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little-diable · 1 year

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The Painting - Prof!Tom Holland (smut)

Happy Valentines! It's been a while since I've last written a prof fic, so I hope y'all love this as much as I do. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Professor Holland takes his students on a trip, exploring art galleries, admiring paintings he can barely spare any attention to, mind fully focused on her, the student he found himself. drawn to like a moth to a flame

Warnings: 18+, smut, p in v, oral (m&f), professor x student, tipsy sex

Pairing: Professor!Tom Holland x fem!student!reader (3k words)

header by @firefly-graphics

“Alright, we’ll meet down here in an hour.” Professor Holland’s voice echoed through the entrance hall of the hotel, drawing all excited eyes towards his frame. Anticipation filled his students, excited about their University trip, about exploring a new city and about spending more time with the professor all students were fawning over. His eyes wandered through the crowd, momentarily catching (y/n)’s gaze before he tore his eyes from her.

There had always been something about (y/n) that drew him in, sinister thoughts daring to nestle in his mind and soul. He kept his distance, not daring to even speak to her without other students around, and yet Tom couldn’t help but give into his wandering thoughts ever now and then. Drawn to her like a pilgrim following a higher call, finding shelter in lands left unexplored.

He watched his students leave towards their rooms, teeth sinking into his lower lip to distract himself from finding her eyes once again. And yet he was too weak to withstand the evergrowing pull inside his chest, lips turning into a soft smile as he found (y/n) already looking at him. They didn’t look at one another for more than a few seconds, and yet it felt like eternity, an eternity way too short for Tom to take in her features, the soft skin his fingers wanted to touch, the eyes that carried more emotions than mere words would ever be willing to express.

Slowly Tom followed after his stundents, keeping a safe distance, not wanting to interrupt their excited chatter. He felt awfully out of place, even though there were only a few years of an age gap between him and most of his students, Tom struggled to deal with the power he held over them, forced to decide over the outcome of their semester.

The minutes kept fading by as Tom unpacked his suitcase, giving him the chance to finally exhale the deep breaths he had been holding, clearly on edge. It was the first trip he was taking with students, the first time he had left the university building with them - all adults and yet Tom feared he wouldn’t be able to take good enough care of them. Perhaps he didn’t worry much about those whose names he could barely remember; perhaps he didn’t worry much about those that didn’t listen to his classes and the words he’d speak every Tuesday afternoon; perhaps all he worried about was her.

She’d be his downfall, torn to the ground by a higher power she held over him, fully oblivious to the things she was making him feel.

“Are you alright?” Tom found himself speaking up before his mind could catch up with the words rolling off his tongue. He had studied (y/n) from afar, wondering why she wasn’t following the group around the museum, not moving away from the drawing by Albrecht Dürer.

“I am, sorry, I’ll catch up with them in a second.” Their eyes met, forcing a wave of heat through Tom, clawing itself deeper into the layers of skin he wanted her - and only her - to explore. He stood next to (y/n), not moving away as her gaze slowly wandered back to the drawing. “I don’t know why, but something about this drawing has always fascinated me.”

Both took in the colourful wing, one could see the single movements of the artists hand, a masterpiece created hundreds of years ago. “It’s full of emotions, isn’t it?”

“Do you think he knew people would cherish his art, even centuries after his time?” (Y/n)‘s voice was just above a whisper, but Tom picked up on every word as if she had been screaming them. She had him trapped, guiding his body with a power he found himself scared of, very well aware that he won’t be able to rip himself free any time soon.

“I hope so, he didn’t have an easy life, it’s almost comforting if you think about him wondering if the perception of his art would change in the future.” She could only hum in approval, gaze wandering back to Tom’s features as she tilted her head towards the direction the others have disappeared to. He had to bite down the urge to reach for her hand, wondering how her soft hands would feel pressed against his. Would (y/n) feel the same electricity burning through her veins? Would (y/n) feel the same heat etching itself into her soul?

“You go ahead, I’ll be there in a minute.” He needed a few moments alone, desperate to breathe the air his aching lungs were screaming for, body unable to work with (y/n) standing this close to him. And all he could do was watch her disappear down the hallway with a smile tugging on her lips.

He had it bad, he’d drown in the oceans of sinful thoughts eventually, one with the waves of eternity he was forever trapped in.

“I didn’t take you for a wine lover.” (Y/n)’s soft voice rang in his ears like a siren’s call, eyes drawn to hers. She plopped down in the seat across from his, studying the professor with tired eyes. The hotel bar was almost empty, wrapping them in some sort of safety, hidden from curious eyes.

“Didn’t you leave with the others?” Tom hadn’t paid much attention to the group that had left to explore the nearby bars, distracted by his thoughts, he had assumed that she had left with the others, not one to leave the group behind.

“No, if I’m honest I had hoped that I’d catch you here.” A smile found its way to her features, followed by a soft chuckle - silently praying that he wouldn’t make fun of her for her confession. Tom visibly tensed in his seat as if he hadn’t quite picked up on the words she had spoken.

“Why?” Tom wanted to curse himself as the question left him, hoping that he didn’t come across as rude. He grew nervous, unable to guide his thoughts. But she stumbled over her words, gaze averted as she tried to pierce her thoughts together.

“I don’t know, I thought we could speak a bit more about the drawings.” His heart skipped a few beats, racing in his chest as her words began to sink in. She wanted to spend time with him, alone. “But if you want some time alone I won’t disturb you.”

“No, please, stay.” He sounded pathetic, and yet (y/n) didn’t seem to mind the desperation dripping from his words. She grew comfortable in the seat, could see fractions of her reflection in his glasses, reflecting a woman desperate to grow closer to the man she had been crushing on for months on end.

It had started as a simple crush, like it almost always does, but over the upcoming months (y/n) had found herself thinking of him constantly, dreaming of a life with the man she called professor. She was in deep, and yet (y/n) didn’t want to escape the situation she found herself stuck in, finding comfort in the thoughts that grew louder late at night. Tom was always on her mind, as if she needed the thought of him to survive.

“Why Dürer?“ His question ripped her out of her thoughts, pondering over the words burning on the tip of her tongue.

“There’s something about him I can’t quite put my finger on, I’ve always loved his art, it’s full of history, of codes only those familiar with his ideas and the period he lived in truly understand. Almost like riddles he wanted his audience to solve.” And so she started to pull him in once again, reminding the young professor of the trap he couldn’t run from. There was no escaping from her.

“401?” Tom’s gruff voice made goosebumps appear on her forearms, nodding her head in comfirmation as they walked down the hallway. “I’m in 403.”

She wasn’t quite sure what to do with the information, unable to reply as she kept walking. They had been chatting for the past hour, not wanting their conversation to ever end, and yet the late hour had forced them to rise from their seats, desperate to catch up on some sleep before the day ahead would start.

Both came to a halt in front of her room, forcing Tom to clear his throat, thinking of something to say to her, anything that would express how grateful he felt for the past hour he got to spend with her. Almost unnoticed by him, (y/n) took a step closer, a bold move urged on by the drink she had poured down her system, not drunk and yet tipsy enough to ignore the signals her moral compass kept sending out. Their eyes didn’t break contact as she reached for his hand, wordlessly interlacing their fingers, giving him a few seconds to pull away before she’d close the gap between them.

The air between them was crackling, one could feel the rising tension, a tension forcing them closer and closer together. Tom didn’t move, stuck in a trance as (y/n) shifted her weight, breath fawning over his lips. The distance between them grew smaller, lips about to touch as a soft “(Y/n)” left Tom. “We can’t, not here.”

It took her a few moments to snap into motion, reaching for her room key to unlock the door. She wouldn’t back down, not tonight, not when the moment felt all too right. Without another warning she pulled Tom into her room, door falling shut with a heavy thud. Within moments their lips met, pulled closer as if their bodies were forced to give in.

Their hands found one another’s frame, while Tom’s carefully rested on her throat, fingers pressed against her jaw, (y/n)‘s fingers found the hairs at the nape of his neck, tugging on his roots. Moans rumbled through the pair, urging them on to add more pressure to the first kiss of many they’d share. A moment filled with lust, anticipation and excitement.

“Are you sure about this?” Tom murmured his words against her lips, darkening eyes forcing her to look at him. She could only nod her head, chasing his lips as if she was high on the taste lingering on his tongue. “Need to hear you saying it, love.”

“I am, fuck, haven’t been so sure of anything before. Just, please.” His groans forced a few giggles out of her, gasping in surprise as Tom gave her a push back, body falling onto the mattress. For a few seconds he stared down on (y/n), hoping to etch this very moment into his thoughts. Forever to remember. Forever to cling to when his days grew darker.

“Tell me what you want, (y/n).” Tom’s voice carried more authority than ever before, making her breath hitch in her heavily rising and falling chest.

“I want to taste you, professor.” He didn’t reply, at least not verbally. Tom’s veiny hands undid his dark trousers, freeing his hardening cock for her trembling hands. She didn’t hold back, spat into her palm and started pumping him, eyes flickering up to meet his every now and then. Fuck this is what he had been dreaming of when his hands had started wandering, taking care of the blood rushing down to his cock, forcing heat to spread through his body.

“Taste me, huh? Open your mouth then.” Set on his commands like a woman without a mind of her own, (y/n) parted her lips for him, greedily swallowing his cock. Her gaggs echoed through the room, forcing Tom to moan, finding pride in the way she was struggling to take him. Rough tugs on her scalp forced her to bobb her head faster, wanting to push him closer towards the edge.

Trembling hands pumped the parts her mouth couldn’t reach, saliva was dripping from her slightly swollen lips, she was making a mess neither Tom nor (y/n) paid much attention to. She felt him twitch in her mouth, already riled up, set on giving into the orgasm threatening to clash through him any moment now.

“‘M close, love, gotta pull away.” But (y/n) didn’t dare move, desperate to taste his release. His cum filled her warm cheeks as Tom gave in with a moan, head thrown back, eyes fluttering shut to relish in the moment. His taste stuck to her tongue, a taste she’d remember till the end of her time; (y/n) was sure of it. “Fuck, I should have known you’d be good at this. C’mon lay back down for me.”

Excitement bubbled through her as (y/n) fell back against the mattress, raising her hips for him to pull her trousers and panties down her legs. Her still trembling hands pulled her shirt over her head, bra following the other clothes down to the ground, body fully exposed to Tom’s dark eyes. She found pride in the way he was marvelling at her, as if she was a painting he’d teach his students about; and yet Tom wouldn’t ever share the view he now got to admire, forever his to take in.

“You’re dripping, love, so ready for me.” His warm hand cupped her core, fingers brushing through her arousal covered folds. Her moans urged him on, pressing his tongue against her clit as he pushed two fingers into her. Sucking Tom off had already pushed her closer and closer to the edge, spurred on by the way he had moaned for her, it wouldn’t take long till her own orgasm would force her down the edge, preparing her for his cock.

“You taste so good, fuck.” He was addicted, had tasted the forbidden fruit and now he’d gladly pay for his sins, one with the woman that kept moaning his name. Tom curled his fingers against her swollen spot with every thrust, feeling her walls clamp down on him. His tongue picked up its pace, allowing the strong muscle to add more pressure to her bundle of nerves.

Her fingernails left marks on his neck, clawed into his skin to find something to hold onto. Fuck, he was making her see stars, desperate for the sweet release no partner had ever made her feel, at least not like this.

(Y/n) came with a moan of his name, back arched off the mattress, pushing her cunt further against his hot mouth. Tom gave it a few more brushes before he pulled away from her, watching her panting frame with a smirk tugging on his arousal covered lips. He gave her a few seconds to catch her breath as he took off his clothes, naked body searching hers like lovers made to reunite beneath the dark sky. Bound together by a promise only those willing to listen would pick up on.

He pulled a condom from his wallet, eyes finding hers as he rolled it down his cock before aligning himself with her entrance. Wordlessly he seemed to ask her once again if she truly wanted this, chuckling at the “Please” (y/n) whined. Both moaned in unison as he pushed into her, cock forcing her walls apart, giving her a few moment to adjust.

“You’re so big, feels so good.” She kept blabbering her words away, barely paying attention to the praises she spoke. Tom fucked her slow at first, needing to slow down before he’d give in all too soon, unsure if he was stuck in another dream of his or if she was truly moaning for him with her naked chest pressed against his. He wanted to take in every expression tugging on her features, wanted to study her till the end of their time, but the way her walls kept fluttering around him forced Tom to close his eyes.

Their bodies met over and over again, searching their closeness as their desire spurred them on. Heat filled their veins, spreading through their system like a drug they had taken. Tom tightened his grip on her waist, drawing a pained whine from her, a pain she found herself addicted to, a pain she never wanted to let go of, if it meant being with Tom.

His eyes flickered down to where their bodies met, cock disappearing inside her tightness with every ferocious thrust. One of his hands found her middle, circling her pulsing clit to push her closer and closer to the edge, wanting to feel her cum around him. Bodies made for one another, fit together like a puzzle, perfectly aligning with every part of their limbs.

A kiss full of emotions was shared between them as (y/n) let go, moaning into his mouth as her orgasm wrecked through her. Tom couldn’t stop watching her, marvelling at the gorgeous woman he never wanted to let go of again. She was his, as much as he was hers - if she’d take him that is. Tom gave it a few more thrusts before he let go, eyes fluttering close, lips slightly parted to let his sounds roll off his tongue like a prayer spoken in the quiet of the night.

“Fuck, I won’t be able to think about something else in class now.” His words were met with her chuckles, hand searching his as she placed her head on his chest, listening to his racing heart. And for a moment they were nothing but two lovers, enjoying the heat their bodies produced, and the sound of their hearts beating in sync.

#Tom Holland smut #professor imagine #Tom Holland imagine

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msnihilist · 3 months

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I read a post of yours before about the lack of knowledge of eroticity in ben10 fandom. you know what? You are right.

But in my defense I am from another continent in the Pizza-Mandolino country.

Okay, you know what? Fuck it, let's do this. Prepare for a VERY long, VERY biased rant about erotic works and sexuality that is entirely based on my own personal thoughts/experiences and nothing else.

Please feel free to stop reading at any time if it begins to make you uncomfortable.

Let's preface this by saying that I masturbate to fan creations. I'm an adult, I'm into kinky freak shit, I'm not going to pretend that I have a pure, intellectual reason for being passionate about smut, okay? Okay.

The Ben 10 fandom has some of the most boring, tepid, vanilla smut I've seen in a fandom in a while, which is saying a lot. I've seen more emotional and kinky shit from Miraculous Ladybug fans.

And that's fine, I guess, if that's what you get off to. I'm not here to kink shame. I just think it's a tragedy for a show like Ben 10 to give us so many different alien species and character dynamics, and then when I scroll through the fandom tag on Twitter or Rule 34, all I get is big tits, ten-year-old Gwen with a hyper-inflated ass, and footjobs.

For fuck's sake, the Ben 10 NSFW community looks like a DeviantArt gallery for The Loud House, and it sucks.

Maybe being a Homestuck fan in my teenage years spoiled me. High school is about the time when people start to really dive into their fetishes, and I was fortunate enough to be in a fandom that was absolutely drowning in sodden alien pussy, tentacle cocks, and hate sex.

I don't just mean the tentabulges were nice, though. Homestuck smut has horn play, pheromones, different anatomy headcanons, monsterfucking, fighting that dissolves into sex, and some of the most tooth-rottingly tender sex scenes ever put to the screen.

I've read a fic where Dave got eggs unwittingly shoved up his ass by an alien beast five times his size, and it drugged him with a natural aphrodisiac so that he enjoyed it. I've read a bodyswap DaveKat fic that was so filled with self-hatred and mutual loathing that it looped all the way around into being incredibly intimate and overflowing with trust. I've seen fanart of mind control, wing play, micro/macro, milking, and quite a few different art pieces that make creative use of God Tier immortality for some guro corpse-fucking. Hell, I've seen kinks that I didn't even know were a thing thanks to Homestuck.

And what does the Ben 10 fandom give me? Ben and Gwen having missionary sex. Again. I'm used to full-course meals, and now that I've switched my primary fandoms, I'm starving!

I have nothing against incest ships. I actually love them. I can't get off to porn if nothing illegal is going on, y'know? But it's become painfully obvious to me that the queer folks who drew Dave finger-fucking Dirk's decapitated neck stump are not AT ALL the same as the cishet men who are making 3D models of Gwen's bone-dry loli pussy.

It's sort of infuriating to me, personally, that the Ben 10 erotica scene is filled to the brim with people who are still salivating over the same version of Gwen that gave them their first boner twenty years ago, and who can't get off to Vulpimancers unless it's a female one with huge tits.

You know the Chaquetrix trend that started over on Twitter? It encapsulates everything I hate about current-day Ben 10 smut. It's awful. It's so painfully boring.

These fucking cretins took the concept of alien-fucking and made it BORING! It's infuriating!

I went through old-school Ben 10 smut on Rule 34. I'm talking porn that's probably older than some of the newbies in this fandom. I immediately found Grandpa Max with his hairy cock out (bear representation, fat, hairy belly and all!), Four Arms with two dicks, Grandma Verdona fucking Gwen with her hair tendrils, and Myaxx with a squid pussy that's lined with razor-sharp barbs.

So I know it's not impossible. Freaks and weirdos clearly used to populate this fandom! I have no idea what changed, where they went, who hurt them... But it deeply saddens me.

If I scroll through the Ben 10 tag on Twitter right now, I can find Grey Matter with tits, a mockery of female "Brainstorm" that's just a normal, human woman with orange skin and pointed fingers, straight people having vanilla sex (ALWAYS with ten-year-old Ben), and foot fetish posts, of course.

It fucking sucks. It really does. Where is Zs'Skayr putting his tendrils to good use? Where is Way Big fingering someone? A Vulpimancer eating someone out with their insane tongues? Ultimate Kevin having some freaky nasty sex with Gwen?

Where is the creativity?

I'm not even asking for good characterization and interesting dynamics! Just anything other than the same old shit I can find on the front page of DeviantArt. The intimacy of Kevin and Ben trusting each other enough to sleep together. The hunger of Elena wanting to consume the only thing she loves. The sheer anger that might push someone like Albedo into a fervent kiss. Anything at all!

For the love of fucking God, this fandom is so disgustingly milquetoast. If you're a freak, I'm begging you to watch this fucking show. Please. For my own sanity.

#ben 10 #ask #anonymous #fandom wank #fandom culture #nsft text #pro kink #proship #pro fiction #i do think this is actually tragic #fandom is better when it's weird #also if anyone wants links feel free to dm me

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donutloverxo · 3 years

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Good little wife

Note - Inspired by a request I got long ago and written for the happy hoelidays challenge I'm cohosting with my sister hoes @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18 . I used the prompts two idiots in love + Character A loves Christmas. Character B hates it. A melts Bs cold heart Dividers by @firefly-graphics .

Summary - Your husband makes up to you for being a Grinch and a meanie to you throughout your marriage.

Warnings - 18+ only, smut(m/f), dub con, older man/younger woman, arranged marrige, leaking nudes, daddy kink, blood play, virginity/innocence kink, loss of virginity, virgin reader, painful sex, misogyny, mob activities.

Pairing - Mob!Andy Barber x reader

Word count - 8k

“You look beautiful, cookie,” your mother raved, pressing her lips to your cheek, “He’s a lucky man.”

You only hummed. Staring at your refection, seeing someone you didn’t even recognize.

Your white lace dress somewhat conservative, still really pretty, something you would’ve been more than happy to wear if your circumstances weren’t so depressing.

You almost let out a sardonic laugh, you didn’t get to choose your husband but at least you chose your wedding gown.

“It’ll be alright,” your mother picked at your hair, noticing your evident sadness, you’ve never been one to hide how you feel anyway, “you’ll learn to love him. He’s very successful.”

“I always thought ‘money doesn’t make you happy',” something she had said to you so many times over the years.

“That’s just a fairy tale. People fall out of love, run out of things to talk about, men cheat, in the end all that’s left is how well he can provide for you,” she stated.

You checked your phone as soon as you could, going through your messages to see if your boyfriend, or rather your now ex boyfriend, had sent you anything. You still naively hoped that he'd come on a white horse and sweep you off and away, so you wouldn’t have to marry someone you’ve else. So you wouldn’t have to give up your freedom forever and just be someone’s wife.

But you saw nothing. He hadn’t talked to you, not since your father found out about you both. Since he was from a family your daddy hated with a passion, and you were supposed to as well, your father made you cut all times with him. Locked you in your room in a timeout till you came to your senses.

After over three weeks he came to you, telling you how he was ready to forgive you and move on. You were so happy. For a minute you let yourself believe that this was your father, he loved you unconditionally, of course he'd set aside whatever vain feud he has and let you be with your love.

All your hopes were crushed when he told you he had selected a husband for you whom you have to marry in just a month. That you had to drop out of college since you wouldn’t need that degree anyway.

You always did believe that he had your best interests at heart, you wanted to believe it this time as well, but you just couldn’t.

Cringing inwardly when he kissed your cheeks, “You look beautiful,” he told you, cold eyes staring at you, “Don’t try anything stupid. Andrew is a good man,” he looped your arm in with his.

“He’s more than a decade older than me,” you argued, biting your lip as he squeezed your arm to warn you.

You slapped a fake smile on your face, walking down, one step after another as everyone looked at you in awe.

This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life...

But when you looked at Andy waiting for you at the alter you felt nothing but grave anxiety which made your teeth clatter, his palms joined together at his front, he did look handsome with his tux and neat beard. You have had a crush on him for a long time but you’ve never even had a real conversation with him, you didn’t know him. No one did.

Your heart filled with dread as your father handed you over to Andy, patting him on his shoulder, “Take good care of her.”

“I will,” Andy smiled.

You weren’t really there, maybe your body was but your soul had left you to maybe make the whole ordeal less painful. The priest read the vows asking you if you were ready to take him as your husband forever.

“I do,” since you had no other choice.

“I do,” he repeated.

You felt a shiver jolt up your spine when his fingers grazed yours, putting the thin silver band on your finger before lifting your veil to press his lips to yours, giving you a chaste, barely there kiss as everyone cheered you on.

The rest of the evening was a blur, you could barely register what had happened, everyone sweetly calling you ‘Mrs Barber’ only making you more nervous.

Andy however, was cordial and formal as always, shaking their hands and thanking them.

Since you hadn’t really taken any dance lessons you were left to simply wing it with him at your first dance. With your clammy hands in his you tried to match his pace as he lead you, bumping into his feet with yours more than once.

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Relax,” making you shudder.

You looked up at him, he had barely said two words to you but your grandmother often said ‘Eyes are the windows to the soul’.

And Andy’s eyes were so... kind, like a blue ocean you could happily drown in. He almost looked at you as if he were fond of you.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad...

You didn’t really expect Andy to carry you over the threshold, that was just a silly little fantasy you’ve always had and you knew he’d never indulge you in it but he didn’t even hold the door open for you.

You looked around his condo, so grey and boring, looked like it was out of a magazine catalogue, you felt so out of place there.

Naturally, you followed him to his bedroom, watching him wake his coat off, followed by his cuffs as he rolled his sleeves up.

You went over what you wanted to say in your head, how do you tell your husband that you’re a virgin, on your wedding night--that was something your grandmother never gave you advice on. You could’ve used her wisdom then.

With your mouth suddenly dry you tried to speak as he poured himself a drink, “Um... I’ve...”

“What?” he looked at you, quirking a brown brow up.

“Nothing,” you shook your head as you took a seat on the edge of the bed. “This is a nice house.”

“You can take the guestroom,” he said bluntly.

“What?”

“You can take the guestroom. I’ve already put all your bags there, you can decorate it however you like but don’t touch anything else.”

“But I...I’ve never heard of husband and wife sleeping in different rooms.”

“That’s true, it is unusual. This is not a normal marriage though, is it?” His tone so frustratingly patronising, as if he was talking to a child.

You’ve never really been appreciated for your mind, women never are--not where you come from, even your love Alex only ever thought of you as a ‘pretty face’. But Andy didn’t need to spell it out for you, “You... don’t want me...” you realised.

He only scoffed. He’d never been one for long term relationships, he had tried but he could never give himself to another person, women often called him emotionally unavailable, his demanding and dangerous job did contribute a lot to that, but more than that it was his unwillingness to change. He was self aware enough to know that but he didn’t need anyone else. He didn’t want to be tied down or to have a nagging immature wife.

“But why...” you wondered. Sure, you weren’t thrilled to marry him, but now you had accepted it and wanted to make the best of your new life. You thought he wanted the same.

“Why would I want you?” he spat. “ You’re nothing but a spoilt rich girl who’s had everything handed to her. Who was ungrateful and stupid enough to fraternize with the enemy.”

You let out a shaky exhale, looking at him with teary eyes, “I loved him...”

“You don’t know the first thing about love,” he rolled his eyes.

“He loved me too! But I’m willing to put that behind me. I made a vow to you.”

“You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” you frowned.

He took his phone out of his pocket, opening his gallery to show you the compromising pictures you had sent to your ex, “He shared that with everyone, it was all just a ploy to humiliate your father.”

You gasped, taking his phone in your trembling hand, your breasts exposed as you shyly looked at the camera. You had flat out refused to send him a nude when he asked for it but then he threatened to break up with you, to go after your best friend, even called you a prude because you hadn’t slept with him. At the moment you felt as if you had no choice but to do it...

“He wouldn’t,” you sobbed.

“And because of your stupidity I had to marry you since no one else would ever want you,” he said. But then regretted it as you just started crying harder. He thought of maybe trying to console you but what would he even say?

He took the phone from you before you could even think of deleting the photos. He used them to pleasure himself almost every night. Maybe he was an idiot, he could have the real thing, yet he was pushing you away, “Go to your room,” he told you which made you sob even moreso.

You looked up at him, begging him for a hug, for some sort of comfort or sympathy but his face was cold and harsh. Finally gathering your wits you went to the other room, ready to cry yourself to sleep.

No matter how beautiful you were, you were still thrusted upon him, you didn’t love him, you never could because you never even had a choice

“Perfect,” you beamed, setting down the chicken pot pie you had just cooked up.

Your grandmama had always told you that a wife should be a cook in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom. So that her man would never stray.

And while you hadn’t had a chance to be a whore for Andy... something that you were looking forward to, you hoped the fresh home cooked meal, the holiday season and decorations you had spent the past few days working on would put him in the mood. To maybe accept you as his wife.

For the past six months you had tried everything, making him breakfast, packing his lunch, offering him massages, even trying to help him with his work but he was always so cold to you.

You feared that this is how it will be forever. He would never love you, not the way you’ve always loved him. Even when he was so cruel towards you.

But you were nothing if not resilient. So you said chuck it and went all out. Decorating your whole house, with a real tree for the past few days while Andy was out on a work trip for thanksgiving. Maybe you could surprise him and he’d realise just how much he lucked out with you.

You even went with a more risqué outfit than you usually would. Your little emerald green skirt with pleats was a bit too short and impractical for the cold winters but you were going to stay inside anyway. It was topped off with a tight burgundy blouse and a push up bra which made your girls look enticing and some red pumps.

With a pumpkin pie for dessert in the oven, your salads done and the gingerbread flavored candles lit up you were good to go.

So you sat on the couch, watching 'A Christmas story' for the hundredth time to kill time till he gets home and to distract your nervous mind.

After ninety minutes the movie was over but Andy still wasn’t home. You tried calling him but it kept going to voicemail.

Frustrated, but determined to follow through with your ‘Seduce Andy Barber’ plan you put on another movie, chewing your lip till it bled as you impatiently waited for him.

Soon it was midnight, your food got cold and the rumbling in your tummy became more prominent so you decide to eat your dinner, put the leftovers in the freezer and cut your losses.

You were almost done with your dishes when your husband coming into the apartment, turning around you saw him hang his coat on the back of the chair and plomp down on it. He groaned, pulling the sleeves of his shirt up to reveal his bulky forearms.

“You’re home,” you said, taking off your apron so he could see your little get up.

He didn’t smile at you like you expected he would, he didn’t say ‘Good job’ like you thought he would. He certainly didn’t look like he wanted to bend you over the dining table and take you then and there. He simply frowned at you. Looking at you as if your mere existence offended him.

“I told you; you were allowed to decorate your room however you liked. Not the whole apartment,” he growled, rubbing a hand over his face.

“What? I did it for you... I thought you would like it, ” you stood there, dumbfounded, shifting from one foot to another, “You don’t like Christmas.” You realised.

“No, I don’t. Christmas isn’t all fun and jolly for everybody. I’ve never had anyone to celebrate it with,” he did you a once over, his pants tightening uncomfortably as he took in your little ensemble.

He had never had a single good Christmas in his whole life. He’d usually spend it either working or drinking. But now, he had you, his good little wife who had gone out of her way to do all this just for him.

He could kiss your red lips then and there, finally do what he’s been wanting to go for the past few months and make love to you, eat the delicious meal you had made him because he was fucking starving.

But then he realized how easily you could be taken away from him. How this was all so fickle.

“Do you want a divorce?” he crossed his hands over his chest, as if daring you to give a wrong answer, “If you do, I’ll give you one right now.”

“I - ” you strutted, you didn’t really know, “Daddy would never let that happen.” To which he scoffed.

Your father would kill you both if this marriage failed. He knew that, why would he still be willing to risk everything?

“Where are you going?” you asked when he got up from the chair.

“To my room, to sleep,” he sighed.

He knew what you would say, he knew you were daddy’s little girl who’d die before disappointing her father, which was solely why you were with him, and yet he let himself fall for you and get hurt.

You tugged on his shirt, ready to beg him to at least eat the meal you made for him but then you frowned, inhaling the feminine perfume from his shirt, mixed with his own Cologne, you took a step back, your eyes brimming with tears as you realised he might’ve been with another woman.

While you were home slaving away to make everything perfect for him.

Your father had a handful of mistresses, a few of them younger than you. Your mother knew, all wives know and look the other way. That was how it was supposed to be. It was how you make marriages last...

And your poor beaten heart could take his coldness towards you, it absolutely could not bear him being with another woman. Your father had always praised him for being loyal, and it was one of the things you loved about him...

“Where were you?” you sniffled to keep the tears at bay.

“I was out working. So I could pay for your shopping sprees.” He spat.

You gasped, “I haven’t gone shopping in months! I only did now for Christmas!”

“That tree better be down by the time I wake up. You can out all that crap in your bedroom if you like. I do not what to see it.” He said gravelly, before slamming his door shut.

Something was horribly wrong.

Andy came home to an empty, cold house. You weren’t there to greet him like you usually are, in fact you hadn’t been for the past few weeks. He could hear the TV from your room, some kind of musical playing.

He checked the kitchen for some food, you used to make dinner every night, rave about your love for cooking and baking, but now it seemed that you lived on poptarts and McDonald’s.

He knocked on your door, to ask if you wanted some of the alfredo he was cooking up, also to maybe get you to have dinner with him.

Ever since he had married you, he had such a beautiful companion to have dinner with. To watch silly romcoms with, someone who waited for him to come home, called him all worried when he was late, asked him how his day was

It’d break his heart to say good night to you, you’d give him those puppy eyes, fluttering your lashes as if begging him to invite you to bed with him.

He wanted to ask you to come, to feel what it would be like to snuggle up with your soft body, to smell your hair, to finally fuck you, but he’d just go away to sleep in his cold bed with a heavy heart. Making do with his hand as he thought of you, it wouldn’t feel nearly as good as you would but it would have to do.

“Can I come in, honey?” he asked.

Letting himself in when no answer came from you. You were lying on your bed, blankets draped over you, your eyes trained on the television. He looked around your room, he had only been there a couple of times, he had expected to see some kind of winter wonderland since you were such a fan of Christmas.

But it looked just how it usually did... pale pink walls, a queen sized bed, a small closet and a dresser and a vanity. No tree or fairy lights or nut crackers.

He leaned against the door frame. “Did you have dinner?” He wanted to know.

You made some sort of unintelligible noise; which could mean anything. So he asked, “Would you like some pasta? I can’t make it as good as you do but I’ll try.”

“No.” You answered. Still not even looking at him.

“It’s Christmas Eve, do you want to go celebrate with your family?”

You shook your head in response. “No, I think I’ll just stay here.”

He had stolen your brightness and sunshine away, tainting you with his darkness. “Stop it,” he scolded, switching off the TV and standing in front of you to make you listen to him. “Get ready, I’m dropping you off at your fathers. You’re not spending Christmas in bed.”

“What difference does it make?” you huffed.

“Get ready. Right. Now.” He ordered, pulling your blanket away from you.

“No!” you whined. Sitting up, your face heating up with a simmering rage you had harbored for months. “Why do you even care? Do you want to get me out of the house so you could spend Christmas with her?!”

“Who’s her?” he furrowed his brows.

“Your mistress!” you yelled, looking around for something you could hurt him with, you grabbed a hold of your Mrs Bunny, your cute pink stuffie and threw it at his face. “I’m not going anywhere. And you’re not bringing her in to my house!” You said, throwing another stuffie at him which he caught with his hand.

“Honey,” he said, as if he was so disappointed with you, for catching him in his lies and deceit. “I don’t have a mistress. Where would I even find the time for one? All those late nights were spent at the office or in meetings.”

He would be the world’s biggest idiot to get a mistress when he had a wife like you waiting for him at home. A wife he hadn’t even so much as even kissed... given how pouty and tempting your lips looked, he didn’t know how he resisted for so long.

“Don’t call me honey,” you puffed out your cheeks, “And I don’t believe you.”

“Well, what can I do to make you believe me?”

You sighed, laying back down on the bedding, “There’s not much you can do. Except leave me be. I just want to sleep this Christmas away.”

He had to do something to get your spirits up. And since you has thrown away your old decorations he ran to every store in the town, waiting in the queue for hours, calling in as many favors as he could to get some new ones.

While he wasn’t able to get a real Christmas tree, he got a fake one which was a bit smaller than the one you had put up but not all that bad.

You had decorated the apartment with the traditional red, greens and golden he decided to go with a soft pastel pink theme. Hoping that you would like it and forgive him.

He had gotten you couple of gifts, a little babydoll he saw on the internet, it was pink and sexy, he thought of you the moment he saw it. Ordering it for you but he never really gathered enough courage to ask you to wear it. He wrapped it up for you in some festive paper, tying a ribbon around it.

He decided to get as many gifts for you as he could so the tree wouldn’t look so depressing, a Tiffany’s set, an advent calendar from a make up company he knew you liked, a box of cookies and one of chocolates, a new apron with floral patterns and frilly trimmings, some cozy socks, and a surprise gift he had been saving for you.

Looking around the living room, while it wasn’t as good as what you had done with the place he was still proud of what he could pull off in just a couple of hours.

He called out your name before knocking and entering, switching on your bedside lamp he sat next to you, stroking your hair, “Wake up, angel.”

“Seriously, stop it with the petnames,” you said, your voice groggy from sleep and irritated. Because he had only ever said your name with contempt before.

“I’m not going to stop, honey. You’re my wife, I can call you whatever I like.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled, rubbing your sleep away from your eyes.

“I have a surprise for you.” He smiled at you.

And while he had certainly smiled at you before that, when you had said something funny or silly (which you usually did just to see him smile), this one seemed so much brighter and warm.

“What is it?” you sat up. Still a bit crossed with him but excited to see what surprise he had for you.

“You have to come into the living room for that, and promise to stop being a Grinch,” he said, bopping your nose.

You scoffed incredulously, “I’m being a Grinch?! You were the one who made me take everything down in the first place!”

“I know, honey, and I am sorry for that. Hopefully I can make it up to you.” He winked.

You combed your hair, splashing some water on your face and then following him out to see what he had in mind for you.

You all but gasped at the tree in the middle of your living room, so beautiful, the soft glow of the fairy lights illuminated the room, little festive trinklets all over the room.

He had got you a pink stocking with sparkling silver hearts on it. His was a normal red one with ‘Andy' written with a sharpie or a pen. You giggled at that.

“You like it, honey?” he asked.

You nodded, observing the ornaments on your tree, “I do. Thank you so much, Andy. It’s so beautiful, I don’t think anyone’s ever done something so grand for me.”

Your rave gave him the courage to out his hand over your waist, pulling you into him, “I know this doesn’t make up for everything, but it’s start.”

“Yes! I think... I’d like a fresh start,” you beamed up at him

He excused himself to make some hot chocolate for you both, handing you a mug with little heart shaped marshmallows and sprinkles on top of it. You didn’t even realise how you ended up snuggled up next to him on the couch, Elf playing on the TV which he shockingly had never seen before.

“You know... for someone who hates Christmas so much you did a pretty good job saving it!” you giggled, kissing his bearded cheek.

“Well...” he looked down at you, wiping away the mustache the hot chocolate gave you before sucking his thumb off, “I don’t hate it anymore, because I’m not alone,” he said, his thumb pulling on your plump bottom lip.

“Um...” you face heated up as looked away, “You got me gifts!” you screamed a bit overzealous to change the subject, “Can I open one now? Please?! I’m just so excited!”

“Sure,” he murmured, a bit salty that he didn’t get the kiss.

He knelt next to you on the carpet as you pinked one up, shaking it next to your ear, scrunching your nose up so cutely as you tried to decipher what it was.

“Mmm... I can’t tell...”

“Why don’t you just open it?” he asked as his hand caressed your bare thigh, finding himself unable to keep his hands off of you now that he has you.

You ripped at the wrapping paper, opening the box to reveal the skimpy baby pink lingerie he had got you.

You pulled it out of the box and then started stammering, unable to form words once you realised what it was. “Is this... um..”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, it’s very cute and nice. Do you, want me to wear it for you?”

“If that’s what you want,” he said casually and then shrugged but then regretted it as your face fell and you let. He wasn’t used to half-assing things if he was going to tell you his true feelings, he had to go all out.

Taking a deep breath, “I have to tell you something I’ve been meaning to say for months.”

“What?”

“I... love you,” he looked down at your lap, because he couldn’t bear to look in your eyes if you decided to reject him.

“Oh, Andy!” you beamed, “I love you too! I’ve always loved you,” you crawled on top of him, throwing your arms around his neck you hugged him.

“That’s good then,” he smiled stroking your back, he pulled you back so he could look at your pretty face, cupping your cheek he pressed his lips against yours.

He had only kissed you once, months ago at your wedding, and while it was not bad at all it was too short and formal and distant, nothing compared to how he felt right now. Moulding his lips against yours, kneading the flesh of your ass, you tasted just as sweet as he imagined you would.

You gasped in his mouth when he rutted his erection up into your core. “Andy!” your chest heaving as you felt him pressing against your thigh.

“What do you say you go put that on for me, doll? Hm?” he instructed.

You meekly nodded, grabbing a hold of the lingerie which you just now noticed was so sheer and would not really leave anything to the imagination.

“Come on out quickly now,” his impatience seeping through his voice as he sat on the edge of his, or what would now be both of your marital bed, one leg crossed over the other, his foot tapping against the floor.

His pants already snug, just from imagining what you would look like with the flimsy thing on. It wasn’t as revealing or kinky as some of the other pieces he had seen, but he felt it would match your personality perfectly.

He groaned, calling out your name again, “I’m gonna fucking die of blue balls, if you don’t come out right now, I’m coming in,” he got up to his feet to do just that but then stopped when he heard the knob twist.

One smooth leg peaking out of the bathroom, “Um... promise you wouldn’t make fun of me?” you asked. Your eyes screwed shut, you didn’t really have much of choice but you had never been so vulnerable in front of anyone. You’d hate to not be satisfactory for him.

“I promise,” his face softened, he had to practice some restrain, at least until he breaks you in, “Now come on out.”

You opened the door, your meek eyes fixed on your hardwood floor, your hands hugging your midsection. You blinked when he said nothing for several long, tortuous moments. Peaking a glance up at him you found him staring at you.

“Uh, do you like it?” you asked as your hands played with the helm of the teddy.

He almost scoffed. Like would be an understatement.

He knew pink would be your color. The nightie so short, clinging to your curves, your nipples pebbled against the satiny fabric, you looked like a sweet little doll and a whole fucking meal to devour at the same time. He would burst before he even got to touch you.

“Twirl,” he made the motion with his forefinger to demonstrate it, “Let me look at you better. And hands to your sides.”

You took a deep breath, letting your hands fall, doing as he had asked, your heart hammering in your chest because for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out if he actually liked you.

“Stop there,” he instructed when he got a look at your pert, round butt, the cloth barely covering it, he could see the imprints of the thong you wore.

“What are you thinking?” you asked.

“If I like your front better or your behind.” He almost chuckled at the incredulous gasp you let out. “Alright, look at me again.” Definitely the front, because he could see your beautiful face. Taking his original position on the bedding, “Come here,” he patted his lap.

Like the obedient wife that you aspired to be, you followed, perching yourself up on his lap, your arms around his neck for some support, looking into his lust blown, dark eyes.

You bite your lip when you felt that pressing into your thigh. Unable to bear his intense gaze you hid your face in the crook of his neck.

He hushed you, snuggling your soft body closer to his, his fingers drawing patterns on your hip, “How many men have you been with before?”

It didn’t really matter whatever your answer would be. But he wanted to tell you, that how ever many there were before him won’t matter anymore. From now on you are solely his.

“None,” you whispered so lowly that he almost couldn’t hear you.

“What?” Holding onto your chin so that he could make you look at him, “None? How is that possible?”

“I’ve just been waiting for the right one... I was going to with Alex but then didn’t...” you said as your hands caressed the coarse hair on his jaw.

He hummed, the fact that he would be your one and only, forever, only served to entice him further.

“Have you ever sucked a cock before?” he asked, although he knew the answer.

“No...”

“Don’t worry, I’ll guide you,” he promised, pushing on your shoulders to make you get on your knees.

You hissed at the cold floor, biting into the your calves and knees.

His dainty princess, he grabbed a throw pillow, instructing you to put it under, all the while staring at your cleavage peaking out like a creep.

Your eyes were fixated on his crotch, eager to see what a real penis looks like. You had watched some porn when you were a teen, out of sheer curiosity, but your friends had told you to lower your expectations. That real ones are much smaller and not so aesthetically pleasing.

You all but gasped when he took his cock out of the confines of his sweats, slapping over his abdomen. So big... and thick, with two veins over it, a bright flushed tip leaking with pre-ejaculate, and some soft hair dusted at the base of it.

You tried to stop yourself but then couldn’t help it, your hand shyly touching his tip yanking it down and then releasing it to see what happens. As suspected it flew back over, hard against his tummy, making you giggled.

“Oh gosh...” you slapped a palm over your mouth to stop from laughing.

He scrunched up the hair on the back of your head, yanking your neck back so that he could look at you, “What’s so funny?” he growled.

“Nothing,” you gulped, “It’s all just so strange and new... and exciting...”

He hummed as he took in your words. Grabbing the base of his cock as he rubbed his tip and precum all over your cheeks till your face was positively glowing with his essence.

“You wanna taste it?” he asked, to which you eagerly nodded.

Nudging your pouty lips with his tips before tapping on them when you didn’t get the clue, “Open.”

“Oh,” you said before opening as wide as you could, his length easing into your mouth. You hummed around him, the salty unique taste of him you had never really known before and couldn’t get enough of now.

He was barely halfway through inside you when he touched the back of your throat, he tutted, “Relax your throat,” he told you.

You didn’t really know what he meant but you tried loosening up all your muscles. Choking around him when he pushed in a few more inches.

Most of him was still out but it was as good as it’s gonna get, not that he’d ever complain... no... your mouth was like heaven. He had only known his hand for the past year Or so, and your mouth was almost too much.

Holding onto your face to keep it in place he started thrusting upwards into you, his heart swelling with tears escaped your eyes but you still tried to take more of him, to please him like the good girl that you were.

He stopped his hips, gently slapping your cheek to get your attention, “You always look at me when my dick is in your mouth. Got it?”

Since you couldn’t talk with your mouth full of cock, you just nodded.

You peered up at him innocently, fluttering your lashes, popping him out of your sloppy mouth, “Am I doing it right?” because you truly couldn’t tell.

He chuckled, smoothening a hand down your hair, “More than right... it’s too good but I want to come in your pussy. Maybe I’ll make you swallow my load latter, what do you think?”

“Yes, I’d like that,” you licked your lips to taste more of him.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered.

“Um... can I go fix my face before that,” you rubbed your mouth with the back of your hand, you doubted you looked very pretty to him then.

“No,” he stated, pulling you up by your armpits and all but throwing you on the bed.

You yelped and tried to protest, “I wanna look good for you...”

He pushed your legs apart to make room for him, smirking above you, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat, his prey, “This really does look pretty on you...” he rubbed the flimsy spagetti strap between his fingers, “but it’s served it’s purpose.”

You screamed, holding onto his wrists as he ripped the babydoll in two pieces, revealing your breasts to him, he yanked at it, throwing the remains away.

“That’s much better,” he gritted, pinching one of your peaks, capturing it in his mouth and suckling at it to his hearts content.

You pouted as you looked at the torn cloth, a bit upset that he ruined his gift to you. “I really liked that...” you sniffled. But couldn’t really ponder because Andy’s ravenous mouth was sucking hickies all over your breasts.

“I’ll buy you another one. I’ll buy you ten more,” he bit into the side of your breasts, your mewls and whines were like music to his ears.

“Andy...” you heaved, “Don’t leave marks... I have to go to dinner tomorrow to moms...”

He stopped abruptly, propping himself up above you and you were afraid that you had upset him, “You’re my wife now, honey. Your father gave you to me,” his hand snaking down your body, between your legs, he parted your moist lips, the pad of his fingers meeting your little pearl, “I can do whatever I want with you,” he reminded you, pushing a finger into you, “This cunt is mine now, got it?”

“Yess...” you whined as you squirmed under him, the invasion of his finger inside you too alien to your body.

“Which means you ask for permission before you touch yourself, or better yet, don’t touch yourself because that’s my job,” he stated.

“Have you ever made yourself come?” he asked, trailing soft kisses down your body till he settled between your legs, moving the strong of the thing to the side so he could get a better look at your virgin pussy, adding another finger inside you, your snug walls clinging to his digits, “You’re so fucking small. Can barely fit my finger. How will you take my cock,” he teased.

He’d make you take it.

You whimpered at the sting of it, “I’ll try, daddy...” throwing your head back as you massaged your breast.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking down at him when he stopped his ministrations, “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” he quirked a brow. “Do you realise what you just called me?”

You simply shook your head because you hadn’t really called him anything, “Andy?”

“No,” he huffed, “You called me daddy, honey.”

You gasped, you didn’t mean to say it out loud! “No...” you shook you head from side to side, trying to pull away from his fingers still knuckle deep inside you, “It can’t be!”

“Oh, but you did,” he laughed, “And you’re gonna say it again. In fact, from now on, when it’s just the two of us that’s the only thing that you will call me. Unless you wanna get punished...”

“Okay...” you said, still a bit unsure of it all.

You had always called him ‘daddy’ in your fantasies. It was maybe a bit expected for it to slip out like that but still so embarrassing. You said it again just to make sure that he actually wanted you to call him that and wasn’t just teasing you.

“Good girl,” he winked, latching his mouth around your clit, fucking you with his fingers as he kept sucking.

“Daddy...” you whined, biting on your hand to muffle some of your noises, a knot building up in the pit of your stomach, “Don’t stop, please!”

You gushed over his mouth, he lapped it all up, making sure nothing went to waste.

“You did good, honey,” he said, your cheeks heating up when you saw his beard glistening with your juices. He rolled your thong down your thick thighs, “You wear this to dinner tomorrow,” he told you. “Since I’m going to be a real husband from now on I pick out what you wear.”

All so he could see you in those pretty flowy dresses you wear sometimes, but you didn’t need to know that.

He hastily pushed his sweats and briefs past his hips, throwing them off the bed before pulling his t-shirt over his head.

You bit your lip at just the sight of him. His shoulders so broad, chest so wide, dark hair dusted all over his chest, you just knew then that all those hours he spent at the gym paid off, you knew he’d be ripped.

But you absolutely did not expect, someone as uptight as him to have numerous tattoos all over his torso.

Something inscribed in Sanskrit on his chest that you didn’t really understand... the logo of your family’s mob on just under his pectoral.

You sat up to get a better look at them, tracing a skull on his bicep that looked much less sophisticated than the others, the lines a bit scribbly, it was already fading.

“That’s the first one,” he interrupted you, “I was a kid back then, got my foster brother to do it.”

You pressed a kiss over it, “I love it.”

His blue eyes beamed at you, he was so beautiful...

“Now for your gift...” he circled your wrist bringing it down to his pelvis.

“Hm?” you looked down, tears brimming up in your eyes as you saw your name written on just beside his hipbone, next to his hard cock, standing tall against his stomach. In a small heart, dark ink against his pale skin, “When did you get it done?” you sniffles, touching his skin to feel the texture of the tattoo.

“A few weeks ago. I just... I’ve never belonged to anyone. Never had a family of my own. But now I have you, and you have me, I’m just as much yours as you’re mine,” he confessed, finally feeling the weight of it lifted off his shoulders. You were a blessing in disguise.

“I love you,” you beamed up at him.

“I love you too, doll, now come on,” he pushed you till you were on your back, “Daddy’s waited long enough. Can’t wiat to fill you up, make you mine.”

He planted a hand on the mattress, so he could see what he was doing to your virgin cunt, look at you and her, as he defiles you and makes you a woman, his thick manhood nudging your glistening lips as he eased into you, he felt you stretching around him, your face twisted in pain as you begged him to go easy on you, he halted when he felt your barrier.

He looked up at your pretty face, sparkling with his spend and your tears, your sweet little whimpers filled the room, he stayed still for a moment to let you get used to him, he knew he should take it easy.

His wife was a delicate, fragile, sweet little girl. He should be more gentle. A better husband and man would be. But he had his whole life to become a good man for you, tonight he just wanted to take what was rightfully his.

Letting out a deep, almost animalistic growl, piercing through your seal, your innocence till you were screeching, your nails drawing blood from the sides of his thighs.

“It hurts!” you screamed.

“It’ll only hurt for a little bit, doll. Just ride through it,” he cooed, stroking your sensitive clit to draw your attention away from the pain, he withdrew his hips before snapping them back till he was deep within your womb.

“You’re so snug, honey,” he grunted, not letting up his pace as he kept fucking into you,

A proud smirk gracing his face as he looked down to see himself covered in blood, a sticky mess of both your bodily fluids where your sexes were joined. His dick somehow grew harder inside you knowing how he took something from you that you’ll never be able to give someone else.

Slowly your crying and whining was subsiding as you got used to have him inside you, but he wanted to hear you scream for him in a different way. “Don’t you want to make your husband, no, your daddy happy, honey?” He asked, each word punctuated with a deep, harsh thrust into you.

You nodded, willing your tears away, cringing when you saw his crotch covered in your blood, “Yes I do, daddy. What do I do?”

“Your cute dumb brain always needs to be told what to do,” he chuckled, moving closer to you he circled his palms around your wrists, pinning them above you, “Wrap your legs around me.”

You followed along, wrapping your legs around his hips and hooking them together on his back. Closing your eyes when you felt your body seizing up, your pussy pulsating around his length when you felt the familiar feeling creep up on you.

“Look at me!” he barked and you immediately opened your eyes, “You look at me when I fuck you.”

You gulped and dared not close your eyes again. Even as you felt your orgasm wash over you, clenching around his length. His face was scrunched up, his neck, face and chest flush as he chased his own release till you felt his warm release coating your walls.

He collapsed above you, panting beside you he kissed your hair, “You liked that, babygirl?”

You let out a meek little yes. Feeling empty and void of his warmth and hardness when he pulled out of you before settling next to you.

“But...” you trailed off. Not finding it in you to bare yourself to him like that just yet.

“But what?” he whipped his head to look at you.

“But I’m sorry if I wasn’t very good!” Since you had simple laid there and took whatever he gave you. You had heard that men don’t like that...

“Don’t worry, honey, you were absolutely perfect,” he sighed. “You’ll get even better with practice, we’re gonna practice a lot from now on.”

You tried to cover your breasts up with the comforter, still awkward about being stark naked right next to a man, a man who looked as good as like Andy, but he swatted at your hands, reprimanding you and telling you to stay still and let him look at you to his hearts content.

Soon you felt your cunt throbbing back up again, still so raw from the loving Andy gave it, you tried rubbing your legs together to ease it a little bit.

“It still hurts?” Andy asked as you nodded.

He snaked a hand between your legs, massaging your little nub and your lips, tutting when you tried to pull away from his touch, “Shh I’m trying to make it hurt less.”

He hummed when he saw his seed leak out of you, pushing a finger in you, much to your displeasure, to keep it inside you, where it belonged.

He would make you go on some form of birth control as soon as he could. While the idea of you all round and plump with his kid was more than appealing, he didn’t want to share you with anyone else just yet. You were young, he had plenty of years to breed you.

“You’d make a good mother,” he wondered out loud.

“Hm?” you blinked at him. Squirming from the torture he was yielding on your overworked sex. His lips curled up in a twisted smile as he pulled his fingers out of you, wiping your blood on your soft nipples, painting them crimson as you shivered.

You looked at his cock, hard again against his stomach. “Does it hurt?” you asked, your hands twitching to touch it again.

“Yes, it does. Do you wanna help me get rid of the pain?”

“Mm... can I use my mouth again? I’m sore...”

“It’s okay, honey, you’ll get used to it,” he promised, grabbing your hips and pulling you on top of him, your palms pressed into his abdomen as you looked so wrecked, “Guide me in,” he ordered.

You shook your head which earned you a harsh slap on your ass so you held onto the base of his cock, parting your intimate lips, before slowly sinking down on him.

You sighed as you settled, sitting on top of him with his cock nestled inside you, so full and strangely satisfied, his warmth soothing your aching walls, he spanked you again to remind you to move, so you started bouncing on top of him the best you could.

His hand groped at your bouncing titts before he wrapped a hand around your throat, applying the slightest bit of pressure as you whimpered and cried, just to remind you who’s in charge, not that you’d forget anytime soon.

His only regret was that he hadn’t done this sooner. He was an idiot to ever resist an angel like you. He’ll have to do a lot to make up for lost time.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm. Comments and reblogs are really appreciated! ❤❤

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

#happyhoelidays2020 #andy barber x oc #andy barber x y/n #steve rogers x reader #andy barber x reader #andy x reader #chris evans x reader #defending jacob fanfic #mob!andy barber

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queenshelby · 3 years

Text

My Friend’s Father (Part Seven)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Smut

Words: 4,498

Notes:

I have decided to make this into a series.

Alright, no judgment. This was a dream of mine and I felt like I had to write it down. Everyone in this Fic is over the age of 18 and this Fic is in no way based on Cillian’s real family life. It’s pure filth.

*********

Throughout the entire night, you couldn’t help but think about Cillian. You dreamed about the kiss you shared, the touch of his hands on your face and even the scent of his skin.

You knew you shouldn’t think this way about your best friend’s father but it was something you couldn’t control even though you were angry with him.

But there was one person you who you were even more angry with and this was Connor, the man you were actually dating.

You got up early that morning to confront Connor about his behaviour at the art gallery opening and the truth was that you were pretty much done with him. You never had feelings for him in the first place and the truth was that he had simply become a distraction for you. You wanted to distract yourself from having taken a liking in your best friend’s father which, in itself, you knew was wrong.

Connor embarrassed you in front of your friends and Cillian was right when he said that he was acting controlling, even though you didn’t want to hear it, especially not from him.

You knew you had to end it and you knew that it wasn’t going to be a difficult task for you. You had always been a strong woman and you didn’t want to be with someone like that and, just when you arrived at Connor’s house you took a deep breath and did what had to be done.

‘It’s your loss Y/N’ were his words when you eventually left his house after a ten minute conversation but you didn’t feel like you had lost anything. In fact, you’ve gained something and that was experience in standing up for yourself.

***

Just after you encounter with Connor that morning, you went to have breakfast with Denise and her friends at the G Hotel in Galway.

They were all staying at the five-star hotel, courtesy of Denise’s father who had organised the weekend for Denise for her birthday and as a reward for her achievements after she had worked so hard on her project.

‘Happy Birthday’ you said as you greeted her and the others and Denise immediately told you off for being too loud as her head was pounding. It was obvious to you that she was rather hungover from the night the before.

‘You had too much champaign, huh?’ you giggled before handing her the present you had bought for her.

You usually didn’t spend much money on each other for birthdays but, since she was your best friend, you had spent a few hours’ worth in wages and gotten her something meaningful.

She was collecting vintage tea-cups and you had recently found a beautiful Royal Dalton set in a second-hand shop which you knew she would adore.

‘This is absolutely beautiful, thank you so much’ Denise said as she unwrapped it before hugging you gently.

‘You are welcome. I knew you would like it’ you said with a warm smile and, just as you did and sat down next to her, your mobile phone went off.

You received a text message from a number that was unfamiliar to you and when you opened it, you were none the wiser.

‘It was good to see you’ the message said and you were rather confused by it. You had some job interviews recently and wondered whether this was sent by one of the interviewers. Or perhaps someone from university, you wondered?

‘What is it?” Denise asked as she saw the look of confusion on your face when you glanced at your phone.

‘Someone just send me a message saying that it was good to see me’ you chuckled before explaining to her that you didn’t know the number.

‘Maybe it is this guy from university you were talking about a few weeks back? You know, the lecturer in the science department?’ Denise wondered before suggesting to you that you should text back and ask for a name, but you already knew it wouldn’t be him. There was no way he would have your number and you certainly were no longer interested in getting to know him after you had found out that he was married.

You texted back to the unknown number, enquiring who this was and, within a couple of seconds, your phone went off again and you almost choked on your coffee.

‘Cillian’ the message read and you quickly changed the angle of your phone so that Denise wouldn’t see it.

‘And? Who is it?’ she asked while trying to look at your phone.

‘Uhm…just a guy I met a few weeks ago…I ran into him again yesterday morning and I totally forgot about it…’ you stammered quickly but Denise didn’t buy a word you were saying.

‘You forgot?’ she giggled, winking at you as she did and your cheeks blushed almost instantly. ‘Well, he obviously didn’t and you must have given him your number for a reason. Is he hot? What’s he like? I need to know everything…’ she went on to say as, suddenly, without you haven’t sent anything back to Cillian, you received yet another text message from him.

‘For what its’s worth, you looked beautiful’ the next text read and you couldn’t help but smile as you continued to sip on your cup of coffee and Denise most certainly noticed the look on your face and asked you what he said.

‘Just that I looked nice’ you stammered, feeling awful about lying to her about who texted you but there was no way that you could have told her that it was, in fact, her father who you were texting with.

‘Uh, he likes you’ Denise then giggled before carrying on. ‘Well, since you ditched Connor now, you should go and meet up with him and have some fun. After Connor’s one-off ten-minute performance, I have no doubt that you really need it’ Denise said and, just as she did, the conversation across the breakfast table took a turn. Like so often, it now was all about sex and you realised that dissatisfaction was a common occurrence in women your age.

‘I believe that the whole talk about the female g-spot is load of rubbish. It’s a myth’ Amalie observed eventually after everyone across the table complained about the lovers that they had.

It was at this point that you mentally checked out from the conversation and, whilst you thought about the one pleasurable experience you had in your life when it came to sex, you certainly didn’t want to talk about it in front of Denise. Especially not Denise.

Instead of engaging in talks about vibrators and the male anatomy, you decided to respond to Cillian’s text messages after you had received yet another one, telling you that he was sorry. Clearly, he was desperate to hear from you.

‘I see, you kept my note?’ you responded quickly, ignoring his compliments and apologies, and, just moments after you sent it, you received a response from him.

‘Kept it in my wallet. Can we meet?’ Cillian asked and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes just before you received yet another message from him which read ‘BTW this is not a booty call. I just want to talk with you. Please.’

His message made you laugh but you agreed to meet him nonetheless.

‘I have an apartment at the Docks. Can you come there?’ Cillian asked in his next text message.

‘Alright. How does 4 o’clock sound? Text me your address’ you texted back and it wasn’t long until Cillian sent you the address of his apartment.

‘And?’ Denise asked as she watched you text with the mysterious stranger and you simply blushed again and responded with a short and somewhat embarrassed ‘nothing’.

‘Oh common, tell me Y/N. I am your best friend’ she then said and you confirmed that you would quickly meet up with him this afternoon before Denise’s birthday dinner.

‘Oh la la, you are having a date’ Denise then said somewhat excitedly.

‘We are just catching up to talk Denise. It’s not a date’ you then said.

‘Sure…whatever you say Y/N’ she then said sarcastically which is when, finally, she backed off and you received yet another text message from Cillian.

‘Looking forward to see you, xx’ it read and your heart skipped a beat pretty much then and there.

***

After you went home to have a shower and get changed into some nice jeans and a black shirt as well as some nice lingerie (just in case) you made your way to Cillian’s apartment.

You parked around the corner and walked the rest of the way just to be sure that no one would see your car being parked there.

‘Jesus’ you said somewhat surprised when you walked into the lobby of the apartment building and took the elevator to the top floor after Cillian had buzzed you inside. You had never been to a building like this. It was luxurious and right on the harbour.

When you arrived on the top floor, Cillian already waited for you, glancing through the door of his apartment.

‘Wow, these are some good views. Do you own this place?’ you observed as you stepped inside and set your purse on the desk by the door.

‘Yeah, bought it a few years ago’ Cillian said as you began to shrug off your jacket, but Cillian came up from behind you, and caught your hands. You looked down at your hands, noticing that yours dwarfed in his. They were warm and soft.

‘Let me take this for you’ he said like a gentleman and you were somewhat surprised by his gesture. This was not something you were used to but you liked it, a lot.

‘You know, I didn’t expect that you would text me, especially not after last night. So, what is it that you want to talk about?’ you asked nervously and, just as you did, Cillian cut straight to the chase.

‘I wanted to tell you, in person, that I am sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have lectured you about this guy who you are seeing and the truth is that, yes, I was jealous and I know that I had no right to be jealous and for that I am also sorry. I should have acted differently, especially knowing that you are my daughter’s best friend’ he admitted just before you cut him off.

‘Well, for what its worth, I ended it with Connor this morning because I think you were right about him’ you said with a nervous smile, causing Cillian to cock an eyebrow.

‘I can’t say that I am not happy about that’ he said jokingly before continuing on. ‘But, regardless of this, I think that we need to talk about how we move forward from what happened between us for Denise’s sake’ he then said, causing you to nod.

‘Yeah’ you then said somewhat disappointed before building up your strength in order to say something else. ‘The thing is, Cillian, I know what I want. I just think that you don’t’ you said, cheeks blushing.

‘And what is that you want Y/N?’ Cillian asked curiously as if he didn’t already know the answer to his question.

‘You’ you then admitted and, just as you did, Cillian’s hands caressed your face and he pulled you close and kissed you yet again.

The kiss was slow and passionate and, unlike the night before, you allowed yourself to give into it until, eventually, your lips drifted apart.

‘Are you sure Y/N? Because, I am much older than you and you probably have better offers with more assurances that I simply cannot offer you’ Cillian then asked as he was standing directly in front of you and held you against his body.

‘The fact that you are older actually turns me on’ you admitted before pressing your lips onto his again and then pulling away. You adored his wrinkles and greying hair and you were surprised that he had no idea how attractive he actually was.

‘But what is it that you want Cillian?’ you then asked as you felt his firm chest against you while his warm breath fanned against your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

‘Honestly, I don’t know Y/N. I have never been so fucking confused in my life’ he explained reluctantly, not knowing where to place the feelings he had built for you. You were over twenty years younger than him and his daughter’s friend and this clearly bothered him. He knew that this wasn’t something he could easily overcome.

‘Well, I am confused too but I like you, a lot’ you admitted, also unsure about what this was that you were feeling for him but, what you knew was that you wanted to give whatever this was a chance. You were curious and you were filled with desire for this man standing there right in front of you.

‘And I need to know that you feel the same and that this isn’t going to be just another mistake you are making because, if you are going to walk away after we have sex, then I am not up for it’ you then explained, wanting to ensure that he wouldn’t pull away from you this time.

‘No more mistakes Y/N. I like you and I want this’ Cillian whispered as he pressed his lips firmly right under your ear, slowly kissing down your neck.

‘I want you’ he then said as his breath tickled your skin and the firmness of his kiss made your stomach flip.

‘Then that’s good enough for me’ you huffed out in a laboured breath and just, as you did, Cillian used his hands to spin you around, causing you to face away from him.

Then, his hands dropped to your waist where his fingers gently edged themselves under the hem of your shirt, barely touching your skin. His lips moved, and he left a trail of kisses down your shoulder and towards your arm.

‘I knew this was a booty call’ you teased as you couldn't help but move against him.

‘Do you want to stop?’ he asked as your hips rocked and shifted while he gently brushed his fingers against your skin.

‘Hell no’ you giggled before you lifted your arms and he began to pull your shirt up.

You felt like you were performing some secret dance that we both knew, but that you'd never realised you'd known.

Cillian lifted your shirt inch at a time up off you, and let it fall to the floor. He sighed in satisfaction as he looked down at your breasts.

‘Why are you so fucking perfect?’ Cillian asked and you opened your mouth to answer but it came out as a sigh as his hands tightened around your waist.

‘Let’s take this off’ Cillian said determined as one of his hands inched up towards your breast, and he squeezed it gently. Then, his hands came away from you, and unsnapped your bra.

You practically shook it off of you, and then dropped your hands to your jeans. You needed his hands back on you again as soon as possible and turned to watch him as you kicked your shoes off and shoved down your jeans, your underwear coming with them.

‘Eager, are we?’ Cillian chuckled as he quickly began to undress himself as well after you had given him a look full of hunger and anticipation.

‘We are short of time’ you said as you were momentarily distracted by the sight of him unbuttoning his shirt, but you hurried to kick off the fabric wrapped around your ankles.

‘We’ve got at least two and a half hours Y/N’ Cillian then said as you finally stood there in front of him completely naked.

‘Exactly’ you chuckled as Cillian was still fighting with the buttons on his shirt, and you grabbed the fabric of it and pulled him against you, crushing your mouth against his.

Cillian made love to your mouth with his lips and his tongue. He was firm, slow, and demanding.

You breathed together, tasted together. He dragged a soft moan from your mouth with a caress of his lips. He explored you, letting his tongue run along the roof of your mouth. Your teeth crashed. He sucked your tongue into his mouth, and your stomach clenched and you let out an embarrassingly desperate sound.

Before your first night with Cillian, you'd never been kissed like this. The kisses you shared were more intimate and more sensual than anything you'd ever experienced in your life.

As you were kissing, you finally managed to unbutton his shirt and shoved it open. Your hands ran up and down his chest, exploring his toned body all the while he was relentless in his kiss. His arms wrapped around you, one hand pressing into the small of your back, and the other working his fingers into your hair.

With a small tug of your hair, he pulled your face away from him.

‘I could kiss you all day Y/N, but you said that we are short of time so you better get onto the bed’ he winked and you snaked your arms around his neck and kissed him while he walked you back into his bedroom and towards the bed.

As you were moving towards the bed, he fought with his belt and his pants all while his lips never left yours.

You shuffled awkwardly backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed, forcing you to sit down. You kept your arms behind you to prop yourself up, smiling as you watched him finish undressing. He was just gorgeous and so goddamn perfect.

‘You are so sexy, you know that?’ you said full of desire while you watched as he pushed his pants down, kicking them off his ankles and standing in front of you completely naked, and... Sweet. Baby. Jesus…your mouth watered at the sight of his hard cock.

‘So are you’ he winked and, just as he did, you met his eyes again after having stared at his cock for a little while. That terrifying intense stare was back, and he looked like he was going to eat you alive. For all you knew, he would.

Without breaking eye contact, Cillian bent down and went to his knees at the foot of the bed, grabbed your legs, and pulled you closer to him, spreading your legs wide as he did so.

‘Lay back’ he ordered and you couldn’t help but bite your lip in anticipation.

‘What are you going to do to me?’ you asked as he was still staring at you. A slow smile graced his face.

‘I am going to make love to you with my tongue until you cum’ Cillian smirked and the idea of his face between your legs made your breath catch.

‘Oh, Sweet Jesus’ you moaned as he let go of one of your legs and put a hand on your shoulder. He pushed you back and then he lowered his lips to you.

Sweet bliss washed over you in an instant. You gasped, and moaned, and shivered. Cillian lapped at you like you were the sweetest treasure he'd ever put in his mouth. A slow, deep rumble from his chest travelled straight into your body through his lips, shaking you to your core. His tongue dove inside you, exploring you. He sucked on the lips of your sex, and the circled his tongue around your clit, sending powerful shocks of pleasure straight to your centre.

He was building you up to something big. Something beautiful.

He eased off right before you exploded, and you cried out.

‘Cillian, don't stop, please’ you moaned and, just as you began to plead with him, his fingers began to gently run through your wet slit.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t’ he said as he slowly pushed two of his fingers inside you before his tongue resumed its work on your clit.

Curling his fingers slightly upwards, he reached an unfamiliar spot deep inside you and, as soon as he reached this spot, you cried out in pleasure.

‘Oh god, fuck, Cillian’ you moaned as his fingers began to gently thrust in and out of you while he made love to you with his tongue.

With his skilled tongue and fingers working you, it didn’t take you long to reach an orgasm. Your legs began to shake almost violently as a wave of pleasure erupted through your body and your walls tightened around Cillian’s fingers.

When you finally came down from your high, Cillian stood up, pushed his hands against your hips, and slid you farther onto the bed.

‘You sound so fucking sexy when you cum like this, without having to hold back’ Cillian observed as he climbed onto the bed. He crawled towards you like a wolf stalking his prey.

‘I want you inside me, please…I am aching for your cock’ you moaned, spurring him on and, without losing any time he spread your legs wide and pressed the head against your slit, gently working the tip in and out, teasing you.

‘Oh god, please, stop teasing’ you whimpered, trying to wiggle against him. You wanted to feel all of him so badly.

‘Be patient, we will get there’ he whispered, and leaned forward so his arms were on either side of your face.

You felt him push a little deeper into you.

‘Oh god yes’ you gasped and winced and Cillian tilted his head and took your mouth with his, kissing you slowly as he rocked in and out. His lips and his tongue matched the pace of his thrusts, and you felt overwhelmed with desire as he slid deeper and deeper inside of you.

‘Fuck you feel so good Y/N’ Cillian groaned as he stretched you and pushed you until he was all the way in, and he pulled his mouth away from yours just long enough to let out a string of curses before he took your mouth again.

You couldn't breathe. Everything about him was amazing. The way he felt inside you was just perfect.

He held your head firmly in place as he kissed you, thrusting into you and grinding his hips so that he hit every single spot you didn't even know you had. Right as you were nearing your climax, he pulled all the way out and pushed himself off of you, pausing to catch his breath.

‘No…don’t stop…I was so close’ you whimpered.

‘Don’t worry, I am not done with you yet but I do enjoy teasing you’ he gasped and you could tell that he enjoyed edging you which is something no other man you have been with had ever done to you before. Unlike them, Cillian had amazing self-control which you thought might come with age.

Almost an hour later, after he edged you numerous times and made you change positions on several occasions, you ended up with Cillian on top of you once again. He slid back inside you, resuming his relentless pace. With every thrust, he ground his pelvis against your clit, and with only a few careful movements of his hips, you exploded in pleasure around him. There was no way you could have held back any longer as waves of heat and ice crashed onto you, and you fought to breathe through the intensity of your orgasm.

‘Fuck Y/N’ Cillian groaned shortly thereafter, feeling your walls contract around his shaft. He collapsed forward onto you, and you could feel him pulsing inside you and filling you with rope after rope of his warm cum.

You loved the feeling of him cuming inside you and his breath was hot against your neck, and he kissed your neck and your mouth again as he pulled back and out of you, giving you a chance to breathe.

***

‘Cillian’ you whispered, barely able to speak even after five minutes had passed since you came down from your high.

‘Yes Beautiful?’ he said, and moved slightly so he could wrap his lips around your nipple. He sucked and tongued at it, and pulled at it with his teeth.

‘Careful’ you laughed, and shifted under him slightly. ‘I’m super sensitive now’ you said.

‘I certainly hope so’ he murmured. ‘Although, I am not done with you yet. We still have an hour before dinner’ he smirked and your eyes widened immediately.

‘Oh really?’ you asked surprised and, when you looked down on him, you noticed that his cock was already hardening again just after a short five minutes of relaxation.

‘Really’ Cillian then chuckled as he rolled you onto your stomach, spreading your legs and crouching behind you.

Without losing any time, he lined himself up with your entrance and pushed back inside of you, eliciting a loud groan.

After doing you from behind for what felt like forever, he'd hauled you up into his lap and made love to you with his arms around you and our foreheads pressed together. You'd watched his eyes widen and roll back in his head as he came inside you again just after you reached your own high as well.

He then kissed you as he slowly pulled out of you, and then carried you in his arms like a bride into the bathroom where he'd showered you, washed your hair and your body, and treated you to another mind-blowing orgasm with his fingers.

‘I am fucking sore Cillian’ you huffed out as you were standing in front of the mirror and retouched your make up with a white towel wrapped around your body. You had only limited supplies with you in your handbag but were somewhat lucky that Denise had kept a few items in one of the bathrooms in the three-bedroom apartment.

‘I am sorry’ he then said as he stepped behind you and applied some more aftershave before kissing your neck.

‘Are you?’ you asked, looking back at him before pressing a gentle kiss on his lips.

‘Not really’ he then smirked before buttoning up his shirt.

You knew that you couldn’t arrive at the dinner together and, after you got ready, you decided to walk to the restaurant first so that Cillian would allow you a ten-minute head start.

But walking was difficult in itself and Cillian had a slight chuckle when he watched you waddle out of his apartment.

Your core was stinging but it was defiantly worth it.

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#cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n

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solarwonux · 3 years

Text

41. “Dance with me.”

59. “I’m still sore from last night.”

ceo!yoongi x reader

w.c: 1.6k

warnings: a little suggestive if you like squint, sweet teeth numbing fluff

note: please please let me know your thoughts, it helps me out a lot. Also send in a drabble request hehehe.

masterlist || drabble game

Yoongi loved mornings.

Yoongi loved mornings more, now that the two of you had finally moved in together after years of dancing around the subject. He loved waking up next to you, with your face buried into the side of his body and your tiny snores escaping your dry chapped lips, echoing against the eggshell walls of the room. He loved the way the thin rays of the morning sun peek through the slits of the blackout curtains. The light dancing against your body, illuminating all his favorite features. Which was all of you. He loved the way you would stir, and he would race against time to shut his eyes before you could catch him starring at you.

You always did.

You will never let him know that you knew he always woke up first to love you silently without you or anyone in the world there to interrupt him. It was his most valuable and cherished secret, the only one he kept from you. So, you vowed to take the fact that you knew about it to the grave.

Today though, you had beat him at his own game. You had woken up first, silently watching as his breath was calm and concentrated. The minuscule stress lines that had appeared throughout his face over the years of overwork, nowhere to be seen. He looked peaceful, younger; like he didn’t carry the entire weight of the world on his shoulders.

Despite cherishing his sleep more than anything in the world, you understood now, why he always woke up first. He looked so beautiful, so raw, so intimate, so vulnerable, like a work of art. And you could hope that he felt the same way.

You found yourself never wanting to take your eyes away from his sleeping form, afraid you would miscount the intervals between his inhales and his exhales. Afraid you would miss the way his lips parted in inaudible snores or the way he would pout whenever he moved. Yet, the clock on his bedside table thought otherwise.

8:30am

Last night, you had made a promise to yourself before falling asleep, that you would wake up early to make him breakfast. It was his day off, the office didn’t need their big bad CEO that never once seemed to crack a smile, even if he was impressed or excited. You never understood why he kept such a fake front for his employees when they knew that he was the biggest softy on the planet, especially when it came to his loved ones. He would turn heaven and hell over if it meant he could protect everyone he loved. He would even sacrifice himself to ensure that nothing ever happened to his friends, family, and you. But you supposed that his fleeting image was all part of his job, so you let him be.

You took one last look at your sleeping boyfriend, biting your lower lip, contemplating on whether you should just stay in bed until he woke up. Or get up to prepare him a whole breakfast feast just like he deserved. You almost picked the first option until your stomach grumbled lowly, indicating that the second option was the better option, unfortunately. So, you got up silently, and carefully, afraid that any wrong move would wake him up and ruin your surprise.

The air in your lungs got caught in the back of your throat as you saw him stir slightly. Sleepy incoherent mumbles fell out of his lips. You froze in fear, your robe midway on, watching as he tugged the sheets up to his chin and sunk further into the bed. When you realized he wasn’t getting up anytime soon you finished putting on your robe and quickly made your way into the kitchen.

“You know it’s my day off right?” Yoongi mumbled as he walked into the kitchen, sweatpants low on his hips, his messy hair sticking up in all different directions. A slight blush appeared on your cheeks when you remembered how your fingers had been tangled up in it, as you screamed out his name like a mantra, while he made love to you until the late morning hours.

“And you don’t have to be at work for another three hours.” He wrapped his arms around your waist and gave your temple a sweet kiss, “good morning honey, how’d you sleep?” He rested his head against your shoulder, clinging onto you like he was afraid you would vanish.

“I slept like a baby.” You smiled cutting the last stem of the strawberry you had diligently been working on before he walked in. “Morning to you too sleepy head.” You turned your face, leaving a delicate kiss against his bed head. Yoongi smiled, he loved waking up next to you, admiring you silently as you slept. But he also loved being wrapped up in your warmth as you went around doing your daily morning routine. You always complained about how he never let you get things done. That the extra weight clinging onto you like a koala was only slowing you down. He knew you secretly loved it and would not be able to go about your day peacefully if he just stopped.

In fact, he had tested it out once after the two of you had gotten into a petty fight. You had called him that day at lunch time in tears, claiming that everything had gone wrong because he had ignored you all morning. Truth be told he had felt the same way. That was the day he truly realized that he could never live without you.

“I was hoping you would wake up after I finished making breakfast.” You pouted putting your knife down and gathering all the strawberries you had tentatively cut up putting them into a bowl.

“And I was hoping we could spend the entire morning in bed, but we can’t always get what we want in life can we?” He mumbled against your clothed shoulder. His fingers cheekily playing with the knot of your robe.

You turned in his arms, “all morning? Doing what?” Your arms made their way around his neck pulling him closer.

Yoongi smirked, his fingers itching to untie your robe praying you weren’t wearing anything underneath. “I have a few ideas, some good, some bad. But I mostly just wanted to keep sleeping with you in my arms.” He shrugged, running his tongue along his bottom lip, wetting it before closing the distance and planting a soft, intimate kiss against your lips.

It was savory, enough to keep you on your toes, wanting for more when he pulled away. “Good because I’m still sore from last night.” You said pointedly. Yoongi threw his head back laughing, his chest swelling up with pride as he remembered how you didn’t want to stop after three rounds. Even begging him, getting down on your knees for him in the shower. The two of you still hadn’t christened your newly shared apartment but he was positive that last night would’ve been the night if you hadn’t fallen asleep.

“That’s on you my little minx, you didn’t want to stop, I just fulfilled your desires.” He winked, kissing your cheek and moved aside, an arm still around your waist as he reached over for the Bluetooth speaker he kept in the kitchen.

“Hey!” You scoffed, hitting his chest lightly, “this isn’t completely on me, you came home and didn’t even let me greet you properly before you were carrying me off to our room.”

“Honestly babe, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He smirked as he scrolled through his phone. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he looked through his music selection.

“We’re going to have to work on that memory of yours. It's starting to worry me.” You said in fake concern and circled your arms around his waist pulling him close, “I can help.” You whispered before planting a small kiss on the blooming flowers you had left on his chest last night. You could never get enough of him.

“Mhm, I’ll take you up on your offer later.” He set his phone down on the kitchen counter, the soft melody of an unfamiliar song sounding through his Bluetooth speaker. “Right now, dance with me?” He tilted his head to the side. He didn’t give you enough time to answer when he was already leading you to the middle of the kitchen, his arms finding their perspective place around your waist as he started swaying the two of you in place.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, giving his nose a tiny peck, earning a boyish smile from Yoongi. “What is this?”

“A song Namjoon and I are working on...for our wedding.” The afterthought falling out his lips before he had time to stop it. It wasn’t until he felt your body go rigid in his arms that he realized what he had said. “Um, forget I said that.”

“We just moved in together and you’re already planning our wedding playlist, I didn’t think you would be the type. What’s next you’re going to show me the Pinterest board you created?” You joked ignoring the way your heart was racing, hoping he couldn’t feel it through the thinness of your silk robe.

He groaned, annoyed. So what? Maybe he did have a Pinterest board with ideas for your wedding. He had been adding pictures to it since he met you five years ago at Junkook’s grand opening for his art gallery. The second he spotted you laughing along with his best friend, hard enough for champagne to come out of your nose. The ice around his heart melted and he knew he would be spending the rest of his life with you. He’s been writing songs about it ever since.

“Maybe another time, we have enough time for that, right now we have two hours before you have to go to work and I plan on milking every second of it.”

#kdiarynet #kpopscape #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts scenarios #bts drabbles #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts yoongi #bts suga #yoongi fluff #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi imagines #yoongi drabbles

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wheelsup · 3 years

Text

the taming of the shrew | two

if i be waspish, best beware my sting

after some setbacks, penelope is willing to do anything to get you back on board. but has spencer already ruined things?

A/N: hello! im so sorry that this posting schedule is super inconsistent. the more i thought about this chapter, the less i liked the more technical aspects of it. but! i hope you enjoy to plot aspect of it nonetheless <3 thanks for reading!

category: fluff, slow burn series, spencer reid x fem!reader

wc: 4.4k

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Since that phone call with Penelope, she’d been over nearly every night for a week with plates of treats and onslaughts of apologies. Each time she came knocking, you told her there was no amount of persuasion that could change your mind. And yet the following night, she’d be there, a new type of pastry in hand and a new set of reasons why Spencer was worth the trouble.

First, she brought blueberry muffins and reasoned that deep below that prickly exterior, he really was everything she promised –– sweet and caring. But that must be deep, deep down. Like, The Lost City of Atlantis, deep down, because you didn’t expect it to surface any time soon.

Then, she brought fudge brownies and explained that his behavior wasn’t personal –– he was getting snippy with everyone lately. And while you maintained that anybody would have a hard time getting along with Spencer, you were absolutely positive that it was now impossible for you.

Quite frankly, it wasn’t just Spencer who was unwilling to play nice. You hated him. More than you’ve ever hated a stranger.

You wished him a lifetime riddled with minor inconveniences that would drive him to the edge of insanity. You wanted him to miss all his trains by just a quarter of a minute; close enough so that he could see it leave the platform, knowing he almost made it on. You wanted him to constantly feel like he was about to sneeze. You wanted his socks to be perpetually wet, and if he should happen to put on a dry pair? You hoped he stepped in a puddle.

That was all you could think about as you laid out on your couch, munching on one of Penelope’s lemon bars while she paced around your apartment. She kept going on and on advertising Spencer to you. As annoying as it was, she was also saving you a ton on groceries that week.

For the most part, you filtered her out. Not a single word that came out of her mouth was believable anymore, especially not when she was talking about Spencer. Despite what Penelope thought of him, you saw in him what she refused to accept.

As her speech came to a close, she looked at you like she expected a response to dignify her prattling.

“Give it a rest, Penelope. He’s a lost cause,” you laughed dryly. “He doesn’t need –– nor does he want –– anyone in his life.” At the very least, he definitely didn’t want you.

“Yes, that’s the problem!” If you’d been listening to her, you would’ve heard her saying the same thing. “He doesn’t want to date!”

Your head just about exploded when she said that.

There had been countless, fruitless conversations about this, and all along she saw the gaping hole in her supposedly airtight plan?

“If he doesn’t want to DATE, then WHAT was the point of this?!” Your fingers pressed the bridge of your nose; you suddenly felt a headache coming on. Funny how it always happened around the time of day that Penelope came to visit.

Penelope stopped pacing. She stalked over to your couch, picked your legs up by your ankle, and moved them to make space for herself. You begrudgingly sat upright as she took her place beside you.

“Because he’s not himself anymore. He’s not open like he used to be. Not to the people who care about him the most, and certainly not to the world.”

Penelope toyed with the hem of her dress, distracting herself from her quivering lip before pressing on, “Spencer Reid has always wanted love. And it’s not right that he no longer believes he can have it.”

You hadn’t seen Penelope look so desperate until now. It was concerning. Because what could make her look so hopeless? What could make Spencer so hopeless?

“Penelope, I don’t know what’s wrong with your little friend, but… there’s a lot more bubbling inside him than you’re letting on.”

She chewed up the insides of her cheeks, wincing to herself at your incredibly accurate claim.

“You are hiding something, aren’t you?” You narrowed your eyes on her. You were no detective, or whatever exactly her team did, but she was just awful at concealing her thoughts.

“It’s not my story to tell,” she murmured.

She could already feel herself about to give it away and doubled down her mental defenses against it. Focusing extra hard on keeping Spencer’s privacy intact. If only you knew her track record with secrets, you’d be proud of her for staying quiet this long.

“What isn’t your story?”

“That his girlfriend died last year.”

She spilled it before she even realized what she was saying. You’d just asked so nonchalantly that she forgot she was talking aloud. Penelope turned purple, terrified now that the whole truth was out there.

You couldn’t even take satisfaction in the fact that your trick worked. You were just as mortified as Penelope, and if you weren’t already sitting down, you knew you’d need to. You assumed there was something deeper going on with him, you didn’t think it was a dead girlfriend. That was some Nicholas Sparks shit.

“He pretends like he’s fine but I know he’s not. And if he found a way to move on, maybe he’d start feeling as okay as he claims to be,” she sniffled before snot could run from her nose, tears lining the rims of her eyes. “I know I should’ve given you the full picture, but I didn’t think you’d go for it if you knew…”

You were too floored to process it all right away. This added a whole new layer of complicated to an already uneasy arrangement.

“Well, I know you’re right about one thing. I would’ve said no.”

She gave you a set of pleading eyes, praying you’d see where she was coming from.

“I know,” she whispered defeatedly. “But maybe... now that you know, you can understand why he acts out the way he does.”

“Penelope, I can’t just… make someone move on, or –– or get them to believe in love! Especially when it’s fake.”

How on Earth did she expect you to pull that off? Did that guy from A Walk to Remember move on when Mandy Moore died? You hadn’t seen the ending of the movie, but you assumed not.

“I’m sorry, this is just… a lot bigger than the favor I thought it was ––”

“What if I could return it?” she cut in. The gears in her head started to turn, figuring ways to patch up the holes she made.

“There’s nothing I need from you.”

That couldn’t be true. Penelope looked around the room and it didn’t take her long to think of it.

“I can help you sell your art,” she tempted, gesturing to the scattered canvases. “You make all your income from this, right?”

You didn’t want to give any fuel to her fire, but you nodded. “What if… what if you didn’t have to settle for local buyers? What if I told you that you could make way more money selling them to the whole world?”

You chortled at her idea.

You were a local artist, through and through. Your art got put in local galleries and sold to local buyers. Nothing more, and that was fine with you. You realized it a long time ago that it was just a pipe dream to think you’d be more.

“I’m serious! You could get a separate painting studio, and stop living in one? Huh?” She wrapped her hand around your shoulder, waving the other in the air, urging you to picture it with her. “Imagine this: a kitchen that’s separate from your living room. A bed, inside it’s own four walls, and more than twelve feet from where you cook your meals.”

Pushing aside her so blatantly insulting your apartment, if that were a possibility, you’d want nothing more. But it already sounded foolish and you hadn’t even heard how she planned to pull it off.

“Penelope, I’m fine where I am. I make the money I need, and that’s... it’s fine.”

She gave you a pointed look. “You know, I can hack all search engine results to make sure you are what comes up first anytime someone enters the word ‘painting’, right?

An airy chuckle left your lips. Of course she could. You patted her thigh twice and stood up, prompting her to follow you to your door –– hopefully, so she can show herself to the other side of it. “Still no, Pen.”

“Just take some time to think about it!” Her voice carried through the wood as you shut it on her.

There was this one bench in Kenilworth Park – the one that overlooks the crystal clear pond – that you’d always been able to rely on to fix any problem.

There was hidden magic in the bushes that sprawled out from the edges of the water, surrounded by spiky green blades of overgrown grass. A simplicity you loved in baby ducklings paddling into the tiny body of water, swimming close together so they don’t get lost in, what seems to them, a whole ocean. And clarity provided by the freshest air in the world, under the shade of the big oak trees on a late summer afternoon.

But at the present, none of that came close to being enough.

The artist’s block started off as a minor inconvenience, but without your permission, had stretched into weeks of steadily declining motivation. Each new idea felt even worse than the last, and you were acutely aware that there would come a point where you’d officially hit maximum capacity for how awful they could get.

Still, that didn’t seem to light a fire under you. You happily coexisted with the blank pages of your sketchbook. Staring down at them, laying open on your lap in their stark-white glory, you felt like you were playing a waiting game. If you stared long and hard enough, maybe they’d flinch.

Unfortunately, you never got to find out who won, because your phone rang inside your pocket. As if the caller had interrupted an incredible genius at work (which couldn’t be farther from the truth), you hastily raised the phone to your ear, slamming your sketchbook shut.

“Hello?” Your voice wasn’t as kind as it could be for someone with nothing better to be doing. Two seconds later, you learned who was calling and came to regret it.

“Hi, This is Rebecca from District Arts, calling with a message from Andre ––”

“Oh, hi!” you tried to walk back your previous tone, straightening up in your seat and pitching your voice higher, “Yeah, I’ve been waiting to hear from him!”

While Rebecca intimidated you, Andre happened to be your closest friend at the gallery. He worked closely with the artists to curate their collection and help them make sales.

“Does he want to sort out what to set the opening bid prices at for my new pieces?” A handful of days ago, you sent him pictures of your new work and were waiting to hear his thoughts. You’d always been able to trust his opinion, and a vote of confidence from him might be just the thing to inspire you.

“Uhm…” There was a criminally long pause on the other side of the line, ended by Rebecca’s weary inhale. “Unfortunately, we’re calling to inform you that your pieces will not be included in the next rotation.”

For a minute, you weren’t sure what to make of what she said. You’d never heard those words before.

“What – what do you mean?” you laughed nervously. She probably misspoke. Perks of friendship aside, Andre always included you in sets.

“Ugh, let me just get him…” her voice faded away as she put the phone down.

That wasn’t exactly the reassuring statement you were looking for. In the time it took for the call to switch hands, your confusion finally melted in. And then quickly boiled into anger.

The District Arts gallery changed their entire collection every two months. The pieces shown accepted rolling bids throughout the full eight weeks, finally selling at the end of term to their highest offer. After that, the pieces got taken down, sent to happy new owners, and the entire gallery reset with entirely new works.

So if you missed one rotation, that meant waiting two months to get back in.

“Andre, how am I just cut from the gallery!” you barked before he could get a word in. If he didn’t like your work, he could’ve just said so.

“No one said that ––”

“Okay, let me rephrase.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, something you found yourself doing quite frequently lately, and took a deep breath in and out. It was seemingly just for show because it did absolutely nothing to calm you down. “Why wouldn’t you put me in the next set? I’m in all of them!”

“I know you are!” He sounded just as upset. “It’s just that… we give you the biggest space we have, because you always manage to fill it up. But this time… I’m not so sure you can.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed. “What makes you say that?” You asked that, but you knew.

“You’ve only finished three pieces… I’m worried how you’ll deliver seven more before we set up.”

“But… it’s four weeks away, I could do ––”

“And it took you four weeks to make what you have... I’m sorry. We couldn’t take that gamble.”

He took your silence as an opportunity to turn off the work talk and speak, just friend to friend.

“You know that I trust you and I’d hold that spot if I could. But, I also know what you’re going through right now, and… I don’t know, maybe letting yourself rest would be a good thing?”

Your heart paused. By, “knowing what you’re going through”, you assumed he didn’t mean the little artist’s block.

“If you’re implying that I can’t do my job because of what happened with Cyrus –”

“I’m not, I’m not....” he backtracked as quickly as he could. “But take another look at the paintings you showed me and tell me if they feel like you.”

Even if he was right, you wanted to fight him. You wanted to cry. You wanted to beg that you didn’t need that big space; you were willing to downsize and just turn in the three that you had. Even if they got shoved into the corner where hardly anybody bothered to look. You just couldn’t afford to go two months without the income.

But even with tears beading up, you realized that the gallery couldn’t afford it either. They needed to bring in money and you couldn’t do that for them this time. So they were right to go to someone who can.

“Right,” you sniffled, recollecting yourself so he can’t hear the shakiness in your voice. “I understand. It’s a big risk, like you said… It’s for the better.”

Andre tried to thank you for being understanding and spewed some sort of encouragement. The words flew over your head. You managed to toss in a few ‘mhmm’s and ‘sure’s at the right places to coast you along until the call finally ended.

As soon as it went dead, you dropped your phone to the side and brought your hands to your face, rubbing them furiously over your cheeks. Your fingertips pressed hard into your eyelids, trying to forcibly reabsorb the tears threatening to spill.

It almost worked, until you tried to breathe.

A full sob escaped in that one gulp of air and you succumbed to it. But the loud crunching noise of some pedestrian walking over the falling leaves destroyed your sense of privacy, and you quickly wiped away all signs of your breakdown. The crunching stopped just short of your bench and on instinct you flicked your eyes up to see who the intruder was.

You did a double take. It was him. That fucking asshole.

He was standing there, looking dumber than you could even remember, with his hands in his coat pockets and a curious look on his face as he watched you cry. Tucking your sketchbook under your arm in haste, you made it a point to stand up with as much aggression as possible, rolling your eyes at him.

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” you barked. “No need to yell at me this time.”

You bristled past him, barely refraining yourself from checking his shoulder as payback. You wanted to believe you were better than him, but it did sound incredibly tempting. He stood there for a moment before turning on his heel and following you.

“Wait,” he groaned.

You didn’t listen, neither stopping nor slowing down.

“I said wait,” he huffed as he caught up to you, popping up at your side and jogging along as you kept going.

“Yeah, because I need to listen to a guy who yells at strangers in bookstores.”

Now that you’d brought up the elephant in the room, your feet started moving even faster, working double time to get you away from him.

Damn the fact that he had those long legs. He didn’t even break a sweat trying to keep up. He was inescapable.

“Well, if you waited like I asked, you would’ve gotten an apology for the ––”

“Gee, thanks!” you yelled, stopping for only a second to turn to him and give him a mocking bow of your head, hands clasped together like you were praising at his altar. “I was waiting with bated breath for that! Thank you, kind sir, for now my life can go on.”

“Look, I’m actually sorry,” he snapped. Then in realizing the irony, softened his voice, “I’m sorry for being rude. I was having a bad day… not that that’s an excuse.”

You stared at him blankly, just watching his mouth moving quickly and waiting until it finally stopped.

“Did you need something?”

“Did you… did you not hear what I just said?!”

“No, sorry,” you smiled, voice sweet like sugar. “My ears filter bullshit. Wanna try again?”

He scoffed, looking away like he couldn’t believe you before stepping even closer. “What’s your problem?”

“Me!? The fuck –– what the fuck is your problem?” You turned and stormed off again, seething at his audacity. Spencer just couldn’t relent his annoying tendencies and followed yet again.

“My problem is that I’m trying to be nice, and you’re not letting me!”

You got a good, hard laugh out of that. “Okay, first of all, having to apologize for yelling at me and pushing me isn’t exactly the best starting point for the journey of becoming a nice person.”

“Like I said, I was having a bad day.”

Under your breath, you muttered, “Well, I hope this one’s even worse.”

“Why are you such a ––” He stopped himself from finishing that thought. Even in his worst mood, he wouldn’t cross that line.

But he didn’t need to finish it, you knew exactly where he wanted to take it. The soles of your shoes scraped against the loose gravel as you came to a grinding halt, ears ringing.

“A what?” You turned to face him, a sarcastic smile on your face growing wider as he started to shrink more and more. You got up close in his face, daring him to say what he really wanted to. So he could reinforce your belief in exactly the type of person he was. “A what?”

Spencer pursed his lips and shook his head, refusing to say it no matter how much you challenged him. If he wasn’t going to have the balls to say it, you decided to take it upon yourself.

“Tell you what, you keep thinking about it and get back to me the next time you’re in a cunty mood.”

The word he was thinking of was probably not as bad, but you had a habit of escalating things. Even if you took this one too far, you didn’t care.

Before you tried to take off again, Spencer’s hand flew to your elbow. He tugged you back, forcing you to turn around and face him. He didn’t know his own strength; without any resistance, you came stumbling into his chest, at risk of falling over if it weren’t for his tight grip on your arm.

It took you a beat to push him away with both your hands on his chest, vocalizing your disgust for being so close to him.

“Can you stop trying to disagree with me for a second? I’m trying to tell you that you’re right, I was being a… well, you know…” He avoided the word. Apparently ‘cunt’ was where he drew the line. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it.”

Your nostrils were still flared and blood hot as ever, but he made you pause. He looked sincere, if not a little tinged with guilt as well. You were suspicious of it.

“You saw me crying and felt bad, didn’t you?”

He laughed darkly. “Well, I saw you, yes. Did I feel bad? No.”

“Oh, my God,” you growled, berating yourself for getting close to believing he might be capable of decency.

“I’m joking! I’m joking.” He squeezed your elbow twice in earnest. “I did feel bad, but that’s not why I wanted to say it.”

“Okay.” You weren’t ready to give him a real smile, so you flattened your lips into a thin line and nodded once slowly, and left it at that.

You still weren’t a fan, but the apology did dampen some of the resentment. Maybe he wasn’t the worst person alive. You’d settle for saying top ten most annoying, instead.

Minutes later, you came to the startling realization that he was still on the path, just two paces behind you. You flinched when you saw him out of the corner of your eye, not expecting him to still be here.

“Uhm. Where are you… why are you still following me?”

“I’m not. My car’s that way,” he gestured to the parking lot at the end of the long walkway. “I forgot my loaf for the ducks.” He didn’t mean to offer that information up, it just slipped out. He could practically see your smug expression coming before it even got there.

“You’re not supposed to feed bread to the ducks. It’s bad for them.”

“I don’t.” He didn’t care to explain this to you, but he couldn’t have you thinking he was any less competent than he really was. “It’s a special bread made from water and seeds that were ground into flour. It’s duck-safe.”

“They make duck-safe bread?” Now that was something you’d never heard before.

“No… I make duck-safe bread,” he said softly under his breath.

You didn’t know how else you were supposed to react to that besides laughing wildly.

“You make it?” He nodded like you were the crazy one here. As if he wasn’t the one spending his spare time grinding up seeds and baking loaves of bread for ducks, donning a frilly pink apron and oven mitts as he did so. At least that’s how you imagined it. “Why not just feed them the seeds?”

“Because, loose seeds will sink in the water and can potentially clog waterbeds and cause foreign bacteria growth in the pond.”

“So you… hand-make the seeds into a little loaf of bread so it doesn't do that?”

He confirmed. You pondered silently for a moment, then absolutely had to ask, “You ever eaten the duck bread before?”

Spencer was caught off guard by that question. His cheeks deepened to a rosy color.

“Yeah, well, it was the house so…” he laughed nervously and stared at his sneakers. “It’s actually not too bad.”

You weren’t entirely surprised by that. You remembered what his grocery basket looked like, and given those same options, you probably would’ve tried the duck bread too. Still, you cracked the smallest of grins at knowing he makes bread for ducks. The one, sole redeeming fact you’ve learned about Spencer.

You reached your car first, and Spencer stopped in front of it with you.

“I’m actually sorry, you know,” he whispered once more, hand resting at the top of your car door as you opened it. He wasn’t talking about the incident at the bookstore.

“Yeah…” For a while you were so busy being angry at Spencer that you forgot about your own problems.

He noticed your nose was still red around the edges, eyes still a little bleary. “Are you okay, by the way?” His voice was too soft, too genuine.

You shook your head no.

“Is there anything I can do?” You shook your head again. And then you had an awful thought.

You knew he was just offering to help just to say it, because that’s how people react when you say you’re not okay even if they don’t care. But there actually was something he could do for you… Something that Penelope could do.

“Uh, no but…” you fixed your hair and tucked it behind your ear, seamlessly switching to a flirtier voice. “If you still feel bad about the other day, you’re welcome to make it up to me.”

Spencer cocked his head to the side, unsure of how he could do that.

“Hang out with me sometime.”

“H-hang out?” You could tell that it flustered him, even if he tried to play it off. He swallowed thickly, nose twitching and brows scrunched together.

“Relax, I really do just mean hang out.” You were lying through your teeth. He didn’t need to know that.

As if he didn’t want to think about it for a second longer and just get out of this conversation as quickly as possible, he agreed without thinking it through. He didn’t even ask why an almost complete stranger would want to hang out with him.

You stuck your hand out, expecting him to hand over his cell so you could put your contact into it. He rocked on the balls of his feet, watching as you input your contact and sent yourself a text on his phone.

“Hi, this is…” you read out your message as you typed, pausing at just the right place. “What’s your name by the way?”

“Oh-uh, I’m Spencer.”

A devilish grin took over your face, hidden from his view while you were looking down at the screen. He was going to be easy to fool.

agh! im still not in love with how this chapter is turning out, but it came to a point where i just had to stop fiddling with it and just post it. any feedback or comments about this story is very much appreciated 💕

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

Text

Drum it out - Harry Styles

a/n: hiya lovelies! im bringin an OC fic this time only because i had a strong vision about the girl and thought it would be best to have her as one instead of Y/N this time, but hope you’ll enjoy it regardless! Remi Devon is a baddie, i like her!

pairing: Harry x OC

summary: Harry is forced to find a new drummer since Sarah is about to become a mom, but no one seems to be good enough to replace her. It is until he meets Remi Devon, the woman who completely takes his breath away from the moment he sees her on stage.

word count: 7k

warning: NSFW content, some slight spanking

masterlist

“Don’t worry, you’ll love her just as much as I do!” Sarah smiles at Harry, giving his arm a gentle squeeze as they make their way into the small but cozy looking bar. Harry is skeptical, mostly because for him, no one compares to Sarah and if it wasn’t for her pregnancy, he would do anything to make her stay in the band. But he is so happy his two friends are starting a family together, it’s only that Harry is now forced to look for a new drummer as it’s getting harder for Sarah to keep up with the hectic lifestyle they’ve been living. Her bump is now pretty obvious and it’s only a matter of time until she can’t sit behind her instrument.

They’ve been trying to find someone to replace her during the second half of her pregnancy and at least the first year after she gives birth, but no one seemed good enough. Truth is, and Harry knew it damn well, that his problem was always the same: they weren’t Sarah.

Now she has dragged him to check someone out, a girl Sarah knows from years ago and who was told to be a mind-blowing drummer, though Harry has doubts about that.

“Sure will,” he hums, not too convinced about it.

The bar was previously a small theater, the seats have been taken out on the ground floor, replaced with tables and stools around the sides and a dance floor in the middle. The gallery is used as a kind of VIP area, this is where the two of them are right now, sitting at a small table in the front corner so they have an amazing sight of the stage where a local band is about to start very soon. Sarah said Remi, the drummer in the talk, is just a jump-in for the night for a friend, but it was a great opportunity for Harry to check her out.

“You know, she beat me at an audition a while ago. This super cool rock band was looking for a drummer for their mini-tour in Canada, because their drummer broke his leg and we both tried for it. There were still some people waiting to audition when she went in and she blew their mind so much, they just ended the audition right there,” Sarah tells him, the story still holds a dear place in her heart. She and Remi used to be close friends, but got a little distant as life took them to different paths. Now they are meeting up every few months when they are in the same city, catching up on everything since they last saw each other, sharing their equally exciting stories.

“Really?” Harry asks with genuine surprise as he takes his beer from the table and glances down at the stage. Everything is set up already and his eyes move to the shiny looking drum set at the back. It’s hard to imagine himself finding someone as good as Sarah, for Harry she has been the etalon ever since they met. But now he is forced to find someone even though he doesn’t want to, not even a bit.

“Yeah. She is the kind of girl that just turns heads wherever she goes without even trying.”

“You think I would get along with her well?” he asks, turning to face her just in time to see the wide smirk on her lips as she nods.

“I think you two would make an epic duo, H.”

“Alright, now I’m interested,” he smiles softly.

“She said they will play a lot of covers.”

“What kind?”

“You’ll see,” she smirks, sipping on her lemonade, a hand going to slide down on her stomach.

The dance floor is not packed, but there are a lot of people, seemingly most of them are here specifically for this band called Striped Shoes, Harry hasn’t heard about them until now but he is always happy to discover new music.

Soon, the lights go down, darkness falling to the theater, the only light is coming from the bars at the back. Then a spotlight turns on and a guy is standing in the middle of it, cheers erupting from the people as he starts playing the guitar and Harry immediately recognizes the song: Smells like teen spirit by Nirvana. Just a few riffs later all the other spotlights come on, each of them illuminating a member of the band and Harry’s eyes flick to the drum set where the only female on the stage is sitting, he catches her the moment she starts playing, the vibrant energy lingering around her almost knocks him off the stool even from this far away. Her hair barely reaches her shoulders, it falls to frame her heart shaped face in soft waves, the roots are a darker color than the rest that’s an odd shade of mahogany, but it suits her perfectly, Harry thinks. She has a few tattoos littered across her arms but not a full sleeve on any of them. They are on full display in the shirt that’s sleeves were seemingly ripped off, the fabric is raw on her shoulders. It seems to be some kind of old band shirt but Harry doesn’t recognize the logo on the front. Her legs are wrapped in ripped jeans and Harry is immediately mesmerized by how steadily she keeps the rhythm while absolutely nailing the song.

She makes it look so easy yet fascinating, her head snaps back a few times, a satisfied grin stretching across her lips as she enjoys the music, clearly a fan on it. She doesn’t miss a beat and flows into the next song that’s an original from the band as if the two songs were the same while she had to switch up the rhythm entirely through the transition.

Harry feels starstruck, watching this woman take the whole show, in his opinion, while simply sitting behind the drum set, playing like no one he has ever seen. She puts all of herself into it and that’s why she manages to outshine everyone else. Harry knows how hard it is for a drummer to get the same kind of attention as other members, but Remi makes it seem like it’s the natural, like drummers are the front people without a doubt.

When the cover version of Rock and Roll by Led Zeppelin comes on, in a way more hard rock version, Harry almost fears the stage is about to catch on fire. The song already has amazing drums in it, but the band gave it even more attention, giving a chance for Remi to show how amazing she really is.

“So? What do you think?” Sarah shouts over the music and Harry suddenly realizes he is not alone. He managed to zone out on the drummer without even noticing.

“She is… amazing,” he admits truthfully, in complete awe of what he is witnessing. This is music. This is passion. This is exactly what Harry always looks for in musicians and Remi has a whole lot of it.

They push the short drum solo a little longer at the end and Harry watches as Remi finishes the song standing, playing so hard that with the last hit, one of her sticks simply snaps into two, flying across the stage as she is breathing hard, skin glimmering from the sweat, her hair a complete mess from all the head shaking she’s been doing, but Harry thinks that it’s the hottest thing he has ever seen in his life.

Sarah knows she finally found her replacement, judging from Harry’s look she knows he is a sucker for Remi so she just lets him enjoy the rest of the concert.

When they play their last song and they all gather at the front of the stage to bow in front of the audience, Harry finds himself standing as he is applauding the band, but especially Remi who doesn’t even know Harry Styles is now a fan of hers.

“Let’s talk to her, shall we?” Sarah suggests once they disappear from the stage. Harry nods, finishing up his beer before the two of them head backstage.

Sarah has been put on the list since she previously let Remi know she would be coming. She was ecstatic to see her old friend, however was not told that Sarah would be coming with someone else so when Remi spots the two of them walking down the small hallway at the backstage, she is surprised but not shocked. She knows Sarah has been working with him for a long time now, but she wasn’t expecting him to be here tonight.

“Hey! There you are, mama!” Remi jokes with a heartfelt chuckle as she hugs her old friend. “Already looking like a milf!” she teases, earning an eye-roll from Sarah.

“Rems, I want you to meet Harry. Harry, this is Remi Devon.”

Remi’s eyes meet Harry’s piercing green ones and for a moment, Harry feels his stomach drop. She is even more breathtaking up close, in her simple but very fitting outfit, hair pushed back from her face carelessly she is easily the first woman ever to make Harry nervous to the point where he is having a hard time to even talk.

Remi holds out a hand for him smiling warmly and he luckily takes control over his actions and shakes it before it could get awkward.

“Nice to meet you, Harry. Heard a lot about you,” she chuckles softly.

“Hope you believed only the best,” he nods with a shy smile.

“Oh, of course,” she winks and Harry swears he felt his heart skipping a beat.

“We actually have something to talk to you about, Rems. Do you have some time for us?” Sarah asks.

“Yeah, just let me wash my face and I’ll be right back. There’s a small green room on the left, feel free to wait there,” she nods and disappears a moment later.

Sarah and Harry move into the room as Remi told them to and just a few minutes later she storms inside, a new shirt hugging her torso, a simple black one, but it’s tight unlike the one she wore for the concert. She sits into the armchair while Sarah and Harry have taken the small sofa.

“Alright, I’m all yours,” she smiles at them crossing her legs. Harry knows he should be the one to bid the offer, but it seems like he is not finding his words just yet. But Sarah is quick to talk when she realizes Harry is at a loss of words.

“I brought Harry today because I wanted him to see you play. We are currently looking for someone to take my place shortly,” she explains, placing a hand to her bump. “I know you’ve been freelancing lately so I thought you’d be interested in working with the band and of course Harry.”

“Oh!” She seems genuinely surprised at the offer. “So this was kind of my audition in secret?” she chuckles.

“You could say that,” Sarah smiles.

“And how did I do?” she asks, eyes meeting Harry’s gaze that hasn’t left her face since she arrived.

“You… definitely passed. The best I’ve seen so far,” he tells her and the smile on her face is worth everything for him.

“So what does this mean exactly?” This time Harry answers, finally finding his voice.

“If you are not too busy in the upcoming time, I would love to have you as my drummer,” he states, handing her the offer on a silver plate, basically.

It’s an offer most musicians dream of, so Harry thinks she’ll accept it right away, but of course, Remi is not like others.

“I’ll be needing some more details before I give you my answer though,” she smiles.

And that, she gets. A few days after the concert Remi meets up with the rest of the band and Jeff to talk about all the details. She clearly wants to know what she is jumping into and Harry respects that. At the end she accepts the offer and as Harry watches her sign the paperworks, a huge wave of satisfaction and excitement washes over him.

***

The public imagines Harry as the picture perfect human being who is always at his best, never making any mistakes, but that’s far from the real truth. He is as flawed as anyone else, it’s just that not many get the chance to see him in this state.

His bandmates are among the few privileged ones that are bound to see all his ups and downs as well and since Remi is part of them now too, she has witnessed his bad days since they have started working together.

Harry’s growl is heard in the microphone when he is supposed to be singing and the music soon comes to a halt. It’s probably the tenth time he is messing up the exact same part because his head is just not at the right place. He knows he should be at the top of his game, not wasting his colleagues’ precious time, but he just can’t bring himself away from the heavy thoughts that’s been occupying his mind lately. There are days when he is as free as a bird, not a worry in the world, but sometimes everything comes down at once and he feels like crumbling under the weight of his own career.

“Sorry guys,” he apologizes into the microphone, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he closes his eyes for a few seconds to collect himself. The silence in the auditorium where they are currently rehearsing for tour is harsh, everyone is tired and they can feel the nerves creeping up on them about the upcoming tour and making sure that everything is perfectly in place for the first show.

Remi looks around from behind her drum set, holding her sticks in one hand and she doesn’t like what she is seeing. A group that’s always so happy and carefree is now just a big ball of stress, this is not right.

“Guys, why don’t you all wrap it up for today, I’ll stay here with Harry and help him get it right,” she offers.

“How do you want to practice without everyone else?” Mitch asks, not at all in an offending way, more like out of curiosity.

“I’ll find a way,” she smiles softly and he doesn’t push it further.

As the rest of the band is packing up, leaving slowly, saying their goodbyes Harry is sitting on the floor next to one of the speakers, head hanging low, deep in his thoughts. Adam is the last one to leave the place and once it’s just the two of them, she stands up from behind her set and walks over to the desperate man.

“Get up,” she orders, not in a bossy manner, more of a ‘do what I asked, I’m trying to help’ way so Harry obeys. Standing up he towers above her, almost a full head taller than Remi, but still, sometimes she can make him feel so small.

Harry has noticed that her energy is making her push the air out of his lungs sometimes, just the way she stands, looks, moves around a room, it’s making her appear like the ruler of everyone around her. He has often found himself just staring at her from afar since she has joined the band and even though she has caught him ogling her a few times, he just still can’t bring himself to stop admiring her. He definitely has a fat crush on the new addition to the team, however now his feelings are pushed aside, their place taken by his anxiety and worries.

She takes his hands and pulls him to the middle of the stage, putting the microphone stand to the side so they have some space cleared out around them. She then turns to face him, a warm smile tugging on her lips while he is rather curious about what she has on her mind.

“Scream,” she simply tells him, his eyebrows immediately knitting together in confusion.

“Wha’?”

“Scream,” she repeats, but he is still lost about the situation. She chuckles a little before taking a few steps away from him, twirling around her heels before stopping facing the area where the audience is supposed to be during a concert. “Whenever I feel like I’m locked, like everything around me is so suffocating that I can’t even function normally, I take a minute and just let it all out,” she explains before taking a deep breath and hunching over, the most eardrum-breaking scream bursts out of her, making Harry jump a little.

She holds it long, until her throat is cracking up and she runs out of her breath, then the scream dies and she takes a deep breath, filling up her lungs again. Harry stands there, completely stunned, thinking that if anyone heard her now, they are surely convinced she is being tortured here.

When she turns back to face him again, she is smiling as if nothing just happened, like it’s the most natural thing to randomly scream from the top of her lungs on a casual Wednesday night.

“Now it’s your turn,” she tells him, but Harry doesn’t feel like it’s gonna be his thing at all. But he still turns to the side, clears his throat and lets out a not too forceful shout that’s quite saddening compared to her scream. “Oh, come on, I’m sure you can do better, Styles,” she chuckles, hands on her hips as she tilts her head to the side.

“Is this really necessary?” he questions, eyebrows still furrowed at her.

“Very much. Now come on, do it!”

“Remi, I--”

He doesn’t have the chance to finish, because she screams at him, knocking the air out of him once again, making him flinch at her sudden action.

“Scream!” she then snaps at him.

“I don--”

“Scream!” she repeats forcefully and Harry gives up. Taking a deep breath he lets his voice out in a hoarse scream that’s way more vibrant than his last attempt. “Yes! Again!” she grins nodding and he does it again.

And then again and again, until he feels like his chest is completely empty, like nothing is keeping a tight grip on his insides anymore. He is panting, mind racing as he realizes how much better he is feeling now, meaning that Remi’s technique worked.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, smirking, her arms folded on her chest.

“Fucking awesome,” he chuckles out of breath, running his hands through his messy hair.

“Great. You think you can handle going through the song now without messing up?”

“I… think?”

“Alright, grab your guitar and I’ll give you the beat.”

She moves back behind her set as Harry grabs a guitar, throwing the strap over his head, turning to face Remi behind him as he places the microphone stand in front of him.

“I’ll go softer on the beats, you just do your thing okay?” she tells him and he just nods, fingers already on his guitar.

Kiwi sounds a whole lot different with just the drums playing weakly and only one guitar playing, but it’s not what matters. Harry finally manages to go through the song without messing anything up.

When the song ends and the music is replaced by silence, Harry can’t help the grin stretching across his face.

“I fucking needed that,” he sighs, his head falling back for a moment as the last bits of euphoria settles in his body.

“Want to go over something else?” she asks, turning back and forth to the sides on her stool, playing with the sticks, twirling them between her fingers easily.

“You sure don’t want to go home like the others?”

“Let’s see what choices I have. I can go home and watch an entire season of Love Island on my own, eating leftovers from two days ago or I can stay here, play music with a hot dude. I think I’m fine with the second option.”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up at how simply she just called him a hot dude, his heart fluttering in his chest again like the first time he saw her play, only difference is that now her eyes are piercing on him and it’s just the two of them in an empty room. He is already having thoughts that should probably be pushed down.

“Did you just call your boss hot?” he teases her then.

“I don’t think you’re my boss,” she scoffs. “You need me here more than I need to be here, so I think I’m the one having the higher ground,” she points out and Harry knows she is so damn right. “Besides, I know you find me hot as well.”

He is quick to blush at her words, but that doesn’t stop him from questioning her.

“What makes you think that?”

“I see you staring, Harry. I’m not oblivious or naive. I know you like checking my butt out every time I’m fixing my set leaning down,” she chuckles and now he is certain his ears are a deep shade of red, he was caught more often than he thought, it seems like. “Also…” she smirks slyly. “If you think you hid your hard-on cleverly the other day when I played my solo, you are wrong.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Harry mumbles, cursing himself for being such a horny teenager around her, but he can’t help it. The woman is the epitome of everything Harry finds so fucking attractive, it’s like she was made for his imagination specifically. “This, um, this is a little awkward, but I’m sorry--” “Oh, don’t be,” she chuckles. “I’m just lucky I’m a woman and my arousal can’t be seen that easily,” she comments and Harry almost chokes on his own breath.

Did she just admit she has been turned on by him before? When? What did she think about? What was it that made her turned on? Harry needs answers, however he is not given the chance to get them.

“Alright, you can choose two more songs we’ll go over and then we are off,” she simply says, as if they weren’t just talking about being horny a moment ago.

“Uh, maybe Only Angel and, um, Lights Up?” he prompts, trying his best to regain his composure.

“Cool. Let’s do them.” And with that, she switched back to work mode without batting an eye.

***

It feels like the crowd will never stop screaming. It just keeps going and going, people are probably losing their voice, but the screaming just continues as Harry stands at the front of the stage, his adrenaline jumping to the sky, eyes roaming around the full arena. He throws a few more kisses, placing his hands to his chest one last time before turning around and heading off the stage, his eyes meeting Remi.

She is not wearing her usual clothes, instead, she is now sporting a pair of high-waisted dress pants in a lavender color, a white top tucked into it, her matching blazer thrown to the floor, she probably got hot the moment she started playing. Her tattoos are on full display and she looks just as sweaty as Harry feels. But still, for him she is a sight he would love to look at for the rest of his life.

Their eyes meet and she smirks at him, eyes glimmering from the high she experienced through the concert, it’s a feeling they all share every time they perform together and it’s clearly like a drug neither of them wants to come clear of.

“Good job, Rockstar,” he reads her lips saying and he laughs, winking at her.

Ever since their one-on-one rehearsal, things have felt to change between them. It’s like a barricade that’s been lying between them has come down and they are feeling much more free around each other. Secret glances, touches and flirty comments are their usual and they don’t care that the people around them are starting to catch on it as well. They love the game they are playing and neither of them plans on stopping it.

Harry stops at her drum set, holding out a hand to help her up and walk her off the stage, knowing well she doesn’t feel the most comfortable in her stage clothes and feels a little too restricted by the end of the concerts, but she understands that her style does not go well with the look they are going for.

She snatches her blazer from the floor and gladly takes Harry’s helping hand as he walks her off the stage, her Gucci boots feeling a little too tight at the moment.

“One of these days I’m gonna rip these pants off,” she jokes, pulling on the tight waistband of them.

“Just make sure I’m around when it happens, Darling,” Harry teases, making her laugh as they walk backstage, everyone congratulating them and the band following behind on their way.

“Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

“Very much,” he admits without shame, the blushing long gone from his cheeks and ears. The buildup has changed his nervousness around her lately and he is enjoying the teasing and flirting all too much.

The whole team agrees that tonight’s show was exceptionally good and that it deserves some celebratory drinks. A few blocks away from the hotel where everyone is staying there’s a cozy looking bar and the rather loud lot occupies half the place as they flow in and start ordering their endless rounds of drinks.

Harry is sitting at one of the tables they have taken up, going strong with his third beer of the night, half zoned out of the conversation with the small group he is sitting in. His eyes are fixated on Remi’s figure who is standing at the bar with Charlotte, unlike every other female around she is not sipping on some kind of fancy drink or a cocktail, she went straight for the crafted beers the place had to offer. She has changed her stage clothes, wearing her usual tight black jeans and a sheer top with a simple black sports bra underneath it. Harry can’t stop his eyes from raking down her body, taking in every curve, tattoo and tiny detail about her and he thinks that there is not one thing on her he doesn’t find attractive.

Her eyes find him, a playful smirk playing on her lips Harry has been thinking way too much about lately, and she cocks an eyebrow at him in a way that yells at him: Like what you see, Rockstar?

As an answer, he just simply shrugs with a growing smirk until she turns back to Charlotte, who is still talking to her, she hasn’t even noticed that Remi was focusing somewhere else for a moment. Remi laughs at something her bandmate said and Harry wishes he could be closer to hear her voice, he has grown quite a liking to her laughter, he has been trying to crack as many jokes lately as he can just to hear it.

He takes his eyes off her just for a second when someone at the table asks him something. He mumbles his reply and reaches for his beer as his gaze shifts back to her figure, only to find that Charlotte is not gone and a not so friendly looking guy is behind her, clearly trying to chat her up.

The dude is standing way too close to her for Harry’s liking, leaning in to talk to her, but she keeps backing away, however he does not care about that. She is clearly not enjoying the exchange and when the guy reaches up to her face Harry is quick to jump to his feet, ready to go to her rescue. But it’s not needed.

Just as he takes one step towards the scene near him, he witnesses as Remi grabs the bloke’s hand before he could touch her face and with a strong and quick move, she twists his arm behind him, keeping the guy on his toes as he is trying to escape her deadly grip on his wrist, his hand pushing into the middle of his back.

Harry’s mouth hangs open as he watches Remi tell something to the guy in a not too friendly manner before letting him go and the man flees before Harry could blink twice.

“That was impressive,” Harry tells her, walking up to her at the bar. Remi just shrugs, gulping down the rest of her beer.

“I know some tricks.”

“How come?”

“Grew up with three older brothers, had to learn how to defend myself when they decided to attack me out of nowhere.”

“Three brothers? That must ‘ave been wild,” he huffs impressed.

“I surely didn’t have a girly childhood, I’ve always been kind of a tomboy,” she shrugs again. As a teenager, she often wished she would be like the girls in her class, but later on she realized how big of an advantage it is that she speaks the boys’ language so easily.

“I think it just made you… badass,” Harry smirks, leaning against the bar counter.

“Is that what I am?”she arches an eyebrow cockily.

“Definitely. A handful, but the good kind.”

“Oh, just be careful, Rockstar. I might think you are trying to get into my pants,” she chuckles and as Harry hears her laugh he can’t stop himself from taking it further. She is too intoxicating.

“And what if I am?”

Remi doesn’t seem surprised at his comment, not even a bit. She is clearly enjoying the flirting once again, but when she answers, he surely is the one who is surprised.

“Then I gotta say you are working way too slow. I’m losing my patience.”

His eyebrows rise, lips parted as he stares back at her, the words that left her lips pushing the air out of his lungs once again, he is done for her. Utterly and completely. He wants to say and do a million things, but then settles on just one simple question.

“Want to get back to the hotel then?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” she smirks and simply heads towards the door without another word spoken. Harry is quick to grab his stuff from the table and catch up with her at the exit.

The crispy night air feels a little sobering as they both step out of the bar, heading to the nearby hotel with rushed steps, keeping their silence but they both are grinning madly. When their eyes meet they can’t push down the laughter and Harry grabs her hand before he starts running, pulling her after himself.

By the time they reach the hotel they are both out of breath, adrenaline running high once again as what’s been building up between them since the first time they saw each other is finally about to bloom fully.

Remi pushes the button for the elevator and as it moves down painfully slowly Harry’s hands find her hips, pulling her back against his chest. His lips tease the soft skin on her neck, peppering kisses everywhere he reaches while his fingers dig into her skin under her sheer top. She leans against him, head falling back to his shoulder and she pushes her bum against his crotch, a whiny moan escaping his lips that makes her smile in satisfaction.

“Fuck, Remi,” he breathes out, eager to finally have her all to himself and make all his fantasies come to life. The elevator finally dings and as the door slides open Remi turns in his arms abruptly and grabbing onto the collar of his shirt she simply pulls him inside, hand snapping on the button of his floor and just as the door slowly slides closed and they start moving up, her lips finally crash against his.

They are kissing hard, eager to take as much from each other as they can, they are both greedy, wanting the other all to themselves, the heat of the moment lighting up the small elevator. His fingers rake through her hair, grabbing a handful of it in each of them while one of her hands slide down his upper body until it stops on the obviously growing bulge in his pants. Harry moans shamelessly when she gives his erection a teasing squeeze and she smirks against his lips, satisfied with how easily he reacts to her touches.

Harry melts into her, wanting to devour every bit of this moment with her, he is seeing stars when she takes his lower lip between her teeth and tugs on it. A hand flies down to her ass and he squeezes it hard without shying about how much he is enjoying touching her.

The elevator reaches their floor and once again he grabs her wrist and starts pulling her down the hallway towards his room. Her lips are glued to his neck when he is trying to get his keycard from his back pocket and open the door, but when he finally succeeds, they basically fall into the room, tangled into each other and the door snaps closed behind them.

He is quick to push her against the door, lips attacking her neck, nipping and sucking on her skin until he is sure a mark is left on her.

“Off with it,” she pants, her hands tugging on his shirt and they work with all four of their hands to unbutton his shirt until it flies across the room. Remi pushes on him, hands spread across his hot chest as they get farther inside the room. The bump into some furniture on their way, lips glued together again until they finally reach the bed and fall right onto the perfectly made sheets. They are both showing dominance so it’s a constant fight for the lead between them, rolling around until at last Remi ends up on top, strangling his lap. She straightens up and grabs the hem of her shirt, getting rid of it fast before she does the same with her sports bra, baring her upper body completely to Harry’s greedy eyes.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, pushing himself up until he wraps his arms around her, mouth meeting her chest, littering her heated skin with sloppy kisses until his lips reach one of her nipples.

“Yes!” she moans as he starts playing with it, his hands coming to cup her breasts, massaging them continuously before his mouth moves over to her other nipple, giving it the same attention.

Harry uses her momentary weakness and turns them over, his crotch coming in contact with her center as he pushes his hips between her legs forcefully. He kisses down her stomach before he leans back and works fast on the buttons of her jeans. The tight material hugs her legs stubbornly, but he is eager to get rid of them and he soon succeeds, leaving her in just a lacy black thong. He undoes his own pants in a heartbeat, pulling them off and throwing them to the side before he gets on top of her again, kissing her lips so hungrily as if it hasn’t been just a few moments since he kissed her last.

She whimpers under his touch when he moves a hand between her thighs, running his fingers along her clothed folds, her arousal already soaking the fabric. He doesn’t hesitate to slip his hand into her underwear, her juices wetting his wandering fingers and he teases her hole and clit playfully.

“You better not fucking tease me, I don’t like that,” she pants, her dark eyes meeting hers and he can see the threat behind her words, she is not joking.

“Then what do you like?” he breathes out, eager to please her so much, she’ll forget about everyone else she has ever slept with.

She doesn’t answer, instead, a devious smile tugs on her swollen lips as she pushes him off until she is able to move. Harry is now kneeling on the bed and watches as Remi pushes her ass up into the air, back arching perfectly, her thong looking so delicious on her round butt and when she pushes herself back so her behind meets her throbbing dick in his briefs he could cry from the sensation. His hands immediately grab onto her asscheeks, pulling her even harder against himself.

“Smack it,” she breathes out, glancing over her shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Do it,” she nods and Harry doesn’t need more encouragement, he lifts a hand up and smacks her ass so it leaves a little redness after it. Remi moans erotically, enjoying herself fully and seeing how much it turns her on, he smacks the other cheek as well.

“You are gonna be the death of me,” he whines and pushing down his briefs his erection finally springs free, he grabs it with one hand, stroking himself a few times while his other hand is keeping a tight grip of her ass.

Remi wants to see him naked, so she quickly pushes herself up to her knees and turning around her eyes fall on Harry stroking himself. Hunger fills her eyes as she launches forward, lips meeting his while her hands simply take the place of his on his length, doing the job for him.

“I’m on birth control. When were you last tested?” she mumbles against his lips before leaning back so she can get rid of her thong and Harry does the same with his underwear.

“Three weeks ago, haven’t been with anyone since and I’m clean,” he mumbles in a rush.

“I’m clean too. You can ditch the condom if you want to.” “I wanna feel you,” he pleads desperately as she lies back on the bed and he gets on top of her again.

“All yours,” she smirks, spreading her legs wide for him, the sight in front of him is easily beating any art he has ever seen, he thinks.

He positions himself to her entrance, but doesn’t push into her just yet, leaning down so his lips brush against her ear as he whispers into it.

“Let’s see if you feel just as amazing as I imagined.” And with that, he pushes into her with one swift movement, stretching her all the way until his whole length disappears inside her.

“Fuck, Harry!” she cries out, back arching at the sensation. He sucks on her neck once again as he starts moving in and out, fitting inside her so perfectly, he is convinced she was crafted just for him.

He is going fast and hard, their pants and moans completely filling the hotel room and they can only hope they can’t be heard by anyone right now. She circles her legs around his hips, the angle he is reaching making her toes curl behind his back.

“You feel so fucking good,” he chokes out, face contorting into a blissful frown as he is getting closer to his orgasm with each thrust.

“I want to be on top,” she gasps, already pushing on and this time Harry doesn’t hesitate to obey. He rolls to his back, pulling her with him so now she is on top. Her hands come to rest on his stomach as she starts riding her, circling and lifting her hips so perfectly, so breathtakingly that Harry could cum just from the sight of her bouncing on him, but the feeling is making it a mind blowing experience. His fingers dig into her hips as she is starting to move faster and faster, before Harry starts bucking his hips up to meet her rhythm as well, going so deep into her, he is having a hard time deciding where she ends and where he starts. They are completely merged together in one hot mess.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” she screams gasping, her head falling back as she doesn’t fall out of her rhythm, still being such a drummer even in the bed, dictating the beat.

Harry pushes himself up into a sitting position, wrapping his arms around her so he can push her naked chest against his, their sweaty skins sliding against each other relentlessly, creating friction.

“Scream my name when you cum,” he orders, his lips finding hers once again, but it’s a messy kiss, their teeth are clanking, noses are bumping together as they are both nearing their high.

“Harry, oh fuck!” she exclaims and with her next movement he can feel her clench around him.

“Louder!” he growls on the edge of his own orgasm.

“Harry! Harry!” she screams shamelessly, throwing him over the edge, a guttural moan bursting from him as they both fall out of the rhythm, satisfaction washing over them in waves.

“Oh shit!” she breathes out, lips against his as she keeps him close with her hands on the base of his neck.

“Fucking Hell, Remi. I think I almost had a heart attack,” he breathes out with a soft chuckle making her laugh as well. She pulls him into another kiss, but it’s way slower now, the hunger and greed taken by their pleasure, now it’s time for something softer.

When they fall back to the bed, arms and legs tangled as they are still trying to stay close to each other, Remi looks up at him with a tired smile.

“So, was it like you imagined?” she asks and he chuckles softly.

“A thousand times better. But now we have a problem on our hands.”

“And what would that be?”

“Now I’m hooked. I won’t be able to stop thinking about you, not that it hasn’t been the situation since the start.”

Remi chuckles shortly, pushing herself up enough so she can look comfortable at his flushed out face.

“Well, it’s a good thing we are kind of locked together for months.”

“I’m one lucky man, aren’t I?” he smirks, so full of himself before he pulls her back down, kissing her like they have all the time in the world on their hands.

#harry styles #harry #styles #harry styles smut #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x oc #harry styles x you #harry styles au #harry styles imagine

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xavablue · 2 years

Text

Lonesome nights

author‘s note: Hi! This is just a fic I wrote of Charles And my oc Xava! Hope y’all enjoy

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warnings: Nsfw, French dirty talk, clawing, sad ending

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Scene: in a world where Max Verstappen had another blood sister called Xava Verstappen just finished her second season’s first race with her Brother running p2, Sebastian vettel p1, ending up a mere p7 behind the ferarri driver charles leclerc. Sebastian threw a party of his success in mclaren which lead to xava texting charles different options of dresses until he had asked what lurked beneath the dress which ended up with Charles making a late- night visit to the Verstappe’s hotel room while her brother Max was out to the oarty

`28March, 2021 after the Race and Sebastian’s win`

Xava honestly didn’t think that the red Ferrari would had jumped her on the first corner and for the rest of the race she’d play catch-up to none other than Charles himself. Not even when Robert had successfully slowed him down she had enough time to catch his tail even though she could have sworn she was only a few laps away from gaining that p6 from the Monegasque but of course he would deny she could catch him. With Charles it was always a game of catch, no matter when it was on or off the track. None the less, Sebastian had decided to throw a party in celebration for his win and after she and mick kind of made up? -Well she didn’t even know what they were anymore. She knew he still was weary of her due to what her brother had done those years ago but for now? Well for now she’d try and keep the relationship neutral grounds and try to rebuild their shattered friendship- anyway, she found herself in her hotel room, dressing for the party only to find herself aimlessly texting Charles whilst she was applying her makeup, she had to look decent didn’t she?

However, she didn’t *think* nor would she have ever had thought she would be finding herself seeing picks to *him* over what she wore underneath her clothes, it was what he asked for, wasn’t it? Or did she mistake that too for some kind of hidden code he always loved to flaunt around? Even through her doubt he still responded but this time with complaints over the set that was tightly hugging her frame so what did she think to do? Well she had another photo of herself stored away in the depths of her gallery, especially for occasions like this -even though she only took it because of impulse and wanting to look *pretty* for ‘someone’- she sent that too, only for him to be knocking at her door a few minutes later which didn’t Surprise her in all honesty, it was Charles after all. The boy was a speed demon even on foot as proven of the multiple times they’d try to outdo one another whenever it was within a car that could run up to 400 km/ph or on the solid earth and had to go on a morning run.

It could have been the thrill of winning, that adrenaline that pumped into your veins like a potent poison that made your veins burn with that deep passionate desire to accomplish better than the rest, better that your rivals, that could have been urging them to meet up. That, or Charles had a comment or two to say about what she wore, he always did. He was some kind of fashion icon and honestly? She absolutely adored dragging him along to shopping sprees in the late hours of the evenings, wearing dark shades and caps with maybe a scarf or pullover hiding their identities whilst browsing luxurious suits and dresses with him and after they were done? Get a burger and maybe even a coffee as some kind of reward for shopping. It was a tradition that they both loved to follow, especially whenever the stress of the track or just every day life of a f1 driver got too much for them, which in all honesty happened quite often seeing that the press loved pestering the drivers, especially whenever they’d had a successful or underachieving race.

However, she heard the rap against the door again successfully bringing her out from her mini-daydream and caused her feet to finally find the soft carpet beneath them as she made her way towards the door, hesitating on opening the dark oak before finally allowing into her desire to just see him again and turning the knob, only to be met with the face she knew she was a absolute simp for and she wouldn’t deny it, Charles was attractive and she knew she wasn’t the only one that thought that skin a way it made the blow softer to her ego. She gave him a genuine smile before ‘inviting’ him in by grabbing his wrist in her hand and pulling him inside, well that’s what she saw as a invitation anyway? Well… it was what she saw max do to Daniel but it was close enough and besides, she knew Charles wouldn’t care. Just like he didn’t seem to care when she locked the door behind them, finally leaving the two in their own little world also known as a hotel room. Not the nicest but definitely not the worst kind of setting she could have thought off.

She could have sworn she saw his eyes glint with a hidden mischief hidden behind those tree/blue orbs she could honestly stare into for the rest of her life. Great, her mind was already softening just at the presence of Charles around her. He always had this strange affect on her whenever he was near or around her, as if he were some kind of wizard that casted a spell on her. A spell that made her heart speed up, her eyes glint with a hidden happiness that only showed to a few people and of course that iconic grin that made the corner of her mouth curl up in a gentle, light, affectionate smile a few people had seen from her. Sure, a lot of people rarely got to see the genuine happy side of the Verstappen but that’s what she liked about herself, people who didn’t know her slightly feared her-mostly due to her brother max- but the moment, rarely though, if she accepted you as one of her friends you’d be welcomed with a happy, smiley side of xava that enjoyed taking risks and causing mischief if you got her in the mood for chaos.

However, this wasn’t one of the times she’d want to cause destruction, rather she was more in the mindset of teasing or rather flirting. Something that always came so naturally to her whenever she was texting the Monegasque or being in his presence just naturally found herself gravitating towards him, even if she tried to stop herself she couldn’t help it. And now? Well now she was trying to show her confidence around him, something she couldn’t help but flaunt around, but of course she had to feel how that little slither of nerves creep up her back the moment she saw his hand fly to his mouth, trying to close it as if it had been dislocated.”maybe I wanted you here to help me with my outfit choices.” She smiled, that innocent smile on her features not faltering.”you seemed to have quite the sense of fashion, no?” She added, seeing how the redness of his cheeks only darken but what she wasn’t expecting was his comment, suddenly pulling her from her confidence parade and making her gulp as if she just got splashed with a bucket of ice cold water. “I liked the black more… and I think you like being a little too much.”

Fuck, she was definitely not expecting that and especially not expecting his colossaled finger along the neckline of her dress, threatening to push the sleeve of her dress off her shoulder, which of course made her glance up at him, her eyes suddenly flaring a new emotion she knew all to well. A emotion she shared with him during those drunken kisses or late night talks that ended up with them tangled in each others arms only for her to wake up the next morning in empty, cold sheets. Maybe…maybe this time he’d learn from his past mistakes and he wouldn’t dare try it again? She could honestly barely even make out a thought at this point and what did she think was the best comeback? Well…”Maybe it is…Montre-moi à quel point tu l'aimes, Monegato.” She purred, trying desperately to claw on that last slither of independence she knew she was failing to keep her grip on.

Although, that was completely disintegrated the second she felt that finger slowly push her sleeve down her shoulder, exposing the bare skin with a strap or black lace clinging onto her skin as if it was clinging for dear life and of course Charles had to lean forward and graze his lips against the sensitive skin of her exposed neck and shoulder, a hand coming to land firmly on her side with his fingers slightly pressing into her skin just like the day they had gone on the yacht together, just like the day his heart had skipped a beat at the idea of her marking her territory even though he should have known that was only a fantasy he loved to daydream of, a fever dream he made himself believe. They were just friends…she had made sure of that. She…she deserved better than him but why did he crave to be around her? Or have her around him? Was it because somehow she always made a laugh escape his lips? Was it because she was pretty? Was he just doing this because he thought she was attractive? He knew she thought he was attractive as well but somehow that always felt like that wasn’t the only reason she was around him. He tried to push the thoughts to the back of his head as he murmured against her skin In his native tongue, smirking when he felt a chill run up her spine.”Est-ce ce que tu veux ? Chaton ?”

He knew she loved it whenever he spoke French, he knew it was one of her biggest turn ons and Charles being Charles made sure to take advantage of that. His one free hand that shifted from her waist now slowly crept it’s way up her side, all the way until he reached her second fully clothed shoulder and decided she was too dressed for his liking. His hand started slipping her dress off her second shoulder, being slow and careful with his actions in case he misunderstood what she wanted. If be misunderstood what this whole ‘meeting’ was for. However, his suspicions were confirmed by a single breathless sigh of delight escaping past her lips and honestly? It was music to his ears. “Merde, Charles…” she breathed, her eyes slightly half closed from the feelings of his warm lips against her skin which felt as if it were lit ablaze by each and every single touch he laid upon her. Every finger, every breath and- now, now his tongue decided to glide against the sensitive pulse on her neck and this time it drew a moan from her lips Ans for Charles? Well that was all what he needed.

A cocky smirk appeared upon his lips as he continued exploring the skin of her neck whilst his hands now made quick work of slipping off her dress, letting the cream colored fabric drop to the ground as if were some heavy burden. He took a moment for his fingertips to glide across the skin of her exposed side only to halter at the feeling of fabric beneath his digits, causing him to momentarily retreat from his position of attacking her neck with his lips to glance at her figure, this time dressed in nothing but the black lingerie that hugged her figure in all the right ways and Charles? Well for the second time that night he was left speechless at her beauty. God, what had he done to deserve to have- wait…’have’ didn’t fit did it? She wasn’t *his* and he wasn’t hers. She made that clear by the text. ‘I see you as a best friend’ god that still haunted him but it was the truth wasn’t it? This was just a thing between friends, nothing more. No strings attached. Well, that was what it was every time they hooked up but this time? Why did it feel so….personal? Vulnerable?

Xava was a absolute blushing mess in front of Charles, completely exposed to the Monegasque, showing her milky skin he had seen before but each time..each time she got more and more flushed and this time? Even more so due to how peaceful the atmosphere was. There was no rush, no need to finish before your rival. Just…something more intimate than she had originally expected.”Are you just going to stare or say something?” She quickly snapped, the blush not flattening on her cheeks only to see his gaze quickly snap from her figure to her lips, her eyes, her face. It didn’t take a moment for Charles to move forward and cup her cheek, pressing his lips against her own in a desperate kiss. Of course it was Immediately replicated by the Verstappen, her hands immediately finding his hair and pulling him closer towards her figure and deepening the kiss more until she had felt Charles dart his tongue across her bottom lip, asking for access, which she happily granted and for a solid minute their tongues wrestled one another, neither willing to give up or submit to the other. Something that happened quite frequently when two stubborn people were put together, neither wanted to back down from a challenge.

It was only when Charles had placed a hand on xava’s lower back, suddenly lifting her onto his hips which she of course immediately responded by wrapping her legs around his hips, feeling him take a few steps towards god knows where, their lips not stopping attacking one another’s in sloppy-open mouthed kisses, until a sharp Yelp escaped past xava’s lips as she suddenly felt her back hitting a soft mattress beneath her, causing her to look up with a confused frown only to realize what was happening and started blushing once again watching Charles smirk devilishly at the female driver, starting to remove his shirt and flinging it to a random corner of the room and knew it would be a pain in the ass to find later but for now that was the east of his worries. Next was his jeans, unbuttoning them and kicking them to the side only leaving him in his boxers and didn’t hesitate a moment longer to crawl on top or xava, the mattress dipping and misfirorming of their combined weights whilst he didn’t hesitate to press his lips against hers again, his hand coming up to cup her cheek again and pull her in for a deep kiss once more which was thankfully quickly replicated by the Verstappen, her kissing him back even deeper than what he had expected but he didn’t mind. How could he? He was fucking loving this and he was sure she was as well.

For a moment he pulled away, his forehead slightly resting against hers whilst he gazed into her sky blue eyes, searching for that glint of consent he needed before they did anything. Even if they had known each other for so so long he was still careful not to overstep a boundary that could potentially be hidden but…when he gazed into her eyes he saw nothing but pure adoration in her eyes, her pupils completely blown at the idea of what they were about to do and that’s exactly what he needed. He needed that desire from her, that passion to want to be taken. “Va te faire foutre charles” she quickly murmured, causing Charles not to wait a moment longer to start to trail kisses along the corner of her lips to her jaw…neck, and started to make his way towards her collarbones and made sure to suck and bite a few dark hickeys, which he was going to get scolded over later, but the delighted sounds and moans that he drew from her lips only urged him further to snake behind her back, trailing the slender digits against her bare skin and skillfully I clipped her bra from her figure, flinging it to another random corner of the room and didn’t even hesitate to lean down and trail a train of kisses down the cavity of her breasts, causing the female to suck in a sharp breath and slightly to arch her back from so little touch yet it felt like her skin was on fire from pure anticipation.

It was like a drug for Charles, those moans and sounds of utter want and delight only urging him forward to latch his red lips around her nipple which ultimately ended up with a sharp gasp and a cuss ,in Dutch he presumed, as he swirled his tongue around the sensitive nub of her nipple, his other hand simultaneously massaging her other mound upon her chest, punching and rolling the sensitive bud between his fingertips had xava moaning and pushing her head back into the bed beneath her head. A soft pant escaping past her lips as she tried to keep herself, her body, on control and not loose herself to Charles even though she knew that was inevitable. She knew what effect he had on her. She knew she was a sucker for his spell and she didn’t want to stop him, just…maybe delay it as bit to help her ego not be as bruised. Charles departed from her nipple, giving it one last swipe of the tongue, successfully earning another groan, before he slowly made his way down her chest, her stomach, right above where the last of the black fabric covered her body. His last obstacle, the last curb of the race. Yet again, was this really a race? Or a marathon?

Charles glanced up at xava, his eyes now having a complete different shade to them. A darkness lurked behind those usual green orbs of his, the smirk upon his lips only adding to the wetness between her legs which of course didn’t take long for him to notice.”Déjà mouillé pour moi ? Je suis honoré...” he purred in his French, his accent dripping heavily. His hand moved between her legs, slowly rubbing the fabric against her clothed heat which only caused her to moan again and squirm, she didn’t mean too it just kind of happened, but of course Charles grabbed her thigh, pinning it over his shoulder whilst his hand now pulled against the fabric against her hips, successfully ripping it off her frame which of course immediately earned a frown and a unhappy grunt from xava.”Charles! Come on, I just got those.” She whined, earning a chuckle from Charles as he dragged his lips against the inside of her thigh, his stubble slightly prickling her skin, which immediately caused her to shut up, exactly what Charles wanted. “I’ll buy you a new pair when we’re finished here…” he murmured against her skin, once more causing a chill to run down her spine just at the sheer tone of his voice.

Charles took a moment to lean down, kissing the top of her mound before he trailed kisses down her slit, making sure to plant a firm kiss against her clit, instinctively causing a loud moan from xava and- well, his hair now to be grasped between her fingers, tugging on his brown locks which in turn earned a groan from the Monegasque before he took the chance to slowly glide his warm tongue through her slit, dipping inside of her for a moment or two before moving to suck on her clit, his fingers finding her entrance with pure ease as he pushed two digits into her entrance, curling them against her g-spot ,which earned Charles another tug of his hair and a string of cuss words now leaving her lips, all of them in Dutch, her head pushing back into the pillows cushioning her squirming from just the sheer pleasure that he was Already giving her even though he barley had even begun. Xava ,however ,had other plans.

She groaned feeling Charles slowly start to thrust his fingers into her aching core, scissoring her aching walls which of course just in turn made her clench around him in sheer desperation and even before Charles had another thought, Xava had pulled him to meet face to face with the Monegasque, a new glint of…desire burning behind her sky blue eyes that were now clouded in a mist of sheer lust and desire for him. It had been *too long* since they’d had done this and honestly? She was craving each second of it.”Fuck me, Charles. Stop with the fucking teasing.” She whined, the determination she had thought existed in her voice completely faltering with each word she spoke which of course made the blush upon her cheeks only turn a shade deeper, fuck. Charles couldn’t help but feel his ego set ablaze to a blinding fury at her comment, his hand shaking up from her thigh, up her side, up her neck, until it finally reached her jaw, cupping it and slowly swiping his thumb over her bottom lip.”beg for it.”

That was all what she needed to make a chill run down her spine, her eyes becoming wide with a subtle innocence as she couldn’t help herself but to glide her tongue against the pad of this thumb, feeling a chill run down his spine in a turn of tables, before finally her hands started to explore the curves of his body, her delicate fingers dancing along the curves and edges of his skin as if he were some kind of masterpiece to be examined. She knew he loved it when she praised his body, his figure, anything that could put a boost to that already flaming ego of his. “please Monegato…fuck me, make me your little whore.” She murmured, her own stubbornness too high to pitch a note any louder to him. “Please fuck me like you mean it.” That held much more emotion, a hidden meaning, behind that phrase. Sure, in the heat of the moment it could have seen nothing more like a simple beg but for xava? Well that held a hidden desire. A hidden desire to *feel* connected to him. And somehow? Somehow Charles understood. Strangely enough.

“Good girl.” He growled, his French accent dripping thickly as he made quick work of his boxers, throwing them to a unknown side of the room, lining himself up at her entrance and this time leaning over her, his head hovering just a few centimeters above hers, as he slowly entered her. Watching her expression changed from a begging-innocent eyed gaze to a gasping, eye rolling moan that escaped her lips at once, her back instinctively arching off the bed and only causing him to suddenly thrust deeper inside of her, her soaked walls clenching around him tightly from the sudden action that left her breathless. She’d forgotten how he felt…stretching her walls, his breath on her neck and the best of all…his groan that left his lips only added to the wetness between her thighs. It didn’t take him a second to start thrusting into her at a steady pace at first, not wanting to overwhelm her.

Xava honestly already was in a state of bliss, each and every single movement he made inside of her felt so fucking good, each and every single time the crown of his tip ‘kissed’ her cervix drove her wild and she knew Charles knew that, making sure to brush up against her g-spot with each and every single thrust whilst he found himself biting and kissing and even sucking at her neck, shoulder and collarbone knowing full well he’d probably have a earful from xava later but he didn’t give a fuck. While they were this close…this intimate with one another, he didn’t care that they were ‘just friends.’ That seemed unrealistic to him. It seemed so far fetched than rather than delving into the fact, he mostly occupied his thoughts of the feeling of their bodies pressed up against one another, sweaty skin brushing against one another and moans, groans and even yelps of Surprise when he had suddenly picked up his pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin now evident in the room followed by both their combined groans- which was haltered momentarily when he picked up his head only to crash his lips against Xava’s in a passionate, sloppy open mouthed kiss, both of them fighting for who would turn out the victor.

However, what he wasn’t expecting was to feel her hands suddenly on his bare back, clawing down the skin- no doubt leaving marks- which urged a louder, more delighted moan from the French tongued male which in turn made xava start to attack his exposed neck, sucking dark hickeys and bite marks on his skin, and only causing him to now roughly grip her hips, his fingertips tugging into her skin and leaving descent half moon shapes, and immediately picking up his pace again and now rapidly slammed himself into her repeatedly which only started building that knot within her stomach all the much closer to snapping. It didn’t help when she felt this thumb start to rub against her clit in rapid, sensual circles which in turn only earned deeper claw marks on Charles’ skin, constant swears and soft praises being whispered in French was all too much for the Dutch, her features absolutely blissed out from all the different sensations that was happening at the same time that even tears of pleasure started to prick in the corner of her eyes. “C-Charles-!” She started, Charles already knowing what was coming next.

“Sperme pour moi, chaton” he purred in her ear, exactly the last nudge she needed to finally come undone around Charles, a loud moan escaping past her lips, which contained his name at that, whilst her back completely arched off the bed. Her walls clenching around his throbbing member and he had to physically restrain himself not to come deep inside of her walls, mostly because he’d get killed if he did, and pulled out the last second, releasing onto her stomach and chest, coating her skin in a white residue.

Charles rested his head against xava’s for a few brief moments, their pants mixing with one another’s as they lazily stared into each other’s eyes as if they were still processing what had just happened. When they had somewhat gained back their stolen air, xava leaned up and connected her lions with Charles’ again but this time the kiss wasn’t hasty and needed. It…was soft, gentle, genuine….some might even say caring. Charles’ hand coming up to once more cup her cheek as he too poured hi)self into the kiss, it turning into a show of passion and pure care for the others party.

They kept this going until xava unwilling yielded, once again their air mixing with one another but this time a silence fell upon them both, their eyes locked in a silent staring contest. God, had they just done that? “That was…” xava started, a small blush starting to creep onto her cheeks once more. “Merveilleux, comme toi” Charles finished, his thumb stroking a soft and gentle line across her cheek which xava leaned into, pressing a small and genuine kiss to his palm of his hand. Charles…felt something flutter within him at that, his expression softening even more as he leaned forward and placed a soft and gentle kiss to her forehead before unwillingly pulling himself off her and walking towards the bathroom and leaning himself firstly before he retuned with a warm Ferrari themed washcloth and waltzed over to Xava who was now glancing up at the Monegasque in his half named glory- he had probably grabbed his boxers when he was in the bathroom- while xava had grabbed her a pair of panties- Before he made his way over to her, slowly swiping all the sticky whittle residue off her skin before he finally threw that too to the side and crawled into bed besides her slowly.

It wasn’t a second before she had found herself being spooned by the slightly taller male, his hands resting around her waist and his head resting on top of hers, his legs in twined with her own while she could hear and feel his soft breathing ghosting against her neck. For the first time in a long, long time she had finally…felt at peace. She felt safe, warm, happy.. genuinely happy. She felt how her muscles eased at his figure hugging her own and almost instinctively felt how eyes slowly started to become droopy from the exhaustion from their activities they had done together but also the sheer relief from having him *stay* with her. It was a wonder how the hell he had such a calming affect on her but she couldn’t help it, she felt so at peace with him. So relaxed…so warm, some might even argue *Loved* but she definitely thought that it maybe have been too strong of a word. They were only friends after all…weren’t they?

`5 hours later, 2:34am, Monday.`

Charles was the first one to wake up at a unreasonable hour of the night, his eyes snipping open and for a hot second confusion filled his thoughts as he couldn’t quite understand what happened. Where was he? Who- his thoughts were quickly dismissed at the sleeping form besides him, face pushed up into his chest with a expression so…innocent. Wholesome, soft…happy…he could have sown he felt his heart melt at the sight of xava peacefully asleep in *his* arms. Her cheeks slightly flushed from the warmth of the blanket that surrounded them both and the moonlight almost perfectly illuminating her features just enough for him to gaze at her for a moment longer, his fingertips gently brushing a strand of her hair back behind her ear, watching the auburn/blonde strands freely tuck behind her ear and become one with the hoard of other strands that freely flowed behind her head. He could have sworn he felt that flutter again, that moment his lips twitched up in a affectionate smile… one that was caused just at the sight of her.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been so distant with her…playing with her feelings as if it were some hardcore game of cat & mouse…maybe he shouldn’t have given her so many mixed signals. Maybe he should just be- *open* with her. But god, did he have too? Did he have to take that risk with her? His face started to furrow in confusion and well- uncertainty as he slowly started to unlock himself from xava’s embrace, thankfully finding his phone easily after he had slipped off the bed and used it’s flashlight to find his clothes, putting it on piece by piece he had scavenged around the room. Hopefully no one would be around the halls this late of night… he glanced back at xava for a second, a second too long in his book, before finally gained the guts to make his way towards the door where his hand hesitated in the knob, his fingers gliding against the brass. For a moment, just a single moment he hesitated. He could have easily gone back to bed and continued sleeping the night away with her…he could have easily acted like he didn’t want to run again but…what was he thinking?

He couldn’t do this. Fuck sakes, they were Friends. Fucking…friends.. he messed up. He shouldn’t have come here in the first place. He shouldn’t have done what they did together…he made a huge mistake and he knew it. His face scrunched up in a new expression, frustration, as he finally gripped the knob and opened the door, trying to be silent as possible, and walked past it, once again closing it behind him with a click of the handle sliding into the wall again. He stood there for a moment, a small sigh escaping his lips as he made his way down the hallway, his thoughts clouded and his face constantly scrunched up in anger, frustration…so many emotions but too many to name.

That night Xava laid in bed, wide awake with tears staining her cheeks and the pillow beneath her that still smelled like *him*.

#charles leclerc #formula 1 #charles leclerc smut #red bull f1 #f1

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parkerslatte · 3 years

Text

Years Passed [Chapter One]

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Part Summary: After a decade of living in England, Y/N finally moves back to America to be closer to her family.

prologue / next chapter

Years Passed Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Taglist

***

CHAPTER ONE: FAMILIAR FACES

Y/N was always one to follow her dreams. Originally her dream was to become an astronaut but she soon found that she wasn’t smart enough for that. That’s when she found herself falling down the route of art. Y/N had always been a gifted artist since she was a child. While everyone in her class was drawing stick figures and calling it a day, Y/N would take time to get the proportions of the body right. People would always say she was trying too hard or just trying to get attention. Y/N didn’t care - she was doing what she loved.

It wasn’t until high school where she began to take art more seriously, people would come to her to do art commissions. At first Y/N refused, she didn’t want to charge people for her art but once she realised how much she could make from it, doing art commissions became her job. Throughout high school it was her main source of income. However, it wasn’t until the end of high school where Y/N decided that art was the thing she definitely wanted to go down.

Opening up her own gallery became her dream. A couple of years after breaking up with Spencer Reid, Y/N moved to England. She didn’t exactly know why, all she knew was that she wanted a fresh start. Y/N moved into a small flat in Cornwall. It was perfect for what Y/N needed. She spent just over ten years of her life living in Cornwall and Y/N couldn’t be happier, however there were many instances where she missed her family. Y/N could never afford to constantly go between England and America and neither could her family. A lot of her time was spent on phone calls and video calls with her family.

It was only recently that Y/N moved back to America. Six months to be exact. After nearly eleven years of being away from her family constantly, Y/N decided to move back to America. She didn’t make the decision lightly, it took her many months to come to the conclusion. Y/N had many friends in England. She had her small art gallery. Most importantly, her daughter had her friends in England and her school - everything she had ever known.

Y/N’s daughter, Harper, was seven and she was the light of Y/N’s life. Everything she did was for Harper. Y/N didn’t want to pry Harper away from her home, but she wanted her to get to know her family. When Y/N told Harper the news, Harper was excited, she had always been a curious girl and moving to a new country was exciting for her.

“Mummy!” Harper yelled, running out of her room to Y/N who was sitting on the couch. Her daughter’s accent was a little messed up. Some words would come out in an American accent and some in a British accent - more specifically the Cornish dialect.

Y/N smiled upon seeing her daughter. As she ran, the wild curls on top of her head bounced up and down. Harper approached Y/N and climbed onto the couch next to her. Y/N wrapped her arm around her daughter and pulled her in close to her side.

“What’s got you so energetic?” Y/N questioned.

“Can we go to the park?” Harper asked, “You said that we could go today.”

Y/N checked the time on the clock on the wall, “You really want to go at ten in the morning? You don’t want to wait until midday then we can go out for lunch?”

“Can we go now? I’m bored.” Harper draped herself over Y/N’s lap dramatically.

Y/N shook her head, a smile on her face. Harper was definitely one for dramatics, something she inherited from her father.

“Okay, how about this?” Y/N started, “We wait until eleven and we can invite Melanie and Toby and we can go and get lunch with them?”

Harper nodded her head vigorously causing Y/N to chuckle slightly. The only reason as to why Y/N wanted to wait longer to go out was because she was waiting for Harper’s birthday present to turn up. It wasn’t her birthday for another three weeks but Y/N always wanted to leave time in case the package never turned up in case she needed to buy something else.

“Why don’t you go and play in your room and I’ll come and get you when it’s time to go?”

Harper nodded before running off to her bedroom down the hall. Checking the clock again, Y/N realised the package wouldn’t be here for another half hour. Deciding she had time to kill, Y/N made her way to her bedroom to get changed. If she was going to be out for most of the day, she decided that being in sweatpants and an old shirt wasn’t going to look so good.

Picking out a simple sundress, Y/N got changed in a flash before she found herself seated on the couch again. Over the last few days, Y/N had found herself being more tired than usual. Everything she did drained the life out of her, obviously she wanted to run around and play with Harper but she would tire out quickly. Harper would try not to get sad about it as she understood why Y/N got like this once a year. Y/N wasn’t going to explain it until Harper got a little older but she understood perfectly.

Grabbing her phone off of the coffee table, Y/N pressed on Melanie’s contact. Melanie had been Y/N’s friend for a while. They met a year before Y/N had moved to England, due to their long distance friendship, Y/N had expected that they would fall out of contact but they never did. Melanie was godmother to Harper and Y/N was godmother to Melanie’s son Toby.

The phone rang a few times before Melanie picked up.

“Hello?” Melanie’s voice came through the phone.

“Hey Mel!” Y/N greeted.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Well Harper and I are going to the park in an hour and I was wondering if you and Toby would like to join us?”

“We’d love to,” Melanie answered, “Toby’s been pulling my leg asking when he would see Harper next.”

Y/N chuckled, “We’ll meet you at the park if that’s alright.”

“That’s more than fine, we’ll see you then.” Melanie responded before hanging up the phone.

Y/N tossed her phone back on the couch and slumped back down. She could easily turn on the television and watch something but she didn’t feel up to it. Getting back up from the couch, Y/N headed over to Harper’s room and pushed it open. Her daughter was hunched over her small desk, scribbling away on a piece of paper. Y/N smiled at the sight. Her daughter had taken after her in artistic skill, always having the dream that one day she would be as good as her mother.

“Hey Harp.” Y/N said, entering her room.

“Mummy, look I’ve done a drawing!” Harper said excitedly holding up the picture, “It’s the same one you painted.”

Y/N took the drawing out of Harper’s hands and held it up. Y/N had painted a landscape of a forest a few weeks ago and Harper had copied it almost exactly. Every time Y/N would do a commission or a painting for fun, there would always be smaller versions of the same painting but made with colour pencil. Sometimes Harper would sit next to Y/N while she was painting and they would do it together.

Y/N always enjoyed doing art with Harper by her side. She would constantly ask questions about it and Y/N was always more than happy to answer. From sitting next to her and watching her paint, Harper had been teaching herself how to paint. Y/N would always offer to help her but Harper always refused the help, letting Y/N only watch from a distance. Their whole house was filled with paintings from both Y/N and Harper.

“It’s incredible, Harp.” Y/N said crouching down, “Even better than mine.”

“No it isn't, your one is better.” Harper said, “Yours are always better. I want to be like you when I grow up.”

Y/N pressed a kiss to the side of Harper’s head, “I don’t want you to be like me, I want you to be like you. You are going to grow up and be an extraordinary person, like you already are.”

Harper hugged Y/N tightly, “I love you mummy.”

“I love you too, sweet girl.” Y/N pressed a kiss to the side of her head once more before she heard the doorbell ring.

“Is that Melanie and Toby?” Harper questioned.

“No, it’s someone else, Mel and Toby are meeting us at the park,” Y/N explained, “Now why don’t you clean up in here before we head out.”

Harper nodded before she began clearing everything away. Y/N headed out of her room and opened the front door. Y/N expected it to be Harper’s present however she was greeted by two people - more specifically FBI agents. Y/N looked between the two, very obviously confused.

When Y/N looked up at the male agent, her eyes widened the slightest amount. His hair was curlier and he had a slight stubble. He looked as if he filled out his clothes more as well. Even if it had been more than a decade, she could recognise him anywhere.

Spencer Reid.

PERMANENT SPENCER REID TAGLIST

@spenxerslut @averyhotchner @drayshadow @moviequeen51 @spencer-reid-am-i-right @ssavanessa22 @amurderofcrowsinatrenchcoat @mbjackie @jklemps @reformedmoneyshovel @nomajdetective @jesuisbenny @jooniehomie @spencerreid-187 @onyourfingertips @uhuhuh @rubyhi208-42 @archer561 @c0rpsecore @sweetandsunny @zoeygraygubler @algonsa @jswessie187 @shemarmooresfedora @kaz-2y567 @alfonsais @aikrus @nani-2305 @death-becomes-her @sarejane @isabelle-558 @measure-in-pain @the-nerd-gang @manuosorioh @luredwithpretzels @ceeellewrites @totallyclearwitch @jekkles @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @sarahpaulsonlov3r @periwinklemax @kuolonsyoja @heartmira @hoodpankow @parahmur

SERIES TAGLIST

@its-9pm @nani-2305 @reidsfish @mochionly @spencerswildestdreams1 @magnetas @matthewscumslut @madsgraygubler @bakugouswh0r3 @rexit-mo @shinshankai

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid series

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daisydaisybilly · 3 years

Note

That fic on Colin Bridgerton was everything!!! Please do an Benedict x reader where he paints you in secret but the reader finds out and Benedict confesses his love <333

work of art | b.b

MAIN MASTERLIST | REQUEST OPEN

title: work of art pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader summary: you and Benedict bond over art and fall in love, though it takes you time to realise warning: swearing, angst, fluff and not much else word count: 2.5 k A/N: thank you so much for the request! i really enjoyed writing this and hope you like it!

Even though you had your own flat next to Benedict’s you preferred sitting in his while you worked. You would sit on the pile of cushions on the floor with you note pad across your lap to draw but, in the end, you’d give and watch Benedict while he worked.

His work was better than yours anyway. And when he’d paint or drew, he got this look on this face, a look that made you fall more in love with art, more in love with him.

“you have your own work, I believe” he grinned.

You smiled at him looking away, “I rather watch you. You know I struggle to draw without a live model” you groaned closing you pad.

He smiled at you nodding before returning to his work.

You really did love him, the kind of love that made your gut hurt. The love you felt was inconvenient at most times, you’d be drawing a live model and when it came to the eyes you would draw his eyes. Then you’d stare at the drawing, at those eyes. After the sixth time you gave up on portraits and stuck with landscapes or ones where the face couldn’t be seen.

Before you met Benedict, art was just something that made you stand out among your four older brothers and two older sisters. You did enjoy to paint and draw and going to all the galleries and the art shows but they never really sparked joy until the day Benedict came into your life.

You remember it clearly. You were stood studying the painting ‘Venus with a Mirror’, the roman goddess of love and beauty. It was a masterpiece something you could never dream of doing yourself.

“quite the painter, wasn’t he?” someone said behind you.

“he was” you agreed.

Then you turned around and saw Benedict and all the art in the room was forgotten.

“Benedict Bridgerton” he bowed his head.

You smiled feeling dizzy, “y/n y/l/n”.

“it’s a pleasure to meet you m y/ln. Always a pleasure to meet a titan fan” he move to stand next to you.

“I don’t think they’re too hard to find” you laughed looking at the painting too.

He laughed along and you swear it sounded like music.

You carried on meeting him once a week, at first it was just art shows and museums but then it turn into showing each other your art then just having dinner together. And now you had neighbouring flats.

“oh hell” you jumped up collecting your things, “my brother will be here soon to take me home for dinner. I need to get back to my flat before he comes”.

“and why can’t he just pick you up here?” Benedict asked looking away from his work. Paint was covering his hands and had splattered on his shirt.

“oh yes” you clapped your hands together. “Brother, I know papa pays for my flat to do my art but I don’t actually use it, instead I sit in my friends flat and watch him do art instead. What? you think something is going on? You think we’re having an illicit affair?! Where did you get that idea?” you exclaimed acting the conversation out.

You swore Benedict blushed but you couldn’t be sure. “well that doesn’t happen” he coughed.

“thank you for clarifying our relationship for me, Benedict” you chuckled. You opened the door then paused when he called your name.

He cleaned his hands with a cloth close by, “will I see you at the Astin’s party tonight?”.

You sighed. “unfortunately. Mother is convinced this is the year I marry” you rolled your eyes.

That struck his heart, you marrying someone was painful enough knowing it could be soon was worst.

“you better not leave me hanging” you smiled bring his attention back to you.

“I wouldn’t dream of it”.

“I’m taking that as a promised Benedict Bridgerton”.

You smiled at him one last time before leaving.

Benedict watched the door shut behind you. He was truly fucked. How he manged to actually get work done while you sat there was a mystery, he could hear your soft breaths feel your e/c eyes on him.

As long as you were a part of his life then he would be happy, content. Of course he knew a day would come where you’d fall in love with someone else and marry them. And it might just break his heart. He thought of what you said, how your mother thought this was the year for you. knowing he would lose you was pain enough being there to see it would feel like death.

Once Benedict was sure you weren’t coming back, he pulled out his secret project he had hidden behind some old paintings, it was proving to be impossible to finish because you were always by his side. He would spend the night at the flat but that would equal questions from his mother.

But here he was alone.

This was his heart drew bare. You. the day he met you actually, he still remembered it clearly. The sun light had pooled in through the sky light and made you look like an angel. He had spent many sleepless nights reliving the moment in his mind. The moment you met his eyes and smiled. Remembering the memory again and again felt like his own personal drug.

He knew you didn’t and would never love him back so he agreed to love you in silence. He poured all his love into this, every brush stroke was a piece of his love, his soul.

You sat in front of the mirror the mirror looking at yourself. Your hair was done. You had your best outfit on. everything was perfect but something, something was missing. What if you did meet the person you would marry. two of your brothers and one sister were married already, why wouldn’t it be your turn. But it wasn’t the life you wanted.

A married life being the perfect partner doing whatever is asked of you. you wanted a life full of colour and art with Benedict by your side. Benedict. A smile took over your face, you loved him so much. He was so close to your reach but so far away at the same time.

You met your own eyes. “I love you Benedict. I always have and I will for the rest of my life” you whispered to yourself. The thought of losing him had become too much, you battled with yourself the whole way home and the whole times as you dressed. If you were going to lose him let it be because you told him the truth. Not when he fell for another.

Maybe just maybe the feels the same.

You had only been at the party for an hour and you had already met three suitors your mother had picked out all who were closer to her age than yours, but like she said you couldn’t afford to be picky. You smiled and nodded as whatever their name was spoke, over their shoulder you spotted Benedict stood in the shadows with a bottle of wine in his hands. He pointed to the room behind him.

“I’m sorry” you cut them off mid-sentence, “if you would excuse me” you smiled walking away.

When you walked into the room you found Benedict sat on the floor in the dark. “come sit here don’t want to risk being caught” he waved you over.

You sat next to him reaching out of the bottle. “hope you got the good stuff. I need it”.

“not found your perfect match yet?” he laughed.

You nearly chocked on the drink. “god no. they were all old” you laughed. You took another swig and sighed. “she wants me to be the perfect child but I can’t be” you lent your head against the wall.

“we could run away to France” he said so seriously it shocked you.

You looked at him feeling breathless. You opened your mouth to speak, this could be the moment to tell him. tell him and run away to France and never look back. Your nerves ran out last minute. “I feel like dancing will you dance with me?”.

You jumped to your feet mentally kicking yourself for saying something so dumb. Benedict felt the last bit of hope he had die when you changed the subject so fast. He joined you standing in the middle of the room. If this is the only way he could be close to you he would take it.

You stood in front of each other, looking into his eyes.

Silently you both got into the right place. You could faintly hear the music playing from the main room. He put his hand against your back, you supressed a shiver. No one said anything while you danced.

Your eyes met his and it that moment you were breathless.

You were so close now. After a shaky breath you noticed you had stopped moving and were looking at each other now. His eyes fell down to your lips for a second before they met your eyes again.

You took a wobbly step back and exhaled. “my mama will be looking for me”.

“y/n” he stepped forward.

“she’ll go mad too, I left whatever their name was standing there” you laughed moving even more away from him. You left the room as fast as you could.

He was to shocked to follow after you. Just a few moments ago he was so close to you, touching you. He wanted to kiss, god how he wanted to kiss you and he thought maybe you wanted to kiss him as well but you walked away.

He wanted to paint. Every time he was hit with reality, he pained you, imagining you did love him back. It was a dream but he was all tied up in it. He was tied up in you.

He took a deep breath, he left the room, he left the whole building, not looking at anyone as he did. He wanted nothing more than to see you again but you would probably be with someone else, maybe evening falling in love.

It hurt to leave Benedict alone. But you were reading to much into things. He didn’t want to kiss you, why would he. You had just made him uncomfortable. You were battling with yourself when you saw Benedict walked through the main room to the doors.

The rest of the room seemed to disappear. You could only see him walking away from where you left him. Had you made him that uncomfortable he had to leave, he didn’t even say goodbye. You wanted to run after him and admit everything, give him your hand, heart, give him anything he asked. He just had to ask you.

“stay here” you mother hissed down your neck.

“I need to go” you muttered eyes locked with the door Benedict had walked through.

“No. you need to stay here and get a match” she snapped spinning you around so you were facing her. “Do you think you can just keep doing what you’re doing? Spend your day and night doing your ridiculous painting like that will get you anywhere”.

You were speechless. You knew no one took your art seriously but it hadn’t been said to your face. you had spent years with your back to a door keeping the truth out. “I don’t care” you started walking away.

“y/n” you didn’t listen as your mother called your name.

You didn’t care that people were looking from her to you.

You only cared about Benedict.

Benedict knew he was in for it when the got home and his mother saw his dress shirt was covered in paint, but right now he felt calm. You were in front of him, well the painting version of you was. He was almost done and soon this version of you would be gone too.

Apart of him hoped that his feelings would go too. It would make things easier if they did but who would he be if he didn’t love you. He had loved you for so long it was buried into his bones.

You knew Benedict like you knew yourself, you were so like sometimes it felt like your souls were one but they had be halved to make two people.

He would be in this flat painting you hoped he was waiting for you. you had enough of being scared and keeping everything locked up, you would tell him how you felt and face whatever followed. Once you reached the building you ran up the stairs as fast as you could, hating past you and Benedict for getting rooms on the top floor.

You nearly tripped up multiple times catching yourself last minute every time. You were gasping for breath once you reached the top. When you could breathe again you ran down the hall, all the rooms you passed were filled with laugher and music. How you wished you were apart it.

You stopped in front of his door. You put your hand against the wood and listened. You could hear him muttering under his breath, a brush quietly working away. You smiled at the picture in your head, maybe you’d paint it one day of all the things you could pictured this one was the clearest.

“Benedict I shouldn’t-“ you started as soon as you entered the room but stopped when you saw him.

You were right, he was painting you just didn’t think he would be painting, you.

Benedict dropped the paint brush to the floor. He looked from you to you, mouth open wide. “I can explain”.

You still stood in the doorway holding the door open. Mouth wide open. He came closer guiding you into the room so he could shut the door. “I don’t understand” you murmured. You looked to his worried face. “why are you painting me?”.

He helped you sit in your usual spot.

He took a deep breath reaching for your hand, you let him take it. relief washed through him. “its simple” he said looking into your eyes.

“is it” you breathed.

“I love you”

You mouth fell open again as you goggled at him. “you love me?”.

“I do and I understand if-“ he looked away from you so he wouldn’t have to face your rejection. But he was interrupted when you wrapped your arms around his neck. You both fell to the floor in a heap.

You kissed him hard on the lips, putting all your hopes into one kiss. You pulled back and looked down at him. “I love you too” you smiled feeling so much joy.

He didn’t say anything only kiss you again. his hands travelled up your back to your neck. You stayed there kissing him until it felt like your lungs were burning. You gasped, “you wouldn’t believe how long I wanted to do that” he laughed.

You traced his cheek bone, “probably as long I have”.

He smiled and it felt like the sun was risen. “will you ever stopped wanting too?”

“never” you whisper before you kissed him again and again and again, and you would until time stopped.

#bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x yn

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yelena-bellova · 3 years

Text

Safe Haven: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - Chapter Five

chapter four - Chapter Five: Come A Little Closer - chapter six

Series Masterlist

Plot: As the hunt continues for Dr. Nagal and the super serum, Y/n learns the ugly side of being a superhero while also finding herself drawing closer to Bucky.

Warnings: spoilers for episode.3, angst, fluff, language, description of injuries, unwanted touching, blood, character death (minor), anxiety, *cue Start of Something New from High School Musical playing in the background*, idiots in their feelings getting interrupted a lot, dancing Bucky. did I mention feelings?

Word Count: 6.9k

A/N: So this is semi rushed because I didn’t have as much time to work on it as I typically do but hopefully it still holds up. I’m currently in a stupor right now after today’s episode and trying to plan out where the rest of this goes, exciting and nerve wracking lol.

----

Lay low, blend in, enjoy the party and stay out of trouble. Those were Sharon’s instructions. Not only did she know how to throw a party but the Madripoorians knew how to enjoy themselves. The pomp and circumstance didn’t match New Orleans by a long shot, but they sure as hell threw themselves into it.

Sharon was in charge of asking around to see if anyone had any information on Wilfred Nagal while we were stationed at the bar. After Sharon’s talk, I was nursing a glass of whiskey trying to blur the various scenarios she’d put in my head. Each step we’d taken so far had landed us somewhere more dangerous. Within days we’d gone from an impromptu fight with Super Soldiers to breaking Zemo out of prison to a shootout in the streets of Madripoor. The deeper we got, the higher the risk. I’d never thought of Sam’s job as easy, but I could have never understood how difficult it was until I was doing it with him.

I looked over to Sam, Bucky and Zemo who were doing the exact opposite of what Sharon had told us to do. They couldn’t have looked more out of place. They looked like a bar joke; a superhero, a 100 year old assassin and an escaped Sokovian convict walk into a bar…

“Have any of you ever stepped foot in a club?” I asked, leaned up against the side of the bar. The three of them looked lost, causing me to roll my eyes, “Dance, drink, do something!”

“Excuse me,” a masculine voice that didn’t belong to anyone in our group said from behind me, I turned and faced his presence, “It’s a crime that someone as beautiful as you hasn’t been out on that dance floor tonight. Care to join me?” Was it a cheesy line? Extremely so. But blending in meant blending in. “Why not?” I downed the last of my whiskey and allowed him to take my hand and lead me into the middle of the action.

The center of the room was packed body to body, filled with people innocent moving to the house music to those grinding against one another in the most sinful of ways. The handsome stranger put his hands on my waist, I placed mine loosely around his neck and we began to dance. There was enough space between us that it wasn’t uncomfortable and I found myself actually enjoying myself. But the longer the song went on, the more the guy’s hands started to wander. It started with a few circles in my hips that I wasn’t a fan of to rubbing up and down my sides, when they trailed around my back and down to my ass was when I wriggled out of his grip. “C’mon sweetheart,” he shouted over the music, “It’s a party, lighten up.” I was fully prepared to tell him exactly what I thought of men like him when a gloved hand grabbed his shoulder roughly, I looked to my side to see the body belonged to Bucky. “You’re done, pal.” The creep was inches shorter than Bucky and couldn’t match his intimidating steely stare. He put up no fight and simply backed away in fear, bumping into a few people on his way out of the main room. Bucky moved in front of me to act as some type of shield in case he was stupid enough to come back, “Are you okay?” “Yeah, I’m fine,” I assured him, “You didn’t have to come over, I can handle myself, y’know.” “I know you’ve got no problem telling people off,” he smirked, “But I couldn’t help myself. That kind of stuff doesn’t set well with me.” “Well, thank you,” I said, “But you’ve made one fatal mistake, Barnes.” His brows knitted together in confusion as I smiled, “You’re out on the dance floor with me.” I watched as he connected the dots, “No, no, no…” “Yes, yes, yes,” I contested, lightly tugging on his non-metal arm as he started to walk away, “You need to blend in and there could be another handsy creep nearby, so consider it a public service.” His 1940’s origins wouldn’t allow him to leave a woman by herself in a potentially uncomfortable situation, this much I knew. With a heavy sigh that I could practically hear over the loud music, he met my eyes. “I don’t know how to dance to this, it doesn’t even sound like music to me.” I rolled my eyes, “If only you had someone to teach you…Give me your hands,” he offered me his flesh one, “Both of them.”

He defeatedly put out his gloved metal hand and I took hold of them both, carefully placing them on my hips. They hesitantly held onto me as if maybe I didn’t want him touching me despite the fact that I initiated it. I watched him to make sure he was okay with me positioning us, his eyes stayed glued to where his fingers rested. Not wanting to make him any more uncomfortable than he already was, I settled my hands on his broad shoulders. Receiving no arguments from him, I continued moving us. We looked too much like middle schoolers in the middle of a gymnasium with all the space between us. I took a step towards him to shorten the distance, still watching him to make sure he was okay with what I was doing.

“Don’t focus on perfect steps,” I called over the noise, “Just try and feel the beat.” I took a step to the side, pulling Bucky along with me clunkily. His eyes were locked on the floor watching our feet as I began to alternate steps to the beat. I placed a finger under his chin and brought his line of vision up to meet mine, “Stop thinking so much.” I picked up the rhythm again and began to sway my hips a little with each movement I made, trying to take my own advice. Bucky looked like he didn’t know what to do, this was so far from any type of dancing he’d ever taken part in. But the more he felt me loosen up, the more his body started to feel less rigid. Where I’d been guiding us, Bucky met me and took the reins and started to move us. The heat I felt from his hands through our mutual layers of fabric sent tingles up my sides. We’d unconsciously moved closer to each other, our chests brushing with each movement. I peeked up at Bucky through my eyelashes under the pretense of making sure he was still comfortable, but I lost myself once I got there. His normally bright blue eyes had darkened significantly as he looked down on me. It felt like a shot of adrenaline straight down my spine while simultaneously making my knees weaken. I dared to slide my hands down from their resting position on his shoulders to his thickened biceps, giving me something to hold onto. It set off a chain reaction of his hands still lightly holding onto my waist to tighten, putting my body fully in his control. He started to guide my hips in figure eights, his heated gaze flicking between the motions and my eyes. With a shockingly little amount of hesitation, I snaked my arms to wrap around his neck pulling us what a few days ago would have been defined as too close. Now as I drowned in his blackened, dilated orbs and felt each breath he took against me, it didn’t feel nearly close enough. I found myself craving as much of him as I could get. Something had taken over both of us and I didn’t want it to loosen its hold.

“Hey,” Sharon’s voice flooded my ear from behind, “I found our guy, let’s go.” As soon as I felt her leave to go fetch the others, Bucky and I ceased our movements. Our chests pressed into one another as we panted, his pouty lips parted with each breath he drew. I swallowed harshly as I struggled not to notice how tempting they looked, trying to focus on anything else. The shine of a light layer of sweat down his neck, the sharpness of the jawline I suspected I could cut myself on, the scent of his cologne enveloping me, the pressure of his thumbs pressed into my hipbones, the way his dilated pupils sent a wave of heat through me…Bucky was all I could see or feel and I didn’t want it to end.

“W-we should…We should go,” I stumbled over myself, still unable to look away.

“Yeah,” he answered, breaking our stare only for a second to look down at my lips. I had to force myself to unwrap my arms from his neck, he immediately followed and let go of my waist. I wanted to grab his long, slender fingers and slide them back in place, but stopped the urge in its tracks. Now was the time to get to work, no matter how inconvenient of a time it had come at.

——

In the early hours of the morning, after Sharon had gotten everyone out of her gallery, we departed for the shipping yard Nagal was supposedly at. Awkward wasn’t a strong enough word to describe how Bucky and I were acting around each other. We’d barely said two words to one another, averting our eyes anytime they met. Something had happened out on that dance floor and we were both determined to ignore it.

“Madripoor could give New York a run for its money,” Sam commented as we walked between shipping containers.

“They know how to party,” Zemo responded, he’d spent plenty of his evening out on the dance floor demonstrating his off-beat moves.

“With that bounty on your head, the longer you’re in Madripoor, the less likely you’re ever leaving,” Sharon said as she guided us, using the coordinates she had on her phone. I followed her, relieved to have a little extra feminine energy around. “All right,” she stopped in front of a unit, “He’s in there. Container four-two-six-one. I’ll keep an eye out while you guys talk to Nagal but hurry, we’re on borrowed time.” We each took an earpiece she offered.

“I’m coming with you,” I said, immediately turning on my heel to block my brother’s argument, “I’m of better use out here if there are any problems. Let me do my job, Sam.”

He took a deep breath and blinked, silently conceding to me. “Just stay safe,” he urged.

Inevitably, I met Bucky’s eyes that were already trained on me. He didn’t need to voice any of his concerns, they were all etched on his face. “I’ll be fine,” I said, trying to reassure both men that I could handle myself. I broke from the group to head off with Sharon, falling in step with her.

“Hey, Sharon, you sure this is the right one? It’s completely empty,” Sam’s voice came through our comms. “Positive, it has to be,” she answered as we hurried through the yard, “How good are you and those hands in combat?” “Energy blasts, force fields, levitation,” we turned a corner and ducked behind a container, “Tell me what you need.” She threw a hand out to stop me from going any further, pressing a finger to her lips after. She peeked out from behind the unit and quickly hid again, “Guys, we’ve got company.” “What do we do?” I whispered.

Sharon raised the hood of one of her jackets and looked around us, spotting and grabbing a small metal pipe. “We buy them some time.” I nodded firmly, creating a ball of energy with my hands and waiting for her signal. When she darted out, I followed and we stealthily snuck up on the three bounty hunters nearby. Sharon began brutally attacking them with the pipe while I focused on throwing a blast at one of them, he fell to the ground unconscious. The two that Sharon had been taking on kept getting up after her beatings, I levitated one of them and threw him against a container.

“Every bounty hunter in the city is here, we gotta go!” she said into the comms, turning to me after, “Watch yourself, these people fight dirty.” As soon as the words had left her lips, another hunter appeared. He came towards us with large knife, trying to tackle Sharon and forgoing me. I used my energy to shove him backwards, giving Sharon time to form a plan of attack. She ran towards him as he rose and twisted his arm, body slamming him to the ground and wrenching the knife out of his hand. She didn’t waste time in stabbing him in the back, quickly throwing the bloodied knife at another approaching hunter who was now trying to pull the weapon out of his forearm. Sharon kicked him into a container just as burly arms wrapped around me, pinning my arms at my sides. I kicked and flailed as he lifted me off the ground before moving to slam me facedown, I created a force field just in time and the two of us bounced off it and landed on his back. The second his grip loosened, I levitated out of it and landed on top of one of the shipping units. With an outstretched palm, I raised the wriggling man to my level and threw him across the ship yard. Below me, Sharon had a struggling hunter trapped between her legs and was choking him. I watched the man wheeze as he desperately tried to get her off of him and regain air. When his flailing began to cease, I was unable to watch the life drain from him and turned away.

A bullet flew past my head and I dropped to my belly, spotting a bounty hunter below firing a machine gun aimed where I’d been standing. When Sharon jumped out and kicked him in the back, his attention turned to her and he slammed her back against a shipping container. She pulled the barrel of his gun up and he fired a round in the sky as she held him off. She grabbed a knife stuck out of the waist of his pants and stabbed him, using his body as a shield as another hunter fired at her. I created a force field around her, allowing her to get safely behind a container to plan her next move. Pulling out the knife again, she nodded at me and dropped the corpse as I dropped my energy. She stabbed the guy lurking around the corner of the container before firing a fatal shot. I watched one last hunter come around to where she had just been standing, waiting for her to come around. I raised him in the air and flicked my fingers towards him, the gun dropping from his hands before I slammed him into another unit. After sweeping the area to make sure nobody was left, I floated down to where Sharon stood trying to catch her breath.

“We gotta go,” she panted as we ran back in the direction of the shipping container that held Nagal.

We weaved through the unit quickly, landing in the doctor’s hidden lab. “Guys, we’re seriously outta time here,” Sharon announced.

The sudden sound of a gunshot made us all jump, Sam and Sharon running to apprehend Zemo who had just fatally wounded Nagal. “What did you do?” Sharon trembled.

Bucky reached out to grab my arm and pulled me behind him, shielding me from any further attack. Just as my hand had nervously sought out his forearm, a sudden explosion threw us backwards. We harshly hit the floor, a symphony of groans escaping us all. Bucky and I had gotten separated as we’d flown and I blindly reached around for him, for Sam, anybody. “Anybody see Zemo?” Sam’s voice came through my ear.

I rose to my knees and started pushing myself up, my body screaming at me to stop. Bucky raised me up the rest of the way before pulling Sam and Sharon to their feet as well. We’d barely gotten our footing when a second explosion hit, this time from the chemicals in the lab rather than an attack. Luckily, we had gotten out before we’d been injured further. I stood behind Sharon, my head on a swivel trying to find the culprits of the ambush. “All right!” Bucky yelled, “Wait for my signal!” He hadn’t even finished speaking when Sam started shooting towards a pack of bounty hunters and taking off on his own. “Damn it!” Bucky came out from around the corner of the smoking unit and started firing at the men while Sharon and I ran around to the back where Sam was. “Can you create a force field?” Sharon shouted at me over the gunfire. “If I do, whatever bullets we fire will stay in it with us,” I shouted back at her, ducking below the barricade we now had for ourselves and next to Sam. The three of us crouched down and I began shooting out balls of energy towards each incoming bullet, deflecting each one away from us.

“And you like living here?” Sam yelled at Sharon.

“It’s not terrible!” she replied, popping up and down behind the fallen piece of metal giving us protection.

Bucky came down from his position to join us, “I thought we were gonna go left!” “You went the wrong way!” Sam stopped firing to berate him. “I was clearing the way!” Bucky argued. “Really? Right now?” I yelled.

“I came out first, you were supposed to follow me!” “And where are we now?!” “Guys, not the time!” Sharon attempted to quell their petty argument, dropping behind the barricade when her gun was out of bullets. I tuned the fighting out as I worked on redirecting the bullets. The blue energy streamed from my hands, my reflexes quick and my mind never more focused. One hunter loaded his machine gun and aimed it at me, as soon as the ammo started flying I used my energy to shove them back his way before levitating him and slamming him into a shipping unit. It was only for the split second he was suspended in the air after the hit that I caught the sight of the bullets lodged in his chest and his head cracked open from the power of my hit. He limply fell to the ground, his eyes still open yet cold and hollow.

I had killed a man.

The shock took over my body and I quickly absorbed the energy back into my body immediately. I stood there unprotected as I stared at his corpse, ripe with life a moment ago and now devoid of anything. If it hadn’t been for Sam shoving me down behind our barricade, I would have stupidly continued to leave myself exposed in horror of what I’d just done.

Another explosion kept us down, we hesitantly peeked over the shards of metal to see a fight breaking out. While the mask was new, I knew the coat belonged to Zemo, who was now taking out bounty hunters left and right. Through the flames I could see him shove, flip, shoot and punch. He looked back at us as if to signal that he’d cleared the way to escape. The four of us took the chance and made our way out of the wreckage, sprinting through the maze of shipping containers.

“Buck!” Sam yelled, opening the nearest unit’s door and using it as a shield while Sharon and I leapt in, avoiding the gunfire. He pulled Bucky in shortly after and closed the door, the attacker having been dealt with.

The container was dark, the only light seeping in from a few cracks in the corners. When a hand grabbed my arm, I shrieked in terror and readied my energy “Hey, hey, it’s just me,” Sam hurriedly announced his presence, “Are you okay?” Was I okay? I had just ended someone’s life, I was the furthest thing from okay. But to reassure him that physically I was fine, I hummed my answer, there were too many words swirling in my brain to say anything more.

We waited a few more minutes until there was no noise and nobody had come for us. Bucky used his super strength to punch the metal doors open, the sound of screeching tires greeting us as a vintage model drove up in front of us.

“Supercharged,” Zemo smiled from the driver’s seat.

“You’re going back to jail,” Sam said.

Zemo sighed, exhausted with Sam’s fixation on placing him back where he belonged, “Do you want to find Karli or not?”

“He’s right, we need him,” Bucky opened the passenger’s side door and climbed into the vehicle, “And there’s two of us and at least twenty of them. Come on.” “Wait, when did it become twenty?” I asked, not yet approaching the car.

“We’ll fill you in on the way,” Bucky answered. “Fine,” Sam begrudgingly agreed, “But if you try that shit again-“ “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Zemo said, somewhat unconvincingly but beggars couldn’t be choosers when it came to help and we were beggars. “Well, that was one hell of a reunion,” Sharon shut the door to Sam’s side.

“Come back to the States with us,” Sam offered.

“I told you, I can’t,” Sharon declined, the sadness I sensed in her making a flash of an appearance, “Just get me that pardon you promised me and,” she turned to smile at me, “Keep her alive, I like her.” I put a hand on her shoulder, still a little breathless from the fight. “You do the same.”

With that, Sharon walked off into the ship yard while Sam said a quick thanks. I walked around to the other side of the car, ignoring Sam and Bucky’s back and forth as I climbed in and sunk into the seat. Even though we were safe from immediate danger, my heart was still racing and I could feel its beat pounding in my ears. I shut my eyes and held my head in my hand as we drove off, the image of the bullet stricken bounty hunter laying motionless on the ground at the forefront of my mind.

——

On the plane, everybody had retired to their separate corners and tasks. Zemo was fixing food in the kitchenette, Sam was on the phone with Torres, Bucky was cleaning his vibranium hand and I was curled up in one of the chairs with unshed tears flooding my eyes. I had never ever wanted to hurt anybody with my powers and in the heat of battle, I had used them to murder someone. I had taken a life and there was no coming back from that. Some innocent part of me that had remained through the trauma I’d seen in my life had been stripped away and I wasn’t going to have it returned. The moment played and played and played in my head, I didn’t think I would ever forget the sight…

I had been blocking out Sam and Bucky’s conversation until I heard the shield come up, or as they were referring to it, the hunk of metal.

“Maybe I made a mistake,” Sam said. “You did,” Bucky immediately agreed.

“Yeah, maybe I shouldn’t have put it in a museum. Maybe I should’ve destroyed it.”

Bucky paused before answering, “Look, that shield represents a lotta things to a lotta people, including me. The world is upside down, and we need a new Cap, and it ain’t gonna be Walker. So before you destroy it, I’m gonna take it from him myself.” The tears I was trying so hard to withhold unavoidably fell to my cheeks, I was overwhelmed. Anxiety began to fill my body as the day’s events flashed across the inside of my eyelids. It was too much. Too much.

“Y/n,” Sam’s voice across the aisle punctured the bubble of my mind, “You okay?”

“I don’t care,” I whispered, my palm digging into my forehead. “What?”

“I don’t care,” I exclaimed, leaping out of my seat and turning to face Bucky and Sam, “About the shield, about Walker, about whatever happened on that phone call, about anything. I killed someone today, I actually ended somebody’s life and now we’re just sitting around like nothing happened. I don’t understand how you guys can be so relaxed about any of this when a few hours ago, we were landing bullets in people’s chests!”

Sam and Bucky, to their credit, were silent as I blew up on them. When I’d finished with more tears down my face than I’d started with and a strained voice, I hurriedly made my way down the aisle and to the bathroom, locking myself in and the world out. My back slid against the nearest wall and my body sank to the floor, I finally allowed myself to sob my sorrow out.

——

Sam and Bucky sat in stunned silence after Y/n had left, only daring to consider speaking when they heard her muffled cries from the jet’s bathroom. Sam’s phone rang, it was Torres calling with information about Donya Madani most likely. He looked over to Bucky, “Someone’s gotta talk to her,” he stated, care and concern laced in his tone, “You and I both know what it feels like to make that first kill.”

Bucky sighed loudly, he knew exactly what Y/n was feeling and wanted to help her, but he wasn’t sure how he could do that. He could barely make it through a therapy session without feeling like he wanted to jump out the window, especially when Raynor started bringing up his dark past. But on the other side of the door was a woman he cared about for reasons he didn’t fully understand and she was hurting, and that was enough motivation for him to get up from his seat and rise to the occasion.

He raised his fist to knock, hovering over the door for a second before he made contact with it. “Hey,” he said, his voice raised so she could hear him, “You wanna let me in?” The silence that followed let him know that wasn’t going to happen.

With his concern growing, he grasped the metal door knob with his metal hand and twisted it till the lock broke and the knob detached. Zemo could take it up with him later, all Bucky could focus on in that moment was Y/n and the river of tears flowing steadily down her face stemming from her puffy, bloodshot eyes.

——

I took my hands off my eyes when I heard the creaking of metal, looking up to see Bucky holding the now broken doorknob in his hand and watching him discard it on the floor. He entered the room slowly, approaching me with just as much caution and shutting the door as much as he could. The bathroom was small but he still managed to find enough room to slide down next to me, our bodies packed tightly against one another.

We rested in the heavy silence for a moment before Bucky spoke up. “I get it.” When I didn’t respond, he continued. “But he was gonna kill you and if it were my choice, I’d have saved you too.” “Yeah, I know, it was self defense but, Bucky,” I paused to look at him through my tears that were holding firm, “I still killed someone. Bad guy, good guy, it doesn’t matter. He was somebody’s son o-or husband.” “He was a low life, Y/n, and you probably saved a lot more people than you think,” Bucky said, beginning to fiddle with his thumbs like I’d watched him do frequently. “Stop trying to make me feel better about this,” I muttered, sniffling and wiping the wetter side of my face, “You were trained for this kind of thing, you volunteered for the war and knew you’d have to make these kinda calls. I promised myself a long time ago that if I ever revealed my powers, I would only use them for good. Because that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. But after today…” I trailed off and looked down at my lap, resting my forehead against my knees, “I don’t know how to look myself in the mirror.”

The only sound filling the room was the sounds of my trembling breaths and Bucky’s steady ones. I knew he was only trying to help, but I wasn’t sure if there was anything he could say to make me feel better. “You helped save our asses today,” Bucky eventually said, his rough voice low in his chest, “If you don’t want to think about having saved your own life, think about protecting me and Sharon and Sam. Today could’ve gone south real quick and part of the reason it didn’t is because of you. This kind of stuff…it’s not easy. But it gets a little easier knowing that you’re doing the hard stuff to save good people.” I leaned back as he spoke and rested my head against the wall, watching his lips move and try to ease my conscious. It didn’t help, but it didn’t not help. When joining Sam, I hadn’t thought about the possibility that I would have to make split second calls like the ones I made today. My naivety was my own fault. I knew that the person I’d killed today would have slaughtered any one of us without a second thought and Bucky was right, I probably saved one of us from dying by deflecting the bullets. The deed would weigh heavily on my mind for a long time, but maybe listening to Bucky was the first step in making peace with it.

I wiped underneath my eyes until they were as dry as they could get, “Thanks, for trying at least.” Bucky sadly smiled, watching me collect myself with a deep breath and a sniffle. “Are you okay?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t crossing any lines but needing an answer, “After the whole scene in the bar?” His demeanor changed quickly, his softened features hardening and his body going stiff once again. He cleared his throat awkwardly and mumbled an ‘I’m fine’ before rising to his feet. I stood up fast enough for the blood to rush to my head but couldn’t find it in me to care. “Bucky,” I said, reaching out to wrap a hand around his vibranium wrist, “Stop.” He listened and robotically turned to face me without actually looking at me. I knew that I could never come close to understanding how traumatic acting as his past alter ego could have been, but I was determined not to let him stew in his feelings longer than necessary. Words may not have been enough in the moment, but any other option was just as risky. Maybe a little risk was what the situation called for.

I let go of his wrist, my hands awkwardly held in the space between our chests before I surged forward to capture him in a hug. His body only tensed further as I pressed myself against him, his hands at his sides unknowing of what to do. No matter how bad I sensed it was going, I continued nonetheless. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, my face close enough to his ear for it to create goosebumps on his neck.

Internally I told myself to let go, I was probably making him feel wildly uncomfortable. The second I loosened my grip, his flesh arm shot out and wrapped around my waist. With a small smile, I sunk back into the embrace and let myself be enveloped by Bucky once again. His scent invaded me, a mixture of the sweat of battle and whatever cologne had remained on his body from earlier. The attractive scruff he wore brushed the side of my face, sending electric sensations through me. The arm that firmly held him to me made me feel protected, it was the first time on our journey that I’d felt well and truly safe. Bucky shifted so that his cheek was now against the back of my head, pressed into my hair. The act struck a different type of feeling in me than when we’d danced, it didn’t hold the intensity and heat. This was warm and pure, like light itself. Surrounded by him and feeling his warmth radiating through me, I was convinced that I was experiencing a glimpse of heaven.

I couldn’t tell who broke apart first but Bucky’s arm wasn’t yet ready to leave my waist. My hands lost their place around his neck and were forced to slide down to his firm chest. I looked down at their placement, trying not to think too much about what lay underneath.

“You’re not nearly as bad as you think you are,” Bucky said quietly, sparing me a small smirk.

“Neither are you,” I smiled, soaking in the rare softness that we’d been given and wondering why my pulse quickened the second our eyes met.

A sudden knock on the door startled both of us. “Hey, Torres got intel on Madani, you guys gotta hear it.” Sam’s voice carried through.

Bucky and I instantly separated at the sound of my brother’s voice, him awkwardly putting his hands on his hips and me shoving mine in the pockets of my jacket. Whatever feeling had been in the air dissolved at the remembrance that there were so many other important matters on the other side of the door demanding our attention. Bucky pushed the slightly ajar door open and moved aside to let me out first.

“What’d you get from Torres?” I asked, pausing outside the bathroom and leaning against the wall. I could feel the heat radiating off Bucky’s body as he stood behind me.

“Madani died yesterday,” Sam answered, reclined in his seat looking stressed, “In Riga, a city near the Baltic Sea. Zemo,” he gestured to the Baron, lounging in his seat, “He’s got a place for us to stay there.”

“Latvia,” I sighed, looking over my shoulder to glance at Bucky, “Here we come.”

——

A few short hours later, the plane’s cabin lights were dimmed and each piece of the foursome was asleep in their seats, except for one.

Bucky sat awake, switching between staring at the ceiling and Y/n’s sleeping form. She had curled up in the chair across from him and went to sleep surprisingly fast. He envied her, his thoughts were going to keep him up all night.

Once he’d gotten both feet on the ground after the Blip, losing Steve and starting his new life on his own, Bucky had recognized that he didn’t want to be alone. He still had the same dream as he had in the ’40’s; to meet a nice girl, settle down and raise some kids. Now in modern times, everything was so much more complicated than it had been then. He’d tried online dating, failing miserably and finding the whole process unnatural. He had humored Yori and gone on a date with Leah, a waitress at their favorite sushi place, the conversation turning too dark for him to handle. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to meet the mythical One when every avenue left him confused or overwhelmed by the dirty deeds of his past.

Until she came along.

Y/n came into his life unapologetically and in the last minute he would have ever thought he’d meet someone. She had dazzled him from the start, despite his initial annoyance, and had kept him on his toes since their first meeting in the hanger. She held the same level of strength when she was telling him off in the therapy session as she had revealing her broken past. She was the only person in a long time that had been able to make him smile, genuinely smile. Not the kind his therapist told him to flash during his three step process for making amends. Bucky was jaded and cynical about the world around him, but she brought him something that looked a whole lot like happiness. But the biggest and loudest quality of hers was that she cared. She cared for everyone around her, even those that didn’t deserve it. He’d been nothing but snarky to her on their first day together and she’d still rushed to save him when she’d heard he was in trouble. She was making sure that he was alright every chance possible, not because she thought he would slip back into his old programming, but because she simply didn’t want him to suffer. All of it led up to the moment in the bathroom where she had pointed out that he had volunteered for WW2. To anyone else it wouldn’t have mattered why she chose that example, but it was everything to Bucky.

She had chosen to bring up his history as a soldier, not the soldier.

That was the moment where Bucky realized he was falling for her. It finally made sense to him why when he’d held her on the dance floor his skin felt like it was on fire, why he hadn’t wanted to let her go, why her safety had become one of his top priorities. Rather than have something to fight, he now had something to protect.

But Bucky couldn’t forget to fear in her eyes when he’d sought them out in the Madripoor bar. When he had his metal hand wrapped around the neck of the Winter Soldier’s latest “victim.” He didn’t blame her, she’d be insane not to be afraid of him. Yet she was still there for him, trying to help him through his trauma that she was knowledgable on. The thought both hurt and warmed his heart.

As he watched her sleep, light snores coming from her lips every once in a while and her feet tucked so tightly below her legs he didn’t see how she could be comfortable, he smiled. Even unconscious she could make him smile. Y/n was a new sensation he was still getting used to but damn it all, he loved it and wished they had met under different circumstances. He could have asked her to dinner, brought her flowers, strolled through the city with her…Bucky finally felt relaxed enough to shut his eyes, drifting away and dreaming of the woman who had wormed her way into his heart.

—— We touched down in Riga in the early morning and headed for Zemo’s hideout he had in the city. Even if we were here under unfortunate circumstances, I still tried to take in as much of the city as I could. When was the next time a girl from NOLA was going to have to opportunity to be in Latvia? The four of us strolled down the sidewalk, Zemo talking more to Sam about the remnants of Sokovia than Bucky and I. We hadn’t spoken much since our conversation in the bathroom but he had made an effort to ask me if I was okay after I’d woken up. I wasn’t sure what I was but I knew that when Bucky was around, I felt a little better.

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” he announced as we approached the stoop of Zemo’s place.

“You good?” Sam asked, only seconds before I could get the same words out.

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, already backing away from the group, “I’ll see you guys in a bit.”

I watched him walk back down the sidewalk, fighting the overwhelming urge to follow him and wondering if there was something to it. He may have been a super soldier, but I could still protect him. If there was anything I’d learned about Bucky in the short time I’d known him was that he didn’t have any qualms about running headfirst into a fight. Bucky was also a terrible liar. Those facts were what made me worry the further I watched him head down the road.

When had this happened? When did this man I’d know only a few days become someone I cared so deeply about? Why were all my thoughts beginning to orbit around Bucky? Since the first time we’d actually sat and talked, when I’d opened up to him about my powers and my father, I’d felt something for him. Something that had only started to increase the more time we spent around each other. On the dance floor in Madripoor had been another significant incident, one that had been harder to recover from without acknowledging that there had been some sort of spark. The moment I realized I wanted as much of Bucky as I could get was in the bathroom the night before, when he’d held me in his arms until he was forced to let go. When he’d felt like an oasis in the middle of the nightmare we were in. For all his faults and demons, the man he was rang louder than anything else and had captured my heart in a matter of days.

Shit.

I had fallen for Bucky Barnes without even realizing it.

“Y/n,” Sam interrupted my thoughts, “You coming?”

His beckoning couldn’t have come at a worse moment, as I’d just broken through the barriers my mind had built. “Yeah,” I mumbled, forcing myself to turn away from keeping a watchful eye of Bucky’s departing figure. As it had been with any moment regarding the Super Soldier and I, the world always found a way to remind us there were more important matters at hand.

----

A/N: OH, we’re really in it now...Hope everybody enjoyed, feel free to let me know what you thought or if you’d like to be tagged!

Safe Haven taglist: @tanyaherondale @wanniiieeee @asoftie4bucky @edencherries @i-reblog-fics-i-like @ttalisa @gcfty @withyoutilltheendofthismess @rinaispunk @weirdowithnobeardo @felicityofbakerstreet @godlypotterwhodiaries @eternalharry @voguesir @mizz-kraziii @okayline @smellmymisunderstoodfluff @wanderin-stories @nicklet94 @intricate-melody @aesthethickks @stumbleonmywords @simplybarnes @21bruhs @lostinwonderland314 @superbookishhufflepuff @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @zozebo @fandomxreaders @kittengirl998 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @i-know-i-can @x-judyjude-x

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes imagine #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x platonic!reader #marvel imagine

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thoughts-on-bangtan · 3 years

Text

BTS visit to the MET with the First Lady (210920) and meeting Megan Thee Stallion (210921)

by Admin 1

After spending the Monday morning hours by the side of South Korea’s President Moon, Bangtan spent their late afternoon with First Lady Kim visiting the MET. Not only did they get to see the beautiful Korean artworks displayed within the Korea Gallery of the MET, but also came with a gift from the Korean government in form of five different colored lacquer vessels.

youtube

(I do love the amount of vmin/Tae in that thumbnail.)

Though there are no English subtitles, I think it’s still worth a watch to see the members along with First Lady Kim getting a tour through the Korea Gallery. In particular it’s amazing to basically see Namjoon namjooning with the First Lady, showing off his knowledge and appreciation for Korean art, and the two of them bonding over their shared admiration for the so called Moon Jar.

In the past Namjoon posted two pictures on their twt with Moon Jars as well.

First we saw President Moon praise BTS as “BTS are obviously the greatest artists, the best artists of our time and they have been conveying this message of unity and hope through their music” during their interview that followed their UN speech when he was asked why he chose to appoint them as Special Envoy, and then we had the First Lady praise by saying: “Our BTS aren't just good at singing, they're not just good at performance. They actually have a deep appreciation for art exhibits and they study a lot as well.”

Truly Koreas pride.

Vmin sidenote: though it’s a little hard to tell in this screenshot, and especially with the logo kind of in the way, I still am very happy to see that we also got a tiny little glimpse at Tae with his hand on Jimin’s shoulder as they were approaching another part of the exhibit, as well as (I assume) telling Jimin about one of the flutes that was part of the exhibit since, after this screenshot, he did a hand motion that mimicked a flute and how you play one.

Following the tour of the Korea Gallery, they found their way onto the rooftop for a gathering and different speeches, among them also Namjoon taking the podium for the second time that Monday looking stunning and truly in his element, a connoisseur of art getting to showcase his passion and deliver his words with his leader charm.

Since it’s a very nice speech, I’d like to add the whole thing here for you to read. Namjoon gave his speech in Korean so this is a translation done by ryuminating on twt:

I am BTS’ leader, Kim Namjoon. I'm afraid you might not be able to hear me because of the helicopter, so I'll speak loudly. Firstly, the Metropolitan Museum is a place I really love in New York and I took a picture here 2 years ago when I came to visit myself. I am so honored to be able to speak with you like this on such a beautiful day, next to this artwork that I love very much, Corte's mobile. Truthfully, I nearly forgot what I was going to say because of this view, but I'll do my best to keep going.

Really, my heart is fluttering from coming here this time around with such a public responsibility. As I visited the Korea Gallery earlier with the First Lady and distinguished guests, I was overwhelmed with emotions and had many different thoughts. In particular, it was meaningful and new to be able to view Korean art in New York, a city where many people around the world want to come to so much, as you said earlier, the art mecca, America's New York. I believe we are able to be here right now thanks to the many people working hard to show the greatness of Korean culture. We are so very honored and pleased to be able to present to you a Korean artist's work in this way. And, as an art lover and fan of Korean art, I am especially joyful.

In truth, while K-pop, K-drama, and K-films are prominent parts of K-culture, there are truly amazing Korean artists who have not yet been discovered by those outside our country and they are working so very diligently.

As Special Presidential Envoys representing Korea, we will work hard with a sense of duty to spread further the greatness of Korean culture and to broaden the potential of K-culture.

And the next time we come, as there are many artworks here at The Met that I personally really, really love, I'd like to return and admire the Korea Gallery and the incredible collections here at The Met, as myself, human being Kim Namjoon. Once again, thank you. (switches to english) Thank you.

A lot more below the cut:

Though of course all the members were proud of Namjoon, obviously, clapping for him and everything, I do love how JK clapped the highest and then also clapped Namjoon on the back once he returned to his chair.

Lastly, before we take a peak at the fashion the members wore during their time at the MET (this segment entirely inspired by JKs absolutely magnificent pants), I’d like for us to look at this picture of Bangtan along with the First Lady and other distinguished guests. This one looks normal enough, doesn’t it, though the expression on the guy bottom right still makes me laugh a little despite having looked at this picture already plenty of times.

But then we have this version and, let me tell you, when I first saw it, I couldn’t stop laughing for a solid minute or more. Look at Tae doing the peace sign and then look at Jimin watching him, expression a little shocked because really, would Tae have lowered his hand just a little, he would’ve ended up giving the First Lady bunny ears. Fear the double bunny, anyone?

Though I also love how, after this picture made its way onto twt it was quickly picked up by vminnies and non-shipper ARMY and dubbed as “in a room (or on a rooftop) full of people, Jiminie still only has eyes for his soulmate” which, I mean, they’re not wrong, are they?

Also, Hobi’s smile and thumbs up, love it.

Now, as I mentioned before, let’s talk about their fashion for their MET visit. The second we caught sight of them being there, the one thing that had everyone screaming were, obviously, JKs black and gray pants because, really, look at them?!

As expected all of them were dressed head to toe in LV but still each of them received an outfit that fit with their style and colors that suit them so very well. Going back to JKs pants, those along with that black shirt, rolled up sleeves, exposed tattoos and piercing, and his hair with that curl on one side? Absolutely show stopping and no one can convince me otherwise. I love and admire his confidence to show off his tattoos in a room full of people from an older generation that might have looked down on the ink, and yet I think they fit perfectly with the outfit. Someone give his stylist a bonus for this one.

In a way this also shows how, despite the more general public opinion in Korea when it comes to tattoos, it seems that the President and First Lady don’t mind Bangtan looking just the way they do, that JK didn’t have to hide his tattoos nor his piercing, that Hobi could have his pink hair, and Yoongi in silver. It’s something small in the grand scheme of things, yet it’s still meaningful, could help change the opinion on tattoos and alike, that it isn’t just something “bad boys” and people from “the wrong side of the tracks” have, but also people like Bangtan or, more generally, good and “normal” people. After all it isn’t more than art on your skin, or dye in your hair.

I also really like Tae’s warm, light brown, almost a little beige, pant and jacket combo though I am left wondering why they didn’t give him the jacket in at least a size smaller since the belt doesn’t sit on his waist but more on his hips which looks little unflattering at times, and yet, because its Tae we’re talking about, he still looks absolutely stunning. The same also goes for Hobi’s simple yet elegant crewneck and Jimin’s and Yoongi’s jackets. Seokjin with the blue button-down looks very eye-catching since it’s a color standing out from the others, and Namjoon’s black pants and dark brown button-down also look very elegant.

With that their Monday came to an end after lots of stress, speeches, interviews and walking around. Busy doesn’t even begin to cover it, at all, especially since it was said they’d been up filming the Permission to Dance performance from 1 am until after sunrise. And yet they did it all flawlessly.

On Tuesday, though we have no idea what they are up to all day, one thing we do know is that they (so far) met Megan Thee Stallion since she posted a few selcas with them on her twt and IG.

Thank you, Megan, for the vmin with a cute dog content, love it.

After everything that happened in regard to Thee Butter Remix, I’m so happy they got to meet Megan. She looks so pretty, and barefaced Bangtan look great as well. Love how JK is holding on to Namjoon and Seokjin, and how Tae, Jimin and Hobi are kind of imitating her signature AH tongue out. Namjoon’s dimple also makes an appearance and, once again, I am just so weak for this man.

If this is all that’ll happen today, I have my doubts, but that’s all we know of their Tuesday as of me writing this. I hope after how busy and packed Monday was, that today they got a little room to breath as well.

#BTS #Namjoon #Seokjin #Yoongi #Hoseok #Jimin #Taehyung #Jungkook #vmin #megan thee stallion

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slipper007 · 3 years

Note

p ☀️art museums: what’s your favourite museum, or type of museum? 💕💕

☀️art museums: what’s your favourite museum, or type of museum? (doing this)

Word Count: 1,864

Also on AO3 [masterpost]

Two years after the world didn’t end, Team Free Will 3.0 started traveling.

They didn’t always stick together, or even stay in the United States (Sam and Eileen made the trip to Ireland), but they knew they all still had a home in the Bunker.

It was simultaneously freeing and terrifying to be in control of their own fates, something that Sam, Cas, and Jack had all taken in stride. While Eileen struggled at times, Dean was the only one held back by it, as much as he tried not to be. The moment he had first realized that his life was not his own, he’d fought against it out of instinct and righteousness, but now that he had it…

As much as Castiel and his brother both assured him that he was who he was on his own terms, rather than whatever Chuck’s machinations had wanted to him to be, he worried he didn’t know himself. He was just as adrift as he had been in his teens and twenties, desperately trying to emulate his father in order to find a sense of self; as he had been freshly back from hell, violent and afraid of everything he had done and become; as he had been standing in that graveyard with God telling him to kill when he knew revenge wasn’t what his mother would have wanted and wasn’t what he truly wanted.

Castiel had told him in his confession, his brother in several passing speeches over a lifetime, and Dean himself had said it straight to God’s face, but was it true? Who or what was he outside of saving people and hunting things, outside of the narrative Chuck had constructed his entire lifetime?

The vastness of the question was enough to make anyone spiral, so he tried to avoid it.

Charlie helped when she came over. With Sam and Eileen abroad, and Cas all too willing to have deep conversations Dean wasn’t ready for as much as he loved him, she and Dean became closer. She had been staying at the Bunker for a time, not long after Jack and Billie brought her back. She, too, was finding it difficult to adjust to the new world they found themselves in – she had tried for a full year and a half to get her legs under her on her own, but the world had changed in the six years before she had been brought back. Even though she had managed to reinvent herself numerous times before, it was difficult. The Winchesters were more than willing to offer her a place to stay in the meantime.

It worked well for everyone, though it was particularly chaotic now that Sam and Eileen were taking a brief vacation abroad. Dean was constantly with his two best friends (one of whom was his lover), as well as Jack. Charlie and Cas had become close, something that Charlie had deemed “WLW/MLM solidarity” (neither Dean nor Cas knew what that meant). To Jack, Charlie had taken the role of cool aunt, which was both wonderful and terrifying in equal regard, especially given that Jack was, at this point, back to being in a body his own age with his original powers rather than those of a god. The combination of a super-powered six-year-old and a nerdy LARP-enthusiast was certainly an interesting one, especially given how their energies fed and built on each other’s.

It was this merry band that found themselves inside an art museum one hot August afternoon.

Charlie and Dean wandered the lower gallery for a short while as Castiel took Jack through a more kid-focused section, and for a time they wandered in silence.

“So how are you today?”

“You live with me,” Dean responded, only to be faced with a shrug. “How are you?”

“Today’s been good,” Charlie said with transparency. “I woke up again. Started sewing more of my Triss costume – from The Witcher video games, not the show, you know? Now I get to hang out with friends and see some pretty cool art. Maybe I’ll apply for another job today, or bake some bread, or we can finish getting me all caught up on Game of Thrones.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Dude, spoilers!” She looked straight to him, and Dean shook his head. “Anyway, you’re dodging the question by asking about my awesome life. Not cool, so spill.”

Dean sighed as he walked by another painting of fruit. “I don’t know, Charlie. Could be better, could be worse.”

“Figured out who Dean Winchester is yet?”

“Do any of us truly know who we are?” Dean quipped back.

“Really?”

“Lil’ existentialism never killed anyone,” Dean said with a shrug. “But no, not yet. It’s all still just a big…mess…of what’s him and what’s me.”

“Well, here’s a start for you: Dean Winchester is my friend, and always will be, regardless of whatever some crack writer says.”

“Pretty sappy, but I’ll take it.”

“Shut up.”

Dean Winchester is a friend.

When Cas and Jack rejoined the pair a little later, they all wandered up to the 12th to 19th century European gallery. Jack and Charlie broke away when they came across the tapestries. Castiel, however, was drawn to a painting a little further in. The gallery was still and quiet as Dean joined him.

“St. Sebastian, huh?” Dean said, reading the label. “Know him?”

“My memory of 200 BCE is muddled at best,” Castiel said. “I don’t think so. The painting is beautiful, though, if tragic.”

Dean looked at it again, trying to see what Castiel saw. A beautiful mouth was twisted in pain as arrows lodged in the body, unstoppable. The arms were contorted and restrained, rendering punishment inescapable. The eyes were wide and dark, looking upwards as if begging for divine intervention that would never come.

In it, he saw himself. He saw his struggles with faith in a higher power, with the needless suffering he and his little family had been put through. He saw his loss, his fear, the control he lost when he realized he would never be free from Chuck. What he didn’t see was the anger.

Beyond that, however, he saw Castiel. He saw Cas’ expression when the Mark had worn Dean down, when he had thrown Cas to the floor along side the corpses of the Stynes. It was the same loss, the same fear. The expression was akin to brokenness yet not shattered. He was still faithful, still true. It was the same look on his face when he had confessed in the dungeon. Beautiful but tragic.

What had Dean ever done to deserve that resoluteness, that level of trust in spite of the fear.

“I’m sorry,” he started, words catching in his throat. How did he even begin to make up for all he had done? Yet, it was as if Cas had read his mind. Hell, he was an angel. Maybe he just knew.

Castiel turned to him, a familiar softness in eyes not tainted by pain or prayer for intervention. Dean could lose himself in the deep blue seas.

“You’re forgiven. You’ve been forgiven.”

They stood side by side, listening to Jack’s squeals of joy only a room over, for several minutes before Castiel spoke again.

“You’re unsure of who you are,” Castiel said. It was a fact they both knew, even as Dean started to protest the topic. “I’ve already told you what I think, but let me remind you. You’re the single most loving person I have ever known. You love in spite of Chuck. You care about this broken world, even when it seems hopeless. You always have.” He paused for a long moment before saying, “In plainest terms, you’re a lover, not a fighter.”

“I don’t know about that one. Can’t I be both?”

Castiel let out a long-suffering sigh at that before wandering away to look at the other paintings.

Dean stayed by the painting of St. Sebastian for another few minutes, trying to see what Castiel saw in it before hearing Jack call for him a little way away, his high, childish voice carrying through the halls.

Dean Winchester is a lover.

Downstairs, there was a special exhibition on the history of dance. Jack practically dragged Dean in, his eyes wide and excitement palpable. Charlie and Castiel laughed and promised to catch up in a few minutes – Charlie wanted to grab a print of an art piece from the museum store. Dean and Jack wandered from exhibit to exhibit, looking at everything from classic vinyl to tap shoes. Despite the artifacts and objects, news clippings and sound bites, Jack was fascinated by a video of people swing dancing projected on the wall.

“What’s up, kid?”

“I wish I could do that.”

“You can,” Dean said. “You just have to do what they’re doing.”

Jack looked up to him, eyes wide and a broad grin starting to cross his face.

“Will you show me?”

It took a little bit of practice, and they missed more of the moves than they got, even with Jack standing on Dean’s shoes, but they both enjoyed what they were doing, which made it worth it. Jack’s smile as he danced up to Charlie and Castiel a few minutes later made it all the more precious.

“Come dance with us!” he called out before rushing back over to where Dean still stood.

“Having fun?” Cas asked as

“Cas!” Jack called. “Come on, come on, come on!”

Castiel smiled and shook his head before turning to Charlie and taking her hands. They instantly fell into sync with the video, matching the moves in perfect synchronicity. Dean felt himself stop in shock as Castiel flipped Charlie over his shoulder as if it was no great feat.

“Woah, when did you learn to dance like that?”

“I do have some memories of watching humanity. I was even on Earth when this dance was invented.”

“And I took dance lessons a few years ago,” Charlie offered by way of explanation.

“I guess we’ll just have to up our game, huh Jack?”

Jack giggled, his gap-toothed smile looking all the more excited. They busted out a few new moves, even improvising for a while.

“Dude, you dance like a dad!” Charlie laughed, twirling Castiel as she did so.

Dancing there in the museum, Jack on his feet as Castiel and Charlie watched on, Dean came to a final realization of the day.

Dean Winchester is a father.

As the day drew to a close, the group started to head out. Jack clung to Dean’s back, wiped out after a long day of dancing and wandering the museum. He watched the birds fly overhead in the golden light as they wandered to the car. Cas took the backseat with Jack, who promptly fell asleep.

“This was fun,” Charlie said, setting the bag with her art print on the seat between her and Dean. “It’d been a while since I’d gone out like this.”

It had been fun. It was nice to enjoy the world rather than save it.

Even if he was still working on figuring out who he was, Dean finally felt content.

#fluff #domestic fluff #supernatural #spn fic #dean winchester #castiel #charlie bradbury #jack kline #kid!jack #spncreatorsdaily #creativecavier #userdee #userstarry #userpris #rambleoncas #tuserari #usershey #slipper007writes

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unhealthyfanobsession · 3 years

Note

Omg I love all your drabbles they are so amazing and brilliant I can’t believe you do that for free! What a blessing you are!! I was wondering whether there would be a part four to the vacation au and if not could you do maybe more jealous Cassian but in your lawyer au I’m obsessed but honestly anything you write has me happy!

This is so sweet I am so glad you’re loving the drabbles! I did a second part to the vacation AU a couple days ago so I’m going to go with Jealous Cassian in the lawyer AU. I already *kind* of did this but I’ve been doing jealousy light lately and this time we are cranking it up to 100. This one is kinda long and pretty angsty and I think I definitely need to smoosh all these lawyer drabbles into a mini story that follows Nessian from meeting while studying for the bar exam and then through snippets of their careers so maybe that’s what I’ll do next.

Actually facing Nesta in court was an extreme rarity. All of her non pro Bono work was strictly solicitor. Drafting contracts and negotiating deals in different chic board rooms with little glass bottles of Perrier and complimentary latte carts trolling the halls.

Nesta thought that she didn’t want to litigate. She thought that people didn’t like her and because of that she was a bad advocate. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

Watching Nesta fight for something that she believed in, truly believed in, was the closest thing to a religious experience Cassian had ever known.

“And I would urge you to consider in your decision, your honour, the fact that even if it should apply in this case, the very law my learned friend is attempting to uphold is currently under review by the Supreme Court and may soon be overturned on the basis of being unconstitutional as well as unconscionable.” Nesta took a pregnant pause.

“If that happens. If this law is overturned, as you well know, it will not be retroactively helpful to my client. My client who was born here. My client who grew up in Queens. My client who can draw you a map of which bodegas has the best coffee vs the best sandwiches and their proximity to the nearest train, and if that doesn’t qualify her as an American, and a New Yorker, then I don’t know what does.” The judge smiled a little at that. It was a calculated risk, the emotional appeal. But Judge Miluski was already on Nesta’s side and she was a born and bread New Yorker and she had the rare distinction of being a member of the judiciary with a sense of humour. “If this law is overturned, which we both know is highly likely, then my client will be sent to another country, a country she has never even been to, not because she did anything wrong, but because this trial happened a few weeks too-”

Nesta trailed off, eyes caught at the quietly opening gallery door. A man stepped in. Tall and thin and… greasy. Hair slicked back with so much product Cassian didn’t think he’d feel it if he hit him on the head with a hammer. Which he desperately wanted to do. That brutish, violent, raised in foster homes in Harlem side of him that even a legal education and a closet full of Armani suits could never quite polish out of him lit on fire at the sight of this creep. This asshole who was wearing fucking asics with his $4000 suit. And no tie. Top three buttons of a pinstripe white shirt unbuttoned. What a fucking rube.

Except that this guy. THIS fucking guy, made Nesta lose her train of thought. This guy who walked into court late and had yet to drag his eyes up from Nesta’s ass, had distracted her. Caused her to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and smile a little. This shy, light, cutesy little smile that absolutely did not belong on Nesta Archeron’s face.

When Nesta smiled it was a sly, knowing, victorious thing that curled across her lips and set Cassian’s heart hammering in his chest.

This… this was insanity.

The man smirked, deep and arrogant, as he stood at the back of the courtroom, hands slid into his pockets. Not even respectful enough of the proceedings to sit down.

Nesta gathered herself quickly. The whole mess over in under 20 seconds, but Cassian noticed it. Even as Nesta went on and cited the law and the competing jurisprudence and the ethics and the constitution, he couldn’t focus. All he could think about was that little smile.

Cassian said his final piece, the judge ruled, as they both knew she would, in Nesta’s favor, and it was all over.

Nesta didn’t even gloat like she usually would have. She just stuck her hand out, the absolute picture of professionalism, and shook his.

“Good working with you, Counseler.” She said, as if he hadn’t pulled her around the side of a building and pushed her body up against a brick wall the other day, moulding her into him as they fought over this case. Discussed their future. Their passions.

She’d rejected his invitation to dinner, but she always did. It was a part of the game. A game that Cassian was determined to win.

“Who’s the tech bro?” The sneakers with the suit and the unbuttoned shirt and the general shitty attitude all pointed to that being the only reasonable profession.

“Babe,” the slimy man in question pushed past the swinging waist high half door that separated the gallery and the space where counsel’s desks sat. “Let’s go.” He wrapped and arm too tightly around Nesta’s waist and pulled on her a little.

Cassian curled his fists into his palms so hard his nails bit imprints into the skin of his palms. Babe? Telling her when to leave? The pulling? No.

“I’m Cassian.” He held out his hand. “ADA. What firm do you work for? Haven’t seen you around.”

“Tomas.” The man scoffed, “And I’m not a lawyer. Not interested in all that gibberish you’re type is always spewing. Sounds like pure nonsense to me. I’m a tech investor.”

Yeah. That sounded about right. No actual skills. Not an engineer or developer or even a business manager. Just an idiot with a trust fund throwing money at whatever looked cool.

“Well, Tomas. Do you know why they call that big exam full of all that gibberish you hate the bar exam?” The weasel just raised his eyebrows. “It’s because once you pass it, then you are an attorney. And allowed to cross past this BAR.” Cassian pushed Tomas back out the little half door again. “Which separates the civilians in the gallery from the lawyers making their cases. So maybe learn how to show a little respect.” Cassian scoffed, flicking his eyes to Nesta, “In a few different areas of your life.”

“What the fuck, bro?” Tomas rolled his eyes. “This is why I fucking hate going to your lawyer parties and shit. Jackasses like this.”

“Tomas, please.” Nesta placed a hand on his chest, Cassian tensed, and that seemed to calm Tomas down. Not Nesta’s touch, but another man’s jealousy.

“Why don’t you bring the car around. I have to work out a court date for another matter with Cassian but I’ll be right out.”

“Yeah, ok.” Tomas glared, keeping eye contact with Cassian as he kissed Nesta’s cheek, hand travelling too far down her back. “Hurry though.”

“Of course.” Nesta smiled that same tiny little smile that made her look like a doll on a shelf and Cassian wanted to scream.

“What the fuck are you doing with a piece of shit like that?” Cassian minced no words as he turned to face Nesta.

“Excuse me?”

“Pretty straight forward question, Nes.”

“You… you don’t know him. He’s not like that once you get to know him.”

“Sure he’s not,” Cassian scoffed.

“What is your problem?”

“My problem is that your boyfriend, who I’ve never heard of or seen before today despite knowing you for years, had a chance to see you in court. Had a chance to watch you all fired up and passionate and brilliant and instead he walked in late, stared at your ass instead of listening to what you were saying, and then shoved his way up here and pulled at you to leave like you were some kind of toy he didn’t mind tearing the arm off of.”

Nesta blinked. Huffed out a breath. “We’ve been on again off again for a while. That’s why you haven’t seen him before. And he just doesn’t like lawyer stuff that’s why he’s like that in here ok? Not that it’s any of your business.”

“So you’re dating someone who not only doesn’t recognize how brilliant you are but won’t even let you talk about your job?” That was wrong. That was so wrong. That was… why Nesta was so intense with him. Why she debated and fought and talked for hours. Because she couldnt do it at home.

“Why do you even care, Cassian? Let’s just set a date and-”

“Fuck you, Nesta.” Her jaw fell open. “Fuck you for even asking me that. You know why I care. You can’t play dumb with me like I assume you do with him.”

“You don’t know anything about my relationship!” Nesta defended a little too vehemently.

“I know you can’t yell at him about his take on immigration laws,” Cassian stepped closer to her. “I know you can’t get a little tipsy off your favorite Malbec and go on a rambling tirade about the corrupt judiciary and your twenty three- or twenty five depending on the night- reasons why voting for judges completely undermines the integrity of the legal system.”

The was almost no space between them as Cassian looked down, gently set his hand under Nesta’s chin and raised her gaze to meet his. Burning with anger and passion and barely concealed desire. “I know that he didn’t understand why you were crying when RBG died. Because he doesn’t care about how appointing Supreme Court judges works or what that meant for the future of the court. And because I know that you weren’t with him that night. You were with me. Just like election night in 2016. And the Kavanaugh trials. And when the travel ban came into effect. You found me. Because I get it, and I care about your thoughts on all of those things. I’m devastated by them too. You were with me, Nes. And don’t you dare pretend that doesn’t mean anything.”

“It does,” Nesta let her cheek sink into his palm. “It means everything Cassian, but…”

“But we fight,” he smiled. “We bicker and yell and cross ideologies and disagree on all the little things. But not the big things, Nes. Never on the big things. We disagree on how to change the world, not what we want to change in it. Isn’t that what matters?”

Nesta swallowed. “I can’t risk losing you.” She said quietly. “I need you. For all of those reasons, I need you to be in my life and if we… I hurt the people I love, Cassian. So if I let myself love you, I would only hurt you. And I can’t bear the thought of hurting you.”

“So you date him.” Realization was an arrow sailing into Cassian’s chest. “Because you won’t hurt him. Because you could never actually love him.”

Nesta swallowed. “See? See how awful I am?”

Cassian moved his hand to her back, pulled her into his chest. “Go,” he whispered. “Go do whatever you need to do. I’ll be here. And I’ll be waiting for you to realize that I’m not going anywhere. That I can take it. Whatever you want to throw at me, I can take it, Nes.”

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