#this is the make food for two middle aged white men hour

[kelyon]

Courtship 5: Outfit

Lacey figures out what she's going to wear on her date

Read on AO3

The pile of clothes covered Lacey’s twin bed. She’d spent the better part of an hour matching blouses with slacks with sweaters in a vain attempt to find the magic combination that would make her look less like the president of the student council and more like Mr. Gold’s perfect slut. 

Nothing worked. So far, her best options were to wear her summer sundress in the middle of winter with no coat, or to take a pair of scissors to the long black skirt she had worn to her mother’s funeral. That last one might have been an option, if she had a sewing machine like Mara. But she didn’t, and showing up at Mr. Gold’s house wearing unhemmed rags was probably as bad an idea as showing up wearing pants. If she had a sleeveless top, she might consider wearing the skirt as it was. She could try to go for a sort of hippy, Bohemian look. But the most revealing blouse Lacey French owned had puffed-up sleeves, like a fucking five-year-old. 

Groaning, she fell backwards onto the pile. Some of this stuff she had got in middle school. The fact that they still fit her had been an advantage every time she’d decided to spend her limited funds on books instead of clothes, but it also meant that Lacey had never aged up her personal style. She didn’t have anything that made her look or feel like an adult. 

The purple-blue dress shimmered in her dirty clothes hamper. She had jumped the gun by wearing her only sexy outfit on her first date with Mr. Gold. She had set the bar too high. Now he would have expectations of how Miss French liked to dress. More than that, Mr. Gold in his suits had standards. If she met him looking like a mess, he’d drive off and leave her on the curb.

At least he didn’t seem to mind if she left him looking like a mess. He hadn’t minded bringing her home with a wrinkled skirt and no stockings or underwear. She wanted that to happen again, but before it could, Lacey had to look presentable. None of her clothes were cutting it. She had to take action. 

She pulled a white button-up off the pile and rubbed a smear of foundation over her hickey. Then she went downstairs into the shop. Dad was sitting by the cash register, looking through a faded design book. 

Mom had known all the designs for bouquets and arrangements by heart, but Dad always needed to double check with the book. 

“Anything happen today?” Lacey asked.

He shook his head, didn’t look up.

“We should call up everyone who ordered from us last year and remind them that V-day is in less than three weeks.”

“They know,” he grumbled. “This time of year, no one has any money. The men at Fish King will get paid on Friday, that’s when the orders will start. But they won’t really pick up until the next payday, the eleventh.”

He was right. It happened like that every year. All the orders came in at the very last minute. Valentine’s Day weekend was two solid days of constant work getting everything put together. 

And it was too far away to do Lacey any good.   

“So I’m guessing this is not a good time to discuss the subject of me ever getting paid for the hours I put in?”

Her father looked at her like she had just told an offensive joke that wasn’t even funny. Had his eyes always been so bloodshot? Had he always looked like a sad cartoon dog?

“You keep your tips.” He looked down at the book again. “You have money when the store has money, when we’re not racking up daily fees from that bastard Gold.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Lacey rubbed her hands on her jeans. “Just thought I’d ask.”

Of course Dad didn’t have any money to give her. That was their whole problem. Game of Thorns was a family business, the only income any of them had. For as long as she’d worked in the store, her pay had come in the form of food and shelter. Her reward for helping keep the place open was that it stayed open. It might not have been unreasonable to ask for more, but she knew it was unattainable. 

“Ask again when Valentine’s is over,” Dad said. “We get out of this hole… I’ll try to make something work.”

She’d heard that before. Her father always had all kinds of plans and dreams for when things got better. Not that things ever did get better. Not that they ever would. The only thing worse than knowing that fact would be admitting it. So Lacey gave her father a tight smile and pretended she believed him, just like she always did.

****

She made her way over to Marine Automotive, where her Uncle Manny was locking the front doors from the outside. When he saw her loitering, he beamed.

“Hey! There’s my favorite niece!”

Uncle Manny looked like Dad if nothing bad had ever happened to him. He had the same height and stocky build. He had the same curly hair that was also the bane of Lacey’s existence. But where Moe French was loud when he was angry, Manny French was loud when he was happy--and he was always loud. He wrapped Lacey up in a bear hug.

“How you doing, Ace? What brings you by?”

She cut to the chase. “Are you going to the Rabbit Hole tonight?”

Her uncle wasn’t a huge drinker, but he was the only person Lacey knew who regularly went to Storybrooke's only bar.

“I wasn’t planning on it. They’re aren’t any games tonight. But I take it you need an escort?”

Lacey raised her shoulders in a half-apology. “They won’t let me in without a parent-slash-guardian.”

“Ah, to be young again!” Uncle Manny wrapped one arm around her. “You’ll miss it one of these days, I promise you. But yeah, we can have a night on the town. I’ll even buy you a Shirley Temple.”

“Oh come on,” she gave him a playful nudge. “I am an adult, even if I can’t drink. I should at least get a Coke and Coke.”

“Sounds like a plan.” 

****

The Rabbit Hole was dead. Between the lack of sports on TV and the town-wide lack of money until payday, most people were staying home. The only ones here were people like Leroy Miner, people who had nowhere else to go. Like the old song said, sharing a drink they called loneliness was better than drinking alone. 

Undeterred, Lacey took her uncle-approved non-alcoholic beverage over to the pool table by the fireplace. She took off her hoodie and unbuttoned her blouse a little. This whole thing was a risky move, but it was the best plan she had. Hustling pool paid off more often than it didn’t.  

Eyeing the room, she bent over the pool table, just far enough to get a little attention. She lined up a shot and missed on purpose.

“Oh crap!” she said too loudly. “Must not be my night.”

After ten minutes of staged failure, Lacey let herself land a shot. She squealed when the ball went into the pocket. The sound made people’s heads turn, and she treated them all to a too-wide, too-apologetic smile.

Only one person smiled back. Keith Sherwood turned on his bar stool to watch her. Lacey tried to remember her other encounters with Keith. Did he usually stare more at her ass or her boobs? For safety’s sake, she did both. She leaned far enough over the table that Keith could look down her cleavage, then moved around to the other side for the next shot. She stuck her ass in the air, practically humping the felt to keep his attention.

“Boys always make it look so easy,” she pouted after another ball just barely missed the pocket.

When Keith began to walk over to her, she turned her back to him. That way she could pretend to be surprised by his arrival. With careful concentration, Lacey managed to get a ball a full foot away from what anyone watching would have assumed was her target. It was actually harder to be bad on purpose, but it paid off.

“You having fun, sweet thing?” Keith leaned against the pool table, beer in hand, right in front of her.

Lacey giggled. “It’d be more fun if I had someone to play with.”

Keith chuckled. A lock of his hair fell down into his eyes. “I bet it would be. You had a lot of fun playing with me last time, didn’t you?”

How much money had she taken from Keith the last time she had tried this? Sometimes she got cocky and her marks got mad about being taken. Lacey couldn’t remember if she had ever crowed about fleecing Keith. Unfortunately, he probably did. 

She fluttered her eyelashes. “It was a lot of fun,” she cooed. “I think I got lucky that night.”

“I bet you’re gonna get lucky again.” He was standing too close to her. “I bet your luck will get better and better all night, especially when we start playing double or nothing.”

Crap. She had definitely rubbed Keith’s face in it last time. Now he was wise to her. That was the problem with a small town. Oh well, at least she’d tried.

“So is that a bet?” she said in her real voice. “Do you wanna put money down on whether or not I’m actually hustling you? Cuz I’ll take you up on that one.”

Keith shook his head. He put his hand down on top of hers on the edge of the pool table. He was still smiling.

“You know there’s another game we can play together. It’s a lot more fun than pool.”

Ugh.

Lacey backed away. “It might be fun for you, but I don’t think I’d get much out of it.”

He followed her. “How do you know? Maybe it’d be more fun if you hustled me. That’d make things interesting, wouldn’t it? Twenty bucks says I can make you see heaven.”

She snorted. “Did you just say you’ll pay to screw me?”

Keith kept smiling. “You were gonna screw me all over this table and take my money anyway. I like my version better.”

Lacey’s blood suddenly went cold. This wasn’t funny anymore. It wasn’t a game. This asshole would seriously give her money if she went home with him. It would be so easy to go along with it. Twenty dollars for two orgasms--his would be real, hers would be fake. 

Would that be enough to buy a new skirt? Was she seriously fucking considering this?

She clenched her jaw. 

“I’m not a fucking hooker, Keith.”

He raised his arms in a pacifying gesture. “No harm, no foul,” he said. “I just don’t see how it’s any different from taking a girl to dinner first. Man pays for sex either way.”

Turning away, she slid her pool cue back on the rack. 

“You’re a pig.”

“Go ahead, darlin’, keep talking dirty. See what happens.”

Lacey kept her head held high as she went back to the bar where her uncle was nursing a beer.

“I need to get out of here,” she told him.

“Sounds good.” Uncle Manny took out his wallet and tossed a few crumpled fives onto the bar. “I’ll walk you home.”

****

 Outside, Lacey pulled her arms out of the sleeves of her hoodie and hugged her arms over her chest. This stupid button down was too frumpy to make her sexy and too thin to keep her warm. 

“Pool wasn’t any good for you tonight?” Uncle Manny asked casually.

“No,” she admitted. “Fricking Keith threw me off my game.”

“What do you need money for anyway? That dad of yours not feeding you?”

“I need money cuz I don’t have any.” Lacey kicked at a chunk of dirty snow. “Nobody does.”

“I’ve got a little, for the smartest kid in Storybrooke.” He stopped walking and turned to face her. “You wanna tell me what it’s for?”

Lacey bit the inside of her mouth. She didn’t want to lie to her uncle, but she sure as hell didn’t want to tell him the truth. She walked in silence for a minute. He stayed with her. Finally, she said it.

“I wanna get some new clothes.”

“Like a real coat?”

She shrugged. “I mean, maybe. I could. If I had enough.”

“And this is a sudden yearning that couldn’t wait?”

She shrugged again. There was nothing like being around a parent-slash-guardian to make her feel like a complete child.

“Ace, what’s going on?”

She took a breath. “I… don’t want to tell you.”

He put his hand on her shoulder. “Lacey French, if you’re doing things you don’t want people to know about, then you shouldn’t do them.”

“It’s nothing bad!” Lacey pushed him away. “It’s just… personal.”

“That’s not reassuring,” he said. “What’s going on? What do you need money for?”

“I told you, to buy clothes!”

“Clothes for what? You can tell me, Lacey. I’ll help you out if you’re honest.”

“I just want to look nice on a date!” She shrieked the words out into the night. They hung in the air with the cloud of her breath.

Uncle Manny looked at her, confused and sympathetic at the same time. Eventually, he broke out into a broad smile.

“But that’s great, honey! You should go on dates. Why-- why didn’t you say so to begin with?”

She pulled her hands up through the neck hole of her hoodie to rub her face.

“I’m… It’s because of who I’m going out with.”

Uncle Manny scoffed and put his arm around her as they walked. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of dating someone. Unless it’s someone you should be ashamed of, but then you just don’t date them. It’s not a girl, is it?”

Lacey shook her head, to which Uncle Manny nodded.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that, not in this modern world. You know I’m with you no matter what.”

She nodded. 

“And of course, no boy is ever going to be good enough for you. But as long as he’s not married, or some kind of asshole like that bastard Gold, there’s no reason to sneak around like--Lacey?”

She had stopped in her tracks. She looked up at her uncle and chewed on her lower lip.

Realization dawned. Uncle Manny let out a long breath. 

“Lace.” His voice was rough. “Tell me you’re dating a married man.”

Lips pressed together, she shook her head. “Don’t tell anyone.”

Standing in place, Uncle Manny stomped his work boots onto the sidewalk. The intent seemed to be half to warm his feet and half to cool his head.

“Gold,” he whispered. He pointed in the direction of Mr. Gold’s pawn shop. “That Gold? The guy that has every working person in Storybrooke by balls? The guy who’s practically the reason all of us are living paycheck to paycheck? You’re going on dates with him?”

She shrugged. “It’s only been one date so far, but he asked me to come to his house on Friday.”

“And you said yes? What, does he have something on you? Is that why you need money?”

“No!” Lacey insisted. “I was telling the truth! I just need clothes that are good enough for him.”

“‘Good enough for him?’ He’s not good enough for you, Lacey! That man is a scourge. He’s a parasite. He’s--he’s old enough to be your father!”

“If he was my father, I wouldn’t be in this situation. I’d actually have a good life.”

“You have a good life.” Uncle Manny wasn’t angry anymore. Or if he was, his anger had become still and stern. “Your parents worked every day to give you a good life.”

“And where did it get them?” Lacey snapped. “Where did it get me? Yes, we work hard, but our only reward is getting to work even harder. And I’m so tired.” Her face was hot. God, she was sniffling. “Being with Mr. Gold feels like a break, and that’s all I want anymore. Just a freaking break.” 

Uncle Manny’s arms were around her. He pulled her against his coveralls that smelled like motor oil and sweat. He squeezed her tight and patted her back as she tried to stop crying.

“Sorry,” she sniffed when they broke apart.

“Hey,” he tilted her chin up and looked her in the eye. “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”

Despite her tears, Lacey laughed. It was an old joke for them. She knew what her next line had to be: “That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard.”  

He hugged her again, kissed the top of her head. They didn’t talk until they were in front of Game of Thorns.

“I’d stay for dinner, but I’ve had Moe’s cooking before.”

She snorted at another joke she’d heard a thousand times, then she turned serious. “Um. You’re not going to tell anybody, are you?”

“About your…” he searched for the words, then shrugged, “love life?”

“Yeah. You know my dad will blow a gasket if he finds out I’m even talking to Mr. Gold, let alone--”

“Yeah, I know.” Uncle Manny cut her off. Clearly, he didn’t want to hear what she was doing with Mr. Gold.

“So, please don’t tell him? Promise?”

Her uncle sucked his teeth and slowly shook his head in silence. It took a long minute before he looked at her again.

“Okay,” he said. “You’re an adult. You know your own mind, you can make your own decisions. It’s just--be smart, okay? You are an adult, but you’re also our little girl. Me, your dad, your mom, rest her soul--we don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I promise I won’t get hurt, if you promise not to blab my business all over town.”

“Aright,” he sighed. He pulled her in for a tight hug. “I promise. Just--please, take care of yourself.”

  She squeezed her uncle, then headed for the door. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

****

Lacey spent the entire working day on Thursday psychically willing the phone to ring with orders, preferably orders that had to be filled as soon as possible. Doing a rush job would give them an excuse to charge extra. She wouldn’t wish a funeral on anyone, but wouldn’t this be a great weekend for an impromptu wedding? So many of Lacey’s problems would be solved if just one panicked bride would come in and beg them to fill Dodci’s Dance Hall with centerpieces and garlands, not to mention all the bouquets and boutonnieres and flowers for the church too. Or maybe someone important could get sick and everyone in Storybrooke would send flowers to the hospital. Wasn’t there anyone in Storybrooke who was celebrating anything? Did people not have birthdays in late January? There were so many reasons people could need flowers. But this wasn’t a day when people did.

Hustling at the Rabbit Hole wasn’t an option anymore. If this were any other occasion, she would borrow a skirt from Mara or Janine, but that didn’t seem like a possibility. They wouldn’t take the news of her going on a date with Mr. Gold any better than Uncle Manny had. Mara’s store, where she also lived, was rented from Mr. Gold, and Janine had taken out a loan to pay for her beautician supplies. Both of them--really everyone in Storybrooke--saw him as the enemy. As far as they cared to think about it, he was the reason they were poor. If Lacey told her friends how much she wanted to be around him, they would think she was crazy, or morally degenerate.

Maybe she was. 

Or maybe they were wrong. Had her friends ever eaten at Bella Notte? Had they ever worn a dress that made them feel like sex on two legs? Had they ever watched a hapless waiter get strong-armed into breaking a stupid law for them? Had they ever been inside Mr. Gold’s house? Had they ever taken clothes off just because a man had asked them to? Had they ever known the thrill of promising to do whatever another person told them to do? Had they ever known the peace of being an object, of kneeling silently at someone’s feet?

Could they even understand why that was something anyone would want? Let alone that it was something Lacey craved in a place deeper than her bones? Some dark, hidden part of her soul wanted Mr. Gold, like she had never wanted anything else. 

And not having enough money to buy a stupid fucking skirt might keep her away from him forever. She could not abide that thought.

When Friday was another dud--a few orders came in, but they wouldn’t pay until delivery--Lacey knew that she was out of options. Since Mr. Gold would be picking her up tonight at eight, she was also out of time. So she did what everyone in Storybrooke did when they had nowhere else to go.

She went to the pawn shop. 

****

Lacey had always been intrigued by the phrasing of Mr. Gold’s store. The sign said Mr. Gold Pawnbroker and Antiquities Dealer. Most stores advertised the goods sold inside, but Mr. Gold advertised himself. This was who he was, this was what he did. No one came to this store because they needed things, they came because they needed what only he could offer them. Usually, they needed it enough to pay whatever price he set. 

When it came down to it, Lacey really wasn’t that different from any other desperate soul who came to Mr. Gold. The only difference was what she wanted.

It was three in the afternoon. Not technically her lunch break, but it wasn’t like she was getting paid to stick around the flower shop. Lacey changed into some gray dress pants and covered her work shirt with her least-frumpy cardigan. She stuffed her purse full of old toys and oddities that might--cumulatively, optimistically--be worth about ten dollars. She yelled at Dad that she was going out for a minute and then walked over to Mr. Gold’s.

The bell rang over her head when she walked through the front door. Mr. Gold was behind the counter, writing something in a ledger. He looked up at the sound and gave the slightest grin when he saw that it was her. 

“Miss French,” he said, with just a touch of warmth. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Lacey bit her lip, but forced herself to stay cool. She looked around at the shelves and display cases, slowly making her way forward. Another time, she would have marveled at the art and jewelry and historic do-dads, but now she slunk past them.

“I…” she dragged out the word, unsure of what she was saying as she said it, “was wondering… if you have any clothes for sale.” 

Mr. Gold raised his eyebrows. “Clothes?”

“Yeah.” She stopped in front of a spinning rack of necklaces. She couldn’t look at him. “You know, like vintage stuff?”

He walked over to her, behind the display case. “I’ve got some historic naval uniforms, but nothing that would suit you.”

He was in front of her now, so they were separated by nothing but two feet of glass and gadgets. She didn’t raise her head. Some of these necklaces were really pretty. One gold chain with a mother-of-pearl pendant spoke to her for some reason.

“What do you need, Miss French?”

His voice was gentle, coaxing. He understood how much she hated what she was doing. He probably talked to a lot of people who were feeling what she was feeling. At least he didn’t seem to be enjoying her discomfort.

Lacey took a breath, and looked up at him.

“I need a skirt,” she admitted. “I don’t have anything to wear on our date tonight.”

He blinked. Then his face grew infinitesimally softer. 

“I see,” he said. 

“I brought some stuff.” She set her purse on the counter, began to pull out the junk she’d brought from home. “I thought I might--”

“Please,” he held up a hand. “You don’t need to do that. I’m more than happy to assist you, Miss French.” He turned away from her, went back over to his antique cash register. 

“I can pay you back…”

“Oh you will,” he grinned. He took a bill out of the cash register and set it on the counter. Lacey came closer and saw that it was a fifty. “Will this be enough?”

She fought the urge to snatch the money and run all the way to Modern Fashions. It was the same feeling she’d had when he’d given her the money to tip that stupid waiter. The thrill, the rush, of having cash and knowing she could do anything with it. Fifty dollars was more than she had spent on clothes in the past year. Fifty dollars could cover the bill at Granny’s for her whole family--or at least for Janine and Mara to have real lunches.

Fifty dollars was more than twice what Keith had offered her to have sex with him.

Lacey pulled her hands back. She dug her fingernails into her palms. 

“I… I shouldn’t accept this,” she said.  

“Why not?” Mr. Gold asked, unperturbed. “Are you worried I’ll take advantage of you? Wouldn’t you say that ship has sailed, Miss French?”

She looked down at the dirt-stained sneakers she wore for work. In a resigned whisper, she told Mr. Gold the same thing she said to Keith at the Rabbit Hole.

“I’m not a hooker.”

“Of course not.” Mr. Gold’s voice was smooth and confident. He came out from behind the counter to stand in front of her. Slowly, he raised his hand to cup her cheek, subtly forcing her to look at him. “You’re a woman who knows what she wants and who will do whatever she needs to do to make it happen.”

Lacey’s breath shook. Her eyes were hot and she was trembling.

“What do you want?” he asked her. He really was being very patient. 

“I want to go on another date with you, Mr. Gold.”

“And what do you need to do in order to make that happen?”

“I need--” she stopped. I need a skirt wasn’t the right answer. Mr. Gold had asked her what she needed to do. “I need to get some money, Mr. Gold.”

“Ask me for it.” He gave the order like it was a caress. “Ask me for the money and I’ll give it to you, Miss French.”

 This wasn’t like with Keith. This wasn’t being so desperate for money that she’d have sex with a stranger. This was being so desperate for sex that she’d take money to make sure she’d get it. She’d let Mr. Gold pay her like a whore just to make sure he kept treating her like a slut. 

She swallowed. She had to swallow a few times before she was brave enough to speak.

“Please, Mr. Gold, will you give me fifty dollars so I can have something suitable to wear for our date tonight?”

“I would be happy too, Miss French.” He lowered his hand from her cheek and picked the bill up off of the counter. Gently, he took her hand by the wrist, placed the fifty on her palm, and closed her fingers over it.

He grinned at her.

“Buy yourself something pretty.”

Lacey clenched her jaw. Now he was enjoying this. She bit back words that would make him take the money back. Instead, she said what she knew he wanted her to say.

“Thank you, Mr. Gold.”

“You’re quite welcome, Miss French.”

He turned around then, went back behind the counter. Lacey understood she was dismissed. Facing the door, she took a breath and checked to make sure none of her tears had spilled out onto her cheeks. 

Before she opened the door, Mr. Gold called over to her. 

“Miss French,” he said. “If you happen to buy a red skirt and wear nothing underneath it, I will eat your cunt for dessert tonight.”

Lacey’s eyes went wide. Her shock was less for what Mr. Gold had said and more for his nonchalant tone. He was talking about sex in the same way he would talk about running errands.

“Do you understand me, Miss French?”

What about it did he think she didn’t understand? Then Lacey realized she hadn’t answered him. Mr. Gold expected an answer when he spoke to people. 

“Yes, Mr. Gold,” she said. Shock had made her voice a little breathy. “Thank you for telling me, Mr. Gold.”

He gave her a nod. 

Dazed and excited, Lacey left his shop and made her way down the street to Modern Fashions. She had a red skirt to buy.

#courtship #rumbelle #golden lace #rumbelle fic #golden lace fic

[skiasurveys]

survey #idk

I have Traveled To:

More than three states in the US

Mexico

Canada (tech i live here)

A place that starts with the letter L

Austria

An island

A big city

Anywhere in Africa

Japan

A place where English is not the main language

Anywhere in the southern hemisphere

India

Netherlands

I Have Read:

Any of the Bible

At least two Harry Potter books

The entire Twilight series

Catch-22

Animal Farm

A Dr. Seuss book

Instructions to a piece of Ikea information

A warning label that made me laugh

A biography/autobiography

Dante’s Inferno

A Chuck Palahniuk book

A newspaper in the last week

Something that made me cry

I Like to Eat:

Spam

Mexican food

Brussell sprouts

Onions

Watermelon

Vegan food

Bacon

Chocolate

New things

Escargot

Hummus

Haggis

Indian food

Home cooking

Fast food

My Favorite Actors Include:

Mark Wahlberg

Morgan Freeman

James Franco

Leonardo DiCaprio

Robert DeNiro

Samuel L. Jackson

Chris Hemsworth

Elijah Wood

Johnny Depp

Steve Buscemi

Robin Williams

Jack Black

Channing Tatum

I Have Listened to These Bands:

Taylor Swift

AC/DC

Jay-Z

Frank Sinatra

Pink Floyd

Fall Out Boy

Incubus

No Doubt

The White Stripes

Skrillex

Tenacious D

Metallica

Britney Spears

Ke$ha

The Beatles

I Have/Had These Pets:

Dog

Cat

Horse

Bird

Hamster

Lizard

Snake

Guinea Pig

Goat

Fish

Mouse

Spider

Pig

Hedgehog

Ferret

I Have Seen These Movies:

Fifth Element

Gone With the Wind

Nightmare Before Christmas

High School Musical

Kickin’ It Old School

Casablanca

Predator

White Men Can’t Jump

AVATAR

12 Years A Slave

Saving Private Ryan

MASH

Mamma Mia!

Dark Shadows

Riding In Cars With Boys

If I Could Have A Super Power, I Would Choose:

Mind control

Mind reading

Teleportation

Flying

Bullet-proof

Speed

Super-strength

Invisibility

All-Knowing

X-Ray vision

Freeze-touch

Time traveling

Invulnerability

Telekenisis

I Am Scared of:

Clowns

Heights

Spiders

Open spaces

Small spaces

Vacuums

Snakes

Needles

Strangers

Michael Myers

Bugs

Tiny holes

Highways

Germs

Police

My Favorite Color Is:

Red

Yellow

Orange

Green

Blue

Purple

Gray

Black

Brown

White

Pink

I Am Currently Wearing:

A t-shirt

A hoodie

Capris

Shoes

A bra

Make-up

Perfume

Deodorant

Hat

Something with a superhero/symbol on it

Nail polish

Scarf

Pajamas

Boxers

Sweatpants

I Would Describe My Best Friend As:

Bossy

Intelligent

Promiscuous

Funny

Whiny

Honest

Reliable

Loyal

Lazy

Adventurous

Unique

Complicated

Open-minded

Well-read

In the Last 24 Hours, I Have:

Read

Drank alcohol

Had sex

Eaten meat 

Danced in public

Went swimming

Changed my clothes more than once

Said something mean

Cleaned

Spent money on something pointless

Sang aloud

Met someone new

Played a game of some sort

Things In the Room With Me Now Are:

A TV

Another person

Something that belongs to a child

A pet

Food

Bed

Art

Clock not connected to a phone/computer

A mirror

Medicine

Books

Drugs or alcohol

The Last Person I Texted Is:

My significant other

Someone who sucks at spelling

A different race than me

A relative

Someone I don’t really like

Someone I went to high school with

My best friend

A person I work with

At home

In the room with me

Knows more than one language 

Is female

Is under the age of 21

Someone I live with

I Am For:

Abortion

Death penalty

Amnesty

Gun control

Gay marriage

Prayer in school

War in the middle east

Marijuana legalization

Banning cigarettes in public places

Higher taxes

Higher minimum wage

Standardized testing

Lowering the legal age for drinking

I Have Committed These Crimes:

Jaywalking

Smoking weed

Shooting heroin

Shoplifting

Breaking & entering

Public intoxication

Hit & Run

Speeding

Opening someone else’s mail without their permission

Burglary

Vehicular manslaughter

Lying under oath

Truancy

I Took These Classes In High School/College:

Home Ec

Physics

Photography

Criminal Justice

Journalism

Debate

Creative Writing

Art

Music Theory

Philosophy

French

Theater

Choir

Psychology

What I Watch On TV:

Reality shows about celebrities

Game shows

News

Reruns of classic shows

Award shows

Modern Family

Doctor Who

Scandal

Infomercials

HSN

MTV

Singing competitions

Cooking shows

Traveling shows

#surveys

[al-the-remix]

9 + 4!

4: Do you prefer writing multi-chapter or oneshot fanfictions?

I think both can be used effectively for different kinds of stories, but personally, I prefer writing and posting oneshots. I like to be able to take a step back and look at the whole and still make edits, I often find myself going back and still making important connections and edits as I get to the end of the story. Also, as I reader I enjoy being able to digest the story in one go, vs having to wait for chunks to come out and re-reading to remained myself of important plot points.

9: What’s your favorite line(s) or scene(s) that you have written?

I actually have a few of them, but on theme with the question above; the MacDonal's scene from White Fences. It was a last-minute addition and was one of my favourite scenes to write, fun and frivolous. Two old men going on their rookie date, living it up like it's 2007 ;____;

"Come on, G, live a little. When was the last time we went to get fries and cheeseburgers in the middle of the night," Sid said, then sucked his bottom lip into his mouth thoughtfully. Zhenya knew when and Sid did, too. "We should go," Sid concluded. Zhenya would say he didn't know how he let himself get talked into these things except he knew exactly how. The large red sticker pressed flush against the glass, boasting a 24-hour operation. Zhenya pushed into the establishment, Sid close on his heels, and was hit immediately in the face with dry, warm air and the smell of cooking oil. It was pretty deserted at this hour of the night. A few runway workers from the airport were huddled together around two tables in the back and there was a lone middle-aged woman keeping the cash register warm, but other than that it was what you'd expect at a fast food joint in the middle of the night: desolate. "I'll order, you get us a table," Sid said, cutting into his thoughts. As if there'd be competition for this much free real estate. They were spoiled for choice. Sid left him in favour of the cashier without so much as asking what he'd like and Zhenya went to grab them a table by the window at the opposite corner of the store as the workmen. Zhenya pulled off his toque. Positive his hair would be flying up everywhere in thin wisps, he tried to pat it gently back into shape before giving up. From their table Zhenya had a good view of where Sid was making light conversation with the woman behind the counter as he waited for their orders. Zhenya tapped his fingers against the linoleum facing on the table. They used to go out like this all the time, even why they were on opposing teams and in foreign countries during Worlds and the Olympics Sid set a tray down covered in two milkshakes, two large fries, and four cheeseburgers. Before digging in, Sid peeled the pickles off of his own cheeseburgers and gave them to Geno to layer on top of his own. It made Zhenya feel like they were rookies again. Sid's pink, frost-bitten cheeks were pinched from smiling. "I figured your order was pretty much the same," he said between bites, dipping his fries in his McFlurry. He was still the strangest, most unique person Zhenya had ever met in his life. He was also Zhenya’s favourite. Zhenya took conscious bites of his hamburger, the spongy bun sticking strangely in between his new teeth. It took him longer to eat than it would have at home, but it was admittedly nice to get to eat adult human food again out in the open, like a person. "We should do this more often," Sid said, staring into the depths of his milkshake. Zhenya had a feeling he was eating slowly for Zhenay’s sake. Zhenya’s heart gave a weak pang. It was the first time Sid had alluded to this thing they had going on expanding outside the bubble they had created for themselves. Sid had always been there for him but they didn’t hang out much on their own anymore, after everything went down. Zhenya hadn't trusted himself. But now Sid was still staying at his house; Zhenya hadn’t asked him to leave and Sid hadn’t brought it up either, filling Zhenya’s chest with an aching, glass-like hope "That would be good," Zhenya said, a pleasant warmth curling in his stomach. When they had finished their food, they bundled back up and jogged back to the hotel in the cold. "I win," Sid said when he opened the door first, and Zhenya didn't bother to restrain rolling his eyes.

#asks

[whoviancumberbunny]

Part Two: Ne'er-do-wells and insufferable bastards

Part One: Stand & Be True

Percy De Rolo and other Machina Characters Created By Critical Role

Story By Melissa C. Scraper @whoviancumberbunny​

Authors Note: Starkblast, Debaria, Throckens,  and Delain are from the Dark Books and Eyes of the dragon by Stephen King  High Speech​

Percy was watching Annie sleep they had been through a lot in the last two weeks since they met.  In Spite of everything she had been through she was still a light in his life. She even managed to make friends with Shaun Gilmore.  

 He had taken her back to keep since the little shake she stayed in wasn’t safe “Don’t say a word Vax.”

 Vax “You know if you ask for our help…” Percy walks past him and goes to make something to eat. Something about Annie. Most people would assume her spirit guide being a dragon was metaphor. He could see it in her eyes when they were in battle.  She may be thief to survive but she was a born gunslinger. They had passed through the barony of Delain on the way to white stone and everyone greeted her as Lady Gunslinger.  

 Vex whispered to Kiki “He’s fighting his darkness so he doesn’t hurt her.”

 A short time later Annie is standing in the door to the room she was sleeping in “We need to get supplies. Like firewood and food enough to last at least three days. There is a Starkblast coming?”

 The only other time she had survived a starkblast was with her brother shortly after they left Gilead.  They looked at her “Snowstorm. In Gilead the tales of gunslingers of old they read to the children one is called the Throcken and The Starkblast. The animals are acting strange. The way the story describes the throcken as acting before the storm hits.”  She had been trying to figure out why she felt so odd this was how she had felt before the Starkblast in Debaria

 Vox jumped into action helping the townfolk prepare for the starkblast.  And to thank them they provide Vox Machina and Annie with the supplies they need. “Thankee, Big Big.”  Annie said

 Gilmore “We are well met.”  He looked at her “I am sorry I couldn’t help you get answers about that locket.”

“Long Days and Pleasant Nights.” She said and placed her hand on his “you did what you could, Shaun.”

 “May you have twice the number.”   He smiled “Most people are put off by how i greet people.”

 “My twin brother is a lot like you.”  She said smiling  

 Later that night as the temperature drops “Let me get this straight you already survived one of these?”  Scanlan said “I can barely feel my beads of love.”

 Vex “we will need to take turns to make sure the wind doesn’t blow out the fire.”  She smirked as she saw Annie cuddling against Percy “Also I am sure Annie doesn’t need to know you can’t feel your dick, Scanlan.” She slaps him upside his head as she and Pike serve everyone some hot soup

 Annie “Honestly it caught Debaria off guard too it happened in the middle of Summer.” She  explained as they ate dinner she told everyone about  how she and her brother survived the starkblast. Vex volunteered to stay up and stoke the fire for the first few hours.  She smirked as Percy took his coat and wrapped it around Annie.

 No one though a thing about it when they went to the same room it made sense to stay warm “Lady Annie of Gilead.”  Logic said she and her brother and brother Declan shouldn’t even have been born.

 21 Years prior in the Barony of Mejis during Reaping festival…Roland of Gilead was leaving town and the intention had been to bury Susan Delgado but when the men removed her from the pire they heard moaning.  Susan Delgado age 16, had somehow managed to survive charyutree what was even more of miracle was the twins she was carrying hadn’t been lost In the fire

 Present Day…Annie didn’t realize she was sharing her ability to travel in dreams with Percy. Until they woke up at Sunrise “What just happened?”  he looked at her “Was that your mother?”

 “Aye.” She responded “Occasionally Maturin shows me bits of the past.”

 “You haven’t explained who Maturin is.”

 “You know how you praise the dawn father. in Gilead, we are taught the world is carried on the back of Maturin.  A giant turtle with a kind heart who loves all who he carries. He’s one of the twelve beam guardians holding the world together.”  

 In the middle of the second night of the starkblast Percy would find Annie sitting on the roof of the keep “The way of red is planning to attack the way of the white.   We may have to visit Lady Dragon after the starkblast passes.”

 “You said she mostly appears in your dreams is is possible for us to physically visit her.”

 “Aye, she lives in an underwater cave when she wants to see me a portal opens but the portal never appears In the same place twice.”

 “last week you were sleep walking and standing on the balcony Threatening the Crimson King and the Man in Black.”  He said with sort of questioning tone. She didn’t need to tell him who they were he understood having dark enemies to fight.

 “The Man in Black, enemy of gunslingers of eld since the beginning, he fears my father the most because he survived the wars that killed all his friends. And he fears me because I was born.” As they carefully stand up they nearly slip off the roof

 “Scanlan’s hand!” a giant purple hand catches them and helps through the window “it would be shame for you to die before we find your brother, Annie.” He said his eyes sparkling. Whenever he smiled she found it easy to ignore his nearly constant innuendos

 “Scanlan, thank you my friend.”  She kisses his forehead, she grinned when he blushed a little.  After Whitehall dealt with the storm damage, Annie and Vox Machina prepare to continue the quest. “Vex walks up to Percy “Mister De Rolo. You always act like you incapable of love but I saw you are watching everything Annie is doing. It is more than just protection thing.”

 “It wouldn’t be right for me to say anything when she is trying to find her brother.” He stopped just short of saying he had been told her brother was kidnapped when they had started their Quest to find Roland.

 A few days later….Annie looks at everyone in the back of the carriage.  “Everyone when we get past the edge of the cliff you need to jump I don’t know if the carriage will make it through the Portal.”

 Percy <Vex, did you just heyah me?!” as they go over the edge of the cliff unhitches Duchess and Sir Kay. A few monments later they could see figure cloaked In the shadows . but the first response was to the thing the dragon before htem was a danger.

 Annie “Stand down! Did you think I was exaggerating when I said my spirit guide is an ancient dragon.”  She takes a slab of raw meat out of their supplies and places it near the dragon “Lady dragon I need your help with two things.  My brother is missing and where did this locket…’ before she could finish the question about the locket a slender figure physical mid forties with piercing blue eyes and salt and pepper hair “Da?”

 “I know you are not Susan.  But you are a gunslinger.” He steps forward and grabs the locket before she drops it.  “Susan didn’t like guns.” He looks at the delicate item in his hand with a few fingers missing “How do you have this? This was stolen off my mother’s body by marten broadcloak the traitor who seduced her.”

 Percy was standing there as many thoughts ran through his head sand suddenly it dawned on him, he knelt down “Hile Gunslinger. My friends and I have been assisting your daughter on her Quest. It and honor to meet you, Roland of Gilead.” He quickly stood and caught Annie as she fainted.

 Roland “we are well met. You know my name but you have neglected to tell me yours.”  As hew stood straight up was obvious to the members of vox why anyone would be intimidated by Roland Deschain.  He  was attired in well worn white shirt and jeans/ with cowboy boots and trench coat he had sewn together from the skins of the mutant dear he had hunted In the waste lands.

 Scanlan “Um, how are we getting out of here.”

 Dragon “the door maybe.”

 Kiki “Did that dragon just talk?”

 Dragon “Vox Machina will have to face their fears in order to help Anastasia save her brother.  The people who kidnapped him intend to use him as part of sacrifice to Chroma Conclave.” She begins eating the meat Annie gave her as Percy carries Annie through the door.

 Once they make it back to Whitestone “Cry Pardon, Gunslinger. My name is Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III. My friends call me Percy.” He carefully places Annie on the window seat “She lead us to dragon’s cave but the minute she realized you were there she must have been overwhelmed.”

 Scanlan “Now no one is ever just whelmed?”

 Everyone “Not the time, Scanlan!

Roland watched as Percy treated Annie with gentle care. Looks at Vax’ildan “are they courting?”

 Vax “That is a grey area if asked they don’t give a direct answer.” She is been mainly focused on finding her brother. “Sister, she will be thirsty when she wakes up. Her canteen is in the saddlebag on the saddle Duchess has on.”

 Vex “On it.” She returns moments later with Annie’s supplies. “How did the horses survive.”

 Annie wakes up “Lady Dragon watches over me and her magic protected us.”  She looks at Roland “Da?” she reaches out to make sure this wasn’t one of her prophetic dreams “Mother was right, Declan does look like you.”  She says in low tone

 “are you their Dihn?” the older man asked as he placed his complete hand on hers he had spent so long alone. Except for those moments in his time loops where he would draw the people from keystone Earth.

 “No. Percy is, as far as I can tell.”

 It was clear even by people who barely knew them that, Annie and Roland were both seeking connection to their pasts.  The entire time she was explaining everything to him their hands were gently clasping eachother’s arms.

Annie had been teaching Percy High Speech and the word popped into his head “Dan-Tete.”  According to what she told I meant little savior.  Each day that went by Percy had a sense that she would save him from his darkness.

 Annie “We need to think of strategy for finding saving Declan and the others.” She looked at Percy “Together.”

 To Be Continued….

Thursday, January 26, 2023

Tag: @demigoddessqueens​

#gunslingers au #fluff #the legend of vox machina #percy x oc #dark tower oc #critical role #dark tower au #action

[partum-memoriae-muses]

Name: Marcus "Clock" Wilson

Series: Fandomless

Faceclaim: Akira from Kemono Jihen

Age: 15

Height: 5'7"

Birthday: Unknown

Birthplace: Seattle, Washington, United States

Species: Half human Half Fallen Angel

Occupation: Homeschooled a high school education

Father: William

Mother: Unknown

Sibling(s): Unknown

Bio:

SEVERE TRIGGER WARNING FOR MENTAL ILLNESS

Marcus, or better known as Clock, as born in some Motel somewhere on the East coast. His mother was a prostitute for wealthy men and presumably got pregnant from one, though she gave him up for adoption immediately after his birth by leaving him on the guns counter of a large sporting and camping goods store as it was closing down for the night. The only reason why people know he was born in a motel was due to their research showing that a nearby Motel started hearing a baby crying about a month or two prior. The exact date is unknown as the man in charge of the motel during that time wasn't exactly responsible during the late hours, which they’re sure he was born in the middle of the night.

Upon being raised in an orphanage for boys, Marcus’ mental well being was called into question and if he was human since he wouldn’t stop climbing up impossible areas that no toddler should be able to climb up. He seemed to have strange abilities now and then like creating light from his fingertips.

Many different doctors (for mental and physical) were unable to figure out just what’s mentally wrong with him but he seems to have symptoms of hyperactivity, trouble focusing, developmental issues, trouble handling harsh topics and a strange obsession with order. He has a habit of screaming a lot and seems to act as though he’s still a child. There were some symptoms he had that maybe could tie him to common disorders but his other traits (delusional behavior, screaming, etc) seem to clash with these. He also seems to have a love for chaos as well, causing trouble because he thought it would be funny to see the people run around in stress. It wasn't just normal pranks children do, but pure chaos such as purposefully causing explosions in the kitchen or leaving an open bottle of food coloring in someone's clothing drawer.

At age eight, Marcus was put into a new orphanage (as no foster homes want to take him in) and the big grandfather clock in the bedrooms inspired him. The sound of the clock’s ticking made him feel immensely happy and felt like it was speaking to him in some way, so he decided to go by the name of Clock from then on. Since he went by Clock, many seem to forget that his name is actually Marcus, as it seems like Clock is a rather fitting name for boy. The way a clock ticks on in suspense until the next minute, much like how Clock stresses people to the point of him feeling like that same suspense.

Though not all was happy for Clock, he hated being an orphan. He decided that to make it easier to get him adopted, he constructed a cardboard box with the words “plz adopt me” though it was hard to tell it was even English from how poorly it was written. He sits outside every day in this cardboard box and shouts out for people to take him in, obviously this doesn’t work. It's extremely childish for his age, but he doesn't understand why that is.

The only other thing to happen in Clock’s life was a mysterious man in all white who stood a little too long in front of his cardboard box, as if he recognized him in some way. It was strange, the man had wings but they were completely shredded.

No one knows if this man was his father or not because he disappeared into thin air as soon as people started to notice how odd this man looked to stare at him like that. Clock strongly believes that the man was his biological father and currently cries out in the streets for his father to return. The man had not said one word to Clock, but Clock keeps coming up for names for what he assumes is his father. Even if that was his father, obviously he didn’t want Clock as the man just stared at him strangely before leaving. Though it calls into question just what exactly Clock is and why his father came to see him.

It's possible he was curious about the son he made years ago and came to check up on him. Multiple sources theorize on what Clock could be, from super human to demon. One thing is certain, there’s no such thing as a human with this kind of insanity and abilities.

The real truth? His father is a fallen angel. The powers of an angel are already extremely strong, and while a fallen angel is slightly less powerful, it's too much for a human to handle. Half-fallen angels don't normally exist, as they die from the overwhelming physical and mental strain of containing angelic powers. However, Clock is the rare exception.

Humans handling too many angelic powers will fall into madness, so Clock's disturbed mind is the result of his father being a fallen angel. His brain can't handle his angelic powers that it's caused him to spiral into a deep and intense form of madness.

Clock is normally nice to be around, though he does strange words for things such as calling cookies "Sweet round things" or something along those lines. He still sits in his cardboard box, but he also just wanders around greeting every face he meets. Yet he's not peaceful either, explosions and chaos are his favorite hobbies so he's always trying to cause it. Yet if he caused an explosion, he'll genuinely believe that he's innocent. To him, blowing up a car is the same as playing with toy cars.

It would definitely take a lot of work to get Clock to behave well enough to not destroy an entire city, that's for sure.

[woodlandhillsca-near]

Moving to Woodland Hills, CA

I am a 30-year-old resident of Woodland Hills, where I have lived since 2016. Although originally from middle Tennessee, I have also resided in Santa Monica, Malibu, West Hollywood, Playa Del Rey, and Studio City. Of all the places I have lived in California, Woodland Hills ranks second to Malibu as my favorite. There are many attractions in the area, including a great greenway for walking, a large mall, colleges, excellent dive bars, karaoke venues, gastropub restaurants, bowling alleys, parks, car shows at the mall every Sunday, free concerts, and family movie nights in the park during the summer. I could go on, but you get the idea. Traffic can be challenging if you commute far or drive down Victory Blvd. during peak hours, but it is manageable. I genuinely love everything about living in Woodland Hills and am thrilled that I made the move here. I hope you will enjoy it as much as I do. Best of luck to you!

Swimming pool repair service

Are you in search of reliable swimming pool repair services in Woodland Hills, California? Look no further than Superhero Pools Corp. They have been providing exceptional pool leak detection, repair, remodeling, and maintenance services to both residential and commercial properties in the area since 2012. Right now, they are offering a limited-time promotion where you can save $100 on pool leak detection services if you schedule your appointment before 9/30/2023. Superhero Pools Corp. boasts a 5-star rating from many satisfied customers who commended their professionalism and were impressed with the repair of their pool leak. In fact, he was so pleased that he now trusts them to service his pool on a weekly basis. For any inquiries, please contact [phone].

Bowlero Woodland Hills

Bowlero Woodland Hills is a popular destination for bowlers, offering 64 well-maintained lanes and clean balls. The arcade features over 100 games for all ages, including classic and newer video games. The full-service restaurant and bar offer various food options, including pizzas, burgers, salads, and a wide selection of beers, wines, and cocktails. The atmosphere is modern and inviting, decorated with neon lights and old-school bowling memorabilia. Bowlero Woodland Hills hosts various events throughout the year, such as cosmic bowling, karaoke nights, and private parties. To enjoy the experience, book your lane in advance, bring your shoes, as bowling shoes are charged, and take advantage of the weekly specials. Bowlero Woodland Hills is a great place to relax, enjoy, and make memories. As a whole, Bowlero Woodland Hills is an excellent place for a fun night out.

An off-leash dog attacked two men

A pit bull mix not on a leash mauled two men at a Woodland Hills park, and the animal's owner then left the scene. The Chatsworth man, Emeterio Marroquin, said the dog was off-leash and not wearing a collar. Patricio Fuentes, another man, heard the dog's owner screaming for help and ran over to help. The dog realized Marroquin was trying to distract it and jumped at him, lunging in the chest and arm. The dog eventually ended its attack, returning to its owner. Both men were rushed to the hospital with dozens of bite wounds. Marroquin rated his pain at the top of the scale, stating it could be ten. Fuentes and Marroquin hope cellphone video of the attack will help identify the owner, who left as soon as she got the dog on a leash. The dog is described as a white pit bull mix with black spots, weighing about 60 pounds. Both men urge the owner to get the dog off the streets and out of parks. Read more. 

Link to maps

Bowlero Woodland Hills 23130 Ventura Blvd, Woodland Hills, CA 91364, United States Continue to Ventura Blvd 15 sec (177 ft) Take Fallbrook Ave to W Oxnard St 3 min (1.3 mi) Turn right onto W Oxnard St Pass by Wells Fargo Bank (on the left in 1 mi) 4 min (1.5 mi) Turn left onto Canoga Ave 1 min (0.4 mi) Drive to W Trillium Dr 1 min (0.1 mi) Superhero Pools Corp. 6320 Canoga Ave 15th Floor, Woodland Hills, CA 91367, United States

[flirting-with-psychology]

“fool for love”

I have Traveled To: More than three states in the US Mexico Canada A place that starts with the letter L Austria An island A big city Anywhere in Africa Japan A place where English is not the main language Anywhere in the southern hemisphere India Netherlands

I Have Read: Any of the Bible At least two Harry Potter books The entire Twilight series Catch-22 Animal Farm A Dr. Seuss book Instructions to a piece of Ikea information A warning label that made me laugh A biography/autobiography Dante’s Inferno A Chuck Palahniuk book A newspaper in the last week Something that made me cry

I Like to Eat: Spam Mexican food Brussell sprouts Onions Watermelon Vegan food Bacon Chocolate New things Escargot Hummus Haggis Indian food Home cooking Fast food

My Favorite Actors Include: Mark Wahlberg Morgan Freeman James Franco Leonardo DiCaprio Robert DeNiro Samuel L. Jackson Chris Hemsworth Elijah Wood Johnny Depp Steve Buscemi Robin Williams Jack Black Channing Tatum

I Have Listened to These Bands: Taylor Swift AC/DC Jay-Z Frank Sinatra Pink Floyd Fall Out Boy Incubus No Doubt The White Stripes Skrillex Tenacious D Metallica Britney Spears Ke$ha The Beatles

I Have/Had These Pets: Dog Cat Horse Bird Hamster Lizard Snake Guinea Pig Goat Fish Mouse Spider Pig Hedgehog Ferret

I Have Seen These Movies: Fifth Element Gone With the Wind Nightmare Before Christmas High School Musical Kickin’ It Old School Casablanca Predator White Men Can’t Jump AVATAR 12 Years A Slave Saving Private Ryan MASH Mamma Mia! Dark Shadows Riding In Cars With Boys

If I Could Have A Super Power, I Would Choose: Mind control Mind reading Teleportation Flying Bullet-proof Speed Super-strength Invisibility All-Knowing X-Ray vision Freeze-touch Time traveling Invulnerability Telekenisis

I Am Scared of: Clowns Heights Spiders Open spaces Small spaces Vacuums Snakes Needles Strangers Michael Myers Bugs Tiny holes Highways Germs Police

My Favorite Color Is: Red Yellow Orange Green Blue Purple Gray Black Brown White Pink

I Am Currently Wearing: A t-shirt A hoodie Capris Shoes A bra Make-up Perfume Deodorant Hat Something with a superhero/symbol on it Nail polish Scarf Pajamas Boxers Sweatpants

I Would Describe My Best Friend As: Bossy Intelligent Promiscuous Funny Whiny Honest Reliable Loyal Lazy Adventurous Unique Complicated Open-minded Well-read

In the Last 24 Hours, I Have: Read Drank alcohol Had sex Eaten meat  Danced in public Went swimming Changed my clothes more than once Said something mean Cleaned Spent money on something pointless Sang aloud Met someone new Played a game of some sort

Things In the Room With Me Now Are: A TV Another person Something that belongs to a child A pet Food Bed Art Clock not connected to a phone/computer A mirror Medicine Books Drugs or alcohol

The Last Person I Texted Is: My significant other Someone who sucks at spelling A different race than me A relative Someone I don’t really like Someone I went to high school with My best friend A person I work with At home In the room with me Knows more than one language (not sure) Is female Is under the age of 21 Someone I live with

I Am For: Abortion Death penalty Amnesty Gun control Gay marriage Prayer in school War in the middle east Marijuana legalization Banning cigarettes in public places Higher taxes Higher minimum wage Standardized testing Lowering the legal age for drinking

I Have Committed These Crimes: Jaywalking Smoking weed Shooting heroin Shoplifting Breaking & entering Public intoxication Hit & Run Speeding Opening someone else’s mail without their permission Burglary Vehicular manslaughter Lying under oath Truancy

I Took These Classes In High School/College: Home Ec Physics Photography Criminal Justice Journalism Debate Creative Writing Art Music Theory Philosophy French Theater Choir Psychology

What I Watch On TV: Reality shows about celebrities Game shows News Reruns of classic shows Award shows Modern Family Doctor Who Scandal Infomercials HSN MTV Singing competitions Cooking shows Traveling shows

#survey

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

426 of 2023

“fool for love”

I have Traveled To: More than three states in the US Mexico Canada A place that starts with the letter L Austria An island A big city Anywhere in Africa Japan A place where English is not the main language Anywhere in the southern hemisphere India Netherlands

I Have Read: Any of the Bible At least two Harry Potter books The entire Twilight series Catch-22 Animal Farm A Dr. Seuss book Instructions to a piece of Ikea information A warning label that made me laugh A biography/autobiography Dante’s Inferno A Chuck Palahniuk book A newspaper in the last week Something that made me cry

I Like to Eat: Spam Mexican food Brussell sprouts Onions Watermelon Vegan food Bacon Chocolate New things Escargot Hummus Haggis Indian food Home cooking Fast food

My Favorite Actors Include: Mark Wahlberg Morgan Freeman James Franco Leonardo DiCaprio Robert DeNiro Samuel L. Jackson Chris Hemsworth Elijah Wood Johnny Depp Steve Buscemi Robin Williams Jack Black Channing Tatum

I Have Listened to These Bands: Taylor Swift AC/DC Jay-Z Frank Sinatra Pink Floyd Fall Out Boy Incubus No Doubt The White Stripes Skrillex Tenacious D Metallica Britney Spears Ke$ha The Beatles

I Have/Had These Pets: Dog Cat Horse Bird Hamster Lizard Snake Guinea Pig Goat Fish Mouse Spider Pig Hedgehog Ferret

I Have Seen These Movies: Fifth Element Gone With the Wind Nightmare Before Christmas High School Musical Kickin’ It Old School Casablanca Predator White Men Can’t Jump AVATAR 12 Years A Slave Saving Private Ryan MASH Mamma Mia! Dark Shadows Riding In Cars With Boys

If I Could Have A Super Power, I Would Choose: Mind control Mind reading Teleportation Flying Bullet-proof Speed Super-strength Invisibility All-Knowing X-Ray vision Freeze-touch Time traveling Invulnerability Telekenisis

I Am Scared of: Clowns Heights Spiders Open spaces Small spaces Vacuums Snakes Needles Strangers Michael Myers Bugs Tiny holes Highways Germs Police

My Favorite Color Is: Red Yellow Orange Green Blue Purple Gray Black Brown White Pink

I Am Currently Wearing: A t-shirt A hoodie Capris Shoes A bra Make-up Perfume Deodorant Hat Something with a superhero/symbol on it Nail polish Scarf Pajamas Boxers Sweatpants

I Would Describe My Best Friend As: Bossy Intelligent Promiscuous Funny Whiny Honest Reliable Loyal Lazy Adventurous Unique Complicated Open-minded Well-read

In the Last 24 Hours, I Have: Read Drank alcohol Had sex Eaten meat (ew!) Danced in public Went swimming Changed my clothes more than once Said something mean Cleaned Spent money on something pointless Sang aloud Met someone new Played a game of some sort

Things In the Room With Me Now Are: A TV Another person Something that belongs to a child A pet Food Bed Art Clock not connected to a phone/computer A mirror Medicine Books Drugs or alcohol

The Last Person I Texted Is: My significant other Someone who sucks at spelling A different race than me A relative Someone I don’t really like Someone I went to high school with My best friend A person I work with At home In the room with me Knows more than one language Is female Is under the age of 21 Someone I live with

I Am For: Abortion Death penalty Amnesty Gun control Gay marriage Prayer in school War in the middle east Marijuana legalization Banning cigarettes in public places Higher taxes Higher minimum wage Standardized testing Lowering the legal age for drinking

I Have Committed These Crimes: Jaywalking Smoking weed Shooting heroin Shoplifting Breaking & entering Public intoxication Hit & Run Speeding Opening someone else’s mail without their permission Burglary Vehicular manslaughter Lying under oath Truancy

I Took These Classes In High School: Home Ec Physics Photography Criminal Justice Journalism Debate Creative Writing Art Music Theory Philosophy French Theater Choir Psychology

What I Watch On TV: Reality shows about celebrities Game shows News Reruns of classic shows Award shows Modern Family Doctor Who Scandal Infomercials HSN MTV Singing competitions Cooking shows Traveling shows

#survey #bolding survey #categorised survey

[ssaalexblake]

not that masterchef is annoying me or anything but has anybody ever done statistical analysis over housewives who’ve entered after learning skills by feeding their families and how often they get kicked out for not being refined like the 20-40 year old male age group who did not learn via feeding children or????

#i am seeing. Patterns. Ones i dislike #students get axed for not being Inventive even if they point out they lack cash #housewives get the boot despite having delicious food because it aint pretty enough #good Luck making a certain cuisines b/c they're not aesthetically pleasing enough #(basically if u want a curry get ready to leave) #not that i've watched too much of this but i'm even noticing the women who do well got taught by their dads #.. can we PLEASE get a woman judge #this is the make food for two middle aged white men hour #and i would rather yank my own nails out than ever say white dudes are the best judge of ultimate cuisine #they are Not. #(i am not show flitting i just wanted to write this post when i was not on mobile)

[katsukikitten]

Part one. Master list for plus one can be found here.

Just a nice fic I decided to write for fun. Please enjoy!

Asshole!

He was nothing but a huge, giant fucking ASSHOLE for the entire two years the two of you were dating and he decides NOW is a good time to break up with you?

Two days before your cousin's wedding and over TEXT MESSAGE?!

That fucking asshole.

He knew how you felt. Exactly how you felt about going alone to your cousin's wedding after your family begged to meet your boyfriend and teased you for "probably making him up." Which hell, he may as well have been made up considering how absent he was in the relationship. Using work as an excuse to come home late but forgetting to turn off his snap location when he showed up at the bar.

So you did what any rational woman in her upper twenties would do.

You drowned your sorrows in booze, tonight red wine as it was the only thing around, and you scrolled through your socials in hopes of distracting yourself from your suffering.

Alas the devil that is Instagram only amplified your sadness and irritation. Showing couple after couple, your friends on hikes kissing on the mountain top, kissing in the flickering light of candles at a fancy dinner or, worst yet, getting proposed to. The video showing her in hysterics screaming, "YES I DO I DO!"

And it feels terrible to feel this way. Especially about your friends, the people you love and want to support, still it stings. You hadn't told anyone about the breakup, you weren't even sure your friends even remembered that asshole's name.

A teardrop lands on your screen, magnifying all the magical lights of the led beneath the glad. You wipe away the tear and with that the feed refreshes. A new post has come in at the top, Res Riot's official account.

Kirishima stands with a fat white cat in his arms. He dwarfs the animal with his large stature that looks larger as he still has his Red Riot gear on. The caption reads something along the lines of "missed my precious baby."

Red wine is a dangerous thing as your body acts on its own. You go to his page to hit the little arrow to DM him. Typing out and backspacing your message as you struggle from the booze, you decide to say fuck it and use the voice memo feature. Before you know it your sniffling voice is playing back to you after you've hit send.

"My ex broke up with me before this stupid wedding. It's in two days and my family is going to roast me big time when I show up alone. They think I made that asshole up. I don't know why I'm even in your dms. Your account is probably run by some dick head who can't even capture your kindness. I guess I'm here cause my first thought seeing you on my timeline was Red Riot has always been my hero…"

Ugh totally fucking cringe.

There is no surprise as you see the three normally ominous dots pop up, probably his social media manager about to ask you to stop your "advances" as Kirishima is too busy to date and he'd hate to block you or some other bullshit.

But there it is a surprise to see a little bubble with the play button and some vertical lines in various heights. It takes your sluggish brain a moment to realize you've been sent a voice memo. Odd. Your thumb smashes the screen faster than you can think and a deep voice rumbles through the speakers of your phone.

"Actually I run my official and personal socials. And I'm sorry to hear about your ex doll. He sounds like a real ass. I'll be your hero, I'll go with you to the wedding."

Your heart stutters, no way, no way in HELL this was Red Riot. You had read about the horror stories before or pervy account managers taking advantage of women who so desperately wanted to talk to their hero.

Hell, it's happened to Dynamight plenty of times.

You swallow quickly but the bile rushes up your throat. Not just from the anxiety of a possible con but from drinking an entire bottle of wine with nothing on your stomach after months of sobriety. Quickly you stumble to the bathroom, abandoning your phone on your bed. You barely make it in time to praise the porcelain Gods before you fall onto your back. Looking up at the light in your cramped bathroom, the orb doubles and spins as you feel the Earth turning on its axis. You curl into your side using your bathmat as a pillow as you drift off into sleep, totally forgetting about the voice memo on your phone.

As you sleep peacefully on your memory foam bath rug, Kirishima settles into his nightly routine. One giant hand grabbing strands of long dark red hair into a towel while another sits snugly around his Adonis belt and the thick, black happy trail that follows up the center of his abs before spreading out onto his chest. He tosses the towel over the open door of the bathroom before sitting in his favorite armchair with phone in hand. Diamond, his beautiful white cat he rescued a few years ago, jumps onto the arm of the chair, purring loudly when Kirishima's free hand scratches her ears absentmindedly.

He chuckles to himself as he realizes exactly what he's done. Acting on a feeling instead of logic all because he heard a "damsel in distress." Starting off his rare vacation with spontaneity starting with an impromptu date with a stranger. He really isn't sure what you look like and it's obvious your handle doesn't have your real name in it, just PrincessPeach with some random numbers at the end. He takes the time to scroll through your profile. Seeing pictures of food, of many sunsets, a friend's dog that guest appears often, your own cat and plenty of strays.

It takes him a while before he sees a photo of you. His heart stutters in his chest as he looks you over. Laughing with a friend, soft lighting from strings over head that blur like little fireflies. Your smile is wide, half hidden by your hands as your eyes seem to smile with you. Sparkling as if they held stars.

For a moment Kirishima forgets how to breathe, it isn't until Diamond jumps down from the armchair does he inhale. He smiles softly to himself before he drops his towel, puts his phone on charge and promptly falls asleep in his bed.

Kirishima rises before the sun even has a chance to filter through his blinds. He sighs softly, getting up to a sitting position disturbing a fluffy white ball that lays beside him.

"Mmrow." Moon stone eyes blink slowly as they look at the mountainous man hogging the bed.

"I didn't mean to wake you sweet baby." He says softly, going to pet the soft white fur only for her to get up stretch and give him her butt before plopping back down.

"I know, mean ol' daddy woke you up too early again." He says softly, his hand falling onto her back before he rises from the bed. Fishing for his running shorts, socks, headphones and shoes. He makes his protein shake, leaning on the counter as he drinks it, looking at how you read, or better yet, listened to his message but still no reply. It was late and there was a small slurring of your words, he figures you've passed out. He just hopes you're okay.

His run goes as usual, up before anyone else unless they were the normal avid runner. Passing by the usual array of people. An old man holding onto his youth by jogging through his daily five mile morning run, Kirishima knows he runs another five in the evening while the sun is setting. He hopes he can embody some of this man's commitment when he is older. Then he passes a middle aged woman, who gives him the biggest smile as she pases, jogging backward to send him a wink before plowing ahead. Occasionally he'll see a running group or a few teens training to be heroes, they always ask if they can run his route. "It's long." He always warns in a kind, warm voice. They assure him they will be fine so far only one other person could handle his 12 mile morning run. A young woman in her second year of hero courses at UA. Since then Kirishima put in a word with his boss and so every time internships roll around she's in the office.

By the time Kirishima is rounding back towards his high rise apartment, the city begins to stir. Slowly waking as men and women in business suits rush towards the train, parents flinging open the doors or curtains fussing at their children who cling to an extra few minutes of sleep before school.

This was always his favorite part of the run, not because it was almost over, oh no it was because he had a chance to glimpse at everyday life. Of nine to fives, of school hours and after school hangs outs at snack bars or the library.

What most would call the mundane but Kirishima would never call it that. It's why he worked so hard to protect it.

Diamond greets his sweaty form at the door. Glaring angrily with her moon stone eyes. Tail swishing before she goes to the kitchen by her bowl. Waiting impatiently.

"I'm not late, sweet cheeks." He coos, and she glares, "I know I know. You're hungry now."

He opens the fridge, gets out the highest quality food there is and places it on her dish, sure to keep it all in the middle or she'll claim her bowl was empty. He added a splash of water too since the weather was starting to get hot.

He sucks down a water or two, demolishes a protein bar and then heads to the apartment gym.

A few hours roll by and without hearing from you yet his worry over your well being begins to cloud the forefront of his mind. He pauses his music, picks up his phone and talks out a voice memo.

A loud DING echoes from your room and around your skull as you rise with a throbbing headache.

"Fuck." You hiss to yourself grabbing at your head as you shakily rise to your feet. Yanking the handle of the faucet to drink from the stream before looking at yourself in the mirror.

"Ugh." You grunt ignoring your swollen face and eyes, yanking the mirror door open to snatch at the bottle of aspirin. Swallowing THREE extra strength pills before slamming the door shut and turning off the faucet. You make your way towards your bedroom, more than ready to sleep the rest of your day away. Grabbing at your phone to charge it you see the push notification of an Instagram message from Red Riot.

The fucking Red Riot.

Internally you scream before it bubbles up your throat and escapes. You fumble to unlock your phone before looking that it's a voice memo.

Mortified you realize you sent one too. And first at that.

"Fuck MEEE!" You plop onto the bed. Nervous this second voice memo is probably about how you're a weirdo or something as you relive the memory of asking him to be your plus one.

Hesitantly your thumb hovers over the play button before you find the strength to press the cool glass. A soft thunderous voice plays out.

"Good morning sleepy head. I haven't heard from you yet, I hope you're okay. Be sure to drink some water and eat something greasy. Trust me, late nights with Denki and Bakugou taught me something. Since the wedding is tomorrow I'll need a picture of your dress for the color and style so I can match you Sweet pea. Contact me soon so I can know where to pick you up."

Did he… did he just call you SWEET PEA? Your heart pounds in your chest before it registers he's asked for your dress color and lowkey asked for your address. This couldn't be real. It sounded like Kirishima, his voice familiar from interviews you've watched but it very well could be a prank. Defeated you hit the small microphone and reply.

Kirishima hears a sharp DING in his headphones over his music as he finishes his set. He wipes the sweat from his face on his shirt giving the few people in the gym a lovely view of his sweaty and thick torso. One woman trips on the treadmill but it goes unnoticed by Kirishima. He pauses his music and hits play on the little memo. Your beautiful yet groggy voice comes in through his ear buds causing Kirishima to bite his lip. It causes such a flutter of butterflies in his stomach he has to listen a second time to actually hear what you said. Although he understand, he cannot help but feel hurt by your reply.

"How do I know you're not just some pervy guy using Kirishima's Godly looks to prey on unsuspecting people."

Your phone chirps at you from the bed stand and you growl reaching for it. You had hoped your message would have been clear. An unspoken of you know they're a fucking creep taking advantage of their PR job.

"What can I do to prove it to you, Sweet Pea?"

You hate how that cute nickname sends your heart into a somersault and your stomach in delightful knots. Still your doubt pulls a harsh tut from your lips before you reply.

Kirishima doesn't need his phone to alert him that you've messaged him, he's been looking at his screen for far to long without having to restart his set. He listens to your voice as if it were music.

"Fine, you wanna prove it to me so bad. Take a picture of yourself shirtless with the word 'Sweet pea' you love so much and send it to me. No photoshop I know what my favorite hero looks like!"

For over an hour you don't hear back and you figure you showed that perv.

But now you can't sleep so you nurse a water, door dash a "greasy" breakfast all before cranking your shower as high as it can go. Your phone dings and you try to ignore it. You really do but as the saying goes curiosity killed the cat. Opening the message you see a classic guy mirror selfie. Kirishima is clear as day in the photo, his large hand pointing to his bare, hairy chest where sweat pea is scrawled in his adorable handwriting. He winks at the camera as his kissable lips wear a dangerous, almost cocky eyes travel down his bulk following his happy trail that dives under a pair of black shorts, the best part of the view getting cut off by the vanity. At first you try to rationalize that this was fake but damning evidence was sitting on the vanity. A fluffy white cat in a diamond and ruby encrusted collar sits on the counter giving her owner an odd look.

His cat Diamond that everyone knows he loves and adores. Slick begins to collect between your thighs and especially so after you listen to the voice memo that comes through shortly after. His normally friendly and soft voice comes out a bit dark, husky as he says in a playfully annoyed tone.

"Now send me a picture of that dress, Sweet Pea."

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #bnha x reader

[thestruidora]

Landslide

The Avengers (MCU) Fanfiction

Rating: Explicit

WARNINGS: This story will contain but it’ll not be limited to explicit 18+ content including Obsessive Behavior, Smut, Shower Sex, Edging, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Fluff, Oral Sex, thigh riding, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Dominance, Submission, Knotting, Scenting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Rutting, Rut Sickness

Category: F/M

Pairings: Steve Rogers/Reader, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov

Summary: Steve was never quite sure if he truly was an alpha. Genetically he should be, coming from a long line of alpha males. But due to the several health conditions in his youth, his poorly functioning body never presented. But now, because of the serum reacting to his true designation, a terrible case of rut sickness takes hold of the super soldier, threatening his life. Being a beta, Natasha can’t offer him what he needs, and since omegas are rarer today then ever, she is forced to hire a foreign girl to tend to Steve during these desperate times.

Author’s notes: Did y'all miss me? Yeah, I'm sure you didn't.

If anyone is interested in getting to know the magical music genre called forró, I chose a couple of classics that I feel like definitively played on the reader's first and only June Party: O Xote das Meninas Xote Dos Milagres Cintura Fina Morena Tropicana

Shout outs: @captainchrisstan, @keenkiddeputynickel, @danidv011, @ballyhoobarnes, @pophbfdsxa, @crashbarbie, @readermia, @musicnowandforever661, @bianaguipa, @deezy-061 Thank you so much for your guy’s support!

For those who missed it: Chapter One >> Language Barrier Chapter Two >> Bilingual Chapter Three >> Miscommunication

Chapter Four

Gibberish

She can still remember the laughter. The giggling that came from the back of her throat as she threw her head back, a smile full of teeth spread through her lips. The exhilaration of being with her friends, dancing her heart out.

It was her favorite time of the year. The sounds of the June Party moving on her feet. The rhythmic vibrations of the music's beat coursing through her. The songs, the speaking, the dancing: all at once ringing in her ears. One of her very first alcoholic drinks running through her veins along with all the spinning making her dizzy.

She was the happiest she’s ever been.

Every year her older cousins would travel to the countryside of Bahia's state, where the June festivities were the most elaborate. Her mom, so controlling, so protective, would never let her go. But on the year of her 14th birthday, she begged a little more strongly, pleaded a little more fervently, and now there she was.

It was so much more than she could ever have imagined. Bigger, louder, an explosion of newness to her senses. A big contrast to her secluded life in the city, because everybody knows that being a woman is hard, but being an Omega is harder.

Her mom was mated only a few hours after presenting, a few hours into her first heat, to a man she barely knew and definitely did not love. But still, she was one of the lucky ones. She could have been robbed, kidnapped and trafficked. Because Omegas are rare and the demand is huge, so presenting as one was as good as a death sentence.

But she was still young, she still got time.

And now, finally outside of her mom's vigilant eyes, with her girlfriends dancing by her side and the pulse of the *forró guiding her body she could allow herself to be carefree.

“Rapaz, que secura!” Lana screamed, complaining about the heat.

“É, tá um calor desgraçado.” Gabriela agreed, fanning herself with her hands, droplets of sweat trickling down her forehead and into her exposed cleavage.

Y/N simply laughed at her friends, they were a couple years older than her, but not necessarily more mature. Of course it was hot, they’ve been dancing for a long time, and even in the open space with the night air hanging over them, the place was so crowded that they would barely move while trying to get to the open bar.

She watched as the girls got their beverages, gobbling them down as if they were the first drinks they had in ages. But suddenly, the permanent smile that had been plastered on her face throughout the night died, something curious shifting inside of her. It was a unique feeling, one she never experienced before. It had started as a tightness in her lower abdomen, but it was growing into a sharp pain.

“Você tá bem?” Lana asked if she was ok, noticing the grimace in her features.

She tried to shake her head yes, but it came out the exact opposite as she doubled down on herself, her hands pressing on her stomach as she frowned, the pain becoming unbearable. Were these cramps? Was she about to get her period in the middle of this party?

But no, it wasn’t that. Somehow in the back of her mind, she knew this was different. She had begun to sweat, but not from the crowd or the dancing, there was this intense hotness forming within her.

She noticed a couple of men standing on the edges of the party space, in the shadows, almost camouflaged. Their eyes were predatory, fixated on her, they shined with a sinister glow, reflecting the flickering red light of the bonfire. Her friends called to her, guiding her to walk across to one of the tables, helping her sit down. When she looked again, the men were gone. Was she going mad?

“A gente vai ver se encontra Ibuprofeno, fica aí.” Gabriela said this time, or was it Lana again? They left, said something about looking for painkillers, she wasn’t paying attention, the pain was too much and so were the smells. All of the sudden, she felt like she could smell every single thing and every single one in the whole place.

She could smell the perfume, and the liquor, the sweet and the savory foods, altogether but also individually, it was overwhelming. She could smell the people, not their body wash or their shampoo, but their true scents. Some were warm and some were cold, some too strong and others too bland. And then there were two that were getting closer, too close, and these stung in her nostrils. Her vision had gone blurry and she couldn’t tell much of what was happening around her at that point, but she knew she wasn’t alone.

Shaking from the pain, shivering even though she was burning up, she looked up just fast enough to get a look at the two men from before, standing right behind her. One of them covered her eyes with his hand and the other covered her mouth. A muffled scream and a couple of weak punches were all she could do before they pulled her up from her chair, completely immobilizing her.

She trashed and struggled about, but to no avail. They were big and strong and she was small and frail.

“Shhh, Omega.” One of them whispered in her ear, and as if under a spell, she did just what was asked of her, her free will hushed. Something about his voice, and their touch, turned the pang in between her legs into a tingle.

And that’s when she knew: she had presented and this was her first heat.

They dragged her pliable body into the woods of the rural countryside, the sway of the forró getting left behind, her mother’s voice playing on a loop inside her head, “Be careful”, she always said.

Everything went dark, she could only make out flashes of information. The roughness of their hands and the graveness of their voices as they spoke to each other, laughing to themselves about how much she was worth, the way they sniffed at her neck, exhaling with satisfaction.

At some point, the grass of the forest turned into asphalt underneath her feet, and she was blindfolded and tied up, her lips taped as she was thrown into the back of a car. She could only whimper, her heat burning inside of her.

Shifting in and out of conciseness, she couldn’t tell how long had passed, couldn’t differentiate hours from days anymore. From time to time she would feel the prick of a needle going into her arm, and then it was all darkness again. She remembered being cold, shivering about as more rough hands grabbed at her. Were these the same ones from before or no? Had Lana or Gabriela reported her missing? Was anyone coming for her?

Eventually, it all stopped.

There was a cushiony softness below her, a thin sheet of fabric above her. When Y/N carefully tried to open her eyes, for the first time in what seemed like forever, she was greeted by light. Not the warm sunshine that often peeked through the windows of her bedroom in the mornings, but a cold, harsh light that came from a singular light bulb attached to the ceiling.

No longer tied or muzzled, she slowed sat up in the single bed, looking around. There was nothing covering her figure but the bedding, not even underwear. She found herself in a tiny room: four concrete white walls, a small barred window and a closed door.

Her heat was over, she could feel it, no more fire burning in her loins. She disentangled herself from the bed sheet, getting up too quickly, ignoring her nakedness and the dizziness, heading straight for the door. It was locked, of course.

Finally feeling sober enough to allow the rage to bubble up inside, she began to furiously bang on the door with clenched fists, kicking it, screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Hey!” A male voice boomed just outside, appearing suddenly, as if he was already waiting right there. “Yapma!” He hit the metal of the door, hard, making it shake slightly.

She retreated, startled, analyzing the situation. She had no idea what he had said, but gathering from the brutality with which it was uttered, it couldn't have been good. She didn't even know where she'd been taken, but she had an idea why.

More male voices were spoken on the other side of the wall, in that language she did not know. Something electronic beeped, then it let out a subtle ping sound, and just like that the door was sprung open. Two men walked in, the first thing she noticed was the gun one of them was carrying, while the other came in with a paper file in his hands. She backed away into the corner of the room, trying to cover her exposed chest and genitals with her hands, their big Alpha bodies taking over the space, making her feel even more intimidated.

“Nasıl hissediyorsun?” The one with the file said to her, his words sounding like a reserved recording to her brain. He was older, maybe in his late forties, greying hair at the top of his head, a light blue suit framing his ample shoulders.

When she didn’t answer, simply stood there against the wall, trying to control her labored breathing and the sheer fear that had taken over her body, causing even her inner organs to shake, he gave her a once over, opening the file and scanning through whatever was written there.

“Brazil, huh?” He arched one of his brows. “Can you understand me now?” He asked her, deliberately enunciating every word.

Y/N swallowed the sigh that was trying to leave her lips, staring at the gun, wide-eyed.

“Dumb bitch.” The man in the suit murmured to himself, snapping a finger in her face, getting her attention. “You’ve been on sedatives for a long time, little one. How are you feeling?” He said it as slow as he could, as if speaking to an animal. “Do you got a tummy-ache or a headache?” He rubbed his belly while saying ‘tummy’ and touched his temples while saying ‘head’.

She only frowned at him, a crease forming in between her eyebrows. He scoffed, leaning forward, letting his light-colored eyes roam over the valley of her breasts.

“Or maybe you’re just cranky cause you didn’t get no Alpha dick inside that tight little pussy yet.” Before he could finish his words, she was already propelling the whole weight of her body into her closed fist as she punched him in the face, fear turning into fury.

“Oh!” He growled, covering his bleeding nose, quickly walking away from her, face contorted in pain. “Shoot her!” He yelled at the other man, who promptly pointed his gun at her.

“Não!” She shouted out, closing her eyes and attempting to protect her face with her hands. A blunt sound echoed in the room and she felt something sharp go into her leg. Before she had enough time to come to the conclusion that it was tranquilizer dart, her eyes rolled back into their sockets and blackness welcomed her once again.

*

Five years had passed with her locked in that place, slowly forgetting where her mom’s face wrinkled the most when she was angry, or the exact shade of her eyes, the particular timbre of her voice. Y/N was slowly going mad, losing all hope of ever being rescued by the hero that always came to her in her dreams.

She was fourteen when she was taken, highly prized for her young age and virginity. They tried to sell her to the highest bidder many times, but she fought like an Alpha. Biting, roaring at anyone that came too close. Some of the men even began to doubt she was a real Omega, but ever so often her heat came and it reminded them. Emir, the big boss of the operation, sometimes would come to her doorstep during those times, tap at door and use his Alpha voice, laughing when she had to bit her own lips to control the moans his presence was causing.

But in the end, she wasn’t genetically compatible with anyone, and even those that wanted her for her fierceness were disappointed to find that her DNA did not match with theirs. A part of her was happy she had never been sold and probably never would be, just for the simple satisfaction of knowing that her body wouldn’t give those men any profit.

So there she stayed, locked up, imprisoned, hearing the sounds of the other girls crying in their rooms while she got on her tiptoes, trying to catch glimpses of the outside world through her only window, waiting.

It had been a while since she last saw Emir when the door made it’s telltale beep and was opened by him, but this time, he wasn’t alone.

“Hello there, my Latin beauty.” He smiled an evil smile at her, but she didn’t pay it any mind, focused on the redhead woman that was beside him, looking at Y/N with sorrow in her eyes. “See, Widow? I told you my girls are gorgeous, look at her.”

The woman let a displeased noise at his words, coming closer to Y/N, who gave her a distrustful look.

“Hi, I’m Natasha. What’s your name?”

“It’s Y/N.” Emir answered for her.“Oh, and she doesn’t talk.”

“Excuse me, what do you mean?”Natasha turned to him, her short red locks moving with her.“She’s mute?”

“Nah, she just doesn’t know any English.”

“Oh.” She gave the girl one more pitiful stare, but Y/N felt like she was looking right through her.

*

Leaving the facility was like a dream and a nightmare all at the same time. While finally being free was wonderful, Y/N knew that such freedom would come at a cost. The woman, Natasha Romanoff, wasn’t the best at Portuguese, but knew enough of it in order for them to communicate.

Y/N didn’t say much when they gave her a suitcase full of brand-new clothes and guided her out of that God-forsaken place. She didn’t say a word when a dark-haired man tried to take the suitcase from her hands, Natasha said his name was James and that he was only trying to be chivalrous, something about the 1940’s that she didn’t quite understand.

She remained quiet as Natasha tried her best to explain to her that a man’s life was at stake, that Captain America was dying of a terrible rut sickness, and that he was compatible with her and her alone. That yes, she had been bought like cattle, but it was for noble reasons, because Steve Rogers was an honorable man, a hero and his destiny was in her hands.

She kept all of her thoughts to herself as Natasha pulled up a ‘Rut Companion’ contract, stipulating that once Y/N had served her purpose and Mr. Rogers was out of danger and well, she would receive a large sum of money and could walk away from all of this, go anywhere she wanted and do whatever she pleased. Even after signing it, she resigned herself to silence.

And of course, she didn’t say anything when they boarded a jet to the United States, not even a word about the fact that she was actually fluent in English.

Please feel more than welcome to request your name to be tagged and do check out my Patreon to get your own custom made story!

#STEVE ROGERS IMAGINE #STEVE ROGERS FANFICTION #CAPTAIN AMERICA IMAGINE #MCU IMAGINE #MCU FANFICTION #CAPTAIN AMERICA FANFICTION #IMAGINE ABO #STEVE ROGERS ABO #STEVE ROGERS ALPHA #READER OMEGA #STEVE ROGERS X READER #CAPTAIN AMERICA X READER #ALPHA BETA OMEGA #STEVE ROGERS SMUT #CAPTAIN AMERICA SMUT #CHRIS EVANS #MCUFAM #AVENGERS ENDGAME #AVENGERS IMAGINE #AVENGERS FANFICTION #landslide chapter 4

[theonewiththefanfics]

Best Friends My Ass (one-shot)

Synopsis: Being in love with your best friend whom you’ve had since childhood can be tough. Being in love and being dumb can make it tougher. Meet the Reader and Harry. They’re the latter. And everyone’s fed up.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, maybe little bit of angst, tiny bit smutty, but not a lot

Warnings: swearing, two idiots pining for one another

Word count: 7524

Even when Harry was little, he’d known he’d have an odd path in life. Just because it was odd, didn’t mean it’d be bad, but it would make him absolutely stand out in the crowd.        When Y/N was young she didn’t see herself having any extraordinary adventures. Sure, she’d travel and explore the world with its secrets, but she didn’t have any plans to draw the attention of the masses. That was until Harry’d come into her life.        They were both young, still kids in that tender age where childhood crossed into teenage years, when they met. For Harry, it was like one of those scenes in the movies where the pretty girl walks into a room and a billion fans make her hair look like the wind is sweeping through it, and her eyes glisten like gemstones. Also known as the 'love at first sight' scene.        For Y/N, it was hard to keep her breakfast down as she walked inside the classroom, twenty pairs of scrutinous eyes on her, trying to figure out if the new girl was a predator or prey.        Luckily for Y/N, the biology teacher wasn’t a total witch and didn’t make her present herself to the class, and just pointed to the free seat next to a curly-haired boy. Luckily for Harry, that free seat was right next to him.        With a sigh, she dropped her heavy backpack beside the chair, giving the boy a shy glance, and was surprised to see a genuine and large grin right back at her. It wasn’t the kind people gave when they had bad thoughts. It was the kind people gave when they were truly excited and wanted to give a good impression. Y/N’s chest grew warm at the thought she might actually make a friend that day. And she did.        “I’m Harry.” He extended his hand for her to take, the grin never leaving his face.        She gave him a big, relieved smile. “I’m Y/N.”        Ever since then they were not only lab partners in classes they shared (which was biology, physics and math), but also in mischief. Together they managed to enrage Anne, annoy Gemma and absolutely horrify Y/M/N, and whenever one went down, the other made sure to go down as well.        So when a few years down the line, Harry had told Y/N about his idea to audition for X-factor she wasn’t surprised one bit.        “I mean, as long as you don’t trip and break your nose on stage, you’ll be fine.”        For that, she received a slap on her arm from him.        “I’m just saying!” Y/N defended herself. “You’re great at singing, Mrs Aberdeen certainly thinks so, you don’t have two complete left feet, and you’re alright to look at.”        That for the first time since the decision and application had been submitted, made Harry smile. He loved how easily Y/N was able to lighten the mood, to take his thoughts away from the bad, and just erase them with her wit and smile.

       “Besides.” She nudged his shoulder with hers and then intertwined their fingers. “I, Gem and our Mums will be right there for you. Won’t even blink until the end of the performance.”        With how her insides trembled in excitement and fear for her best friend, it truly seemed to Y/N she hadn’t blinked at all on that fateful day. Her breath hitched when the judges were talking. She couldn’t even remember what they said, all of it turning into white noise.        And then he got through, and Y/N screamed so much she was sure she’d blown out Anne’s eardrums, and had hugged Harry so tightly she was afraid she’d broken a rib. But with his victory also came a fear, because, for the first time in Y/N’s life, she was terrified as to where she’d stand in Harry’s. Since day one it’d been secure, but now, with the newfound fame of X-factor and who knows what kind of an amazing future, she didn’t know if he’d throw her to the curb, simply forget about the mundane friend from high school or maybe use her for something.        But it wasn’t like that. Not one bit. After insane hours of rehearsals, Y/N was one of the three people he always called. It was her, his Mum and Gem. Always. And he loved to listen to her speaking of what was happening at school, how the lessons were, which teacher turned out to be hooking up with which. As much as Harry knew he was made for the extraordinary, he loved the ordinary Y/N brought in his life. She was his safe harbour. But what he never agreed with were her own thoughts she was meant for a simple life, so he took it upon himself to bring a little bit of eccentricity in hers, as he explained how he’d gotten united into a band with four other boys, now going by ‘One Direction’, and it was his mission to join his newfound friends with the most important friend he'd had.        “This is Y/N,” Harry introduced her to the guys after one of their late-night practices, one where they weren’t being filmed. “If you do anything that even mildly upsets her, I’ll kill you in your sleep.”        The slap against his arm made him let out an ‘Ow!’ while the rest of the boys laughed and welcomed her with open arms.        In a weird way, Y/N became part of the band. She didn’t sing or play any instruments, but she was always around, gave her input on songs and setlists. That kind of closeness made all of the fears and doubts about losing a place in Harry’s life disappear. She was his personal hype-man while at the same time knocked him down a few pegs whenever the fame started to get to his head.        She was there for his highs and lows, for the break-ups and break-off in the band, and watched as he ventured into a solo career as much as she could with school and all, but when summer break rolled around it was like Harry couldn't get rid of her even if he tried. Not that he wanted. Sharing the success and happiness with his best friend was one of the biggest rewards he could have.        And Y/N would never admit it because it’d boost Harry’s already elephant-like ego, at least that’s what she said, but she kind of liked the attention she received because of him, especially because most of it was pleasant.        Had she been terrified that being known as Harry Styles best friend would make people think she was just a gold-digger, seeking fame and leeching it off from him? Yes. And there were people like that. But ninety-five percent of what people said on her social media accounts was actually nice, some even said ‘thank you’ that there was a person like her in Harry’s life to keep things real, and most importantly – cared about him through it all.        Harry also saw those comments; he loved to read about how people saw just how much Y/N cared, and it kind of stirred something in him. He didn’t know when exactly, but it was around the age of twenty-four for him and twenty-three for Y/N when he started looking at his friend in a different light. And it bloody terrified him. He didn’t know if she felt the same, and the thought of putting his heart on the line like that only for the possibility of it being crushed was the scariest thing ever.        He did, however, have an inclination as to what incident had prompted them to surface. The feelings that were. It was a night after a party. Y/N was on winter break from her master’s at uni, which meant he used every opportunity to spend time with her.        The hangover was real, I mean it’s what you got by mixing vodka, tequila and beer into an empty Sprite bottle and chugging it. Harry stumbled over sleeping bodies on his way to the kitchen in search for some leftover pizza he was sure he and Y/N in their drunkenness had ordered, as well as to make two cups of black coffee. He knew she hated the taste, but cold junk food and bitter coffee always did the trick with her. That was when he’d found her.        Although he’d woken up in Y/N’s room, she hadn’t been next to him. Instead, as it turned out, she’d gone on a food search sometime before him and had passed out on the couch, a Cookie Monster onesie on her body, but most importantly his signature pearls around her neck. And one of her hands even rested against her collarbone, as if scared someone would take them away from her.        That’d been the first time his heart had flipped in his chest at the sight of her, but most definitely not the last.        He did however keep this change in his emotions to himself. He wasn’t really sure what it was, so it would be unfair to dump that on Y/N and have her figure it out for him because he didn’t know where she stood on her own, let alone do the work for him.        Luckily, despite the tornado of feelings, their friendship didn’t falter, and when his Vogue cover came out, he was incredibly nervous for people to see it, but especially for those who mattered the most to him, like his Mum, sister and Y/N. Especially Y/N, for her opinion had become the most important one outside his blood relatives. After all, all his thoughts went to – if we dated, would she be as proud of me as she was of me as a friend?        Her support meant the most because he was away in the middle of filming; he had no way of getting physical comfort, so all of the messages, calls, social media posts and FaceTimes was the world to him, especially when Y/N sent a picture of herself with three copies of the magazine, two beside her head as she laid on her bed and one clutched to her chest, which she also posted on Instagram with the caption ‘Can’t hug you for real right now, so this will have to do. When I do get to you @harrystyles, I’ll crush your ribs with my love. And that is a threat.’        Then the comments came in from the rest, and one stood out more than the others.        Bring Back Manly Men.        At first, he felt odd about it. It didn’t really bother him, but at the same time, it made him sad. He knew that he was seen as somewhat of a controversial figure, as he painted nails, wore frilly blouses and now full-on dresses, which were all typically categorized as feminine things, but he never understood why a nail colour or the shape of a shirt suddenly became exclusively for just one gender. Which is why he was so grateful to have Y/N in his life.        “I mean, anatomically speaking, men should be wearing dresses and women trousers. It’s you who have all the dangly bits,” she said through a bite of food. “The Scots have been onto it since the beginning.”        Harry threw his head back in a laugh, shifting an arm behind his head. “So I assume your favourite pic is the one in the kilt?”        “Well, it did remind me of that awful punk phase I had back in school with all those safety pins, only in a more tasteful way, but no. My favourite one is you in that brown, grey off-shoulder jacket thing.”        “Why?”        Y/N wiggled her brows at him. “Shows enough of your cleavage but leaves enough for imagination.”        “Of fucking course.” Harry snorted, shaking his head. “Objectifying much?”        “What? I’m not going to deny that my best friend is a sexy beast.”        He wouldn’t say it out loud, but when she called him her friend, it made his heart clench in a painful way. Harry had been trying to be a bit flirtier around her, but given his open nature as it was, Y/N hadn’t seemed to notice it, nor had she seemed to notice how he looked at her while she was frowning at her computer screen.        Harry’d had relationships with some women who could be considered the most beautiful in the world, but if he’d had to say, in his opinion, who’d receive that title, it’d be Y/N. The way she snorted when she laughed too hard, the way small crow lines had already appeared next to her eyes from how much she smiled and the way her forehead creased when she was concentrating. It enthralled him to no end. He could read her life’s story on her face, how she’d lived and thought and experienced, unlike so many people he met who couldn’t move a muscle.        Though the reason she was so concentrated in that moment was because thousands of people had tagged her in a tweet of a woman, she’d heard of for the first time in her life (because Harry had been trying to keep that one off her radar), and what she saw made all the blood boil in her body more than any other hate comment had.        Without hesitation, Y/N atted her and tweeted “Bring back manly men. Please! Millions of people would let him raw them WHILE WEARING THE DRESS. I mean you tried, so I’ll give you the gold star you so desperately want, but that was pathetic.”        At that same moment, a notification popped up on the screen of Harry’s phone. He only had notifications on for one person, and when he saw what was written, he gasped, looking at Y/N. “You did not just do that!”        “What?” Y/N shrugged biting down on the chocolate bar she’d been savouring for the last half hour of their conversation. “I just said what everyone was thinking. Besides what the fuck does ‘bring back manly men’ even mean? Go chop some wood? Fight a bear in the Siberian woods? Have your ‘friends’ stab you to death at a political meeting?”        “You’re a menace.”        Y/N winked popping the last bit of the chocolate in her mouth. “Only to those who dare go for the people I love.”        His heart fluttered at the last word, but all he could do was mask it with a large grin and shake of his head.        For another hour they spent talking, Y/N kept hyping Harry up, tried to get as many plot details of the movie he was filming, while he avoided as many spoilers as possible and attempted to steer the conversation somewhere else, but when that happened, Y/N jumped onto his music, which he had told her all about. In fact, there wasn’t a music video made without her approval, and neither would his next one be. “You’ll fly out to see me film for ‘Treat People With Kindness’, right?”        Y/N sighed, giving him a sad smile. She hated disappointing Harry. “I’d love to. But you know with everything going on, I don’t think I’ll be able to.”        “Phoebe Waller-Bridge will be in it.”        She gasped, in real excitement. “Well, why didn’t you say so from the start?!”        “So that’s what this friendship has come to. I’m just your gateway to celebrities?”        “Harry you’ve always been just my gateway to the people living in LaLa Land.” But she let out a small breath much like she’d done before. “I really do want to come, Harry. You know that; I miss you like crazy. But Phoebe or no Phoebe, I don’t think I can.”        Harry bit his lip nodding, but he still needed to try one more time. “Is there anything I can say or do to get you here?”        “Get me a private jet and a quarantine mansion?”        “Deal.”        “Woah! Wait!” Y/N pretty much jumped up from her position in bed. “That was a joke! Harry Edward Styles, I swear to God, if you try an –“        But with a giant grin, he just blew Y/N a kiss and ended the call.        She was quite terrified if she was being honest, that Harry would do what she’d asked. He already had once. It'd been around Christmas time while she was still in First Year at uni, and she’d seen a glistening necklace at a jewellery store display. She hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even uttered a word, but just seeing the sparkle in Y/N’s eyes, was enough for Harry to make the decision and gift it for her.        When the next day, around five AM her time, she got a call from Harry’s manager Jeff, she was ready to rip both of them a new one, an e-mail with a plane ticket popping up in her inbox.        “I swear I’ll poison your drinks when I see you,” she’d grumbled, but couldn’t hide the excitement as she threw everything she could in the suitcase. “And no one will find your bodies, mark my words, Azoff.”        He snorted. “Yeah, tell that to the FBI agent listening in on this call.”        “Fuck. Gave myself away,” she said softly, giggling right after.        “You know he’s stoked beyond belief.” Jeff piped up. “He literally jumped out of the bed this morning, and during the dance rehearsals he didn’t miss a step.”        That made Y/N’s heart warm. “Well, you can tell him to curb it a bit. Otherwise, I’ll just stay at the fucking mansion – which, by the way, it was a joke, Jeff! I’m pissed enough he’s spending money on me as it is, let alone such a chunk on the plane, you didn't have to get me an actual mansion.”        “You know, for you, he’d give away all of it.”        “Yes, well, he might need it for his funeral, if he keeps spending it on me and on shit like this.”        The man shook his head but didn’t say anything else. He wasn’t the only one trying to drop hints to Y/N that Harry felt something more, but he’d leave it to the man himself. He didn’t need to possibly ruin everything, and have her decide not to come. His client was nightmare enough without her around, because Harry was like day and night when Y/N finally arrived on set for ‘Treat People With Kindness’.        To say he enveloped her in a hug would be an understatement as he didn’t let go of her for ten solid minutes, having grabbed her by the underside of the thighs and sat down on the ground just so he could prolong the feeling of being with Y/N.        The fact that she’d actually gone for it and hadn’t scolded Harry too much for spending that insane amount of money, for having brought a small piece of home to LA with herself where they were filming, made him now fully acknowledge the true extent of his feelings, especially as she didn’t pull away from their embrace, rather hid her face in the crook of his neck.        I mean, in the end, he did have to let her go because everyone had to get back to shooting, but not before Y/N had stripped the meticulous jacket from him, and went to have a glance at herself in the large mirror, one of the costume designers playing along and adjusting the clothing on her body, as if she was going to be the one performing.        Harry felt someone slide up to him and he looked over to his left, a smiling Phoebe standing there. She nudged his shoulder with hers. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”        He nodded, looking back over to where Y/N was still looking at herself in the mirror, wearing the heavy jacket as if it was nothing like it was made for her. “I’m a cliché, I know. But I can’t help it.”        “Of course, you can.” She squeezed his side. “All you gotta do is tell her.”        But it wasn’t that easy. Comparatively, getting Y/N to appear in the video was easier than coming to terms with the fact, all they’d ever remain would be friends if he didn’t do anything.        Yet the shoot for the video ended as quickly as it had started, and Y/N needed to fly back to the UK to defend her PhD paper, and Harry had to go back to filming ‘Don’t Worry Darling’, thousands of miles stretching between them once more. And Harry was a romantic, he couldn’t confess over FaceTime. Besides, he wanted to make it a special evening for her, plan something out, rather than risk a shitty connection cutting him off mid-word.        He hated it though. It’d been almost four years since Harry had realised his feelings had developed from just friendly into romantic, and still, he hadn’t said anything. Even the people who’d never met Y/N in person like Florence Pugh saw what was going on.        But unlike the cast and crew of ‘Treat People With Kindness’ who had to deal with his pining for maybe a couple of weeks, it’d been almost half a year for her at that point. Did she just want to call Y/N and tell her how Harry felt? Sure. She’d had enough of him coming into her trailer only to fall down onto her pillow and whine. But it wasn’t her place. So instead, she was going to figure out a way to get Y/N to the set and make him tell her himself.        Getting Harry’s phone away from him should’ve been the inspiration to the next ‘Mission Impossible’ script though, because it took her literally a whole day to fish it out from his coat's pocket, and she only had about ten seconds to find Y/N’s number (which wasn’t that hard given how it was the number with literally hundreds of calls next to it) and put it in her own phone.        Once their filming was done for the day, Florence rebutted Harry’s invitation to a movie night, saying a massive headache was coming on, so he wished her a good night and with slumped shoulders went to sulk on his own. Which is why she practically sprinted to her own trailer to finally call Y/N        An unsure ‘hello?’ greeted her ears before she responded. “Hey, this is Florence… Pugh.”        That stunned Y/N into silence for a few seconds before she spluttered out a greeting and said ‘hi’ as well. “Not to be rude, but how did you get my number?”        “Stole it from Harry’s phone. Look, he’s miserable. Keeps moping around, and I can’t take it anymore. Last night I found him crying in his pillow with your shirt over it.”        “What? Why?”        “Because it didn’t smell like you anymore.”        Y/N’s heart broke. “Why didn’t he tell me anything? We just talked, and he said he was fine. God, that man is so dumb sometimes.”        “Is there any way you could find a way to get here?” Florence asked biting down her lip.        She heard Y/N sigh at the other end of the line. “I’ll – I’ll try and figure something out. Have to know what’s going on at work, I mean it has been like two months since the video, so maybe…” She was more so talking to herself, but then remembered about Florence. “Listen, can I give you a message when I find out if my boss will let me?”        “Of course!” The actress was excited about the possibility of Y/N getting here, as long as it got Harry out of his depressive mood.        “Oh, and I’ll need to know what kind of restrictions are on set. I’ll figure something out with flights and quarantine, but I have zero clue as to what’s it like where you’re filming.”        Florence waved her off, even though she couldn’t see the motion. “Leave that to me. Just get your ass over here before the guy cries himself dry.”        It was a struggle though on all three ends – Harry was still moping, because not only had Y/N’s shirt lost its smell of her, but homesickness was hitting full force, Florence was getting more and more desperate as she attempted to take his mind off of things, but nothing seemed to work, and Y/N was trying to get on any possible flight to Harry while arranging two tests and an AirBnB she could self-isolate in for two weeks while attempting to set up her work from afar at the same time.        Two days after Florence’s call, Y/N sent her a message ‘Flying in tomorrow at 4 AM. Don’t tell Harry. He’ll feel even shittier cause I have to stay alone in quarantine. First test came back negative.”        She sighed in relief at the message and immediately texted back ‘i’ve got you a set pass ready, just need a picture. selfie will do. also, masks are mandatory on the lot, so bring those.’        Immediately Y/N sent a thumbs up, and a picture of herself she didn’t absolutely despise to be used on the ID card. All that was left was to pack. And spend two weeks in an attempt of not going crazy with anticipation before seeing Harry.        Those two weeks turned out to be worse than the two months between the music video shoot and going to the filming lot. Because throughout then, Y/N knew her only access to him would be through FaceTime, but to be about twenty minutes away from the man without the ability to touch him was pure torture, but at least Harry seemed completely oblivious to the change in her surroundings.        As they still continued on with their calls, not once did he mention her background, or how the paintings suddenly had managed to switch positions or the fact that Y/N didn’t even own paintings. She was sure she could’ve been missing an arm, and he wouldn’t have mentioned it with how tired he looked.        “Have you even slept, Har?”        “Not really,” he groaned, getting more comfortable in his bed. “We’ve had a bunch of early shoots and then late nights, ‘cause we need to get the continuity for the scenes, and then the day’s full of Zoom calls, and well, I can’t not call you.”        Y/N scoffed, scolding him. “You know damn well I won’t be offended if we sacrifice a couple of calls for you to get some proper sleep.”        “I know, but I will.”        Y/N sighed, knowing in a way it was her fault. She could tell him she no longer was hours of time zones away, but rather watched the same sunset and sunrise as him, but she also knew Harry, and he would be unable to stay away from her until her quarantine was over.        She was quite happy she’d sat through the fourteen mandatory days, because when she got on set, even though Harry was usually good at keeping his composure during a scene, despite the mask, he’d recognise Y/N anywhere, and all of the lines flew out of his head.        “Jack?” Florence’s hand came to cup Harry’s cheek, trying to bring him back on track. “You alright?”        But he didn’t even care about improvising to get out of the flub as his lips were split apart by a grin, and he dashed away, a loud ‘CUT!’ ringing throughout the set, but Harry already had Y/N in his arms, spinning the girl around.        “Best friends my ass,” Florence murmured as she went to the two.        Harry was speechless, Y/N’s face in between his hands as he looked her up and down. “How are you here? What? Why?”        “Thank Florence.” Y/N gave an attempt at motioning to the actress with her head. She set the whole thing up.”        Harry’s head whipped to his scene partner. “You knew Y/N was here for two weeks and told me nothing?”        “Your brain short-circuited when you saw her! You wouldn’t be of no use on set at all if I had.”        Harry scoffed, throwing an arm over Y/N’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s get away from this meanie.” But as he walked away, he looked over his shoulder and mouthed a grateful ‘thank you’ to her.        All Florence could hope for was that he’d get it together and confess, but it didn’t seem like he was in any sort of a rush. Y/N was set to be there for three weeks, but the thought of the woman leaving without knowing how Harry felt, leaving him in a sea of his own heartache, made her miserable, especially after a night they’d all spent together.        Harry really wanted Y/N to get to know the people he worked with so he invited the ones closest to him for a movie night, during which he himself had been the first one to actually fall asleep, of course.        For most of it, as ‘Westworld’ ran on in the background, he spent curled up in Y/N’s lap, his head resting against her chest with her fingers weaving through the shortened locks. She had to get used to the length, motion automatically wanting to go on longer than it was possible to. Soon enough, the soothing motions lulled her to sleep as well, their bodies leaning into one another and perfectly fitting together.        As tired as Florence was of seeing Harry, a person who’d become her friend now pine for someone so hard, it was absolutely heart-melting to watch the two interact. Everyone could see Y/N had the same feelings as Harry did for her, only she hid them a bit better. A little, but not by a lot.        No friends acted the way those two did around one another. Sure, people could be touchy, but not like that, not with such intimacy behind the motions. She felt like she was being a little creepy as she pulled out her phone to take a picture, but it was too cute not to.        A loud noise from somewhere outside set made Y/N shoot up straight, and Florence held her breath as she clutched onto her phone, having swiped it accidentally into video mode and filming the whole thing.        “No,” Harry whined, a hand reaching up for Y/N and grabbing at her elbow. “Come back. ‘S too early.”        She just nodded, grumbling something unintelligible but possibly along the lines of ‘don’t make me throw hands’ before laying down and snuggling into Harry’s chest.        Florence let out a large sigh of relief and decided to get some sleep as well before their annoying four AM alarm woke them up for set.        This time it was the other way around, as Y/N whined for Harry to ‘come back and keep her warm’.        Florence watched as Harry slipped out of Y/N’s grasp, but not before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead and a whispered a promise to ‘see her when the Sun’s up’. The second the trailer door was closed, she slapped his shoulder, and Harry gasped in shock. “What'dya do that for?”        “Stop that! Stop that stupid dance!” She stomped her foot on the ground. “I’m sick and tired of watching you watch her with that dumb longing expression on your face. I can’t take it anymore. Why do you think I went through all that trouble to get her here?”        “I told you I would!”        She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look, I know it’s not my place or anything, but she does like you. A lot.”        Harry threw her an uncertain gaze. “And how do you know?”        “Because that woman spent two weeks in self-isolation just to see you! She’s gone through how many of those awful Covid tests just to go and visit you! She’s dropped everything for you, has supported you through so much, and never fails to boost you up.”        “That’s what friends do.”        “No.” Florence shook her head. “That kind of loyalty… that’s what people in love give. I haven’t talked to my best friend in like a month. What’s the longest you’ve gone without speaking to Y/N?”        And with that question, she left Harry to ponder not only his feelings but the girl’s he was in love with as well. Because if he had to be honest, the reason he’d been dragging everything out, the reason he’d stayed pining for Y/N for years on end was that he tried to write everything she did off as something a childhood best friend would do.        The truth was more terrifying than anything because once that came to light, it’d change everything, and Harry didn’t know if he was ready. He wanted it, desperately so if it meant Y/N becoming someone he could love freely and openly, but not if by the end of it, she'd disappear from his life, leaving a hole the size of his heart in his chest.        His thoughts were cut short as someone knocked on the ‘Hair&Make-up’ door, and an assistant let in a pouting Y/N. Well, he couldn’t’ see the pout behind the mask, but he definitely knew it was there, making a smile come on his own face.        She plopped down in an empty sofa and crossed her arms. “I was cold.”        Harry snorted, wanting to shake his head, but didn't as to not ruin the hair stylist’s work. “You’re always cold.”        “And you’re a living furnace.”        “ ‘S that why you like cuddling? Leeching off my warmth?”        The same assistant who’d let Y/N in handed her a cup of coffee, which she was ready to kiss the woman for, but opted for a ‘thank you’. “We’ve established I only use you to get to other celebs. What makes you think I wouldn’t use you for those sort of things.”        For a moment, the trailer settled into silence, as Y/N enjoyed her morning coffee while the crew kept doing their own work.        “It’s so weird,” Y/N piped up, eyes racking up and down Harry’s body. “Don’t even wanna really look at you like that.”        He let out a mock gasp of hurt. “What d’ya mean? Am I suddenly repulsive to you?”        “No!” she let out a laugh. “It’s just odd seeing you without the tattoos. They’re such a huge part of you, even the dumb ones. Can’t really imagine you any differently.”        “Would you love me any differently without them?” The question was bold, even though he knew she did love him, he had to start making moves.        “No,” Y/N shook her head. “I don’t think so. I believe I’d be a different person then as well, but I’d love you all the same. As long as you’d do the same with me.”        Harry nodded looking down at his hands then back up at her, catching her eyes through the reflection in the mirror. “Don’t think there’s a dimension out there where I don’t love you.”        “I mean that is a bold statement,” Y/N said, sipping on the remnants of her coffee. “What if I’m like a weird, cat-skinning psychopath in one dimension? Would you love me even then?”        “Jesus Christ, Y/L/N, do you just normally come up with those gruesome scenarios or is it a hobby?”        She wiggled her eyebrows, standing up and throwing away the paper cup. “There’s a reason I have a VPN and clean my search history. I’ll see you in your trailer?”        “Yeah.” Harry nodded and smiled. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”        The next half-hour he kept hyping himself up, about how he was actually going to do it, but Florence intercepted him right as he was turning down the way his trailer stood. “How are you gonna do it?”        “I – “ Harry huffed and placed his hands on his hips. “In the beginning, I had like a whole romantic outing planned, but… I’ve dragged this on long enough, so I think I’ll just tell her.”        “Okay, good.” Florence nodded and slapped his shoulder in approval. “And if I don’t hear that trailer rocking, I will throw you in a ditch.”        Harry’s eyes widened at the statement, fully knowing she meant her words, but she was already half-way down the track, blond hair swishing behind her back.        It was then or never.        Slowly he opened his own trailer door as if it was Y/N’s place not his, but by the looks of how she’d sprawled out on his bed, she had made herself right at home. Just like she’d done it on the first day of school, but just with his heart.        “Hey!” She smiled looking at him. “You ready to film?”        “Yeah, but umm… I kind of wanted to talk to you beforehand.”        Y/N’s brows furrowed at Harry’s serious tone, so she sat up, nodding. “Sure. Is everything alright?” “It’s nothing bad, at least I hope you won’t take it in a bad way... I’ve actually been wanting to tell you this since that winter’s break party you had while doing your masters...” He let out a small chuckle but seeing Y/N’s eyes widen in a panic he stopped. “Oh, God,” she moaned. “You have a kid! Oh my God.” “What? No!” Harry spluttered. “Why the hell is the first thing you assume that I have a kid?” “I don’t know!” She was now standing facing him completely. “We’ve never had secrets between us, especially for as long as you’ve apparently kept them, what am I supposed to think? Maybe one of the girls you hooked up with got pregnant, and you’ve been hiding the fact you’re a baby daddy because you know I wouldn’t be able to keep the fact I can be the cool drunk aunt to myself.” All of that came out as is she’d prepared it ages ago. “Well, no.” Harry shook his head stepping closer so he could be chest to chest with Y/N. “I’m not anyone’s baby daddy. At least I don’t think so, but umm... when that moment would come... when I have a kid...” He looked up at the ceiling and sighed before lifting a gentle hand to cup her cheek. I wouldn’t want you to be the drunk aunt. I um...” There goes nothing. “I’d kinda like if you were the mom.” “Of course, I’ll be the Godmother!” Both of them said at the same time, making the other’s brain stumble over the words said. “Wait, mom?” Y/N’s question was breathless. “Like donate my eggs or some shit?” “No like, I’ve been in love with you for close to four years, and I wanna try and build a future with you, where you’re more than just my best friend.”        “Oh.”        That was all that managed to escape her mouth as he fully opened his heart, and Harry couldn’t lie – it shattered. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it was more than that. “That’s...” Y/N huffed sitting down on the bed. “That’s a lot to take in Harry. Like a lot.” “I know.” He sighed and sat down next to her. “Which is why I’ve been pushing this away for as long as I could, but... it was time. It wasn’t fair to you or me to keep on living like that. Look.” Harry took her palm in his. “Whatever you want us to be, we’ll be that. I - I mean I’ll be heartbroken if you say you don’t feel the same, but no matter what you tell me now, I won’t let you leave my life. I love you, and I’m in love with you. This is your choice which way you chose to go with.” Y/N shook her head, interlacing their fingers and finally looking up at him. “I don’t want you to be heartbroken. It’s the last thing, I’d ever want to see you like. And umm well, if it takes me using the pair of ovaries I have to admit I’ve been in love with you too to change that, I guess I’ll have to say it. I’m in love with you too.” Harry’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears of happiness, as he looked at Y/N like she’d hung the stars in the sky. Not that it mattered. He always looked at her like that. “You mean it?” “Yeah,” she chuckled, wiping away a few stray pearls from her own cheeks. “I guess I always thought I’d end up the drunk aunt in your life, so that’s why I thought you’d ask me to be whatever future child’s Godmother. But I love you, and I’m in love with you too.” “Can I – “ Fuck, Harry was too giddy for his own good. “Can I kiss you?” And when Y/N chuckled, nodding he swore he already was in heaven. “Yes, please.”        At first, the touch of his lips was gentle, almost afraid, but the second he pressed them to Y/N’s, and she gasped at the sensation, it became full of lust as passion, years of pent-up pining and angst and just plain old stupidity surfacing and morphing itself into a steamy make-out session.        In a split second, she was sprawled out on Harry’s bed, his toned body leaning over hers and teasing hands moving along her sides, making her squirm and ache for more of his touch, but she wasn’t the only one who wanted to explore a body with a new mindset of what was possible.        As Y/N moaned from Harry’s tongue invading her mouth, her hand couldn’t help itself as it slid down his chest, and her finger flicked against the button of his trousers.        “Can I touch you there?” Y/N whispered against his mouth, and Harry eagerly nodded.        “Please. Been dreaming about this for literally years.”        Smiling, she allowed him to continue and explore her mouth with his tongue, intoxicated on one another’s taste. In fact, Y/N was so far gone just from the kiss, she forgot how a fly worked and needed Harry’s help to open it.        “Get back here,” she grumbled as he chuckled, having leaned up a bit to make it easier for her to get the offensive piece of clothing off. “We’ll see how you fare with a bra.”        “Oh, I’m an expert.” His hands trailed to her shoulder where he snapped one of the straps against her skin, making her yelp.        “You do not want to do that when my hand is an inch away from your dick.”        But the threat had no merit to it, as she dipped her palm behind Harry’s boxers while his mouth went to soothe the sting and leave a little mark on her skin, which he’d get to admire later on.        The second, Y/N wrapped her hand around his cock an involuntary moan escaped into the air, as she gripped him. Fuck, she couldn’t wait until he was inside her, because, and it might sound a little cliché given how they were best friends who’d fallen in love with one another, but she was one hundred percent sure, he was made exactly for her.        But no matter how much she twisted her hand or how gently or roughly she rubbed the tip, he couldn’t get hard, and Harry was on the verge of tears, which Y/N saw and instantly pulled away, cupping his face.        “I’m sorry,” he choked out. “Fuck, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”        “Hey!” Y/N cooed. “None of that. It’s alright. Shit happens.”        Harry nodded understanding that she was right, but he still felt shitty and well, he felt insecure about it. “I just. Fuck. Usually, when I think of you, I’m hard in like a second.”        And although all Y/N wanted to do was smirk and tease him about the fact that he thought of her while wanking himself off, that wasn’t the right moment.        “I promise, you turn me on, you do." He sniffled. "This had never happened before.” But Y/N wasn’t offended or sad, and her laugh wasn’t mocking or trying to hurt him.        “Harry you’re dead tired.” She cupped his cheek with one of her hands, and if he’d been ice cream he would’ve literally melted. “You had to wake up at four in the fucking morning and won’t go to sleep until two the next day. Let yourself rest a bit.”        “But,” he whined and then huffed. “But I wanna love on you. Wanna show you just how crazy I am about you.”        “And you will. You know I’ll always hold you to your word. But this won’t be fun for either of us if mid-fuck you suddenly collapse on me asleep. I don’t need to go to the A and E and explain the broken nose is because my boyfriend decided to take a nap while shagging. A nap on my face.”        But Harry hadn’t really heard anything she’d said after Y/N mentioned the b-word, a dopey smile on his face. “I’m your boyfriend? You really want me like that?”        “I mean I would prefer if you were Phoebe…”        Harry pinched her side, making her squeal before tackling her in a hug. “Shut up!”        And that’s how the two fell asleep (and were woken up twenty minutes later by an assistant in a panic given how Harry was supposed to be on set in five minutes)  – wrapped up in one another’s arms, smiles on their faces, and no longer best friends, but lovers.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @breezy1415​ @crazy--me​ @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15​ @breezykpop​ @girlboss99​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​ @alliyjane​ @sirtommyholland​

A/N: I loved writing this so much :)

P.S. my tags are always open

P.S.S. I don’t take requests, sorry. Also, please don’t repost my story on other platforms (wattpad etc) without specific written permission. 

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagines #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles angst #harry styles and you #harry styles and y/n #harry styles and reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #eroda #treat people with kindness #fine line #one direction #one direction imagine #1d fan fiction #1d #harry styles fandom #harry styles fan fiction

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Pink Lemonade

CHAPTER 1

Pairings: Jaemin x Renjun x Haechan x Jeno x Mark x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Humor (I guess), Slow burn af

Summary: The dreamies decide to spend some weeks at an Inn in the middle of the nature to relax and enjoy some outdoor adventures, far away from their crazy idol life. What they didn’t expect was the nice girl running said Inn.

Word count: 3k

You should read the intro first so this story makes sense <3

☼  previous / next  ☼

A/N: Honestly guys this fic will probably be long and detaild af ‘cause I’m using it as a distraction from real life lol guess who just finished their engagement. If u would like it to be more straightforward and go right to the fun parts let me know, I’d really like some opinions! Also, it’s like 2 AM so I’ll proofread it tomorrow 

As you woke up the next day, you were not shocked to find that the boys were not up yet. Last night you were surprised to come downstairs to an already fully cleaned kitchen and as much as it made you embarrassed, it also made you immensely grateful. You thanked them and told them to stop being so nice and doing your job for you, to which Mark only responded that seven guys could be really messy sometimes.

You had given them the folders that informed all the activities the Inn (well, you) offered and the ones they could book in the city a few minutes away, it made you smile at how excited they got reading the paper and planning their days. Haechan was already asking if they could go stargazing that same night but the rest of them groaned saying they were way too tired to move after the long trip (and you felt bad once again for having them clean the kitchen).

Everyone eventually agreed on a time for breakfast and you were just sure they wouldn’t wake up that early by the dark circles under their eyes and, turns out you were right. They did go to sleep pretty early the other night, showering after the meal you had and just going straight to bed.

You lazily stretched as you left your room with Koda and Kenai tracing after you, to find a very much awake Jaemin sitting on the living room’s couch holding a cup.

“Good morning, did you make coffee?” You yawned at the boy, scolding Koda so he would get off the couch.

“Good morning. Yeah, sorry for taking the liberty, I really needed to wake up,” He smiled at you, petting your disobedient dog with his free hand so he could get distracted from the way your shirt had ridden up. Damn morning horniness.

“It’s ok, smells good. Are the rest of the boys awake?”

“Nop, and probably won’t be for a while. I know we agreed on going to the lake at 8 but everyone’s dead, I can wake them up if-“

“No, it’s ok,” You laughed. “I imagined this would happen, not a fan of waking up early myself.”

“Oh, you can go back to sleep if you want, I can knock when everyone starts waking up.”

“Don’t worry. You just really made me want some coffee.”

“I left it downstairs, I can go get you a cup.”

“Jaemin, we’re playing opposites here, don’t make me feel useless,” You joked, already making your way to the stairs, missing how the man stared at your legs in your little pajama shorts. “Plus, I need to take the boys on a walk before they become too fidgety.”

“Can I come with?”

“Of course.”

Jaemin was quick to stand up and follow you downstairs, where you quickly poured yourself a cup of coffee and opened the door, the dogs running past you excitedly. You silently lead the way out of your property and into the unpaved road, warming your hands with the coffee mug – The days were hot but the nights and early mornings could be quite chilly, especially with all the trees surrounding you and blocking the sunshine from reaching you.

“Do they sleep with you?” Jaemin asked, pointing at the dogs who were sniffing around the bushes on the side of the road, like they didn’t do this same route every day.

“Sometimes, they often prefer to stay outside, lots of animals to chase when I’m not there to scream at them.”

“They don’t wear leashes?”

“No need to, there’s barely people here and they are really well-behaved. I trained them well, Koda just gets a little bold when we have new guests over,” You smiled, remembering not even 5 minutes ago said dog was trying to get on Jaemin’s lap on the couch. “Do you like tangerines?”

The boy looked at you confused but nodded.

“Wait a second,” You asked before leaving him, walking off the road and into the trees. After a minute or so, you were back, throwing one of the orange fruits at Jaemin. “I steal them from the neighbors sometimes.”

“Will we get in trouble?” He asked but was already peeling the tangerine with his hands.

“Nah, they are never here. These would just rot.”

“Seems only fair then.”

You walked for another few minutes in silence, eating happily as you appreciated the sound of your feet crushing the small rocks on the floor.

“Ok, tangerines do not go well with coffee,” You make a face after eating half of your fruit, only now stopping to pay attention to the actual taste in your mouth.

Jaemin laughs at you before putting his last slice into his mouth, “Cute.”

“There’s nothing cute about this flavor.”

“Didn’t bother me,” He shrugged, smiling down at you.

Damn that boy was too attractive for his own good. You meant, all of them were.

It was just unfair, really.

The two of you talked a bit more until you hit the end of the road and then made your way back, it was a light-hearted comfortable conversation and you liked the way it made you feel warm inside. You learnt that Jaemin likes to photograph stuff and you asked him to take lots of pictures during their stay so you could use them on the Inn’s social media, telling him you shared that hobby with him. You then started a discussion about digital vs. film photography, in which you two clearly didn’t agree on, but it kept you entertained for a long time.

“Listen, technology evolved to this point to make life comfortable and easier for a reason!” Jaemin whined as you two were entering your property once again. “Is there something worse than developing your pictures only to find out your film was ruined?”

“That’s the thrill of it!” You exasperated.

“I call that heartbreak.”

“It’s a raw form of art for the strong hearted,” You sigh dramatically, opening the door for the man.

After your half an hour walk, as you got back home, only Renjun was up, pouring himself some coffee and looking super sleepy.

“Good morning, slept well?” You asked as Jaemin made his way to sit down on the table after getting Renjun to pour him some more coffee.

“Yeah, this is the first time I dreamt in months,” He smiled at you but his eyes were still half closed. Like you, Renjun was still in his pajamas, light sweatpants and a wrinkled white t-shirt.

“Do you guys want to eat something before breakfast?” You asked, not knowing how long they would have to wait for the others.

“It’s ok,” Jaemin answered.

“If you change your mind just let me know,” You smiled, wondering on what to do now, since you had already prepared the food for today last night and didn’t have any other chores until everyone was up so you could make their beds.

You figured the boys would drink their coffees and go talk or lay down in the hammocks, maybe even try to nap a bit but you were proven wrong when Renjun pointed at the end of the table suddenly excited, “Are those cards?”

“Yeah.”

“Can we play?”

“Of course.”

The man was quick to pick up the little box and sit down across the table from Jaemin, who tapped the place next to him before you had the chance to leave. You happily took on the offer, content with finally spending some fun time with people your age. No, scratch that: Attractive men your age.

“Let’s play Rummy!” Renjun suggested, the sleepiness leaving his body at the simple thought.

“I have no idea how to play that,” You informed.

“It’s ok, I’ll teach you. Come closer,” Jaemin smiled at you and you obeyed, heart beating fast at your thighs suddenly touching. What were you? 12?

The game was way too complicated for your morning brain to understand so you basically just watched the boys play, giving your input here and there.

“Jaemin, here!” You excitedly pointed at one of the cards he was holding.

“Oh, I had missed that, smart girl,” He smiled at you, patting your thigh as a thank you or maybe a praise, making your heart almost leave your body through your mouth. 

Freaking pet names dude.

After an hour or so playing, Jeno and Haechan appeared already fully clothed and awake. The second boy gave you and Jaemin a weird look, noticing how the boy’s right hand was just casually resting on your thigh. At some point it just happened and it felt comfortable (if you ignored your blood pumping through your body twice the normal speed, of course), it had been months since you had flirted with someone and you were enjoying the touch fully, thoughts of being professional nowhere to be found.

You greeted the boys and they sat down too, informing Mark and Chenle would be down in a second and Jisung would just skip breakfast to sleep. You decided then to get up and leave them to chat as you went into the pantry to organize the food you had prepared yesterday, into the baskets.

“Dude,” Haechan whispered to Jaemin.

Just by looking at the boy, Jaemin already knew what he wanted to comment on so he just, “Don’t.”

“Game on, bro.”

“What? This is not a game, we were just-“

“I said game on, bro.”

Jaemin sighed and gave up, knowing Haechan was just joking and being annoying as usual.

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After all the men (minus Jisung) were downstairs and ready to go, you guided them down to the lake, setting up one of those cliché plaid towels for everyone to sit on. As you and Mark organized the foods around, you smiled at the others running around the grass and taking pictures, impressed at the view. The lake really was pretty and your property had a privileged clearing to sit down and enjoy it.  

“I would love to say they are normally not this energetic,” Mark smiled at you, placing the bowl with the grapes and strawberries down. “But I’d be lying.”

“It’s refreshing, I rarely deal with people my age around here. We didn’t add bingo to the activities’ folder for no reason.”

“There are no clubs or bars around here?���

“The biggest city around has barely 2.000 habitants so I’ll say no to that. Although this region is becoming really famous for the ecotourism these days, they opened a nice pub for the tourists like last month but there’s only ever people during the weekends.”

“Well, if you ever go to Seoul, let me take you out,” Mark offered before realizing what he had said and stiffening, cheeks going red like the watermelon juice in your hands. “I mean, like, to show you the places and-“

“That sounds fun,” You smiled at him, deciding to end his misery right from the start. He was cute. “Boys, the food is ready.”

Jeno excitedly dropped Haechan down (who he was holding for a picture) and ran over, leaving a very whiny boy on the floor. Jaemin took a picture of that and soon enough, everyone was sitting down on the picnic clot.

“Wow, it looks like we’re in a movie,” Renjun awed, looking around.

It really did, that’s why you liked bringing the guests to this spot on their first day. After everything was set, the scenery resembled a Renaissance painting and you loved it. It was a bit hotter than normally since it was a few hours later then the time the guests usually have breakfast, but the gentle breeze of the wind was enough to not make it unbearable.  

The meal was fun, the boys made you feel so comfortable that it felt like you have known each other for a longer time than the actual truth. You all chatted, joked around and posed for pictures with the food. You had brought your analog camera just to tease Jaemin, asking him to take a picture with it for you.

“How do you want it?” The boy groaned, pretending to be annoyed.

“Here, I have an idea,” Haechan shared, excitedly, holding up one of the strawberries from the bowl in front of your face. “Bite it on the side.”

You accepted the advice confused, not understanding where he was trying to go with it but excited, you loved a good old-fashioned improvised picture. Jaemin pointed the camera at you and counted to three, and you smiled around the strawberry when on the count of one, Haechan bit on the other side of the strawberry and looked at you cross-eyed. After you saw the flash of the camera going off, you decided to take a big bite of the strawberry to play around with Haechan but apparently the boy had the same idea and your lips ended up touching, slightly. Since when has your life become a cliché teenage movie? 

You quickly took the stem of the fruit from between your mouths, pulling away from the boy to tease him, “Damn. Didn’t even buy me dinner first.”

The others joined in on teasing Haechan but the man simply winked at you, “Would be my pleasure.”

You didn’t even have time to giggle before the other men pretended to puke and Renjun legit slapped Haechan.

                                       _____________________________________________

The boys decided to not do any activities that day because Jisung would simply not wake up and after a while waiting, Chenle decided to join him on the hibernation. It made you feel sad for them, that their days were so busy and tiring that at the first sight of some time off, they would sleep for hours and hours to make up for it.

The rest of you decided to play some volleyball in the parking lot (which  was not the best idea considering it was noon). As expected by the almost 40 degrees climate, one by one, every single boy started taking off their shirts, body dripping and glistening with sweat and you just felt in heaven. This could just not be real, you even looked around for cameras, scenes like that just didn’t happen in real life. One hot shirtless guy was the acceptable quota for normality.

But also, you didn’t miss the way they looked at you in your little shorts and top (equal rights after all). It made you feel powerful even though you knew it was just their hormones talking, yours were screaming too after all. If it was already like that on their second day here, you couldn’t imagine how you would survive for the next few weeks, you just wanted to cry every time Jeno (who was on your team) approached you to celebrate when either of you scored, high-fiving you with his huge arms (you would die a happy woman if you were choked by them).

After the game was over, the boys decided to go swim on the lake to cool off and you figured it would be a good time to shower and organize their beds, which you quickly did before starting to make some lunch for everyone. The youngest ones of the group didn’t even wake up to eat so you decided to leave them some food in the microwave in case they got hungry in the afternoon.

Unfortunately the Wi-Fi was being annoying as usual and refused to work, so you couldn’t even google about the boys yet, the curiosity was almost killing you. Maybe it was better like that, right now you were just seeing them as 7 young men living their normal lives and you liked it, it kept you from being nervous at the fact they were probably some big stars that had the world at their feet – They all just seemed so chill sprawled around the living room floor playing the bingo you had joked about earlier, it was hard to believe they probably had hoards of screaming girls around them daily.

They thanked you for cleaning their rooms and told you that you didn’t have to, which technically you did, considering it was literally your job and the whole reason you were there.

You could be wrong, considering you have known them for barely 2 days, but you quickly noticed some little things about them: Like how Jaemin liked to touch you, even if it was just a light brush of his hand on your arm (in his defense, he was touchy with everyone, but when he touched you, it just lingered for a bit longer), or how Haechan liked to playfully flirt with you, that boy just had no shame and you admired him for that. You saw how Renjun often stared at you but when you looked at him, he looked away (which could mean either he was shy or he just didn’t like you very much), but at least he was more subtle about it, as opposite to Mark, who became a blushing mess every time you caught his eyes (and you just wanted to squeeze him). You realized Jeno was a manlier guy, you hadn’t gotten what his deal was yet but you loved the way his eyes disappeared when he smiled and that was enough for you.

It was funny, really, how everyone decided to ignore the tension in the air and go on with the day normally – You did only meet the day before after all.

After getting bored with bingo, the boys told you they planned on going water skiing tomorrow and you agreed happily, telling them you could have a little barbecue party in the camping next to the docks where your parents kept the Inn’s water sports gears, which got them even more excited.

“Can we go camping too?” Jeno asked, receiving a groan from Haechan. Classic city boy.

“Like at night?” You asked and Jeno nodded. “Yeah, actually the stars here are crazy pretty since there’s no light pollution.”

“See?” The boy told Haechan excitedly, who only sighed, accepting his fate.

Barbecue, bonfire, alcohol and a beautiful sky: You were a city girl too but you were also a sucker for a good camping night.

taglist: @eggbutnotyolk @lauraneuuh @geeisaclown @jenotation @riemm @junguwuuu @prettychaeng @satanssugaraddiction @luvlyjaemin @sweetjaemss @oofimdumb @junglekooks @unknown5tar @rosedchae@

#nct scenarios #nct dream #nct fluff #nct smut #jaemin #jeno #renjun #haechan #mark #chenle #jisung #nct dream smut #nct dream scenarios #jaemin smut #jeno smut #renjun smut #haechan smut #mark smut #donghyuck smut #nct #jaemin scenarios #haechan scenarios #jeno scenarios #mark scenarios #renjun scenarios

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

Kickstart My Heart Pt.1 (Racer! Yeosang)

Next>>

Pairing: Racer! Kang Yeosang × Waitress/Fuckgirl! Reader (Female)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, 80s AU.

Summary: During an era known for its vibrant colors, eccentric fashion styles and rise of new yet unconventional genres of music, the young generation of that time was infamously known for their need to rebel and live their lives rather scandalously and Y/N is no exception. So when a new and attractive man moves into her town, she has her eyes set on making him her next boy toy.

Word Count: 4K+

Warnings: Dumb attempts at crackhead humor, reader is a cold hearted bitch, guy gets dumped in public, reader's friend is lowkey creepy.

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Throwing on the last article of clothing that had been discarded the night before, the young woman shook out her hair, still damp from the quick shower she just took. Picking up her bag, she looked over at the figure still sleeping soundly, the subtle hint of a smile on his face. With a pitied pout on her lips, she walked over to the edge where his face was. Taking out the lipstick tube from her bag, she applied it all over her lips, painting them in the dark burgundy color that she fancied so much and had practically become her signature hue. Bending over, she pressed her lips against the corners of his mouth, giving him the faintest whisper of a kiss before pulling away. A satisfied smirk was plastered on her pretty features as she stared at the lipstick mark on his face, the only memoir she'd leave him with as she had done with countless others.

Closing the front door behind her, she pulled her denim jacket tighter on her body, shivering slightly from the early dawn's breeze that blew across. It was always like that even though summer had just begun, the early morning hours still feeling obnoxiously cool and then transpiring into slightly uncomfortably warm afternoons that had more than one soul in that quaint town grumbling and fussing about the weather. But oh did the evenings feel absolutely refreshing, and that's when everything would start bustling to life.

Having finally made it out of that small residential area and finding one of the main roads that helped her locate where to go, she started heading south towards the all too familiar diner where she had been working in ever since her school days, first starting part time and eventually transpiring to full time when it came time for her to spread her wings and fly out on her own, a feat she had been most anxious to do to get away from the overly controlling nature of her parents. She knew they cared about her, but she herself cared very little about the morals and principles they had raised her with, a common trait all the young people in that town shared: their rebellious and headstrong nature to not conform and go against everything they had been taught thus far. Live their own lives as freely as they chose to do.

And she definitely lived as she wanted to, even if it ended up with a rather bad reputation and ugly labels that rather than infuriate her, she openly embraced, as others had come to as well.

The light twinkle of the bells above the glass door let the person at the register know someone came in and they immediately plastered on their business smile, which quickly faded when they saw who it was.

"You're late Y/N." The minuscule raven haired waitress informed her, eyes never leaving her coworker's figure that came behind the counter and started punching in her number.

"Only by like 7 minutes." She waved her slip at the nonchalant looking girl before placing it back in its respective slot.

"One day it wouldn't surprise me if you just didn't show up because you got too caught up in.... something else."

Chuckling softly, Y/N walked up behind her coworker, hands coming up to ruffle the cheekbone level bob cut hair framing her unusually small face.

"Awww come on Lynn, you know I'd never leave you hanging here to attend customers by yourself. You're my bestie." Y/N assured her, playfully poking her lips out as she tried to place a kiss on her friend, the poor girl craning her neck away as she tended to dislike physical affection.

"I will squirt ketchup on you." Lynn threatened as she picked up the cherry red bottle as a last resort to get her attacker to back away. A rather noisy struggle ensued between both girls, catching the attention of the owner and cook behind the two doors, prompting her to come out and see what was the cause of such ruckus.

"Well I'll be darned. I don't remember paying you youngsters to simply slack off and behave like the hooligans you are." The middle aged woman spoke up, her thick accent becoming more prominent. Although she had a stern look and hands placed at her hips, the girls knew she was not in reality angry at them.

Looking over at the recently arrived girl, the owner closed her eyes and sighed deeply when she took in the attire she was wearing: low cut white tank, ripped denim shorts that left little to the imagination if she bent down, fishnet tights with a few holes in them, and her beloved denim jacket that was almost always on Y/N's body.

"I swear to god, Y/N , everytime I see you wear them rags you call clothes, I feel like my body is about to collapse. Why must you insist on dressing like a common street worker?"

Y/N wasn't at all offended by her words, having grown used to and becoming fond of her boss's abrupt, direct and honest manner of speaking.

"Gotta start looking the part if I'm going to dedicate my life to the occupation." She giggled at her own joke, resulting in the older woman taking the rag off her apron and smacking her with it.

"This little runt, talking nonsense like that- get your ass back in there and change into your uniform. Can't have you prancing around here in those skimpy clothes and have all these men that come here say disrespectful things about you. Nuh uh, not to my girls." She shook her head.

"Yes Miss Audrey." Complying with the woman's wishes, she pushed open the swing doors leading to the back and quickly made her way to the corner where all the employee's cubicles were located. Grabbing the necessary items, she turned and went inside the bathroom to change into her uniform, consisting of a knee length crimson red dress, which she had actually altered so it would be shorter and display her thighs more, the cap sleeves slightly puffed up and the torso part had a trail of white buttons going all the way up to the modest v-neckline, usually most buttons were left undone so her cleavage would shamelessly peak out. Exchanging her black Doc Martens in favor of her white Nike sneakers, Y/N tied her apron around her waist, making sure it was as tight as possible so it would accentuate her curves and give her body a more flattering appearance. As she made her way out, she quickly piled her hair up before securing it with one of the many elastics she kept around her wrists, leaving out a few tendrils to fall on her temples.

Coming back out to start her daily work, she stood in front of Lynn, who merely spared her an unamused glance.

"How do I look?" Y/N asked.

"Like a total slut." Her friend answered in her usually rude way.

Rolling her eyes, Y/N grabbed a spray bottle and a rag. Making her way over to the table that had just finished being used, she quickly picked up the plates and glass, bringing them back over to where Lynn was, who took them so she could wash them in the sink. Spraying the top of the marble piece, she had began her task of wiping down the table when the ringing of the bell signaled new customers had arrived, and rowdy ones at that too.

"Damn! Is today's special fluffy sponge cake? Cause I would sure love a piece of that ass."

Y/N recognized that annoying voice even from miles away, belonging to none other than one of her old classmates, Jung Wooyoung, whom she considered a friend, if he didn't manage to irk her too much. Turning around, she of course wasn't surprised to see him surrounded by his crew of equally idiotic and adrenaline junkie friends, whom she had to admit were pleasant and fun to hang out with.

"Sit your asses down already, I'll be over in a minute to take your order." She told them before resuming her previous task, earning a scoff from the most dramatic of the group.

"Fine customer service! Don't think you'll be getting a tip from me." His words made her nearly burst into a fit of giggles.

"Wooyoung please, you never ever tip whenever you come. None of you, except Yunho." It kinda saddened her that said male unfortunately wasn't there with them at the moment.

"He doesn't tip you, he tips short stack over there." His friend with cat like eyes pointed towards Lynn, who upon overhearing him held up a rather explicit finger in his direction.

"I'll poison your food San." She threatened with a sing song tone.

"Like I wouldn't know that you already spit on it." San spat back, sticking his tongue out in his immature and infantile fashion.

"Can you guys hurry up and order already? I'm starving and we gotta head to the tracks as early as possible." The fiery red haired male known as Song Mingi blurted out, fingers tapping impatiently against the top of the table.

"If little miss g-string would care to hop her luscious ass over here, maybe we could."

Strutting over to where they sat, Y/N harshly threw the dirty rag on Wooyoung's face, causing a faint grunt to come out of his mouth.

"No matter how many times you mention my ass, I'm still not letting you tap it." She firmly stated, making Wooyoung slightly purse his lips outwards in a disappointed grimace.

"So anygays-" Mingi began.

"Umm I think you mean anyways." San corrected him.

Leaning in towards him, Mingi locked eyes on the shorter male and stared him down with an intimidating glare.

"Did I stutter Choi?"

San immediately shook his head rapidly. With a victory smile, Mingi reclined back in his seat.

"I'm just going to get the breakfast platter with some orange juice."

Y/N couldn't stifle her snort when he said his choice of drink, the other two men looking away in embarrassment.

"You've been drinking orange juice since you were in grade school Mingles, don't you think you outta start taking something more grown up? Like coffee?" San suggested and Mingi did not appreciate it.

"Coming from the one who still brings a plushie to sleep with him, your suggestion holds no value or power." He retorted.

"OK SHIBER IS NOT A PLUSHIE, HE'S FAMILY YOU JACKASS!" San sprinted up from his seat, nearly leaning across to grab Mingi by the color, but he was held back by Wooyoung.

Lynn, who had thus far stayed quiet, promptly came up with a spray bottle and consequently doused the untamed boy on his face.

"Bad kitty, bad kitty." She reprimanded him, unable to resist the opportunity to attack her long time frenemy.

"Lynn!" Y/N looked at her with surprise.

"You're welcome." Lynn replied rather monotone before going back to her place behind the counter like she didn't just spray San with disinfecting water.

"There's too many germs going around anyways..." She muttered under her breath.

Without any further interruptions, aside from the rumbling coming out of the boys' stomachs, they finished ordering what they wanted and Y/N sent it over so they could be prepared. Not wanting to be near their loud asses, Y/N went back over to where Lynn was, peeking over to see what she was currently reading in the magazine she held.

"What you reading?" She casually inquired.

"Horoscope section." Y/N wasn't surprised, her friend tended to be into more mystical, eccentric and rather.....extreme with her taste in fashion and music. If Y/N was the one who turned heads for her scandalous attire, Lynn was the one people turned away from in fear when they saw how she dressed. It was a sight that truly made both of them laugh at people's foolishness, well at least made Y/N laugh. Her friend rarely had any other expression plastered on that wasn't utter disdain for society and life.

Unexpectedly, another customer came in. Both girls looked at each other in confusion when neither of them recognized him. Their town was rather small with few people living there, so they deduced that he must be a traveler who probably got lost on his route. He himself looked around nervously, eyes barely lifting up. Y/N couldn't help herself as she took in his perfect face. Big, round eyes with crystal clear orbs, small face with a V-line jaw, perfectly sculpted nose with no sign of defects, skin smooth and blemish free, he looked like a prince out of a fairytale. He was incredibly pretty, yet stood there so awkwardly that it was almost comical.

"Hey Yeosang! You made it! Sit down! I ordered for you in advanced!" Wooyoung surprised both girls when it seemed he knew the stranger and even waved him over to where they sat. The other two boys also seem familiarized with him and welcomed him to sit with them, chatting up a storm already with him.

"Who's that?" Lynn was the one to finally ask out loud.

"Beats me.....but he sure is adorable."

Noticing the way her lips curled upwards, Lynn could already see the wheels inside Y/N's head turning.

"And I bet you're going to go over there and find out- aaand there you go." She ended up answering her own deduction as she watched Y/N happily walked over with a more bright expression on her face, that soon soured when her boss came out of the kitchen and beat her over to the table, laying down several plates of food.

"I knew as soon as I saw the orders that it had to be the lot of you." She scoffed softly as she looked at the boys' grinning faces.

"You know us Miss Audrey, we wouldn't ever think of eating anywhere else but here. You're the best cook in all of town." Wooyoung praised her with a sparkling charm that could have fooled anyone else but not the robust woman in front of him.

"Boy stop trying to tickle my ears, I've known you since you were in your soiled diapers being carried around by your mama, running around and creating chaos anywhere you went. Flattery may work on them poor girls you play with but me? I can see right through ruffians like you."

Turning her head to finally notice the new addition to the group, she looked him up and down.

"Boy who might you be?" She questioned him, earning the ears of the girls nearby to listen in for any valuable information.

"I'm..... Yeosang Kang, nice to meet you." He introduced himself, tilting his head slightly down when he said that.

"He just moved into town this week! He's the new guy who is going to work with us down at the car shop and help on the race track!" San enthusiastically shouted, making the older woman cringe.

"I may be old, but I still haven't gone deaf for you to yell in such a way boy. So...." She crossed her arms and looked at Yeosang again.

"You a racer too?"

Now the girls, particularly Y/N, were more interested in what his response would be.

"I- yes. So it seems." The poor boy looked so flustered, obviously being more of a soft spoken individual, contrasting starkly to the other 3 boys.

Miss Audrey let out a seemingly displeased hum at his answer.

"As if we needed anymore hooligans running wild. We already got enough with the 3 Stooges over here."

The girls couldn't help but snicker at their boss's words, always having a blast whenever she put the boys back in their place. They however looked displeased, glaring at them intensely.

"Shouldn't you both be off somewhere cleaning dishes or making sandwiches?"

Snatching one of the knifes, Lynn held it up and was about to jump over, but Y/N came up in front of her.

"Lynn, no. Just calm down ok? You know they're just being idiots." Y/N reminded her.

Grumbling something in a foreign language no one knew for sure if it was real or not, Lynn put the knife back, squinting her eyes at them before turning around to not look at them again. Y/N giggled softly, finding it absolutely cute whenever her friend lost her cool and collected form cause it reminded her of a chihuahua, barking and yelping at anything larger than itself trying to establish dominance.

Noticing that in her display of aggression, Lynn had inadvertently knocked over a few of the brochures that were on display for people to take, Y/N stooped down and proceeded to pick them up in a casual manner. Standing up, she neatly arranged them properly, making sure they all faced the same direction and the sides weren't poking out anywhere. Feeling as though someone had been watching her all along, she looked at the table of boys, half expecting Wooyoung's smug grin to greet her, but she was completely wrong as it was none other than the new guy who seemed unable to keep his eyes off her figure, staring intently at the length of her skirt. When he realized she noticed, his eyes went wide, cheeks burning up with utter embarrassment. Y/N however seemed unbothered by this. Wanting to test something, she pretended to accidentally drop one of the pamphlets. Bending over, she made sure he could get a perfect glimpse of her cleavage, if he payed enough attention, he'd be able to see that she was in fact, not wearing any bra. Coming back up, Y/N looked over to see the results, smirking when the agape mouth of Yeosang confirmed to her that he had indeed noticed everything.

"Oh sweetheart, you're gonna be too easy..." She had already made up in her mind that Yeosang would be her next target, and she had to put her plan in action. Placing the brochures down, she was about to go over and start flirting with him, until a familiar voice called for her.

"Y/N! There you are!"

She internally groaned when she heard him, wondering why on earth did he not get the hint of ditching him like that, especially when he very well knew about the reputation she had. She tried ignoring him, but of course, he had had to be the persistent type, no doubt thinking he was going to have a different ending than the rest before him.

"I thought you'd be here. You could have told me you were going to be gone early. I would have made you breakfast."

Knowing she had to say something, Y/N grabbed her pad and gave him the fakest smile she was capable of donning.

"Hi, what can we get started for you today? Waffles? Eggs and bacon? Coffee to start off with?"

The trio of friends, having no choice but to witness the interaction due to it happening right in front of them, snickered amongst themselves.

"Oh shit. He's in for it." San whispered lowly.

The boy obviously looked extremely confused, his smile lightly falling off, but then returning to its hopeful state.

"Why are you acting like this candy bear? Pretending like you don't know me?" When he tried to reach a hand to pull her close, the girl simply pushed him away with one of her fingers.

"Look, clearly you're too stupid to understand so let me spell it out in a language you can understand." Letting out a tired sigh, she crossed her arms in front of her chest, a sour look displaying on her pretty face.

"We had a nice time together, and last night was... average to put it nicely."

"Oh man. That was a total burn." Mingi couldn't help but snort, some of the orange juice being spit back into his glass.

"But that was all it was and all it's ever going to be. So why don't you do yourself a favor and just go back home to your Star Trek figurines and watch the latest episode of Thunder Cats?"

The not so discreet snickering coming from the table behind them only made the humiliation for the man multiply significantly. Turning red with utter despair and rage, he quickly brushed past Y/N rather brusquely.

"Fucking bitch." She heard him mutter under his breath, a phrase she had grown accustomed to hearing among many others.

"Oh god. Homegirl struck again." Wooyoung laughed, swirling his milkshake in his hand.

"Ayo why you gotta do Thunder Cats like that? It's actually pretty entertaining." San commented.

Looking over at the time, the guys quickly stood up, dropping their share of bills onto the table.

"You guys get paid today too right? Come meet up with us at the track." Wooyoung suggested.

"Why on earth would we want to go see your greasy, oil smelling ass after dealing for nearly an hour with you already?" Lynn questioned him, eyes never peering up from her magazine.

"Because Yunho would be there?"

Still she didn't respond, the only movement made was her finger turning the page.

"Bro we been knew she don't give two shits about him." Mingi reminded them.

"Because we're going to the drive in theater after work, they're playing a horror movie."

Lifting her gaze, Lynn closed the magazine, although still stone faced, her eyes seemed to brighten up.

"My interest has been greatly piqued." Her lips showed the faintest whisper of a smile that gave a rather eerie and chilling feel down the people's spines.

"Maybe we should rethink inviting Satan's offspring." San leaned in towards Mingi, shivering significantly.

"Great! So we'll catch you gals later."

The boys quickly dispersed themselves, save Yeosang who still sat quietly, keeping mostly to himself. His fingers fidgeted with the half drunk cup he was holding, gaze fixed on the table in front of him. Looking up, he was attempting to work up the courage to talk to Y/N, but before he could even get the chance to gather strength, the owner came out from the back, whispering a few orders to her and gesturing for her to go tend to a situation in the kitchen. With a defeated sigh, he got up to go join the rest of the gang outside who were waiting for him. Slumping his hands in the pockets of his pants, he moved out of the booth with a solemn gaze.

"Hey."

His steps came to a screeching halt when he heard Y/N call out to him. Looking over, she smiled sweetly in his direction.

"Hope I see you later." With a flirtatious wink, she bid him goodbye as she disappeared into the back.

Yeosang stood there stunned momentarily, replaying her words over and over again in his mind, pondering endlessly at their meaning.

"Little pussy cat sure got you brain dead, didn't she?"

Startled by the unexpected voice next to him, he jumped when the face of the kind yet stern old lady studied him carefully. With a disapproving shake of her head, she decided it'd be best to warn him before he started getting ideas in his head.

"Listen, you seem like a sweet and sensible young man, so it's best for you to listen to me and stay away from that darn girl. Don't let them sugar coated lips of hers sweet talk themselves into your heart. You'll just end up heart broken like all the lovers she's had."

Picking up some of the plates, she gave him one last look, pointing an accusatory finger at him to get her point across.

"She's dangerous." Finally saying what she needed to say, Miss Audrey headed back with plates in her arms, slapping away Lynn's hands when they attempted to pry them off her, barking instructions at her to watch the counter and leave her be.

"Dangerous....." Yeosang thought to himself, the warning the good intended woman gave him sinking deep in his mind. Although he took her words to heart, something about the way she glanced at him pulled at the strings in his chest, taking his breath away when he remembered the risque position she was in that purposely allowed him to view more than he should have. That memory tinted his cheeks pink, lips unable to suppress a small smile. He knew that he should heed the old woman's advice.

But he had to admit that he loved danger and the thrill it came with.........

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Taglist: @little-precious-baby @yunhofingers @brie02 @galaxteez @multidreams-and-desires @deja-vux @hanatiny @couchpotatoaniki @daniblogs164 @a-soft-hornytiny @yunsangoveryonder @minhyukmyluv @nanamarkie @ateezbabysitters @mingismoon @rainteez02

#ateez #ateez yeosang #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez angst #ateez racer au #racer!yeosang #ateez 80s au #ateez yeosang fluff #ateez yeosang imagines #ateez yeosang scenarios #ateez yeosang angst #ateez yeosang fanfic #ateez yeosang fanfiction #kang yeosang #kang yeosang fanfic #kang yeosang fluff #kang yeosang angst #kang yeosang scenarios #kang yeosang imagines #kang yeosang fanfiction #ateez reactions

[333sth]

dove. (frankie morales)

chapter i. previous.

pairing: frankie morales x ofc (’dove’) no use of y/n.

warnings: mention of ptsd/military service, language, violence, brief mention of torture/kidnapping, injury detail, fighting.

summary: frankie was going to propose, until dove found the ring and ghosted. even santi can’t track her down.

rating: mature. wc: 1.6k

next

Dove was a nickname coined by an old general during her training. He was a traditional man, though not disrespectful. It was a term of endearment that probably softened the influx of powerful women breaching into the male territory. He’d drawled, ‘I ought to call you Dove – I ain’t never seen a girl so swift, yet so fuckin’ lethal.’ She kept the boys in line too, he’d noted. When Benny got too reckless, or Tom’s temper ran away with him, she was the first to snap them out of it. In environments where peace was a very distant concept, she played the peacekeeper.

One time, during a two-month deployment in Nigeria, the group was shoved in the back of an ancient pick-up truck for six hours. Dove was wedged between Will and Frankie, sweltering in the humid air. The stale smell of sweat mixed with blood and diesel was permeating the air, and they were three hours from the nearest checkpoint. To pass the time, she asked them what they’d do if they weren’t special forces.

That was easy for Will – he’d be a teacher of some kind. Benny waffled about sports, making some brash comment about how he’s got to channel all his aggression somewhere. Tom and Santi couldn’t come up with anything that suited them more than the forces, which was not surprising. Frankie would still be a pilot somehow. Dove had never seen him more comfortable than in the pilot’s chair.

Dove dreamed of owning her own bar or café, somewhere relaxed and laid-back. A beach perhaps, somewhere quaint and peaceful, where the air is warm well into the late evening and the waves are gentle, collapsing onto the sand like white noise. She imagined the hum of conversation meeting tinkling music, beach lanterns dotted around the decking to cast an ambient glow beneath the stars. Maybe a chef on weekends could make bar snacks. Tom had snorted at that, throwing a jab about how she can burn the water they use to make their dried food sachets.

The men had recalled this conversation, desperately trying to fathom where Dove might have taken off to. It was met with an aching nostalgia for the type of teammate she was too. That conversation had been a tactic, a peaceful one, to prevent the terrible concoction of adrenaline, exhaustion and heat forming an argument in that truck. She was a natural tactician as well as a good friend.

Frankie had recounted each country they had been stationed and exactly how Dove had felt about them. She had loved Argentina, even when she got shot and Will spent three hours with his finger crammed in the wound to stop the bleeding. But she also liked Jamaica, Brazil and Hawaii. None of their contacts in the forces had any trace of her, not even Santi’s in South America. Her family were none the wiser – they brushed it off, her dad mumbling something about it sounding like her usual antics. 

All he had was a scribbled note that read, ‘I need space. I’m safe. I love you.’ It was folded neatly in his wallet, like he was carrying the last piece of her that he had. 

*

Mexico. That was where she was. A small town on the West coast that had enough life to keep her occupied, and the guarantee of anonymity.

If people asked, she was a retired nurse, which wasn’t entirely untrue. She told them she spent a lot of her career in humanitarian aid, to explain the occasional jitters on a rowdy Friday night and the nasty scars. There was a particularly gruesome one leading from the base of her throat up to her bottom lip from a knife fight. She told them it was shrapnel, flung from a collapsing building, and she was lucky it didn’t catch her jugular. The locals had gasped in awe at her heroism. She’d flinched against the memory of how her own knife buried into her attacker’s throat instead. 

A few days into her move, Dove had found what could only be considered a derelict shed on the beachfront. It was probably the remains of an old boathouse. With some help from the locals, she had restored the ageing planks of wood. What was spare formed the bar and some rustic furniture. She pieced together a jumble of second-hand bar stools, chairs and lanterns that made for an eclectic combination. It had character and history in its walls, rather than some swanky, expensive build devoid of any personality. It was exactly what she had dreamed of, huddled in hypothermic temperatures or insomniac in her cot at base, sleep beyond her reach.

It didn’t change the fact that every time she entered her bedroom, the old polaroid of Frankie pinned to the wall hits her like a ton of bricks. Frankie knows she took it – it was pinned to the fridge at their home before she left. It’s quintessential Frankie, sat with his arms folded to his chest, biceps straining slightly against an old denim shirt that was getting a little too snug post-retirement. It was at a barbecue, his skin tanned and flushed from a day in the sun drinking, tousled hair peeking out from the sides of a dog-eared cap. Every time Dove glances at it, she wonders if he still has that hat. 

‘Of course he has,’ the voice in her head snaps back. Any piece of clothing she’d suggest replacing would be countered with, ‘over my dead body’. The man was sentimental, a little too attached to his home comforts. She’d also bought it him in a seedy gift shop in the middle of nowhere as a joke. 

“To add some variety,” she’d said. He would never let it go now.

Once, Veronica had eyed the photograph on her mirror and asked, “Who is he then? An ex?”

Veronica, or Roni for short, had lived in the town her whole life until university. When she graduated and moved home to save money, she needed a job. Dove needed a friend, so she took her on as a bartender. She was young and giddy, but harmless. More importantly, she was too self-absorbed to notice or even care that her thirty-something year old boss had bullet holes in her back.

“Something like that.” Dove had replied, rifling through her sorry excuse for a makeup bag. She’d closed the bar early to have a rare night off in the next town over, which had considerably livelier nightlife. 

“You never talk about relationships. Or men.’ Roni observed, peering over Dove’s shoulder to eye another photograph. It was a group picture of the boys, huddled in the same fraying booth in their favourite bar back in Florida. “Looks like you were spoilt for choice.”

Dove scoffed, meeting her friend’s twinkling gaze in the mirror. “Shut your mouth. They were friends from work.”

“Were? Does that mean you can’t set me up now?” 

“They’re almost twice your age. You’d tire ‘em out.” Dove set down the lip-gloss she dragged out for special occasions. “Come on, I’m not getting any younger either. It’s already passed my bedtime.”

Thankfully, that was enough to amuse the younger girl into linking her arm and hauling her out the door to the taxi, no more questions asked.

*

The hollering of spectators and thudding of skin slapping against the mat was reduced to a distant buzzing in Frankie’s ears. It was dimmed by the incessant ramblings of Santiago and Tom, discussing the files Santi had put together on Lorea. He could feel the reawakening of his rusty military senses as he follows the familiar tactics, mentally registering his agreement or noting what he might do differently. He doesn’t vocalise it though, because he hasn’t even agreed yet. Joining the debate would inadvertently signal his agreement. He didn’t want that.

There was a shadow lingering in the space on the bench beside him. It was an empty presence, not Will, who was hooked on the cage of the ring yelling encouragement to his brother. Not Benny, thumping his leather gloves together with his teeth pulled harshly over his mouthguard, judging his competitor with a predatory glint in his eye. 

The opponent was a monster, but he lumbered like his limbs were filled with lead. Frankie notes that Benny, nimble and tall, will have a breeze tiring him out. Dove would have joked that it wasn’t worth coming, that they’ll be sat here until their asses are numb watching Benny play cat and mouse. His chest twinges. Sometimes it’s too easy to remember what she’d do, what she’d say. He wished he knew what she’d make of Santiago’s proposition. She always saw through Pope’s glamourisation and Tom’s greed. 

What Frankie misses while he observes his pitiful surroundings is Tom and Santi descending into a hushed conversation. Tom nudges Santi, “You got anything on Dove?”

Santi sighs, long and solemn, “Maybe.” As Tom’s face quirks in interest, he holds up his finger, “It’s just a hunch.”

“A hunch is better than what we’ve had in the last year.”

Santi takes a sip of his beer, casting a glance at Fish, whose eyes are trained on the floor and the swirling contents of his cup. He knows him well enough to know his thoughts are the only thing that have his attention.

“I worry about him. We all do.” Tom whispers. “Getting busted just made things worse.”

“Don’t get his hopes up, man. It’s nothing solid. It’ll crush him if I’m wrong.” Tom nods solemnly before Santi continues, “A friend of mine saw an ex-Delta in a bar, a woman. He knew ‘cause of a tattoo she had on the nape of her neck.”

Tom’s eyes widen. In front of them, Benny lands a sickening punch on his opponent’s nose, complimented by an audible crack. He’s barely breaking a sweat, dancing around as the guy heaves and stumbles forward. 

Santi’s gaze doesn’t break from the ring. “Mexico. I think she’s in Mexico.”

#Frankie Morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier imagine #frankie morales imagine #triple frontier fic #francisco morales #Triple Frontier #frankie catfish morales #Frankie morales fic #Frankie Morales x OFC #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #benny miller #will miller #Santiago Garcia #santiago pope garcia #ben miller #dove fic

[captain-barnes-writes]

Mafioso

Summary: Mob boss Bucky Barnes enjoys his vacation in Colombia in more ways than one.

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Latina

Warning: Language, mafia, maybe a little dark?, age gap, daddy kink (or should I say papi kink😏), unprotected sex. Smutttttt—18+

[one-shot with possibility of a second part...]

NOT PROOFREAD.

Word Count: 5.9k

The thick air under the Colombian night sky had made James Buchanan Barnes break out into a slight sweat. Trickles of perspiration stuck to his forehead and his perfectly combed hair was starting to falter under the South American hot breeze. There was something in the air that night, the air so warm it even made someone like him, someone of his stature, want to wear a pair of shorts and a tank top. He’d pushed aside those thoughts though and opted for a dark ensemble that for the first time in a long time didn’t include a suit. He put the choice on the weather, but knew it was a mere excuse to a much needed laxed relaxation--his muscular frame donned a fitted midnight blue polo and expensive black chinos. A pure gold chain with a thick round pendant hung from his neck. Despite the somewhat more relaxed clothing choice, it still spoke greatly for the person he was, for the power he bore in his hands. He was away from New York, away from his many enemies, yet despite that he couldn’t let his guard down even while in a beautiful place like Medellin, Colombia.

He was a mafioso. Leader of a renowned and feared mafia, James, or as many of his closest confidants called him Bucky, was powerful beyond measure. One of the most remarkable features of the feared man was the way his dark profession didn’t at all really relate to the way he looked. With sharp blue eyes and dull clementine lips, Bucky stood over six feet tall and oftentimes used his honeyed voice to get his way. It was a shrill contrast to the person he truly was with his enemies, or those he was not familiar with, a booming menace with toneless manners and gestures. A darkened soul.

More often than not, he would not be recognized or even thought to be a huge asset of organized crime. He was too handsome, too respectful and was a masked businessman to the public but a true bandit underneath. The way he looked and the way dressed so professionally and gallantly with perfectly tailored dark expensive suits and shiny black leather shoes was his greatest disguise. Unbeknownst to whoever that he carried a sharp blade and fully loaded gun with him at all times.

The work was tiresome, physically and emotionally draining. For a man who was so often toneless in the way he spoke of death, in the way he so often wished it and caused it on others, and emotionless with tragedies, he was still a person beneath all the darkness—all the guns and all the violence. Upon a tormenting year filled with too much bloodshed, he’d decided to take some much needed time for himself in a place where there’d been similar violence and crime to that which he was partially responsible for back in the states, but still felt like a secluded place away from absolutely everything. With his turf being monitored by those he trusted most, to some extent he felt free.

For Bucky, Colombia had felt like an excellent choice upon making it and planning the trip to the t a few weeks prior. It’d taken so long to arrange in order to leave things in place and to choose those who were best skilled for the arduous job that was keeping order to such an unbalanced thing that was the mafia. He’d lied about his whereabouts to many, not wanting to compromise everything he’d worked so hard for.

Now Bucky was in the city of Medellin—rich in culture, food and most importantly filled with women. It had barely been his first day and he’d already eyed far too many beautiful women with their dark features and alluring accents. It was nighttime, past 9 pm and he’d just taken a seat under an umbrella-ladden table with a few of his many bodyguards. They were brooding and menacing figures in dark attire. They were simply doing their job, but Bucky wished they’d take it down a notch especially in a bar where nobody knew who he was and what he stood for. Though he couldn’t say that to them because letting his guard down meant showing weakness and he couldn’t have that. Not now, not ever.

The vibrant graffiti art on the rustic building the restaurant and bar was situated at went so well with the multicolor knitted flag garland that stretched from one side to the other. The twinkling yellow lights illuminating the beautiful scene before him; people dancing, foreign and natives of the land. Hands joined at the hip, on the shoulders, bodies moving one way to the other and faces etched with a liberating kind of happiness. It was a fresh spectacle he hadn’t witnessed in far too long.

The country that had birthed magical realism and the rhythm and sound of cumbia was lit with shining bulbs and people whose bliss was of no comparison and it was slightly, just slightly, rubbing off on him when he found himself with a small smile. The people dancing before him were in their own little world as the unfamiliar music emanated moves from them that he knew he probably wouldn’t be able to replicate.

And then there was her. A gleaming light of a woman with tan skin that glowed underneath the superficial lighting. Her face seemed to be in such a deep concentration that didn’t seem to emanate from stress or from taking on a hard task, but at the simple task of dancing.  

She was the epitome of magic in his eyes—a Colombian who bore beauty so devastating it had dried his mouth. The tan skin, dark flowing tresses that reached her lower back and dusky inviting eyes. A charmeuse emerald green dress with a blood orange floral print design clung effortlessly to her body and much to his pleasure, the frill hem of the dress ended just above the middle of her smooth thighs. The radiant energy that emanated from her was more than Bucky could even imagine; she was more than he could even have imagined. Not that he had before. Compared to all the women he’d encountered during the last few hours he’d been on the foreign soil she took all the medals with her. She took absolutely everything and he wasn’t even near her, hadn’t even touched her, or felt the delicate skin of her neck or even felt the glossy lips that he felt desperate to take a hold of.

Her hips were shaking side to side, tips of her toes translating the music that she so deeply felt. Her bones were burning with the sound of her native music, the sound of Cumbia. Se me perdió la Cadenita’s tune playing in the background as the movements of her hips followed every beat far too perfectly.

She was dancing alone unlike the many people that surrounded the large dancefloor who had their partners. Many times, She found herself in this bar in the famous little plaza of Medellin. Frequented by locals and non-locals alike, it was always a party. The ambiance was a delicacy, the drinks were great and the music never missed.

Today, for the first time ever, she found herself arriving at the bar alone due to her friend ditching her for last-minute plans with her boyfriend. She understood, but still wanted to come out on her own for a much needed distraction because work had been hectic and her personal life was even worse. Drinks and a good sweat-inducing dance always did the trick. Just this time she’d have to dance with herself.

Or maybe not.

Y/N felt heavy cerulean eyes burning holes on her back. She’d peeked once or twice and was well aware of the handsome, well-dressed man sitting amongst a group of menacing looking men whom she could tell were most likely white. He was too, and while she wasn’t particularly attracted to white men, he was something else. Had a little kick, a little spice and how did she even know that? She didn’t, but the man was in Colombia so she’d deduced that he had good taste so far. Blue eyes, she’d noticed, short dark tendrils neatly combed and a trimmed beard. It wasn’t until she’d gotten lost in her own thoughts that her eyes lost sight of the alluring man and a flick of disappointment shot through her.

With a scoff, all her movements had come to a halt and she made her way to the bar area to get herself yet another drink. She’d had two so far and already felt the alcohol contents doing their godforsaken job, alleviating the stress from her shoulders,soothing her wracking brain and letting her have a form of tranquil fun. She wasn’t the best drinker and knew that two more drinks and she’d probably have blurry vision and slurred speech. Consumed in her own thoughts, she suddenly heard the bartender ask what she wished to order.

“Un mojito de aguardiente.” She responded.

“Yo tambien.” Me too. A voice chimed next to her. Strong and laced with a very thick accent that had almost made the words incoherent to any ear. It was the polo-clad man who’d been gawking at her from his table just a mere few minutes ago and now he was standing right next to her. He was so close, the skin of their arms were brushing against each other; she thought of how he felt so warm.

“Good choice.” She commented, eyes trailing up to meet his. An abyssal of blazing blue with a glint of mischief and many things she could not make of stared back at her. The crinkles at the end of his eyes came to shape as he offered her a small nod and smile. He was slightly taken aback at the way the English words slipped past the plumpness of her lips, slightly thick but still more than understandable. Far better than his Spanish.

“We both ordered the same thing so I think we both have great taste.” Bucky with all his influence and overwhelming power was overcome with a yearning for the woman beside him and felt as if he’d become prey to her. But he knew far too well that despite the confidence she so easily oozed and the way she had him almost salivating, she was the victim here. It would never be him.

When the bartender came back with both drinks, Bucky had immediately placed a one hundred dollar bill on his hand, paying for both drinks despite her protest, and told him to keep the change. The man’s face beamed and proceeded to thank him profusely to which he waved him off with nonchalance because to him a bill of such value was simple pocket change.

“You didn’t have to pay for me, really.” The woman pleaded, thick brows furrowed as she fumbled to get money from her purse. Bucky was amused as he placed his hand on her arm trying to stop her movements and at the sudden touch, her head snapped to look at him. It was then when her lips were agape with wide brown eyes that he thought she looked so young, and concluded that she was most likely in her early 20s. He became even more curious, pining to know little details about her.

“It was nothing. Just tell me your name, that’ll be enough.”

It was nothing.  At this, she became a little nervous. She couldn’t deny he was really easy on the eyes, even that was an understatement, he was as handsome as men came. With the crisp and costly clothes he wore along with the heavy gold chain that adorned his chest and not to mention the fact that he had just carelessly spent 100 dollars on two drinks that couldn’t have cost more than twenty. And the burly men clad in black who stood at the far back of the large bar just staring at them, at him, not letting him out of their sight as if their lives depended on the very man himself. It warned her that he was a man of money and even the way he carried himself spoke of the probable immense power he held.

With a voice that faltered, accent heavy she responded with her name.

“Y/N.” He tried it, weighed it on his tongue and savored it because it complemented her so well. Said it loud so she could hear him and she did, becoming just a tad flustered as she opened her mouth and closed it again. No sound coming out.

“Such a pretty name, darling.” His honeyed voice caused a flutter in her stomach, but she put it on the alcohol and not at the way the nickname sounded too good coming from him. She felt flushed, and at the sensation that her face had become hot she placed her drink down and put her cooled hands on her cheeks. It was embarrassing that she’d become such a mess in front of him and to try to distract him from this she asked for his name too.

“Bucky.” He replied.

“Never heard of that name before...maybe just because I’m from here, um but is it short for something?”

Just like she had paused earlier when he asked for her name, he became slightly agitated too. He took a large sip of the drink, the aguardiente was a tad powerful but the anise accents mixed with lemon and mint were comforting and gave way to a refreshing taste. He turned his face to look at her after a few seconds, having mulled over the meek possibility of the girl recognizing him, elbows propped on the wooden bar counter.

“It’s just a nickname.” He finally succumbed to the way her doe eyes waited for an answer, but he’d lied to her face. It was actually short for Buchanan. Instead he would give her his first name, a simple name. He wished so ardently that she’d be moaning it in no time.

“My name is James.”

“Oh.” Was all that came from the beauty beside him as she sipped her drink. She didn’t seem to hiss at the alcohol and he deduced that she probably drank it quite often.

“How old are you?” Bucky enquired after she’d grown silent, seemingly too interested in the drink that was more than halfway gone. She’d had such confidence earlier on the dance floor, with hips that weaved and swung to the rhythm of the music and her face expression had been so jaunty. Carefree and relaxed. Now in his presence she seemed quite shy. He wondered why she’d taken on this form now, he didn’t think of himself as being too pushy. At least not now because there was no need, she was compliant enough. He only showed that harsh edge when necessary.

“22.” She uttered. He’d been right, she was in her early 20s. God, she was so young and he was already pushing 40. The age should’ve had him walking away, but he wasn’t at the thought of being between her pretty thighs savoring her, tasting her. He wanted to teach her a few things only men his age knew. Taking one last sip of her drink before placing it on the counter. Her waves cascading down to her lower back slightly moved as she yet again twisted to gaze up at him with burnt sienna eyes. She was sensual without even meaning to and he felt his pants tightening.

She adjusted her feet, feeling a slight ache at standing with the bronze pumps and placed a hand on her hip. The plunging neckline of the dress was enticing him. Smooth skin peeking at the bright material that complemented her far too well as if it was made just for her. He himself had just finished his drink as well, placed it on the counter and moved to adjust his pants. The pressure was becoming uncomfortable. He’d moved his gaze away from her to look at his surroundings, a mere habit of his. It was then that her eyes trailed to his hands and that the sleek black object caught her eyes. She stared intently, feeling herself more agitated, and the black metal gleamed as if to alarm her. She let out a small gasp and averted her eyes to look anywhere else, but him

She was panicking at being in such close proximity to a deadly weapon. It was normal to carry a gun and sometimes it did seem as a necessity to ward off danger, but it didn’t ease the discomfort Y/N felt. She placed a hand on her chest while placing the other on the counter and taking a deep breath. She was having an internal battle, one side was chastising her for judging Bucky for the simple act of carrying a gun while the other side was pleading with her to get away.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” He whispered so softly in her ear suddenly. Hot breath fanning on her side of her face and goosebumps arising on her skin. She stuttered, not even coming up with a coherent thing to say. His hand found its way to hers, gripping it, and bringing it up to place his lips on it. His eyes ablaze that she felt them burning holes on her forcing her to yet again meet them.

“Come on, darling.” He hummed, waiting for a response. Her hand was still entwined with his but now he was just holding it at his side, not letting go. His other hand had fallen to the waistline of his dark chinos, the sleek object coming to view. Her breath hitched and she felt as if she was speechless. Had he done that on purpose? To show her that he had the upper hand and that she had no choice but to say yes.

In the most twisted way the one thing she was holding onto was the deep rasp and slowness of his voice and the mere invitation to leave with him had allowed a current of heat creep to her stomach, a pooling sensation in between her legs. She yet again put it on the alcohol because had she been completely sober she would’ve escaped already.

She blinked at him, words continuing to fail her. Bucky was growing impatient at the girl before him who seemed to be fighting with herself. He knew she’d seen the pistol hidden inside the waistband of his pants, but he didn’t even want to hurt her. Not like that anyway.

“It’s a gun, just for protection. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He defended.

She remained quiet and at the sound of no response, he let go of her hand and took hold of her face with both his hands. Gripping it, he brought his lips to hers in a forceful kiss. Her lips tasted like lemon and alcohol, so warm and soft he already felt addicted. She didn’t respond at first, her dainty hands coming up to grab the bottom of his arms to try to let go but it was no use because Bucky was far stronger. When his teeth lightly took hold of her bottom lip, she inadvertently let out a small moan. It was her first reaction and it had him wanting more. Groaning, he pulled away. Eyes filled with so much lust he thought it would seep out of him.

“Shit, come on.” His head turned to his men, signaling them it was time to go. She was going to come with him, she had to. He wanted her to grip the sheets of his bed tonight, bury her head in his pillows and moan his name. He gripped her hand again, dragging the girl through the exit of the bar. She wasn’t fighting, just struggling behind him with her bronze pumps.

In seconds, she was inside a sleek car with the engine revving and Bucky cruising through the Medellin streets. From her quietness, posture and the way her dainty hands fiddled on her lap Bucky deduced that she either didn’t do this often or at all.

In a haze, Y/N wondered what he did for a living. He had an expensive rental, donned tailored clothing of fine quality and had bodyguards for protection. They were trailing behind him in different cars, one in front and one at the back. With one hand on the steering wheel, Bucky rubbed soft circles on her thigh with the other . Her skin was smooth and it dawned on him than in no less than 5 minutes he’d get to have the woman next to him at his disposal. Completely naked and at his mercy. At the thought, he hardened.

“Touch me.” He commanded, voice laced with a yearning need it felt as if it was eating him alive.

“What?” Y/N sputtered, brown eyes growing wide. She wasn’t inexperienced, but this was a man far older than she’d ever been with. He seemed to be nearing his 40s with his fluffy locks already showing signs of graying. And she was still slightly scared that on the other side of his hip was a gun.

“Stop thinking about it. I said it’s not to hurt you.” He sounded slightly peeved, voice sounding a bit rough. He’d caught her eyeing his hip where his gun was. She nodded while taking a deep breath. She knew perfectly well what he wanted, her hands on him. With shaky hands, she began to unzip his pants and though he had groaned at the small action he stopped her with his hand.

“Just through the pants, baby. We’re almost at the hotel.” She blinked, pressing her hands to the prominent bulge on his black chinos. She began palming him through the thick fabric, feeling the ridges of his erection and she shameless bit her lip at the feel, at how big he felt. Through long lashes, she ogled at the man before her. Ruggedly handsome beyond words with a strong build she knew she’d be left aching. Even though she still felt remnants of uncertainty, she mostly felt a deep gust of excitement building within her.

Bucky’s mouth was watering at the actions of the young girl beside him, her small hand touching him in the most sensual way. And it felt like a huge step forward with her hands on him, but he also felt her lingering gaze. It prompted him to remove his hand from her thigh and accelerate on the roads he was not even familiar with but the need to get to his hotel was one of his top priorities. It was silent for the most part besides a few jagged groans that emanated from his chest at the way she was still touching him. It almost pained him to not be buried inside her yet. God, he just knew she'd be tight and sweet.

When they did arrive at the towering hotel building, he’d leaned over and wrapped her up in a sweltering kiss before he had her hand in his hand waltzing through the lobby and into the elevator. The tension was thick and he’d managed to get his hands on her waist pulling her closer to him. He knew better than to try anything on the elevator especially not with his bodyguards in tow.

With his key card already in hand, once in front of his suite, he hastily swiped it and dragged her inside. With a sigh of relief he pushed her against the door, shutting it. In a change of roles, she was the one grabbing at the collar of his polo and pulling him in her to crash their lips together. It was sexy in the nastiest way possible--mouths engulfing each other, him biting her lips, sucking on them and her fitting her tongue inside his mouth. It was sloppy and brought a wave of satisfaction, it just wasn’t enough.

With greedy hands he groped her ass, massaging the roundness through the soft charmeuse material of her dress before he lifted it up through her body forcing them to pull away in order to fully remove the dress. Once it had come off, he threw it in a heap on the floor and savored the girl in front of him. Lips swollen, cheeks flushed and her hair already in disarray she looked just about ready to take him. He could have just come at the sight of her with the pretty white lace set she sported. So tiny it barely covered anything.

“Look at you baby. You look so pretty, ready to take me huh?” He’d lifted her into his arms ushering her to wrap her tanned legs around him while his hands held the fullness of her bottom. She hated that he was fully dressed. She wanted to feel him against her, wanted to see the toned muscles of his torso and touch the bulge she’d had her hands just a few minutes prior, just this time without the thick material of his chinos.

She nodded at his question as a small yes fled from her lips when he brought their lips together again in another needy kiss. This time, he maneuvered through the large hotel room and finally dropped her on his bed. He’d stayed on his feet, removing his shirt and revealing his taut and strong chest.

“You look so good, Bucky” She hadn’t meant for her English to sound so thick, not only laced with a deep onset of lust but with complete delight at the sight of him. She blushed at the way she’d sounded, but he loved it. Loved the way his name fell from her swollen lips.

With a bite of his lip, he watched as her expression went from that of need to one filled with fear as he removed the gun from the waistband of his pants. The dark metal in his hand the only thing her eyes were focused on. He was amused at the innocence she carried. Even in a country like Colombia where crime and death rates were one of the highest back in the day because of people like him, she’d managed to keep that angelic essence. He admired her refusal to let go of it.

“I told you this is only for protection, baby. The only thing that’s gonna hurt you is this dick.” He was half joking, gun still gripped in his hand he walked around the side of the bed to place it on the white nightstand. It seemed as if even that wasn’t enough for her so with a roll of his deep blue eyes, he decided it was best he placed it inside the nightstand drawer. Sure, he had better access and more maneuver to reach for it if it was on top, but he wanted to fuck her so bad and wanted her to enjoy it not have a gun be the reason she couldn’t get wet over him.

She swallowed, a little more calm as she saw the weapon safely stored inside the drawer and offered him a timid smile. He chuckled at her newfound expression and felt the same yearning bubble up again. Desperate to feel her skin on him, he unbuckled his pants in a haste and threw them carelessly on the floor. If he wasn’t so damn hard to the point it pained him, he would’ve had her remove the pants with her small hands. Another time, he thought.

He climbed on top of her, expectant doe eyes staring back at him when his face prodded down at her. She reached her soft hands to touch his face and used it to pull his face towards hers. Lips meeting in a desperate kiss as if starved of human touch; so eager, so needy. His hands didn’t waste time exploring her body. They wanted to be everywhere at once, her breasts, her thighs and the sweet place between her thighs. For the time being, he’d stopped at the swell of her breasts, pushing down the thin lace cups and rubbing her perky brown nipples slowly. Fingers trailing on the smoothness of her areolas had turned to kneading. His lips had parted from hers and trailed down to the sensitive skin of her neck and made sure to take the skin between his lips. Sucking and biting at the skin until blood had risen leaving behind  deep purple marks that looked rather painful. She was a withering mess underneath him, soft little moans falling from her swollen lips and thighs widening.

She was so compliant especially when he’d patted her thigh and she’d opened up to him without a single word. His fingers had grasped at the thin lace material of her panties too roughly and it had ripped. Y/N yelped and he didn’t know what to make of her face expression whether it was anger or disappointment that had shown, but he promised her he’d buy her more. Expensive lace just for his pretty girl.

Without waiting for a response, 2 fingers had slowly delved into her cunt. Long fingers forming a slow and torturous rhythm that had her wanting more. If this was his way of making her talk then he was on right track as her little whines grew the more he kept the same pace

“Faster.” Y/N pleaded, hands grasping at the sheets below her. He felt himself gloat as her soft voice egged him on, finally voicing out her needs. He’d given in, fingers pumping in and out of her in briskness all while loving the little sinful moans that she gave out. Within seconds, his tongue had taken place of his fingers licking a long patch of her pretty pussy before he brought them back inside her. Her cunt was soaking wet with her juices and she was so damn sweet. His tongue was swirling against her clit, a move that had her body shuddering in the process. His fingers continued their pace inside her while his tongue drew long licks on her little petal, sucking and swirling that within seconds she’d gripped his hair tightly and came without warning. She’d come right on his fingers, room filling with the sound of her cries. When he withdrew his fingers, glistening and sticky with her unbelievably sweet nectar, he licked a long stripe against her before coming up for air. He looked wildly erotic—hair unruly and mouth wet with the fruits of her orgasm.

When Bucky climbed his way back on top of her, she was breathing so hard her chest was heaving up and down, a thin sheen of sweat clinging to her skin, meanwhile her eyes were fluttering in the aftermath of her orgasm.

“Open your mouth.” Bucky ordered, voice laced with desire as he stared at the mess of a girl. Her brown eyes fluttered open again and with a bite of her lip, she opened her lips wide for him. Almost immediately his fingers were inside her mouth. He wanted her to taste herself, to taste how delicious she was.

“You taste so fucking sweet, baby. You like it? Like the way you taste?” God, he sounded so sexy. She hadn’t expected him to be such a talker, but he was making her skin tingle with just the sound of his voice and with the things he spewed out during their sinful acts. She moaned with his fingers in her mouth and gave a slight shake of her head to let him know that yes, she tasted damn sweet but that she was sure he tasted even better. At this thought, she grabbed hold of his arm and pushed his fingers out. Taking charge for the first time that night, she pushed him on his back. His olive skin meeting the black silk of his sheets.

Mischievous burnt sienna eyes peered up at him as she removed his boxers causing the thick bulge to spring out. He was so big and thick in her hands, and she thought of how much discomfort the stretch would be just taking him.

She tried to focus on the task at hand, dainty hand wrapping around the thick shaft moving up and down. He was groaning above, husky and loud. It drove her hand to move faster against him, a line of precum already seeping from the swollen head. It was so enticing seeing the milky substance leaking from him that her head bowed and lips wrapped around the very tip. Tongue swirling against the tiny hole before she sucked it savoring the salty taste of him. She began to bob her head down the thickness of his cock, unable to take him all but making sure what she couldn’t take her hand would. He was just so damn big, she wanted to take him all but when he hit the back of her throat her eyes had watered and her throat hadn’t allowed more to fit in. But he seemed satisfied as his hand tangled itself in hair, urging her to keep the same momentum. Her red lips sucking him , coating him in her saliva. Almost too soon, he’d pulled her off him and pushed her on top of him. Swollen lips meeting in the middle, fervent and needy. She tasted like him but he didn’t care.

She wrapped her hand around his shaft again, pumping him once more before she lined up to her entrance. She pushed herself down slowly, taking him inside her warmth. It was an uncomfortable stretch, the dull ache clear on her face as she grimaced. She took her time, barely moving for a good few seconds before she felt his hands on her hips. Kneading the soft skin there, almost as if pleading for her to move. With the tips of her feet on both sides of him, she began a slow up and down movement. He watched as her pussy devoured his dick, disappearing inside her.

Her breathy moans, shaky feet and slow movements were driving him wild. He wanted to fuck her until she screamed. Bucky’s hips had began bucking up, fucking into her desperate to feel more of her tightness. It wasn’t long before he’d taken the reigns again and her body was shaking above him, helplessly taking the deep thrusts.

“Fuck, that’s my good girl. Your tight pussy can take this dick right, baby girl?”

“Si papi.” Bucky’s ears had perked up at the naughty words. She’d called him daddy in Spanish and it had his dick twitching inside her. He could just cum at the sound of that word.

“Shit, call me that again baby girl.” He pleaded, breathing loud as his thrusts continued to piston inside her before he came to a momentary pause. He pushed her body backwards, her back hitting the silk sheets with a small thud. He lined himself at her wet pussy and drove forward again, feeling her tightness engulf him.

“Fuck me papi. Fuck me hard.” She was driving him wild with her velvety voice and the vice grip her cunt had him in. He began with full rough thrusts, the sound of skin slapping filling the large hotel room. Her breasts were bouncing before him, gaining the attention of his lips and his mouth wrapped around her nipple before he gazed at her neck. Ladened with purple marks from his mouth, he wrapped his large hand around it. He’d taken her aback, eyes rolling as her breathing was slightly restricted. He was still fucking her to the brink of insanity and with the added pressure on her neck, she felt the familiar heat building within her stomach, balling up in a crazed manner. He pushed himself inside her with need, wanting her to break apart in front of him so he could follow suit with his own pent up orgasm.

“Oh shit, I’m cumming.” She yelped, voice hoarse with his grip on her neck. She was spasming underneath, tears rolling down her reddened cheeks as she felt the wave of ecstasy shake through her. Her cunt had tightened around his dick, still moving inside her, but the constriction had unexpectedly gotten him to the edge too. He felt himself come with hot spurts inside her, a loud groan slipping past his lips. His stomach shuddered, heaving heavily. He felt as if she’d milked him of all he had.

She grimaced when he pushed himself from her and collapsed beside her. She was spent, sore limbs and a terrible ache between her thighs she knew she’d be spending the night. There was no way she’d make it home without falling asleep. She turned to look at him, and he did too , sharing drained smiles. Noticing her eyes fluttering close, he pecked her lips softly, a stark difference from the roughness of their previous acts.

“I’ll take you to buy new panties tomorrow.” Was the last thing he said, before she succumbed to sleep.

oooooof, this took me hours to write but I felt so inspired. I watched the devil all the time and I, Tonya again (the mustache really does it for me honestly, he’s so hot)  and I was like lemme just write a mob bucky one-shot. 

Any tips or comments, lemme know. Hope you guys enjoy!

P.S. can someone please tell me they’re as disgustingly obsessed with Lee Bodecker as I am, I’m literally burning inside. The little pouch and the PEPSI CUP. OMFGGGGG

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