his hand was clean enough, he pulled it from her mouth with an audible pop, dropping a kiss on her plump lips. He tugged his tunic over his head, freeing all that beautiful, tanned, tattooed skin for her to see.

She whined. “Azriel, please. I want to touch you.” Elain wanted to run her fingers over the ridges of those muscles, the strength of his shoulders and his arms. She wanted to feel him beneath her hands. Wanted to scratch and leave her mark on him. Her shoulders and arms burned from how long she had been holding her position.

He smiled down at her. “Are your arms tired, baby?”

Elain nodded, bottom lip jutting out in a pout.

The shadowsinger laughed. “Well, if that isn’t adorable,” he cooed, but he released the shadows binding her wrists. “You’re free to touch me now.”

She wasted no time lurching up off the counter, grabbing him by the shoulders and hauling him to her. Their lips crashed together, tongues tangling.

Azriel wrestled with hers, controlling it in a way that had her moaning lowly in her throat. Those large, scarred hands slid to her back, deftly unhooking her bra and pulling the garment away. It landed somewhere in the kitchen with the rest of her clothes. With her breasts finally freed, he cupped them freely, molding them, squeezing them until she whimpered.

Dragging the pads of her fingers down his bare chest, she took satisfaction in feeling his body shudder under her touch. “You’re still wearing far too many clothes to fuck me properly,” Elain dared to say,” against his mouth.

Those taunting shadows went wild out of him, brushing over her skin, kissing at her peaked nipples, dancing along her soaked slit. “Then why don’t you do something about it,” he murmured into the junction of her neck and shoulder and bit down, hard enough that she knew she’d have a mark for days.

It only made her wetter, but somehow, someway, she managed to find the coherent thoughts to fumble with the laces of his trousers. Using her feet, she pushed the pants down his legs until his length sprang free.

His very considerable length.

Mother’s tits.

Azriel burst out laughing. “Fuck, you’ve been spending too much time with Cassian.”

Elain snapped her gaze up to him, face burning. “Did I say that out loud?”

He was grinning. “Yes, you did. And thank you.”

Smug Illyrian.

His face sobered a bit. “Elain, are you on a tonic?”

She nodded. “Yes, I am. Have been for a while.”

“Thank, fuck.” He grabbed her by the hips and tugged her off the counter, setting her back on her feet. Azriel twisted her and bent her back over, running a hand over the curve of her ass cheek. “Such a pretty view,” he purred, leaning over her to lick the shell of her ear.

“Az,” she whined, rubbing her backside into him. “I thought you said I could touch you.”

He sent a swift smack to her rear end, making her yelp in surprise. “Patience gets rewarded, love. This way first, then you can take me however you want.”

Elain looked over her shoulder at him, flashing those doe eyes. “Promise.”

His lips quirked up at the corner. “Promise.”

She repositioned herself, rising on her tiptoes to accommodate for his height. Elain rested her hips on the edge of the counter and waited.

“So pretty,” he teased, running his fingers over her drenched slit, coating his fingers in her slickness.

Elain waited and waited for him as he prepped himself for her until she felt his cock running between her legs. She moaned, head dipping down and loose hairs cascading around her. The blunt head nudged at her entrance until he pushed into her in one mighty thrust.

“Fuck!” she cried out, her hands clutching at the counter as the breath left her lungs.

He stilled as he bottomed out. “You all right?”

She took a few gasping breaths. The pressure in her belly was going to break and remake her. It lit a fire in her veins and made her body erupt in pleasure. The stretch to accommodate him bordered on painful, but was cruelly exquisite too. “Fine. Now fuck me like you mean it.”

Azriel didn’t need to be told twice. Growling, he pulled her hair from its knot and twisted it around his fist. Then he began to thrust into her in slow, steady movements. Pulling nearly all the way out and pushing back in until his hips pressed into hers. The tug in her belly was divine, the way his cock dragged inside of her.

Elain moaned at the sensual feeling of him, desperately wanting to meet him thrust for thrust, but with her already on her tiptoes, she was at his mercy.

He tugged her hair, arching her neck back, and brought his mouth to the shell of her pointed ear. “Fuck, Elain. You feel so good. So, fucking tight and warm it should be against the law.” He licked at the delicate skin there, making her shudder with pleasure. “I could live in your pussy,” he added with a snap of his hips.

She groaned as he hit that spot deep inside her—something that had never been touched before—and had stars bursting behind her closed eyelids. “Oh, gods, Az. There, harder. Please!”

A nip to the side of her face. “Only because you beg so prettily.” He released her hair, scarred hands sliding over the curve of her hips, down her full thighs, and hooked her by the knees. Bending her legs at her knees, he used them as leverage to pound into her harder.

Elain felt every stroke, everything he gave her. She was a victim of his pleasure, at his utter mercy. That edge of bliss came closer and closer with every roll of his hips, every pass of his cock over that spot. Her pants became whines, whines turning into heavenly moans.

Azriel peppered kisses along her sweat-soaked spine, licking and sucking bruising marks into her skin. “You close, love?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Don’t stop, Az.”

He bit her shoulder. “Never.”

Her hips were digging into the hard counter, but she didn’t care. Not as her toes curled and that wave began to crest. “Azriel! Oh, gods! Don’t stop! I—I’m coming!” Elain’s body went tight as she peaked, and then loose for her drop when her orgasm hit. It was different than when he used his fingers and his mouth. She screamed, body shaking as he rode out her high.

The intensity had her going limp on the countertop. Azriel was leaning over her, pressing into her to kiss whatever skin he could find. She felt his body shuddering, his cock pulsing and twitching inside of her, and realized he hadn’t finished with her. Elain managed to look over her shoulder at him. The fire, the lust she found burning in his darkened eyes had the heat returning between her legs. “You didn’t finish.”

“I told you that you got to pick the next position. One more round before I get my reward, love.” His voice had gone husky like he was physically trying to control his body’s need to find his release.

Elain’s mouth quirked up and she squeezed him.

The shadowsinger growled, nipping her shoulder. “Naughty girl, love.”

She laughed breathily, mind going through the possibilities of how he could take her. She wanted to face him, wanted to be able to touch him for this round. He sucked on her neck, making it difficult for her to think straight, but finally, she managed to spit out, “Against the wall.”

“Hmm?” he murmured onto her skin.

Elain’s head tipped to the side allowing him more access to her throat. “I want you to fuck me against the wall.”

His teeth sunk into the junction of where her neck met her shoulder and sucked hard, making her moan loudly. Slipping out of her, Azriel gently rolled her onto her back and plunged himself back inside.

Her body arched as a moan ripped out of her. “You’re so big. Fuck I’ve never felt so full.”

Azriel wrapped his arms around her, hauling her to his chest as he lifted her off the counter with a snarl. Her legs automatically wrapped around his waist. “My good girl.” He walked over to the other side of the kitchen until her back hit the wall, knocking the air from her lungs. “Touch me, Elain.”

She let herself loose on him; hands running through his hair, fingers tugging on his dark mop of silky strands before she slid one palm down the back of his neck, between his wings, and down his spine. Her nails dug into his skin leaving searing scratches along his back that had him snapping his hips into hers.

The only sound in the kitchen was their heavy breathing and wet skin slapping skin. He pinned her with his pelvis, holding her with one arm under her thigh and gripping at her ass, the other traveling between her legs to swirl around clit. “Come on, Elain. I’m not going to last much longer here,” he groaned, face buried into her neck.

Her legs tightened around his hips as pleasure sparked through her body. She used her leverage on his shoulders and waist to match his thrusts, bouncing on his cock. Her third orgasm was on the brink of taking over her—felt herself fluttering around him.

He must’ve felt it too because he pulled away from her neck and said, “Elain, look at me.” Doe eyes peeked open. “Come.”

The command in his voice had her falling over that edge for a third and final time. She hugged him close, clinging to him as she called out his name.

Azriel’s thrusts became sloppy as his orgasm closed in. “Where?” he grunted.

Elain licked up the column of his strong throat. “Inside me. I want you to come inside me. Mark me as yours, Azriel. Claim me with your seed.” She ran a hand down his chest, across his waist to grab at his toned ass. “I am yours. Tell the world.”

His wings snapped out at her words, an Illyrian sign of possession and claiming. “You’re mine,” he growled. After a couple more thrusts, Azriel came with a roar, her body milking him through his release.

She held him close, fingers stroking the back of his head. Elain had no idea how he was able to remain standing, but then again, she wasn’t a centuries-old warrior.

When they finally caught their breath, Azriel pulled back to search her face, looking for what she assumed was regret for what had just happened.

But he wouldn’t find any of that on her. “I told you I wanted you, Az. I meant it then I mean it now.” She cupped his cheeks in her palms. “I love you.”

An emotion she couldn’t place washed over his face and he crashed their lips together, a needy kiss full of desperation, promise, and love. It was a clash of teeth and tongues. “I love you, too,” he whispered onto her mouth—breathed into her soul. Az pulled back slightly when he heard her sniffle. Tears filled her eyes but he was quick to wipe them away. “I know we have a lot to talk about, and we will, but let’s just enjoy this today. I want to experience this with you first and deal with all of the rest of it tomorrow. Can we do that, please?”

Elain let out an airy chuckle. “Join me in the bath and you’ve got yourself a deal.” They were both still covered in flour, just now combined with sweat and sex.

The shadowsinger grinned, sealing it with a kiss on her plump lips, and carried her up the stairs for a long, relaxing bath where Elain showed him just how much she loved him twice in the tub, and many more times throughout the night all over the Townhouse. Between finishing up making all bread for Starfall, of course.

~~~~~

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spookyspaghettisundae · 4 months

Text

Ripples

The ground shook. Water rippled.

Aiden, a twelve-year-old kid, froze. Stopped juggling. He gazed into a brackish puddle. Tremors continued to cause ripples. Like a giant’s footsteps, making the ground quake, they grew stronger.

Closer.

The boy rose from where he was kneeling, peeling his gaze off the puddle and its ripples. He stared into a horizon of blue over yellow, where wind fans lazily churned in the distance, and the carcasses of rusty old oil rigs slept.

The tremors neared. More ripples. And with them, a moving silhouette drew closer.

Duck-billed, giant, and saurian. The kid recognized its frame. Though he couldn’t remember the name of this genus, he recognized it from artistic renditions in books on dinosaurs: a Hadrosaurus. This living, breathing specimen of the creature bobbed and weaved between green trees on the ranch.

Closer. Stronger tremors matched the motions of its nearing, matching the rhythm of powerful legs, scaled trunks stomping down onto dry earth. Its gait was lumbering, erratic. Wounded.

Dark fluid dripped from its neck.

Blood dripped from its neck.

The boy fled.

He ran all the way back to the farmhouse. His small feet and bright red shoes thumped up wooden steps onto the porch, and carried him inside, though his weight was nowhere near enough to cause those ground-shaking tremors, nor those ripples in the puddle in the field outside.

The kid’s mother and brother were in the kitchen. Aiden’s mom, busy kneading dough in a chromed bowl on the counter, hummed while Aiden’s little brother, Baz, sat at the table, tapping thumbs away at his portable video game, complete with the bleeps and bloops the small device was continuously producing.

Oblivious.

Both of them were oblivious to the giant lizard approaching their house.

They both looked up when Aiden stormed into the kitchen, gasping for air. His breathless cries for attention made no sense to them.

“Dinosaur! There’s a dinosaur coming here!”

All the while, Aiden felt those tremors—in his blood, in his bones, and in his skull, ever thumping. Closer, ever closer.

“Honey, the dinos have gone extinct, a very, very long time ago,” his mother said with a soft laugh.

Baz’s eyes returned focus to the screen of his game and he continued tapping buttons, then whined. A little musical cue punctuated his complaint when he said, “Aw man, you made me die!”

Aiden shook his head and flailed his arms for attention. To no effect. “That earthquake, don’t you feel it? That’s a dino, it’s coming closer!”

His mother stared into the bowl where she kneaded the dough, wrists sprinkled in flour. She laughed again.

“Aiden, honey, please. That’s probably just another one of those silly companies prospecting for oil out here, drilling. You know?”

Ripples.

Aiden saw them in his mind’s eye. Ripples on the water, brought there by the tremors. By the quaking footsteps. Now… just outside.

“No, it’s not poss-specters, it’s a dinosaur, Mom!” he whined in response.

He turned to see how close the Hadrosaurus had gotten.

Dust rained from the ceiling now. He could feel the tremors in his teeth. A giant silhouette passed by outside the fly door.

Aiden’s mouth agape, he stood there, dumbfounded. Stared.

“That does feel like it’s getting closer, though, dagnabbit,” his mother said with a back turned to the horrific spectacle, with a hint of alarm now entering her tone. “What on Earth are they thinking?”

The dinosaur cast a hulking shadow through the windows of the living room it passed by next. Aiden’s blood curdled. With bated breath, he watched the Hadrosaurus circling around the building.

Thundering footsteps. Glass and ceramics rattled in the kitchen cupboards. Glass was just another liquid, and the ripples now sliced through everything. Rattling, clattering, rumbling, thundering.

His mother muttered, mouth ending as agape as Aiden’s. “What the—”

Quaking. Shaking. Rattling glass.

The portable video game in Baz’s hands emitted another little death tune for another virtual life lost. The nine-year-old looked up at his glass of milk on the table, and the ripples inside of it, now unsteadily shaking—the glass of milk was almost hopping atop the covered table’s surface.

Then the world exploded. Wood cracked, splintered. Thousands of shards of glass flew everywhere, blanketing the area like a rain of sharp shrapnel, and a skeletal architecture groaned under the strain of raw, crushing force. The backside of the farmhouse yawned wide open where a giant had torn through its side, unleashing an explosion of chaos and destruction.

Of screaming. A scream from Aiden’s mother, cut off as mountains of debris crashed down and buried her. An ongoing, blood-curdling scream from Baz, slicing high-pitched through the bedlam of collapsing house. And screams of terror, which Aiden eventually understood were coming from his own throat.

A strange and alien roar of the Hadrosaurus, almost more like an animal whine, drowned out the humans with its deafening cry of anguish.

Powerful legs, thick as tree branches, stomped around, shattering floors and turning the venerable home into a ruin.

Worlds collided as the dinosaur crashed sideways through the building. A piece of second-story floor jutted down like a jagged blade of wood, and nearly decapitated Aiden, cut short by the massive boards getting lodged on other debris. The boy’s voice died with his screams, choked out by gasps, and a growing, silent panic.

Blood splattered everywhere. Whose blood? The dinosaur’s blood? His own? His—

An even greater giant emerged from this chaos, towering over the house, and the Hadrosaurus.

A Tyrannosaurus Rex, as it lived and breathed. A living tower of death. A maw of death. A maw that could swallow Aiden whole, widening to show rows of teeth like knives, stained with blood.

Unlike the wounded Hadrosaurus, the T-Rex did not roar. It…

It sang. An alien, reptilian song, forgotten across the span of billions of years on this Earth. Now brought here through a fissure in time.

The Hadrosaurus whipped around and demolished another wall with its tail—almost decapitating the invisible Aiden in the process. Failing architecture crumbled and collapsed, braking the tail’s momentum, and stopping it from stopping the T-Rex that loomed over them.

The T-Rex lunged and its giant head rammed through twisting wood and metal, tearing through the structure like it was a toy house. Walls and floors groaned again as they bent and wobbled and deformed in every wrong direction, and the Hadrosaurus stumbled through the building’s midst, crashing and staggering out the front door’s side.

The T-Rex’s giant, clawed foot smashed down onto debris—where the boys’ mother was buried?

Baz screamed.

The T-Rex’s reptilian eye widened, and its maw gaped again.

Another lunge from the monolithic beast.

And Baz was gone. Aiden would remember the tiny limb and little red shoe sticking out from between the teeth like a gruesome toothpick. The crunch of breaking bones, a scream first muffled, then falling silent with abruptness.

And the beast chewed twice, and swallowed, and Baz was gone.

Paralyzed, Aiden stayed frozen like a statue, blending into the debris around him like a chameleon.

In the distance, the Hadrosaurus whined again, gaining distance.

Water in the brackish puddle outside continued to ripple with each thundering footstep. Tremors repeated as the prey Hadrosaurus fled, and the predator T-Rex gave chase.

And in the ruins of that farmhouse, a shellshocked Aiden remained. Nestled between the rubble and wreckage. Too terrified to move. Too horrified to grasp how he had lost his mother and brother, too paralyzed to even gasp for the air his lungs were screaming for, holding his breath as if it would help prevent him from being devoured.

Ripples continued. Ripples in the water. The T-Rex stomped away, chasing the Hadrosaurus with single-minded determination. With bloodlust.

Ripples reached through time. A single point, from which the waves moved outwards in every direction, past and future both. Pasts preserved—futures destroyed. Melting back together into the same body of water between every ripple.

Elsewhere, far out in the fields, an Anomaly glittered and gleamed in broad daylight. A hovering, orb-like light scintillated there—a connection between the eras, from which the dinosaurs had arrived.

The T-Rex chased the Hadrosaurus into the old oil fields of Midland.

Aiden fled in the opposite direction. Covered in dust, dirt, and blood—whose blood? His own?

The boy fled from his ruined home.

Hope was the last thing on his mind. Ripples consumed all.

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starres-stuff · 7 months

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FFXIV Writes 2023 | Day 26 | Last

How does love last? The words on Dimitri's lips as he visits his Sister, Vi, for advice.

“Are you certain about this, the thought of what I am normally makes you squeamish.” The sun had barely set over the Lavender beds when Dimitri arrived on the doorstep of Viviane’s bakery. She was still working, which meant she was worried about something or someone for that was what she did when she was worried she baked all sorts of delightful treats that appealed to the mind, heart, body, and soul at least that was what Dimitri had found.

“Yes, I want to give him something. The mask he made for me Vi I can’t stop touching it. There is such a sense of him in it, his aether, his love and I want to give him something in return, something that will last. I am a witch hunter.” his voice cracked, it was a term he had heard used in a Shroud numerous times now about those who interrupted sacred rituals and harassed the Shroud witches. It had made him so disgusted with himself, that he had begun to question all those years at the Studium invested in the education it took to be an Occult Investigator. He was no better than the Inquisitors of Ishagard; he knew that now.

“What do you have in mind?” Up she looked from her mixing bowl, her small hands turning and folding a heavy dough while they talked. It looked like the dough she used to make pastries but Dimitri wasn’t certain for she had been folding this dough since he walked in the door. “I also have reservations about doing the work myself. Laurent is very keen on Aether and he knows mine. I could teach you how to do a charm of protection if you would like but it will need to be your focus and your magic that creates it.” a rather serious look appeared on her face.

“Do you ever worry that things won’t last?” Dimitri suddenly blurted out “That one morning you’ll wake up and it will just be over.” The Sharlayan had never been in love before, though he had loved others in different ways. This was the first time in his life that love had grown this deep for him and there were times he found himself in a pool of worry.

“Ah, little brother you cannot think of those things.” From a bag, Vi took a handful of flour and spread it over one of her wooden boards then she tipped her bowl over and started to knead the dough with her knuckles spreading it out into a thinner sheet. “This is where life and love get complicated. It is normal to feel anxious, to worry that you will lose the one or ones you love but getting caught in that can make it happen too. You can push them away without realizing you did because you are so caught up in making certain things last.”

Dimitri was silent for a moment, his eyes trained on the way she worked with the dough. Croissants were his bet now just from how she was working down the dough to a flat sheet, he wished he had her talents. They were better than his, his were meant to harm others and he never realized it just watching her reminded him that Shroud Witches were normal people with dreams and hopes just like everyone else. His hatred and distrust towards them were starting to make very little sense now though the pit of his stomach ached from the realization.

“I can’t help it” He protested, and eventually he slid down the wall he had been standing against since he arrived stretching his legs out before him once his rear hit the ground and using his long coat as a means to keep the dust off of his pants. “I don’t know what to do Vi, I love him in a way I didn’t feel possible but yet every time I watch him walk into those woods for his long duty I feel my knees go weak and the fear hit that his job is so dangerous he may never come back to me.”

“You trust and you hope,” Vi said sternly as she gathered the dough back into a ball, then grabbed for her wooden rolling pin, more flour would be sprinkled and spread along the length of the object before she settled back into preparing the dough before her.

“I know the fear Dimitri. Clement flies an Airship to Corethas for business and Kovalt often has overnight duties. Have I paced when one isn’t back at their normal time? Or if the other comes home with an injury? Of course, I have. That is part of love at least it is when you have a heart. You worry about the person, you care about how they are, and you look forward to seeing them come home again. There are dangers everywhere, all around us. Enjoy what you have in the here and now; put your faith in something greater than yourself. My belief in Nymeia helps the skeins of fate and the guidance of the spinning wheel. Live life with Laurent to the fullest little Brother. Leave the what-ifs where they belong and that’s out of your head.

Humming, Vi set aside her rolling pin, and she started folding the dough like it was a cloth. Her hands were quick and light with this part of the work. Her face took on this look of serenity that Dimitri often wondered how anyone could reach it, especially his Sister after the traumas she had faced in her life. “I want to give him something that when he looks at it he sees me smiling at him, something that will rest next to his heart on a cord so he never feels alone and something that will speak of my love for him no matter what happens. Can we do that with magic Vi? Can we put my feelings into something like I’m bottling wine so he always knows I’m there for him?”

Thoughtfully she looked towards him, her head even tilting just so leaving her hands to continue to work without her attention on them. It was quite the sight as if she was detached from herself in these moments somehow. One half of her body did one thing while the other worked on something else. “Yes, we can do it. You can express emotion with Aether, though you would likely be more interested in what my assistant Rune can do. He is from Thavnair. I have recently had him brought here for reasons that I will keep to myself. He is versed in what they call Dynamis, it is magic but based on personal emotion. I can show you how to work with Aether so that Laurent feels you in your work, he is sensitive, and it makes it easier, but I would suggest some lessons with Rune in time to learn other ways to express things.”

“Yes, Dynamis, there was a lot of conversation about it before I left Sharlyan. I found it rather fascinating that it was used to circumvent the end of the world.” Dimitri was stalling now, he was doing anything to avoid the emotions that bit at his tongue, and his thoughts and brought tears to his eyes. The change of subject to an emotionless research topic brought Vi’s heavy gaze back to him, and she lifted an eyebrow quizzically before she finally spoke.

“You are no better at hiding things than I am, and you do not have to. We are the only ones here little Brother and it is your first time in love if I have read you right. It’s new, It’s exciting and it is very frightening. I cannot help you if I do not know what is dwelling in that precious noggin of yours.” It was all so matter-a-factual cold on the outside yet there was also a detectable warmth in her voice somewhere.

“Why me Vi? What could he possibly like about me? He is this stunningly beautiful man who could have anyone in the Shroud he wanted!” He shot his Sister a knowing look then said “Case in point? He is a man of nature, of mystery, his devotion to the Shroud is breathtaking. The things he knows, the things he has shown me. He is six years older than me! What do I have to offer him? We are different from each other. What if my eccentric nature keeps us from working out? We have very little in common.”

Vi couldn’t help but laugh then, watching Dimitri and his little tantrum on her brand-new floor as it played out. “You are overthinking it again. Of course, you do. You love each other. People do not have to be perfect matches, they do not have to have the same hobbies or enjoy the same things. It is called compromise. You learn to show each other things you like as individuals and invite him to share them with you. You will find commonalities Dimitri but instead of coming prepackaged like three-day-old croissants, you will make them together fresh and new.”

It was then he stopped his ranting, the what-ifs stopped yelling through the corridors of his mind and he watched Vi cut triangles out of her dough then begin to fold each one neatly placing them on a tray to be placed in the oven. Ha, he was right it was going to be croissants after all. “The best thing you can do Dimitri is keep an open mind, talk about things, ask about likes and dislikes. Build your house together as Aunt Doshaine used to say, and she said it often. You do not have to be twins to be in love.” To the oven she moved and into the heat the croissants went.

“Once I am done with these we can go to Cenodocia’s House. I bake a fresh batch for them every night before I close up. It is my excuse to stop by for a visit. It helps me get past feeling like a burden or that I am there too much. Keeps the thoughts of being a third wheel out of my head. All of those things are important! It has become a ritual to me and it works. These are the things you learn to do when you are in love. We all have our flaws, and those are some of mine.”

#ffxivwrite2023 #my ocs #my writing #ffxiv rp #Jienuex Family stories #vi and dimitri stories

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marsville · 2 years

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Have I lost the plot? x

#have I lost the plot part 2 #waymond wang #wholesome megababe #he said focus on the dough and sprinkles #EEAAO #everything everywhere all at once #eeaao spoilers #therapy #googly eyes until the end of times motherfucker #EEAAO memes #m: EEAAO memes

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coffee-with-bucky · 3 years

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Tenderhearted Traditions

Summary: You and Shangchi spend quality time together while he teaches you how to make dumplings (水饺 = shuí jiǎo)

Pairing: Shang-chi x reader

Words: 1.2K

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Minor spoilers for Shang-chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings

A/N: This idea was suggested by the lovely @sweetheart-syndrome and this is greatly inspired by my own experience with making dumplings with my mom. I want to note that just because my family and I are Chinese and Shangchi and his family are Chinese does not mean that we do the same traditions, obviously. However, I like to believe that some traditions, especially with making food do crossover with some families. That being said, I guess in a meta way, I’m showing a splice of my own life through Shangchi’s perspective. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Slipping your shoes off and closing the front door, your ears pick up the soft shuffling in your boyfriend’s small apartment kitchen.

“Babe?” You call out.

“In here!”

Entering the cramped kitchen, your lips immediately upturn into a smile.

Brows furrowed and tongue slightly caught in between teeth, Shangchi focuses on the dumpling in his flour-covered hands. Your gaze trails to his hands as you watch him gently fold and pitch the edge of the dough wrapper, creating pleats until the entire dumpling is sealed. Placing the dumpling on a plate sprinkled with flour that prevents the dough from sticking, he wipes his forehead with his forearm.

“Hey,” He grins, “I thought you weren’t off work for another hour.”

“Slow today. They let me off early,” You smirk and step closer to the counter, planting a kiss on the apple of his cheek, “Whatcha doin’?”

“I was going to surprise you with some dumplings, shuí jiǎo, for dinner.” Shangchi chuckles, kissing your temple.

You eyed his prep layout, noticing the bowl with filling, a small bowl of water, and a plastic package with a stack of dough wrapper premeasured and shaped. Reaching for a wrapper, he spoons a ball of filling and nestles it into the center of the wrapper.

“Obviously, the dough can be made from scratch,” Sticking his finger into the bowl of water, he uses the water as an adhesive to stick the edges together, “But… It’s a lot of work to make the dough in my opinion. So, I bought premade wrappers to cut some corners. Don’t tell Katy’s mom and grandma because they’ll have my head.” He laughs.

With methodical hands and fingers, he simultaneously creates the pleats while closing the edges of the wrapper.

“Can I try making some?” You ask.

Shangchi’s eyes light up. “Sure thing! I’ll teach you.”

After washing your hands, Shangchi goes through the instructions with you, demonstrating each step until you get the hang of it. You put all your focus into the pleats of the dough and furrow your brows during the process. Shangchi glimpses over and watches you make dumplings, a smile breaking out onto his face and an overwhelming swell of pride surging through him as he notes your concentration.

You continue to create a handful of dumplings, placing them beside the ones Shangchi made.

“Mine are sort of scuffed.” You winced with a chuckle.

He shakes his head with a soft laugh, kissing the crown of your head. “I’ll tell you what my mom told me. It doesn’t matter what the shuí jiǎo look like. What’s more important is the time spent with each other while making them. And most importantly, eating them.”

As you and your boyfriend continue to make more dumplings, you tell him about your day and how your work was doing. Shangchi tells you his grocery shopping errands in Chinatown, recounting the market he went to pick up the ingredients for the dumplings.

Finishing the last few dumplings, you and Shangchi wash your hands at the kitchen sink together as he began to reminisce and explain why making dumplings held a special place in his heart.

“My mom taught us how to make shuí jiǎo when we were little just like how our grandmother taught her. We would sit in the kitchen and our parents would tell my sister and I stories from their childhood while we made them.” You gazed at Shangchi, the subtle yet sweet smile that laced upon his face never faltering. “Making the food she taught me reminds me to never forget how much she loved us and to keep upholding her legacy through this pastime. If I forget this tradition, I might forget the memories I have of her.”

You place a sudsy hand over his, stopping him from scrubbing his hands. “She sounds like a very lovely and kind woman. I can see how much love she gave to your family, and I know she would be proud of who you became to be.”

Shangchi grins, slipping his soapy fingers to interlace with yours. “She would have loved you if she had met you. Maybe ask you very bluntly if we’re getting married and if we’re giving her grandkids, but she would have adored you with open arms.”

You let out a gentle laugh, “And I would have loved her with open arms too.”

Shangchi tells you to boil the dumplings for about five minutes in hot water and as you watch the pot, he meanwhile heats up a container of soup given by Katy’s grandmother in the microwave.

As you stand by the stove and stir the pot, arms gently snake around your waist and a chin rests upon your shoulder. You smile and giggle softly as he plants kisses in the crook of your neck, trailing up until his lips peck against your jaw and cheek.

“You’re going to let the wrappers break if you overcook them, you know.” He smiles against your cheek.

“Well, while I’m not complaining, I’m a bit distracted at the moment. So, if they break, it’s on you.” You smirk.

Turning your head, your nose gently brushes against his as he presses his lips to yours. The kiss is soft and tender, a kiss that makes warmth bloom across your cheeks and blossom in your chest where your heart lies. You can never get tired of kissing this man, especially when he deepens the kiss with a faint sigh, pressing his lips firmer yet delicately against yours. You feel his smile against your mouth, making you pull away for a moment as a laugh escapes your lips.

Suddenly a hiss comes from the pot, making you two abruptly pull away with wide eyes. The boiling water began to spill over the edge of the pot, sizzling when meeting the raw heat of the stove element.

Swiftly turning off the stove, you quickly move the pot onto another stove element, letting it simmer down. With hands on your hips, you turn around, glaring at Shangchi who has a sheepish smile on his face.

“So… I might have distracted you for a bit too long…” He cringes, coyly rubbing the back of his neck.

You don’t hold the glare too long as you burst out laughing with a shake of your head.

After serving the dumplings and soup into bowls, you take your first bite and your tastebuds are immediately met with flavoursome notes. The warmth of the dumplings and soup gave you an instant feeling of comfort, a blanket of coziness.

“This is so delicious and comforting.” You sigh, hopping onto the edge of the kitchen counter.

There is a twinkle in his brown eyes you can’t quite discern, but his soft gaze on you makes your heart flutter. “Well, I’m glad you like it.” Shangchi grins, sipping down the last remnants of his soup.

As you finish your last bite and the rest of the soup, Shangchi strolls over to you, standing in between your legs and wrapping his arms around your middle.

You sling your arms around his shoulders before kissing the corner of his mouth and chin.

“Thank you for teaching me how to make shuí jiǎo and sharing your experience with me.” You admire, playing with the ends of his hair at the nape of his neck. “I love you.”

“And thank you for letting me teach you and for letting me make them with you, babe.” He smiles, pecking your nose and pulling you into a hug. “Love you too.” He muffles into your shoulder.

The dumplings and soup warmed you from the inside out, and Shangchi warmed you from the outside in.

#shang chi x reader #shang-chi x reader #shang-chi #shang-chi and the legend of the ten rings #shang chi x y/n #shang chi x you #shang-chi imagine #shang-chi fanfiction #shang chi fanfiction #xu shang chi #simu liu #marvel #marvel fanfiction

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arikiu · 2 years

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baking cookies w jay!

boyfriend!jay x gn!reader

GENRE fluff WARNINGS none! NOTE super short, sorry for the late update!!

you woke up in your bed to find jay not in it with you. the warm spot next to you had now turned cold. you fluttered your eyes open and looked around the room. "jay?" you called out but he wasn't there. then you found your answer after hearing the sizzling and smell of food from downstairs and connected the dots.

you rubbed your eyes, getting up and wrapping yourself in the fluffy throw blanket you found on your bed. you walked downstairs to see your wonderful boyfriend making kimchi pancakes and rice with seaweed.

"good morning gorgeous," he said while looking up from the plate.

"good morning, now what is this?" you asked while walking up to him and giving him a back hug. he smiled, "our breakfast!"

you looked at the meal in front of you, it was beautiful. "thank you dear," you said while kissing his cheek.

"eat up, we have plans today!" he said all excited as he sat down next to you at the counter as you both began eating.

☆☆

after finishing your meals and running your errands you were home and ready to make cookies. "(y/n)ie are you ready?" you heard jay say after putting on his apron. you hummed in response, putting your own apron on.

jay had already laid out all of the ingredients you needed. as much as you both wanted to make the cookie dough from scratch, you both knew you two couldn't do that. you and jay were not the baking type people but making Christmas cookies together would be so cute.

on the table, you saw multiple colors of icing, sprinkles, and cookie dough. "i bet my cookies are gonna be way better than yours," you giggled. you grabbed some of the cookie dough forming a circle and used a cookie cutter to make shapes out of the dough.

you and jay made snowmen, snowflakes, Santas, and reindeer. after putting the cookies in the oven you both drank hot cocoa and watched a movie while they were baking.

you heard a ding which indicated that the cookies were done. you took the cookies out and called jay over. "jay the cookies are done!" he came running to the kitchen, excited to decorate the cookies.

you grabbed snowman first, decorating it with a funny face. jay focused on you and watched you as you stuck your tongue out to focus better while icing the cookie so you won't mess it up.

'she's so cute,' he thinks in his head. he pats your head and gives you a forehead kiss. making you pout as it made you mess up the snowman's face. "jayy! i messed up the snowman!" you whined.

"it's okay darling, you can just make another one."

#enhypennetwork #klibrary #12 days of enhypen #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen jay fic #enhypen jay fluff #enhypen fluff #enhypen drabbles

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forever-rogue · 3 years

Text

Sprinkle of Cinnamon

Summary | Another dull day at your coffee shop turns much better when an unexpected visitor becomes your favorite regular.

Pairing | Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 4k

Warnings | none

Masterlists | Bucky, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The sound of muffled voices - disjointed laughter, a few groans. The ticking of the aging clock on the wall above the front counter. Tick tock tick tock. The sound of the oven timer in the back of the shop. The scrape of pastry knives on cutting boards. The sip of coffee through a to-go cup lid.

It had all become such a stable part of your life that you could have cried from boredom. Before your regularly scheduled 3:02pm sigh, the door opened, the bell above it twinkling merrily. Your eyes peeled up from your book in surprise at the sudden break in monotony. Casting a furtive glance at the door and stashing your book away, you tried to see who the surprise intruder was.

Your breath immediately hitched in your throat as you peeked through the pastry case and noticed that it was a man - a very handsome one at that. He was tall and lithe, dressed in dark jeans, topped off with a black shirt and leather jacket. He whipped off his sunglasses and tucked them into his pocket as he looked around the small coffee shop. His eyes were a striking cerulean, contrasting nicely to his dark hair. Classically handsome and modernly well-dressed.

Shit, shit, shit. Were you really just staring at him pathetically, hiding behind pastries instead of greeting him and welcoming him into your humble little shop?

“H-hi,” your voice. It actually cracked on a one-syllable little word. You wished the ground would swallow you up whole then and there. Rolling your eyes, you cleared your throat and tried again, “hi.”

“Hello,” he shot you a quick glance, a smile gracing his features as he held up a hand and wiggled his fingers. Was everything he did, or at least the two things you’d seen him do - pulling off his sunglasses and greeting you - attractive? Or was he just the first person under fifty you’d had come through in days?

“Hi,” you repeated, already internally groaning as he laughed lightly and came over to you. He approached the counter slowly, taking everything in stride as he looked around the homely little shop. He looked like a god in this small space, making everything seem old and worn, “what can I get you?”

“Hi again,” he smiled lightly as he leaned against the counter, watching you with keen eyes. You felt a flush of warmth well up in your cheeks as you bit on your lip and stared at the top of the counter, “I don’t take anything special - but you do have a strong dark roast?”

“We do,” that much you could happily offer him. Making a cup of coffee should be an easy and simple thing, “do you take anything in it? A little bit of sugar? Some syrup or creamer?”

“No, thank you,” a little half smile, half smirk combo pulled on the corners of his mouth, “but whatever you have that’s strongest, I’ll take it black.”

“Black? N-no creamer or sugar? Why do you hate yourself that much?” you couldn’t help but blurt it out. As soon as you did, your hands flew to your face in embarrassment as he immediately broke into a fit of laughter. Oh no. This man was going to think you were an absolute clown - whatever chance you had of him thinking anything to the contrary was now long gone, “I-I-I didn’t mean it! I’m so sorry...I should haven’t-”

“Don’t worry about it,” he insisted as he calmed himself down, “it’s not the first time, nor will it be the last, I’ve been asked that. You know, you just grow up with it a certain way, you get used to it.”

“Did your mother never let you try different creamers?”

“Something like that,” there was a huff of laughter as his tongue darted and wet his lips. You tried not to stare. It was a herculean task, “I’ll just take that - the largest cup. Ummm...any pastries you recommend?”

“I like the bear claws,” you shrugged lightly, still embarrassed by your earlier guffaw, “they’re always a good go-to. Do you like them?”

“Tolerable,” he admitted as you giggled lightly, “well then, I’ll take your largest and strongest coffee and a bear claw.”

“I thought you said they were tolerable?”

“I did,” he agreed, “but you recommended it and you look like someone I can trust. And besides that, they do actually look pretty good.”

“I do? They do??”

“You do," he nodded, “unless you’re doubting your own recommendations?”

“Not at all,” you offered up a confident smile of your own, “I’ll have it right up.”

"How much do I owe ya?" he pulled out his wallet but you quickly shook your head, playfully swatting his hand away.

"Its on the house," you insisted softly, feeling shy and nervous suddenly, "for bringing me the most amusement I've had in hours...probably days."

“I’ll get you back,” he grinned as he walked over to one of the empty tables facing the window. You tried to calm your inner squealing down as you watched him walk away, quickly facing the other way when once he sat down facing you. As you got to work on making his coffee, you could swear you could feel his eyes glued to you. But every time you sneaked a glance at him, you found him looking down at his phone, a little smirk tugging on the corners of his mouth.

It wasn’t long before you finished his coffee and grabbed a fresh pastry from the back and slowly walked it over to him, a new flood of nerves welling up in your tummy. He was handsome - more so than should be allowed - and he looked slightly familiar. It was almost like you were positive you had seen him before, but just couldn’t place where.

“Here you are,” you set everything in front of him with a flourish as he looked up at you and grinned, “if it’s good, I made it all, if it’s terrible, I wasn’t here.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” he promised, shooting you a wink as you offered a small wave and turned to go back to your station behind the counter. But before you could get more than a few feet away, you couldn’t help but spin on your heel as you faced him.

“Do I know you?” you blurted out, your face growing warm as soon as the words left your mouth. He seemed taken aback for a moment and his face flushed lightly as shook his head, “I’m so sorry, it’s just....you just look so familiar…”

“I think I’d remember if we’d met before. I wouldn’t forget seeing a face as pretty as yours,” he said softly. Completely turning the table as you tried not to completely melt into a puddle on the floor. You bit your lip before playfully rolling your eyes and walking away, “hey - what’s your name, coffee girl?”

You turned around and offered him your name before giving him a little mock bow, “but coffee girl works too, coffee purchaser - or do you happen to have a name?”

“Bu-James,” he quickly caught himself as you raised an eyebrow and tried not to laugh too much. His face immediately turned a shade darker as he stared at his coffee.

“Well, Bu-James,” you teased with a wink, “it was nice meeting you. Enjoy your coffee!”

You darted away and to the back as you attended to the pastries that needed to be prepared for tomorrow. Your body was practically buzzing with exciting energy as you tried to focus on the dough and batters, rather than the nervous fluttering in your tummy. Funny how one stranger could turn your whole day around.

“Silly girl,” you whispered to yourself, vainly attempting to ground yourself in reality. It was one stranger - albeit incredibly handsome and funny - and that was all. Nothing more and nothing less. As soon as he left he wouldn’t even remember the fool that brought him his coffee, Meanwhile, you knew he would be lingering in your mind for some time. A heavy sigh escaped your lips before you finally focused on your work.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was a rainy afternoon, a completely out of the blue summer storm that had caused everyone to revel in the coolness while you were stuck working. It was even more boring than normal - if that was even possible. You cleaned over the same spot on the counter for the tenth time, glaring at it as you tried to eliminate it for good.

“Hey coffee girl,” your heart practically did somersaults in your chest at the sound of the familiar voice. Be cool, be cool, you repeated to yourself several times before slowly turning to face the door. There he was - in all his golden glory, pulling sunglasses off and sticking them in jacket pocket as he approached, “just who I was hoping to see.”

“H-hey James,” you stammered nervously, dropping the rag to the side as you offered him a small smile. He strolled over at a leisurely pace before leaning on his elbows on the counter and resting his face in his hands. He watched you with a lazy little smile, “what are you doing here?”

“At a coffee shop?” he quirked an eyebrow at you in amusement, causing you to groan before the two of you shared a laugh, “I was thinking a coffee sounded good.”

“And does it?” you turned and gestured to the grinder as he nodded lightly, “coming right up. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be outside enjoying the nice summer rain?”

“I’ve seen enough rain,” he shrugged as he watched you work, admiring your deft hands and the concentrated look on your face, “besides, there’s something I wanted to enjoy even more.”

“Oh? And what could that be?” you topped his coffee off with just a sprinkle of cinnamon, “it was the bear claw, wasn’t it?”

“That was pretty good, but that’s not it,” he promised as you handed him the coffee. He gratefully took the coffee and held it to his nose, taking a moment to smell and inhale the delicious scent, “maybe it’s the coffee girl.”

“Stop,” you grabbed the rag and playfully swatted his arm with it, “you don’t have to pretend to be all nice and what not to get the coffee. As far as I’m concerned, it’s on the house.”

“Even if that was the only reason I was here, what’s the reason for it being on the house today?” he leaned in even closer and you could practically feel the warmth of his body radiating onto you. Where his eyes even bluer up close? Was his smile really that magical? Shit. You were in deep and you’d barely even spoken to the man.

“I highly doubt the shop will dismantle because of one cup of coffee-”

“Two.”

“Fine - two cups of coffee I’ve given away,” you mirrored his position and the two of you watched each other closely, “and besides, maybe the company isn’t too bad at all, James.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” he grinned as the tips of his ears flushed red, “I-”

Just before he could say anything else, the bell above the door twinkled and a small group of people clambered in. You wanted to groan and wished you could tell them to leave, but instead you tore your gaze away from James and to the new arrivals.

“Sorry,” you murmured softly as he nodded in understanding. You straightened up and reluctantly made your way to the other side of the counter. Before he could leave, you stole another glance at your newly anointed favorite customer and shot him a shy smile.

Bucky watched you for a few moments before taking his coffee and heading for the door. He caught your eye briefly before raising his arm and giving you a quick wave. You timidly raised a hand in response and crooked your fingers, reluctant to see him go. This had to be the one time you’d had a sudden influx of customers.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been several weeks since you’d last seen James. Fifteen days to be exact. Not that you were counting or anything. Things just hadn’t been quite the same since. Days seemed to drag on and no matter how many customers you had been getting, both old and new, no one was quite the same as him. Everyone was so average.

Before the break in his regularity, he was making it a habit of coming every other day or so, even if it was just for a few moments to say hi and grab a coffee before heading out for work. You come to enjoy his presence, and getting to know little bits and pieces of him. You should have known better than to slowly fall for a regular customer. Sigh.

It was a slow evening, and you’d made your rounds and checked on the few customers that were lingering in the shop, doing things such as studying or reading. You’d cleaned the bar and counters down a couple of times by now, and decided if you cleaned any further you’d wipe them away altogether. You pulled out a book you’d been wanting to get to forever, deciding you might as well make some use of your time.

“Slacking on the job?” you almost jumped out of your stool at the sound of the familiar voice, slamming your book shut in surprise, “sorry, coffee girl, didn’t mean to scare you!”

“James,” you immediately knew who it was from his warm chuckle as you clutched at your racing heart, “y-you didn’t scare me…”

“Hmm,” he was leaning against the counter, watching intently as you put your book away, “is that why you jumped out of your seat and almost threw the book at me?”

“Yup,” you agreed with a shy smile, mirroring his position, “definitely why.”

“You can admit you were scared,” he insisted, “you’re pretty cute when you’re scared.”

“Shut up,” you bit your lip as you studied the wood grain in the seemingly ancient counter. He nudged his elbow lightly with yours, causing you to turn your attention back to him. The two of you stared at each other quietly for a few moments, “you came back.”

“Of course I came back,” he said as if it were obvious he would. You had certainly had your doubts - after all, why would he waste his time coming back to a small little hole in the wall? He tilted his head to the side and gave you a curious look, “did you think I wouldn’t?”

“I...ummm...no, I didn’t,” you confessed quietly, “it’s just, you were gone for a few weeks and then...this place doesn’t exactly seem to fit your vibe is all.”

“I was...working,” he admitted, although judging by the use of the word working, you couldn’t help but wonder what he did, “and trust me, this place is much more my style than anything fancy or whatever you want to call it. I came back as soon as I could.”

“Whatever for?”

“Really?” he laughed as your face felt warm and you hid behind your hands, “maybe it was for the excellent coffee, maybe for the coffee girl.”

“You’re too much,” you said as you reluctantly met his eyes, “you want a cup? I can make you one…”

“I’d love some,” he nodded, “but only if it’s with whatever little thing you do to it.”

“A sprinkle of cinnamon,” you confessed as you pointed to the freshly ground cinnamon you’d prepped earlier in the day. A look of surprise crossed his face as he just grinned at you, “it’s my secret little go, if I didn’t tell you, you’d never know. But it just adds a little something.”

“It makes it-” he was quickly cut off by the loud vibrating of his phone. He rolled his eyes and sighed as you laughed before fishing it. As soon as he saw who was calling him, he sighed again and gave you an apologetic look before answering, “what?”

Your eyebrows shot up as you tried to hold back your giggles at his exasperation. You busied yourself with brewing him a fresh cup and tried not to listen in too much - you were curious but not nosy. Singing quietly under your breath, you had his brew ready in no time. When you turned around, James was looking at you with a guilty little expression.

“Everything alright?” you set the coffee down in front of him as he gratefully took it.

“I have to go,” he confessed, and he actually seemed reluctant to do so, “it’s...work. It’s just...pretty important. I’m sorry...I wanted to stay.”

“Now you’re being crazy,” you insisted, although the idea that he actually came to see you, made your heart skip a few beats, “go and take care of something much more important! If you need a cup of coffee once in a while, you know where to find me.”

“Ahhh, I like you coffee girl,” he reached into his pocket to attempt to get his wallet out. As usual you shook your head and pushed his hand away, “fine. Alright. Let me give you something else instead.”

“Okay, now that sounds a little creepy,” you laughed as he realized his gaff. His face turned a light shade of pink as he reached for a napkin and the pen behind the counter. He quickly scribbled something down as you had a feeling you knew exactly what it was. But you didn’t want to get too ahead of yourself…that was for later.

“Here,” he said softly as he pushed the nap towards you, “that’s my number - obviously. I...umm...if you ever want to talk or whatever, you can...yeah.”

“I’m pretty sure I can figure out what a number is for,” you shot him a wink as you grabbed the napkin and pulled it closer. Your heart was practically hammering in your chest at this point, “I'll see you around, James.”

“See you around, coffee girl,” he said softly as he waved his coffee cup at you and started to head to the door, “have a good night.”

“You too,” you said softly as he left under the twinkling bell of the door. You watched him walk away through the windows, sighing wistfully. He came back. He gave you his number. Holy shit.

You looked at the napkin and the number he wrote. It all seemed normal until you saw that he had written his name. Except it wasn’t his name.

Instead of James, it said Bucky.

Who the hell was Bucky?

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You paced around your apartment as you stole furtive glances at your phone. To text him or not to text him? That was the question.

It had been almost four days since he’d given it to you. You wondered if he thought about you. If he was wondering why you hadn’t reached out to him. Your stomach churned with guilt.

After he gave you his phone number, you’d gone home and googled it, along with both the names you now knew him by - James and Bucky. With just those few bits of information, it wasn’t hard to figure out who he really was. You were almost positive that he didn’t tell you his real identity for fear of you freaking out or being afraid of him. But you weren’t afraid - you had no reason to be. You just wished he would have told you in the first place, but you understood his reasons.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you snatched up your phone and decided to just text him. Why not? There was literally nothing to lose. You might as well see where this went.

Hey James. Or do you prefer Bucky? It’s Coffee Girl.

As soon as you sent the text, a sense of regret welled up in your belly and you groaned heavily. You tossed your phone onto the couch and headed into the kitchen to get a glass of wine. Anything to occupy your mind as you tried not to think about all the possibilities of what he could say in response. Or not. Perhaps he wouldn’t text you back at all.

You weren’t sure which possibility was worse.

Pouring the rosé with a heavy hand, you slowly filled your glass. Once you were satisfied with it, you took a long drink and refilled what you had just consumed. Your heart almost stopped when you heard your phone buzz from the couch cushion.

You took another long drag from the wine and almost ran into the living room. You picked up the phone and excitedly saw that it was indeed from James...Bucky? You had saved him as James Bucky in your phone for the time being.

Opening his message, you quickly read it, finding yourself grinning from ear to ear.

Ahh, I gave myself away, didn’t I? Bucky. Call me Bucky.

You didn’t even bother to wait to send a message back: Okay Bucky. You did. Were you going to tell me or was I always going to have to figure it out on my own?

You wondered if you pushed him too far. Too much. But his reply suggested anything but.

I was going to tell you, believe it or not. I just wanted to make sure it was the right time. I didn’t want you to worry or hate me or be scared.

I’m not scared, I promise. Just wondering how I got to be lucky enough to be your coffee girl.

Now you just felt like a stupid fool at your vain attempt at flirting. Cringe. You wanted to curl up and pretended that none of it ever happened.

But to your continued surprise, he texted you back.

And then some more. Until the very late hours of the night where you reluctantly had to tell him goodnight for the time being before you fell asleep.

It was okay, because somehow you’d managed to get a date out of it. You had an actual real life date with Bucky. Shit. How on earth were you going to survive that?

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Bucky was nervous. Gods, when was the last time he ever felt this nervous? He couldn’t even remember. He had a small bouquet of flowers in his hands as he waited for you in front of the small restaurant you’d picked for dinner. He rocked back and forth on his heels as he looked at the time. You’d be getting there any moment. He’d been there for fifteen minutes. Wanting to be early, and also because he was nervous. Mostly because he was nervous. Ugh. He was almost tempted to run away and head home, just because he didn’t want to make a fool of himself. But he also really wanted to see you again too.

“Hey Bucky,” the sudden sound of your voice almost made him jump as he turned around to face you. A smile quickly spread on his face as he drank in the sight of you; you were wearing such a simple dress, nothing too fancy, but you still managed to take his breath away. You snorted lightly when you noticed his silence, “you alright there - cat got your tongue?”

“No, I-I...hi,” he held out the flowers to you and you eagerly told them, inhaling their sweet, saccharine scent, “these are for you.”

“Thank you,” you said softly as you offered him the sweetest eyes he had ever seen, “they’re beautiful. No one’s ever gotten me flowers before!”

“I think it’s time we change that,” he said softly as you tried to conceal some of the excitement off your face, “I’m glad you came...I wasn’t sure if you’d say yes.”

“There was never a doubt,” you promised, “even if you had told me who you were right off the bat. See, I knew you looked familiar!”

“It’s a lot for people,” he admitted, “a lot of people just see the -”

“Bucky,” you interrupted him softly, “I just see Bucky. The handsome, funny man that made my day the instant he came in. That’s all.”

“You’re something else, sweetheart,” he said softly as you reached for his hand, “you sure want to do this? You can still say no.”

“I want to Bucky,” you promised firmly, “how about we get inside before you change your mind and run off on me? Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

“I’m all in,” he agreed softly, giving your hand a squeeze.

“Me too. All in.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Marvel Taglist (add yourself to a taglist here!)(strike-through means I couldn’t tag you - please check your settings!)

@qhbr2013 @greeneyedblondie44 @april-showers-and-flowers @softboiipascal @im-an-adult-ish @patzammit @niki-xie @xxlovingfandomsxx @startrekkingaroundasgard @welcometothepedroverse @actual-spawn-of-satan @punkerthanpascal @lazybeeches @someday-when-you-leave-me @justgivemethekeys @salome-c @rosiefridayrogersunday @neptunesglow @artsymaddie @haildoodles @amneris21 @star017 @irepostthingsiwanttoseelater @its–fandom–darling @ayamenimthiriel @alyispunk @djarinbarnes @edencherries @ashamed23 @sunsetskywalkerr @nikkixostan @spookispunk @cable-kenobi @ironicfoxes @cc13723things @gooddaykate @natthebattygeologist @sociallyantisocialbutterfly @n3ssm0nique @daughterofthenight117 @riddikulus-obsessions @imaginelover88 @saint-bvcky @sleep-tight1 @missstef23 @moonlacebeam @asylummara @wakandabiitch2 @hoodedbirdie @mysweetlittledesire @reallyloudstarlight @vintagepigeon @froggyy06 @fleurydelacoury @veil-of-time @queenbeean @deedepee @kenzieam @luxeavenger @dobbyjen @bbl32 @frickin-bats @caprisunsister @spacedadmando @bucks-bunny @starlightcrystalline

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x reader #james buchanan barnes

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bloodpacks-archive · 3 years

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MUSIC OF THE RFA (+V AND SAERAN) HEADCANONS

first is zen’s taste - okay, so yes, zen loves his show tunes and will absolutely listen to broadway soundtracks a good 57% of the time. That being said, he also really enjoys classic rock. he got into it around the time he was in that motorcycle gang, and even though he doesn’t uphold a lot of the values that he had there anymore, he still finds himself listening whenever he really needs to go out for a ride. sometimes, the mc will find him jamming out with some headphones in while he works out or while he cooks. he gets a bit ridiculous with it sometimes—air guitar and everything—and might even grab her and start dancing with her even though she can’t hear the music.

next is yoosung’s taste - when he isn’t listening to the lolol soundtrack (which, i’m gonna be real, is a really good chunk of his time) he’s got this weird taste for like, 80s pop. which, i get it man, but you visit him and he’s got Take On Me playing in the speakers and you could definitely hear it all the way down the halls. you have to tell him to put in headphones so he doesn’t get a noise complaint. but honestly, it’s really sweet sometimes to come into his dorm and hear him quietly singing along to a song while he plays lolol. he says music helps him concentrate better if he’s not playing in team chat. but when he isn’t listening to 80s pop, he’s got the lolol music on. he specifically uses it when he studies because he says it helps him to focus, but really it just makes him want to play more.

jaehee’s music taste - yes. jaehee listens to zen’s music on repeat. but i like to think when her comphet finally breaks down and she pulls away from her obsession with him for a good few minutes she likes to listen to some soft rock and some jazz. carole king just works for this. It’s Too Late is one of her favorite songs, and she’ll dance around her bakery with a bowl of dough set to rise in her hands—finally a little more carefree—and sing to herself. the mc will laugh at her and steal one of her bluetooth headphones so she can dance with her and then they’ll dissolve into quiet laughter before the oven timer interrupts them.

what a guy! jumin han’s music taste - he’s big into classical music. he really loves impressionist piano, but he also really enjoys the violin, actually. with that though, he doesn’t only listen to classical. jumin actually listens to a lot of blues. he really likes etta james and the mc can find him quietly playing some of his favorite blues songs on his record player after a stressful day, a glass of red wine not far from his lips. when he gets a little drunk, he’ll grab her by the hand and spin her around. he likes slow dancing at night sometimes, and he’s good on his feet, even with a little wine in him, so he’ll twirl her and hold her close while the record player hums in the background.

mmm. saeyoung choi’s music - i’ve said this a lot and i will continue to say it: saeyoung choi loves freddie dredd. other (similar) artists include rav and kill bill: the rapper, but he also branches out from rap a bit! he likes the song Just Like Honey by The Jesus and Mary Chain, too, mainly because it really fills up his headphones. it’s a weird sensation, but he says the way it sounds when he wears his headphones can help him if he’s been having issues with noise that day. otherwise, he loves the way freddie dredd and those other artists make him feel. he loves playing them in the car because for once he can feel a little unstoppable without being tied to a computer. so much of that is his identity, and since he doesn’t go out on missions that much anymore, he can kind of feel like he’s lost some of that resolve he had when he was a bit younger. music can help him get that back. and honestly, when he’s driving and he’s singing along, he gets really confident. it’s definitely not uncommon for him to reach over and place a hand on the mc’s thigh while he’s driving with her, or even to play with her hair absentmindedly—really anything to just touch her while he drives and feels as confident as he does.

god. jihyun’s music taste... - mitski with like a sprinkle of hozier. boom you’ve got the music taste. he honestly just really loves the power behind mitski’s music. there’s something about the way she communicates through her craft that he really admires. he also adores everything about how she performs. from an artist’s standpoint—he’s completely enthralled by it. sometimes, the mc will hear her quietly playing in their apartment and will walk into jihyun’s studio to find him painting to her music. it’s honestly this really sweet, calming feeling just from being in there. sometimes, though, he gets really caught up in his piece and the song and it can be pretty emotional for him—especially if the piece has something to do with his trauma which, honestly, he starts to explore a bit in the later years at the recommendation of his therapist. sometimes, she walks in and has to put her arms around him and remind him that it’s okay to feel the way he does, and he can feel grounded again.

finally, it’s saeran’s music - saeran ends up really liking movie score. he has a certain affinity to the coraline soundtrack because he likes all the different notes and all the separation between them. he likes how simplistic it is, is what i’m getting at. but he also really enjoys score from period pieces, like pride and prejudice. he finds the piano to be really calming and likes to listen while he gardens! it gets to the point that he knows the pieces by name just from the first few notes, and he’ll be humming the pieces around the house even when he’s not listening.

#mystic messenger #mysme #mystic messenger headcanons #mysme headcanons #hyun ryu #yoosung kim #jaehee kang #jumin han #saeyoung choi #jihyun kim #v mystic messenger #saeran choi #yes i did two of these in one day i really liked them

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alpacaparkaseok · 3 years

Text

Lost & Found - 10

Pairing: Park Jimin x soulmate (oc)

Warnings: Insecurity, anxiety, abandonment

Word Count: 5.1k

a/n: thanks for waiting! I normally post in the mornings but life happened and this is also a super important chapter (lol, they all are) that I needed to make sure was prepared to launch us into phase 3. (yesss, there are phases!) as always, thanks for reading, and let me know how it went!!

Chapter 10. Blue & Grey

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Yuri steps into the back a moment later, coming to lean up against the counter beside me as I struggle to free myself from Taehyung’s gaze. In the span of a single blink, his eyes soften and he’s wearing a pleasant expression as Yuri begins to speak.

“You said you wanted to talk about something important with me?” Yuri urges, looking a little worried yet elated to have such prominent figures in her small bread shop. Namjoon nods hastily, sparing me a glance.

“Yes, thanks for seeing us. We know that this is a little...strange, perhaps. But we wanted to make sure everything was settled before things can get out of hand.”

Of course, my heart begins to race a little more. “What do you mean, ‘get out of hand’?”

For all the world, Taehyung looks like he’s ready to answer me, but Namjoon responds before he can get a chance. “Yuri, I’m assuming that you’re aware of Jolie’s, erm...accident.”

“Oh, of course,” she offers me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, I just don’t understand what that has to do with anything you’re here for.”

Namjoon and Taehyung share a look before turning back to Yuri and I. Clinging to my apron which I have yet to remove, I pray that they can’t see the slight tremor in my hands. A thought passes through my mind, completely unbidden and foreign. Before I’m able to stop myself, the words dive off my tongue.

“Is...is he alright?”

Taehyung’s gaze snaps to me, brows furrowing as he looks genuinely confused. Namjoon, however, takes in my white knuckles and hunched shoulders, and gently smiles.

Before Namjoon can reassure me, however, Taehyung jumps in. “He’s fine. We’re here to discuss other things, however.”

The way that Namjoon doesn’t say anything to cross Taehyung has me realizing that while he may be the leader, this is a completely different ballgame.

It’s me, Jimin’s disgraced soulmate, against Taehyung, his proclaimed soulmate.

I know a losing game when I see one.

“Right. Yuri, we’ve got to discuss some sensitive information with you today. Would you be willing to sign an NDA?” Namjoon steers us back on course, even as Yuri glances back and forth between Taehyung and I.

“Oh. Y-yes, of course.”

Clapping his hands together, Namjoon dives right in. “Perfect. Well, I would like to discuss a few things with you. Taehyung-”

“Yep.” Without leaving me an opportunity to ask questions, Taehyung is coming to stand before me. “While Namjoon is explaining some things to your boss, we’re going to have a chat.”

Glancing over at Namjoon, who is leading Yuri to one corner of the large room, near the storage area, I receive no mercy. When I turn to look back at Taehyung, I catch him staring down at my thread with a faraway look in his eyes.

Needing to have something to keep me going while I receive what I’m sure is going to be a royal chewing out, I turn to head over to the worktable.

“You talk, I’ll knead.”

✂

I’ve learned something about Taehyung in the past few minutes.

He doesn’t hate me as much as he would like for me to think he does.

It was quiet for a long moment as I sprinkled flour over the worktable and pulled out a slab of dough I had been planning to let some of the other employees use later on in the day. With my heart in my throat, I began to beat it into shape. For about a minute, the only sound in the workroom was the sound of the dough against the table and Namjoon’s hushed conversation with Yuri.

Taehyung sidles next to me, the silence suddenly becoming blaringly loud as he watches my hands. Over and over again, I roll the dough. Once it’s sufficiently loose and pliable, I begin to shape it.

“So this is your job?”

He can’t keep the curious tone out of his voice, and I glance over at him to see his wide eyes flitting between me and the dough. Almost as though he can’t quite believe it.

“What did you think I did?” I ask, not able to refrain from my sarcastic streak. “Buried bodies?”

Just like that, whatever angry storm clouds were lingering in his eyes dissipate and he laughs. Laughs loud enough that both Namjoon and Yuri pause in their conversation before continuing.

“Honestly,” he confesses, “something like that. Yeah.”

I snort, returning to the dough. “Nice.”

“Do you think you can teach me?”

“How to bake bread?” I ask, curious at his change in attitude. I see him nod in my peripheral.

“Yeah. I think it looks amazing. Very therapeutic.” He pauses, and I can almost see the thought bubble hovering over his head. “We have a pretty big table at the house, you could probably use it. Or does it have to be a certain material?”

A part of me freezes under the nonchalant mention of the house he shares with my soulmate. The way he’s testing the waters, assessing me for any kind of reaction.

Another thing that I’m learning about Kim Taehyung: he picks up on everything.

“Er...what kind of table is it? Like, is it a countertop or-”

“Oh, yeah. The big one is the kitchen island. It’s a granite countertop I think...Namjoon hyung!”

There’s no need to yell, but he does anyway.

“What?” Namjoon asks, bewildered but used to this kind of behavior.

Taehyung turns back to me, shrugging. “It probably is. Would that work?”

I blink, wondering if it’s ok for me to laugh at what just happened. Shouldering through it, I focus on the dough again. “Yeah, granite’s great for dough.”

Taehyung looks lost in thought, but I’m starting to realize that I should always be on my toes around him. Indeed, he recovers quickly and decides to finally discuss what he came here to talk about.

“I’m assuming your boss doesn’t know what really happened,” he states quietly enough that there’s no way Yuri can hear him from across the room. A simple shake of my head is all it takes to confirm what he said. Glancing around the room, he notices the back door.

“I think it might be best if we step out back for a moment.” Taehyung takes a step toward the door before stopping to look back at me where I stand with the dough still in my hands. “Unless you need to finish that first…?”

I shake my head, pushing the dough back into a metal bowl and covering it up with a cloth. Wiping my floury hands on my apron, I follow Taehyung to the back alleyway. The sun is nearing the highest point in the sky, bearing down on us and filling my bones up with a little warmth despite the general chill in the air.

Taehyung makes his way to the opposite wall of the alley, looking around as though checking for spies before facing me. There’s no need for me to question him as to what’s going on, he can see the question clearly in my eyes.

“We have a Muster coming up in less than two days,” he begins, crossing his arms. “Jimin is going to perform on stage for the final song.”

It takes a moment for me to fully understand what that means.

“They’ll see what happened,” Taehyung continues, watching my every movement. “And I think it’ll be all too easy for people to see you and instantly accuse you. Which, they won’t be wrong. But still, it could get ugly.”

I know what he’s implying. Suddenly life will become a burning hell for the scarce few that have a severed thread. Which, by my understanding, is no more than a handful.

Immediately my thoughts go to Christina. “What about those people that have nothing to do with it but could be accused?” It would be devastating for her to think that she’d been the one to bring Jimin so much pain.

Taehyung tilts his head to one side. “You keep surprising me.” Before I can ask what he means, he continues. “That’s what we’re here for today. In order to protect those people and you, Bighit has to come up with some sort of cover story. Make it really seem like an accident. We just need to keep you out of sight while things get straightened out.”

Dread, cold as ice as just as sharp, sluices through my veins. “No.”

I can tell that this, at least, Taehyung was expecting. “You don’t have a choice-”

“So you want me to hide away forever?” I hiss, rocking back on my heels. “People will find out soon enough. And they’ll rip me to shreds!”

That cold fire from before is back and blazing in Taehyung’s eyes as he listens to my objections. “No! They won’t, that’s the whole point. They’ll understand that it was an accident-”

“Which they’ll immediately want to fix!” I shout, the sound echoing down the alleyway. “You don’t understand, no matter what you tell people, this ends up with me being forced right back where I was before.”

“And where was that?” Taehyung seethes, taking a step forward and making me stumble back. Those hawk-like eyes see how I react, but there’s no pity in them. “How horrible for you to be stuck with someone that would only love you. That would never ask for anything in return. That just wanted - wants still - nothing more than to be linked to you in any way possible.”

The confession falls flat in the face of my fear, however it’s something I know will come back to haunt me later. Instead, I allow my roaring emotions to take over even as I find that my back is now pressed against the wall.

“Of course I want that!” I shout, and Taehyung blinks. “Of course I want him! Did you want me to go to your house and grovel at his feet for forgiveness, and then teach you how to bake bread like some big happy family? Did you want me to tell you all about how the first and last thing I think about every day is Park Jimin and how I know the perfect way to hate myself for cutting this?” Throwing my hand up into the air I bite down the sobs that try to surface. “I sat and watched this thread burn not because I didn’t want him, but because I had to remove myself from his life before I could enter it.”

I can see the objection brewing in Taehyung’s mind, but I stop him.

“Jimin is not the problem,” I sigh out, utterly exhausted. “He became everything to me the second I saw him, but he is everything to everyone. I...I can’t be that. I don’t think I ever can.”

Taehyung’s eyes clear, and he looks down at me with sudden understanding. I want to lash out, writhe under that understanding, but I can’t stop the way his thoughts seemingly click together.

“I- Jolie, you’re not a puzzle that’s missing a piece. You don’t have to suddenly click into a pattern that everyone else has. You’re a human being,” Taehyung says reverently, and I wonder for a moment if someone has said this to him before. “You are allowed to just bake bread for the rest of your life, if you want. Nobody is going to ask you to stand on the stage, not even Jimin.”

“But I feel like I shouldn’t keep doing the same thing if I’m with him. I have to be more, somehow.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Taehyung admits. “Just because you’re allowed to be comfortable and hide away doesn’t mean you should. It’s tempting, I’ll give you that much.” He shrugs, still looking at me with that new light. “But you’re allowed to learn at your own pace, venture out of your comfort zone when you feel brave enough to do it. Just know this: most people never feel brave enough but do it anyway.”

“Why?”

Holding up his left hand where his deep red thread extends to the ground and through the back door, he smiles softly. “We deem the risk worth it, in the end.”

I’m just processing the fact that I had a screaming match with Taehyung when Namjoon pokes his head out into the alleyway. Both Taehyung and I turn to face him, looking guilty.

“I told you that I’d have to end up explaining everything,” he remarks drily. “Did you two manage to discuss the plan?”

Somehow, as Taehyung and I sheepishly shake our heads, I feel like I’ve made an ally in an enemy.

✂

Jolie (Elle): This is me telling you that I’m still alive, as you requested.

Me: Wow. That bad of a day? Are you going to take a nap?

Jolie (Elle): Literally as soon as I get home. I have to stop by the store and grab some cat food, Elle nearly murdered me in my sleep over it last night.

Me: I can literally feel your exhaustion through the phone.

Me: Was work ok??

Jimin has to wait a little while for a response. He just got a text from Namjoon, notifying him that they were headed to the Bighit building. When he asked him how it went with Jolie, he’d only received a vague answer.

It did nothing to calm his nerves. Especially knowing that Taehyung, even though he’d promised him that he’d stay calm, had gone in there with no shortage of wrath.

Jolie (Elle): Fine

He’d been afraid of that.

Me: 😟

Me: I’m so sorry, sounds like today has officially sucked

Jimin stares down at his phone, waiting for some sort of response.

Jolie (Elle): No need to apologize.

Jolie (Elle): It was my fault anyways.

“No,” Jimin whispers to himself, eyes wide as his fingers fly across the screen. Before he can even think about the message, he sends it. All he wants is to stop this ache in his chest that he’s sure Jolie feels as well.

Me: I wish I was there.

Three little dots appear on his screen, Jolie typing a message, but then they disappear. A moment later, they come back and a message follows.

Jolie (Elle): It’s fine, really. Texting is enough, I really appreciate it

The butterflies that erupt in Jimin’s stomach are enough to make a grown man cry, but he knows deep down that a text is not enough. Bringing his phone to his ear, he listens to the ringing. Taehyung and Namjoon walk through the door of the practice room right as Jimin begins to speak.

“Hi, I’d like to place an order.”

✂

There’s something on my porch.

I noticed the little pop of color as I began up the stairs to my apartment, carrying a grocery bag with catnip and a bar of chocolate, my excuse for a pickmeup. It wasn’t until I made it to the top of the stairs that I realized what it was that was waiting for me.

A bouquet of flowers. Hydrangeas, white and pink hydrangeas are waiting for me. They have a dewy shimmer to them, catching the sunlight just right.

Obviously, this is a mistake.

“Elle, look at these,” I coo as I shoulder open the door. Immediately the white cat appears, sniffing at the bag filled with catnip rather than the flowers. “Nooo, not that. The flowers.”

She doesn’t care about the flowers, apparently. Giving in, I gingerly set the flowers on the counter and get to work setting her food out. Once Elle is feasting away, I turn back to the flowers.

“Now, who were you supposed to be delivered to?” I hum, plucking the small envelope from amidst the arrangement. Taking a generous whiff, I close my eyes as the sweet aroma fills my senses. “Ugh, whoever they are, they’re lucky. These are absolutely beautiful, don’t you think?”

Again, Elle proves that she really couldn’t care less about the floral arrangement on the counter. Except to maybe knock it over, perhaps.

Slipping open the envelope, I take in the short message.

Jolie,

Because a text isn’t enough.

-PJM

“PJM?”I breathe out, staring at those initials with wide eyes. My breath comes up short as I reread the card again and again, flipping it over to see if there’s anything else. Some sort of clue.

“Elle, these are for us.”

The only response I get is a lazy swish of her tail, but I’m not paying attention to her anyway. All I’m looking at is that bouquet of flowers that’s meant for me after all.

Ripping my phone out of my back pocket, I open it up to my text conversation with Jaemin. Scrolling through his concerned texts, trying to see if I’m doing alright. With shaking hands, I type out the letters.

Me: PJM?

✂

“She’s not ready to know the truth,” Taehyung reports.

Jimin sits beside him on the couch, arms crossed and looking out the window with a glazed expression. The other members listen to every word that Namjoon and Taehyung are saying, finally getting a full report of the events at the bread shop.

Nevermind the fact that it’s been hours and it’s nearly midnight.

“What? That Jimin’s actually Jaemin?” Jin stretches a little, bumping into Yoongi who hardly notices. “I mean, it’s not like it’s that much of a stretch.”

Taehyung shrugs, glancing over at Jimin who has yet to say anything. “We talked-”

“Screamed,” Namjoon corrects. Jimin perks up at this.

“What were you screaming about?”

Taehyung assesses his friend, deeming him capable of receiving this information. “You. Her own insecurities. Bread.”

“Bread?” Jungkook questions, but it goes unanswered.

“Some part of her wants to be with you,” Taehyung explains, completely overlooking Jungkook’s curious expression. “But she’s freaked out. Kind of like how Jungkook mentioned before, when you first started texting. She’s so in her own head that it’s hard for her to see that you wouldn’t demand her to become some sort of celebrity.”

“She thinks that I would?” Jimin asks. He left his phone in his bedroom, deciding to leave Jolie’s simple question, PJM?, until after he’d had a chance to discuss it with everyone. He knew what she was asking. It was a deliberate choice of his to put his initials on the card rather than the fake name.

He couldn’t stomach her thinking that the flowers were from some random Jaemin, when they were in fact from him.

Her soulmate.

“No, not necessarily. She said that she feels like she would have to become something more, though. Purely because you are who you are. And I think that’s something that really scares her.”

It’s also something that Jimin doesn’t know how to fix. “If she’s not willing to get out of her own head, then how am I supposed to help her?”

Namjoon pipes up. “She seemed a lot better, though. I think, whatever she’s doing, she’s getting better. Chung-hei mentioned that she’s seeing a therapist, actually.”

Jimin sits back. “Good. That’s good.” He chews on the inside of his cheek. “What did she say about the plan?”

The plan. It wasn’t much of a plan. In reality, it was more of a precaution than anything. They all knew that everything would be a mess after Jimin goes back into the public eye, and Jolie would be at risk by just stepping foot outside her door.

“She agreed to be chauffeured,” Namjoon says. “I mean, obviously she’s not happy about it, but she said she understood.”

Jolie would be picked up in the morning and after her shift by a nondescript car driven by Bighit employees. Anytime she needed groceries, they would pick them up for her. Do anything they can to keep her out of the public eye.

“I’m kind of surprised that she agreed,” Jimin admits. “Maybe that’s a good sign?”

There’s a grumble of agreement, and soon after the boys are dispersing. Only one day left until the Muster, tomorrow was going to be busy with final rehearsals and preparations.

Jimin heads up to his room, laying on his bed and staring at the short message from hours earlier.

Jolie (Elle): PJM?

Sighing and ignoring the nerves in his stomach, Jimin just prays that all is not lost.

Me: Yes?

For now, she’s asleep. He doesn’t expect a response anytime soon. Rolling over and facing the wall, Jimin tries his best to close his eyes and let everything roll off his shoulders.

She’s bound to find out sometime.

✂

Jimin’s hands are sweaty as he paces below stage, listening to the roar of the crowd as his brothers perform above him.

The Muster came all too quickly.

Yesterday passed in a blur, consisting of Jimin checking his phone every few minutes only to find it void of any incoming messages. In his heart of hearts, he knew.

She must suspect that her newfound friend is her soulmate in disguise.

It’s with this knowledge that Jimin steps onto the lift, waiting for his brothers to finish their goodbyes before going up for the encore performance.

Looking around him, Jimin watches the staff and stage crew bustling about, preparing for the end of the Muster. Needless to say, his gaze wanders to the countless threads that overlap and lead in every direction. It’s always amazed him, how they never get tangled. How nobody ever trips over them.

Jimin has always marveled at the fact that somehow, somewhere on the other end of those threads is another person. Someone just as busy, just as oblivious to the lifeform attached to them through indescribable means.

Park Jimin has always been told that he would be the best soulmate.

He’s kind, and considerate. Loving and forgiving beyond all comprehension.

It’s something that he has believed is a lie. Every night, even before Jolie cut the very thing that tied them together, he’d lay in bed and stare at that red thread. Wondering what would happen when his soulmate was inevitable disappointed in the fact that their star-studded soulmate was just...him.

Tonight though, as the lift carries him up toward the stage and the beginning cords of “Blue & Grey” begin to play, he begins to believe.

He would be the best soulmate.

Perhaps this is the moment where he proves it. Without hatred, without envy. Without a wounded look in his eyes.

With that conviction humming in his bones, he rises to the stage and walks out under the spotlight.

The arena around him booms with sound as Jimin walks toward where his brothers sit in a semicircle. They gleam with sweat, still breathing heavily after their last performance. As Jimin takes a seat, he looks out into the crowd.

He sees the exact moment they realize what’s missing.

Or rather, hears.

That roar of the crowd, his ARMY so happily welcoming him back to the stage after his long absence, turns to deafening silence.

Into the silence, Jimin sings.

Blue & Grey plays out, Jimin raising the mic to his mouth and singing his parts with a steady voice. He waits for the end, hoping that the CG team in charge of the large screen behind him was able to carry out his request in time.

Taehyung sings the final words, his voice carrying in the quiet arena. And behind Jimin, three letters are traced out across the screen.

PJM.

As soon as the song is finished, the boys get up from their seats and make their way to the lift. They shoot Jimin curious looks as they spot his initials, but he shrugs it off for now. He can only hope that the person it was intended for saw them.

They’ve just made it to the lift when the wailing begins, the crowd having finally broken free of the spell that Blue & Grey wove over them.

“Saranghae Army!” Jimin shouts into the mic, smiling softly. The other members begin to bid them goodbye, reassuring them. They all know it will do little, already a few members of the crowd are inconsolable, but they do it nonetheless.

✂

“Twitter is blowing up right now,” Christina says, scrolling through her feed. I lay on her couch, staring at her television.

I’d come here to see if I sounded like a crazy person for taking Jaemin’s initials so seriously. However, I can’t shake the feeling of something being off.

Naturally, I’ve ignored the problem by not responding to him for a day. I’d say it’s a step up from what I’ve done in the past. At least I’m not cutting him out of my life, right?

“Isn’t it always blowing up over something?” I drawl. When I don’t get a response, I look over to see what the big deal is about.

Christina sits up in her chair, hand thrown over her mouth as her wide eyes stare at her phone.

“What? What happened?”

She shakes her head in disbelief. “I...you need to see this.” Screen-sharing with her TV, a stage replaces our episode. “He went public. It’s official.”

Ah, right. I’d also come to give Christina a fair warning about what was about to happen. Jimin going public today was the other thing occupying all of my thoughts, but I didn’t realize just how big it would be until I see the impact he had at the Muster.

Heart racing and stomach churning, I watch as Jimin appears on stage.

“Wow, that’s a statement,” Christina comments. “Doing ‘Blue & Grey’ as his comeback song?” She catches my eye, realizing who she’s speaking to. “Oh. Right.”

As Jimin settles down and Taehyung begins to sing, I find myself utterly entranced by him. He looks calm. Confident.

The world falls silent in what I assume is the moment people begin to notice that there are only six, not seven, red threads up on stage tonight.

Jimin doesn’t falter in the silence. Instead, he fills it with his voice.

“I’d forgotten,” I croak out. The rest of the words won’t come easily, but thankfully Christina understands what I mean.

“Yeah. He has a beautiful voice, doesn’t he?”

Wordlessly, we watch the rest of the performance. I can’t help but notice the fact that the cameras never pan too far so as to not see Jimin. I’m sure that they’re just as shocked as everyone else is.

As the song comes to an end, I find that somehow my eyesight has become blurry. I can’t quite tell what’s on the screen behind the boys even as Christina begins to shout.

“Look! He- he’s confirming it! Look!”

Rubbing madly at my eyes, I get a closer look at what’s on the screen. The second I see it, I stop breathing altogether.

PJM.

It wasn’t a coincidence.

“It’s him.”

Christina leans forward as the video ends, looking at me for a moment before laughing. “I mean, are we actually surprised? He didn’t try that hard to hide it, now did he? Park Jaemin, seriously?”

As much as I would love to laugh at this moment, I find that I can’t.

My new friend. The one I would scramble to read whenever I got a notification. The one that constantly checked up on me.

The one obsessed with my cat.

“How?” I breathe out.

Christina doesn’t bother to offer a reply, just watching me as the gears shift in my head. No answers are forthcoming, of course. Just the small sliver of truth that keeps on coming back.

“My soulmate is my friend,” I say. It’s obvious, but it’s important.

Jimin is my friend.

Letting out a sigh, Christina nods. “Yes. Your friend.”

The only other coherent thought that crosses my mind has me getting to my feet and slipping my jacket on over my shoulders.

“I need to go.”

“What do you mean, ‘need to go’?” Christina gets up after me, following me to the door. “Aren’t we hitting a major breakthrough right now? Your estranged soulmate is also your friend. Park Jimin isn’t just some celebrity, he’s your friend. Someone you can trust. I mean, sure, this doesn’t mean you have to barge up to his house and see him. That would be weird anyways, because then the thread would reconnect and only extend a few feet, at least, that’s what I’ve heard. It’s weird, because it’s almost like the thread has a mind of its own, you know? In order to defend itself upon reconnection, it keeps a short distance between the soulmates until it's sure they’re safe-”

“Christina.” I turn around to face her, one hand on the door. “He’s my friend, right? A good friend.”

She nods, looking a little confused. “Yeah, I thought we already established that.”

“Friends deserve an explanation, right?”

Christina blinks, looking a little nervous. “You’re not going to visit him, right? You should take the proper precautions for that, you never know how the bond with react-”

“I’m not going to see him,” I reassure her. “I’ll call you tomorrow, ok?”

Before she can question me further, I’m out the door. Keeping my head down as I head out on the main road and pass a group of teenagers, I overhear their shocked conversation.

“How does that even work, though?”

“I don’t know, but my dad’s cousin nearly had his thread cut-”

“I bet it’s all for publicity,” another remarks. “Don’t know why they need it, though.”

“Why would they cut a thread for publicity? Idiot, it’s probably CG. Maybe they did it to raise awareness or something.”

I don’t get to hear how their conversation ends before a black SUV pulls off to the side of the road and a woman sticks her head out of the window.

“Hey,” she flashes the ID hanging around her neck. I recognize it as a Bighit ID. “Operation Chauffeur is in full effect now. Hop in.”

It’s unsettling how they found me so quickly, but I distinctly remember agreeing to this plan just a couple of days ago. Sliding into the backseat, I ask the driver to take me home.

“Your name is Jolie?” The woman asks, hands on the steering wheel.

“Yes.”

“I’m Sunmi. Looks like we’ll be spending a lot of time together.”

✂

As I finally bid Sunmi goodnight - she’s oddly friendly for a Bighit staff member that’s typically charged with driving BTS around - I stumble into my apartment and head straight toward my room. Elle hasn’t arrived back home yet, probably still out on her nightly jaunt.

Which, apparently included Jimin without me even knowing it.

Flipping the light on to my room, I see that the Seoul City Electric envelope is exactly where I left it.

Sitting down at my desk and finding an empty page in a notebook, I take a deep breath.

Once I exhale, I begin to write.

And write.

Previous - Next

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blueskrugs · 3 years

Text

The Right Way to Spend a Snow Day | Chris Kreider

alright here we go! this one’s for the lovely @captainkreider. hope you like it and see y’all tomorrow with the next request!

14. baking Christmas cookies & 19. watching Christmas movies

length: 1.1K

Chris woke you up on a Saturday in December by jumping excitedly on your bed, only narrowly avoiding landing on top of you. You just groaned and rolled over to bury your face in your pillow.

“Christopher, you’re actually worse than the dog,” you said into your pillow. Chris bounced a little bit. You peeked up at him to see your dog, in fact, staring reproachfully at Chris from the floor on his side of the bed. “I know, he’s insane,” you said to her, and she thumped her tail at you. Chris just looked offended, but only for a second before he started bouncing again.

“Babe, babe, babe.” You groaned again. “It snowed, like, a foot last night, and they cancelled practice.”

“Y’know what the best thing to do on a snow day is?” you asked, pulling the blankets up and burrowing under them again. “Sleeping in.”

Chris yanked the blankets off; you flipped him off. “Okay, but: Christmas cookies.”

“I don’t think I have any ingredients,” you said, but you sat up in bed.

“I’ll go to the store, you can sleep in,” Chris offered. You raised an eyebrow at him. He’d gotten lost in the grocery store more than once. “Okay, you’ll have to tell me what to get, but you don’t have to come with me.” You sighed and pushed the blankets back so you could follow Chris to the kitchen.

“You owe me coffee,” you grumbled as you looked through the fridge and pantry for cookie ingredients and wrote down everything Chris would need to buy. It was still snowing outside, and New York was quieter for once.

Instead of going back to your warm bed like you really wanted to, you settled on the couch with a hot mug of coffee and a blanket, your dog happily curling up beside you, and waited for the inevitable phone call from Chris when he couldn’t find something on the list. True to form, you were almost finished with your coffee when Chris FaceTimed you.

“I swear they move these aisles around,” Chris grumbled when you answered the phone. You laughed.

“All these years in New York, and you still can’t find your way around a store, I just don’t understand it,” you said, but you still listened to him complain as you guided him around the store.

Thirty minutes later, Chris burst through the front door with a draft of cold air. There was snow in his curls. He dumped the bags on the kitchen counter with a huff.

“Babe, I love you, but if I ever offer to go to the store for you again, make sure I don’t have a concussion.”

You laughed as you moved to sort through all the bags Chris brought in. In the end, you had agreed to bake three kinds of cookies: sugar, gingerbread, and chocolate chip, because, as Chris said, “You can’t go wrong with classics, babe,” sounding way too wise for someone who still had bedhead.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Hey, can you get the cookie cutters and sprinkles down?”

Chris sighed in faux-exasperation, but he turned to dig out the cookie cutters and Christmas sprinkles from where they had been stashed in a high cabinet. “Alright, now what?” he asked, laying everything on the island next to you. You thought for a moment. Chris had always been more of a cook and left the baking to you, but he could still follow a simple recipe. Besides, it was pretty impossible to mess up chocolate chip cookies.

“Start on the chocolate chip, please?” you said, waving the recipe in his direction.

“Hey, wait, is that Rudolph?”

You had forgotten to turn the TV off when Chris had gotten home, and it was, in fact, showing the original Rudolph movie.

“Focus, Christopher,” you chided. Chris had gotten distracted halfway through measuring out flour, and was seconds away from dumping what he already had in the measuring cup all over the counter. “We can watch movies while cookies are baking.”

You both settled in to work after that. Chris turned on one of those Spotify playlists that was all Christmas music, but just piano versions of songs. The chocolate chip cookies made it into the oven without issue, though you caught Chris sneaking a couple spare chocolate chips more than once.

You leave the sugar and gingerbread doughs in the fridge to chill while Chris pouts at you until you join him under a blanket on the couch to watch what Christmas movie is playing now. (It’s Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town, which is one of your favorites. And the reason you use Burgermeister Miesterburger as an insult instead of Grinch or Scrooge around Christmas.) He pouts at you even more when you get up to take the chocolate chip cookies out of the oven and lay them out to cool.

“Do you want to help me cut out these cookies or not?” you called, which led to Chris tripping over the blanket as he tried to get up.

You let Chris put sprinkles on some of the sugar cookies, which he attacks with the same single-minded focus he does everything in his life. You watched with amusement as he carefully placed sprinkles on the cookies.

“You want some tweezers or something to be more precise, or something?” you teased, but Chris actually looked thrilled by the idea, the dork.

Chris hovered over your shoulder while you made and colored royal icing to decorate with, as though he had never seen you make it before, which he definitely had, but he helped you put it in piping bags when you were done. He could be helpful, sometimes.

You iced your cookies fairly quickly, but when you looked over at Chris twenty minutes later, he was still on the same cookie he had started with. His nose was like an inch away from the cookie, you noticed.

“Jesus Christ, Kreids, could you be any more focused?” you asked fondly.

“It’s gotta be perfect,” he muttered, only looking away from the cookie long enough to stick his tongue out at you. You leaned over and swiped the cookie from his hand, smirking around a bite full of gingerbread as you bit the cookie’s head off. You weren’t sure you’d ever seen Chris look so affronted in his life.

Later, you were finishing cleaning up the kitchen when Chris yelled from the living room.

“Babe! Babe, Elf is starting, get in here!”

“Do you want hot chocolate?” you called back.

“Duh!”

The snow had stopped falling, but outside everything was quiet and white, and you happily settled in next to Chris and your three blankets and a mug of hot chocolate. Maybe being woken up early by your boyfriend didn’t always end badly.

#cait's holiday prompts #cait writes things #chris kreider #chris kreider fic #chris kreider imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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captainsimagines · 3 years

Text

Titanic || H.S

Part Three || “Harry”

“I hear the states are quite bigger than just New York, dear...”

Warnings: This book contains mature themes and discussions, such as gun violence, emotional and physical abuse, attempted suicide, mentions of blood, character deaths, heavy sexual content, and reference to the real maritime disaster of the 1912 cruise liner Titanic.

Mornings were as warm as freshly made bread and salted butter for Harry, inviting and comforting, with that perfect combination sitting on his tongue in absolute delight. He’d chow down happily as each morning customer ordered their regulars, his mother rushing from one side to the other as the orders came in. And once he swallowed his last piece, he rolled his sleeves up to pull yet another tray of bread that had been baking since the early morning hours.

The family bakery was located in a very crowded part of the city, where thousands walked by each day, good and bad, gossiping about anything and everything. And although Harry’s family bakery wasn’t the only one on the street, it was the one that received the most praise. With dough made with love and an end product that was easily pulled apart, Harry’s family bakery won first place in all good graces.

And with such precision in every bite and every cake decorated in such an exquisite manner that they were rated number one in The Times for attention to detail and amazing taste, the family bakery was ready to branch out. They had a plan to save as much money as they could - and although being loved by many and receiving great reviews - they had very little of that. Most of the money the family earned went to rent, new shoes, and ingredients. The plan involved the Styles Bakery becoming some sort of franchise, and since they had London’s attention, it was possible.

The Styles Bakery would extend through other parts of London, and ever since Harry’s grandparents moved to the states with his aunt and her children, America was added to the equation.

“Mum, could you get the bread out? My hands are full!” Harry called out, arms struggling to carry glass jars full of jelly. He carefully climbed the ladder on the wall and began stacking, looking over his shoulder to make sure his mother heard his request. She quickly came out from the back room, padding her hands against her apron, and proceeded to remove the bread. She placed it on the counter carefully, all the while watching her son as he balanced himself on the ladder.

“Quite busy, are we?” she asked, rushing over to hold the ladder under him. Harry placed the last of his jars on the shelves.

“We need to get this place ready for the photographer! We need those photos by tonight so I can bring them with me on the trip.”

“I know, honey. And thank you for doing this, but I don’t want you to fall and get hurt just because you were in a rush,” she said, helping Harry as he climbed down. “We have more than enough time.”

“Time?” Harry said with a tiny laugh, “Grandad said that if we don’t get these plans and photographs to the landlord in two weeks time, then we have to search outside of New York.”

She smiled at him, “I hear the states are quite bigger than just New York, dear.”

Harry rolled his eyes, retreated back to the stockroom, and grabbed even more full jars. But as he returned, he continued the conversation. “But it’s where all the business and people are!”

But still, his mother laughed. “People exist outside urban areas as well.”

Harry saw how his mother would continue to innocently twist his words for the better, and no matter how negative he seemed to speak, his mother always could sprinkle the positives inside. For a while longer, they stacked jars, rearranged chairs, and cleaned the windows while waiting for the photographer. Once he arrived, he set up and did the bakery justice. From just the angles alone, Harry could see that the photographs would come out perfectly. They paid him extra for such an expedited order, promised to pick them up early tomorrow morning, and closed up the bakery a little after two in the afternoon.

Harry quickly ventured out to the still-empty pubs around town, a small pack of cigarettes he usually kept hidden behind the sacks of flour in the stockroom now hidden in his coat pocket, and joined as many small poker games he could find. With such deserted pubs at this time of the day, the men were less rowdy and more sober. This way Harry could collect as much pocket change he could in time for his voyage. The time flew by as he hopped from one pub to another, but he was still determined to make some more cash. But as his eyelids began to droop and his mind narrowly missed the ‘full house’ he was holding, Harry won, wrapped it all up, and started home.

He wasn’t a heavy gambler but he was known to succeed in a few tournaments when his family desperately needed to make rent. With such a dangerous alternative, Harry and his sister hid the fact that they would apply for odd jobs outside of the general area they lived, bringing in money under their mother’s nose - anything to keep the family afloat.

But after a few hours in the comfort of his home, he ventured out into the world once again. He traveled around his known parts of the city, a few blocks here and there, most alleyways, and greeted many people. Once his feet began feeling sore and the tips of his shoes stubbed his toes, he went into a pub for a quick drink. He enjoyed its taste, sort of salty and sweet at the same time. He ordered the same and decided to focus on his surroundings during each sip, watching every bartender and every customer walk to and from the bar. All he could think about while looking at everyone’s joyful faces was that tomorrow he would be waiting at the docks and boarding the grandest ship in the world. Perhaps he’d be lucky enough to taste the alcohol they were transporting and serving, but it was a long-shot thought. The third class most likely was not going to offer up the finest things, but it sure beat the streets of rat-infested London. But as Harry recalled his schooling and the little travelers who brought the plague, he settled for calling Titanic’s possible rats more upper-class than the ones below the bar he was currently lounging in. The simple third class ticket hidden safely away in his bedside drawer was a somewhat important telling, like it was something that represented a rise in Harry’s world.

He ordered his third drink, this time carefully watching a young couple across the room who shared the drink they just ordered. They laughed along with the piano player, hands intertwined, simultaneously tapping their thighs to the beat in unison. Such synchronization was therapeutic and Harry wondered how they met - if they knew they were right for each other, if they ever fought, how many children they had, or whether they were truly happy as their movements portrayed. All these unanswered questions did not need to have an answer for Harry to accept the wonder.

The sound of Harry’s sliding barstool startled the sleeping man next to him. Harry paid the bartender, gave the sleeping man a double pat on the shoulder, and left. He was only a few blocks away from home, but he decided to walk slower than usual. Tomorrow’s plan formulated itself and Harry didn’t have to think twice about it - he would wake up early, dress casual but clean, make sure his boots had their laces, and double-check his packing. And the one-way ticket would burn a hole in his pocket as he boarded, waving goodbye to his mother and sister who weren’t granted tickets themselves. They would wave sadly, tearing up slightly but just enough for Harry to see, and would come back home to run the bakery themselves for a few months.

It was worth the distance once Harry landed in America, for their entire lives would change. In America, Harry would buy that spot of land they had all been saving for over the last fifteen years. He would clean, build, anything he had to do as long as that spot of land showcased the first of a long chain of Styles Bakery’s. A bakery where Americans of all races, all religions, all everything and anything would get to savor the sweet taste of a busy London street.

Once he got home he wrapped himself up with three heavy blankets, drank a cup of tea, and rested his eyes for a moment. He was already giddy with joy, restless as to what awaited him tomorrow. The chance to step on American soil and the Titanic - all within a week - barely allowed Harry a wink of deep sleep.

The American dream wasn’t really what Harry strived for or wished to achieve, but he definitely thought it probable. He had the money, he had the determination, he had the contacts. But it was quite unsettling to think about the negative consequences of such a drastic move and not knowing if everything was going to fall into place.

Harry’s eyes began to feel heavier and heavier as his mind kept racing, but he knew one thing for sure. Whether his family’s dream was to be recognized and accomplished, it was luck and luck alone that would ultimately determine his new American fate. Harry breathed a heavy sigh and ducked his chin deeper into the blankets, neck slightly tilted and arms hugging his upper torso.

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waywardodysseys · 3 years

Text

Eight Days of Christmas - Day 5

I Never Knew the Meaning of Christmas

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x female reader

Warnings: cussing, fluff, naughty innuendos

Summary: Your ninth Christmas with Ransom Drysdale.

Day 1 / Day 2 / Day 3 / Day 4

(divider by @firefly-graphics)

Pots clang together as you pull a stack of baking trays from a cabinet. You have plenty to help with what you are to accomplish tonight - baking sweet treats with your husband while your three-month-old son, Oliver, watches from the sidelines.

A loud cry and gurgle make you turn towards your brown-haired, blue-eyed son. He’s sitting in his highchair watching you gather materials. “I’m sorry, Oli. I hate loud noises too.” You walk over and place a kiss on his soft cheek. “Daddy will be home soon.” You move back over to the kitchen island as soft Christmas music floods the kitchen from the Bluetooth speaker on the other side of the room. You grab your list and begin making sure you have all you need as the front door opens and closes.

After hanging up his coat, Ransom wanders into the kitchen. “Whoa! How much are we making this year?” Ransom inquires as he walks in and sees the kitchen island covered with various baking ingredients and supplies, he then places a kiss atop Oliver’s head. He smiles as his son smiles wide and toothless towards his dad. “You’re a lucky fella, Oli. Getting to spend your entire day with momma,” he pauses then mutters under his breath, “when it should be me.”

You shake your head and lightly laugh, “Well at least Christmas break officially begins for you next week. So, I’m sure you’ll get enough time with both Oli and me before you have to return back to work in the new year.”

Ransom walks over and wraps his arms around you. “What you makin’?” He pushes your hair aside and presses his lips against your neck.

“Cookies and those pecans both of our families love to devour.” You pause. “I gotta make a batch for my office too. Oli and I are going to visit them on Monday.”

“No pies?”

You spin in his arms and face him. “Last year you,” you pressed a finger against his chest as you emphasized the word, “Mister Drysdale, tried to make a pie and it turned out horrible. And burnt. We’re sticking to cookies and the pecans.”

Ransom laughs, “Not my fault someone was extremely turned on by seeing me cook!” His hands squeeze your hips. “You know how turned on I get just by seeing you. Missus Drysdale.”

You slap Ransom’s chest playfully, “There’s a child present!”

Ransom grins then kisses you softly. He whispers, “It won’t stop you later.” He smiles against your lips when he hears your soft, low moan. He knows he has you wrapped around his finger because he’s wrapped around yours. “And you know I won’t stop you.”

You needed air. Your body’s heated from his words and actions. You step out of his arms and grab a mixing bowl so you may begin. “You’re incorrigible, Ransom.”

He smirks, “Only with you.” His stomach growls loudly then he frowns and looks at the kitchen, “What about dinner?”

“We can order in. I’m not trusting you with cooking anything when I have to bake.”

Ransom shrugs and huffs jokingly, “Okay. Okay.” He smiles then eyes the kitchen island. He rubs his hands together, “Where shall we begin?”

A couple of hours later, the entire house is smelling of cinnamon-sugar pecans and sugar cookies. Ransom is nearly covered in flour because it slipped out of his hands when he was trying to open it by ripping it open when you suggested he just cut the top of it off. Of course, he didn't listen, and the bag dropped and burst open. You laughed; glad you had bought extra. Oliver laughed loudly at his father’s accident too. Ransom turns towards his son, “I thought you’d be on my side, Oli!”

Oliver laughs again, kicking out his legs and hands. Ransom chuckles and goes over to his son’s side. “You and I gotta stick together. We gotta keep momma on her toes.”

You look over and see Ransom tracing Oliver’s cheeks with a finger. You smile, knowing he’s already a good father and will continue to be one. “What about making a cake? Think you can do that?” you inquire.

Ransom looks at you, brow raised. “What happened to my wife? She said I wasn’t to make anything,” he stresses that particular word like you had earlier, “while she baked.”

You laugh, “Maybe I want to see my husband doing something in the kitchen. You know give me some, uh, motivation for later?” You look at him with a sly smile then playfully wink.

Ransom stands hurriedly, “Well, if that’s what gets me…” He stops when you give him a glaring look. He shrugs and chuckles, “I don’t think he can understand us, sweetheart.” He points back to Oliver.

“Says you,” you respond as Ransom opens cabinets doors looking for a clean mixing bowl since a few are already in the sink. “Ah! Found one!” he exclaims as he brings it out then places it on the counter. He then shuffles over to the pantry and finds a boxed cake mix. There’s no way he was following a recipe card for a made from scratch cake. Besides, no one really could tell the difference. “Who’s getting this cake?”

You’ve returned your focus to what you were doing a few moments ago. You slice the store-bought rolled sugar cookie dough then place them on baking sheets. You dunk some of the raw cookie dough into a bowl of sprinkles, while others go directly to the baking sheet, they would be decorated with icing after they come out of the oven. “Take it to work. Show people you care.”

Ransom scoffs, “I make sure they get their bonuses, make sure the Christmas party is hosted in some lavish hotel. I do care.” He walks back to your side, sneaks a piece of the raw cookie dough, and scarves it down. “I still don’t get why we have to make goodies. The store sells its own!” he remarks.

“I saw that,” you utter softly. You then counter his remark by stating, “And because it’s the thought that counts Ransom. Have you not learned that yet?”

“I’ve learned it. You’ve taught me well, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss against your cheek.

“Then I shouldn’t hear any complaining,” you tease before you give him a quick peck on the cheek in return.

Ransom scoffs, “Well, at least the thought counted when I gifted you with a baby last Christmas.”

“Hugh Ransom Drysdale!” you exclaim with a laugh.

Ransom shrugs and smirks, “What! It’s true!” He begins to gather the ingredients he needs and proceeds to place them all in the bowl, along with the cake mix. “How do I mix this?”

“Seriously, Ransom? The electric mixer is in the pantry. Did you get a pan ready?”

“Knew I was missing something,” Ransom remarks as he heads back to the pantry and grabs the mixer. He searches for a cake pan, greases it then sets it aside. He goes back to where the bowl is the mixer. “Where are the--”

“Utensil drawer,” you answer.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

You hum in response then watch as he has a somewhat difficult time putting the beaters into their designated holes in the mixer. You laugh and begin to say something but are stopped by his words: “Don’t even say it.”

“I don't know what you’re talking about.”

Ransom rolls his eyes, “Well, you were either going to say something about how I can’t get these things in their holes,” he grimaces realizing what he just said. “Or something even dirtier than that.”

You snort, “I guess you’ll never know.”

Ransom finally gets the beaters in place and turns on the mixer. He realizes he might get batter all over him, so he turns it off then places the mixer into the bowl and turns it on. He proudly smiles to himself as he begins to move the bowl with his hands slowly, like he’d see you do plenty of times, making sure he gets the entire mixture thoroughly mixed together before pouring into the pan. Finally! Something I can do!

“My husband might indeed get lucky tonight,” you state as you take out a baking sheet filled with pecans coated in a cinnamon-sugar concoction. You then place the baking sheet full of uncooked cookies in the oven.

“You gave me something easy, Y/N.” Ransom retorts.

“I know. I wasn't about to give you something hard to do.”

“I’ll give you something hard later tonight,” Ransom states as he looks at you and wiggles his eyebrows.

You shake your head and laugh as you begin stirring the pecans. Oliver laughs bubbly as he moves his eyes between his mother and father. You look at your son. “Don’t ever ask your daddy to cook you anything Oli.”

“Hey! I can use the microwave!” Ransom boasts as he finishes mixing the batter. He sets the mixer aside. He absentmindedly reaches for the plug and unplugs it. He then empties the batter into the cake pan and makes sure it evenly spreads out. ‘No one wants an uneven cake’ your words echoing in his head. “May I put this in the oven?”

“Yes.” you reply as you move out of the way.

After Ransom places the pan in the oven and sets a timer, he walks back over to the mixer. He pushes down on the button to release the beaters, but instead he turns it on, and batter begins to fly everywhere. “Fuck! I thought I unplugged this! What the…,” he seethes as he reaches over and finally unplugs the correct cord. He then examines the cord he did unplug, which was to the coffee maker.

You begin laughing and Oli joins in with his spirited giggles.

“It’s not funny!” Ransom exclaims as he frustratedly presses the button, takes out the beaters then places them in the sink. “GODdamn it!” He begins mumbling curses under his breath as you and Oli continue with your laughter.

You grab a dish towel and walk over to him. You pull on his sweater to make him look at you. You smile as you wipe away some of the batter on his neck and chin. You see a smear of batter on Ransom’s cheek and you lick it off. You moan, “Tastes good.”

“Hopefully, you’re talking about me,” Ransom pridefully remarks.

“The batter. I already know you taste good.” you state then are enveloped in Ransom’s arms. “You still have batter on your clothes!”

Ransom chuckles, “All the more reason to discard them later!”

You slip out of Ransom’s arms as your timer dings for the cookies. You grab them out of the oven and place the baking sheet on a cooling rack. You watch as Ransom walks over to his son and gets him out of his highchair. Oliver smiles and clings onto Ransom’s sweater as the two men walk over to the stove.

“Nearly time to put you to bed Oli. Your momma and I have plans.” Ransom happily states as Oli moves his hands against Ransom’s sweater, finding some batter. He looks at it wide eyed. Ransom smiles then takes his own hand and pretends to lick it. “It’s fine. I promise. Probably better than what momma gives you.”

Oli grins from ear to ear as he looks at his dad. He presses his hand to his mouth and wipes his hand all over his face, which causes the batter to smear across Oliver’s face. Ransom chuckles as he finds some paper towels and wipes it all away.

You look at your husband and son. Your heart overflows with emotion as you take them in and take in this moment. You stop what you’re doing, walk over to them, and cup one of Ransom’s cheeks then cup Oliver’s cheek with your other hand. “I love both my boys. Thankful for each of you.” You press a kiss against Ransom’s cheek. You then kiss Oliver’s cheek. “Thankful the love of my life gave me the most beautiful son in the world.” You wouldn’t trade either of them for anyone else. You then burrow into Ransom, wrap an arm around him, and keep a hand against Oliver’s cheek.

Ransom keeps Oliver glued to one side with one arm while the other snakes around your frame. He presses a kiss to Oliver’s forehead. He then presses a kiss to your temple. “I’m thankful for a loving wife who’s given me the gift of a son and a family. Who’s shown me what Christmas really means.”

A soft melody of music begins to fill the air. Ransom smiles, familiar with the song now playing. How fitting. He hums along with the tune as you and he begin slowly swaying to the music. When the chorus begins, Ransom whispers while looking deep into your eyes, “I never knew the meaning of Christmas until you came into my life.”

You smile in return. Infusing this into your memory bank, knowing eventually Christmas will become Ransom’s favorite holiday, and time of year.

#eight days of christmas #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale x y/n #christmas series #ransom drysdale x reade #eight days of christmas day 5

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