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brattyfics · 3 years

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Like That

Pairing: Rio x Black!Reader

Summary: You and Rio get to know each other better. Loosely based on ‘Like That’ by Doja Cat.

Warnings: Smut.

Word Count: 3.5K

Installments: Say So | Like That | Talk Dirty

And baby, I want it, and I'll just be honest 'Cause I just can't front when I look at you

About six weeks have passed since Rio declared himself your man, and you quickly learned he took the title very seriously.

He was busier than usual with ‘flipping his game,’ and you were busy preparing to transition your shop, but you saw each other often despite time constraints. You agreed date nights at least once a week were a must, but when you couldn’t see each other, Rio made sure to end nights with a phone call. Virtually falling asleep next to him gave you butterflies, reminding you just how exciting new relationships could be. It took prodding, but he told you made-up bedtime stories and the boring details of his day. In return, you shared things about yourself— childhood memories, the crazy things your mom did to embarrass you. He was sweet and attentive, and you found it refreshing to be with someone who was just as infatuated with you.

On your second date, he took you to his favorite restaurant, a fancy sushi place with expensive rolls. He taught you to hold chopsticks the wrong way the way he did and even fed you across the small table, a couple of unfortunate rolls falling apart due to his prodding. You tried your best to hide your amusement at the pensive look on his face. For whatever reason, Rio thought of himself as a sushi connoisseur, but it was clear to you that he was still learning.

“You’re no better than me!” He admonished when he noticed the way you held your chopsticks. Like his technique, it was incorrect, but it worked for you— sort of. “I never said I was.” You couldn’t keep the amusement off your face any longer. “You’re the one who comes here weekly. I thought you were a professional, and we’re in the same boat.” He folded his arms on top of the table as he insisted you were wrong, but secretly he found your teasing endearing. Later that night, he called and gave you a cheesy line about loving to see you smile.

The following week, you had lunch at a mom-and-pop soul food restaurant that served the best cornbread and peach cobbler in the city. The owners, an adorable older couple, Donna and Gene, and servers alike stopped by your table to meet Rio. Donna gushed over Rio, showering him with compliments and extra cornbread. “Girl, he is cute!” She told you, failing miserably at whispering. He smirked as you rolled your eyes, but he handled the attention well, being friendly and personable even when Gene kept going on and on about changes to the menu, one chef to another.

A few days later, he called you up randomly and asked you to get ready and ride with him somewhere. “What should I wear?” You asked, hoping for a hint. You could hear him smile as he said, “It doesn’t even matter, ma. You always look good.” The occasion had turned out to be ‘Foodtruck Friday.’ Barbecue, kebab, taco, ice cream, and other miscellaneous food trucks were parked in a spacious lot in Downtown Detroit. You settled at a picnic table and shared several plates of food as you discussed the possibility of your own mobile ‘Mad Batter’ shop somewhere down the line. It got you thinking about the future.

“Where do you see yourself in five years?” You asked the dreaded question in between bites of a colorful Korean fusion taco. He stiffened as he considered the answer. “What is this, a job interview?” Sometimes you saw peeks of bossman Rio rather than the Christopher Castillo you were getting to know. It happened seemingly out of nowhere when you asked questions he felt were invasive.

You looked up from the panko-fried shrimp, red cabbage, shredded carrots, and tasty orange sauce wrapped up in a flour tortilla with a frown. You had two choices: respond in the way he had or make light of the situation. So, you said, “Kinda. You’re auditioning for a spot on my roster, so...”

He stopped chewing the half-eaten dumpling and swallowed hard. “That’s not funny.”

“You better start taking the interviewing part of the audition more seriously then.” You wiped your fingers on a napkin, and he gathered your hand in his own, wearing a look you couldn’t decipher. “You got it, ma.”

You played a game of mini-golf at the local arcade. Rio stood tall behind you, holding you by your hips as he corrected your stance. You purposefully arched your back, brushing against him just slightly. “Like this?” You looked over your shoulder with the most innocent look you could muster, but his eyes were glued to your ass. “Yeah, just like that.” He answered in a low tone without looking up. You giggled as you took your swing, adding a wiggle for his benefit. You pretended to care about the ball as it glided across the bright green tarp towards the hole. “How was that?” You chirped, looking down the lane.

“I can’t even lie. I don’t care about the game right now. I just wanna watch you.” Your aim was terrible, and the ball never went in the hole without several attempts, but he insisted you finish playing the course. You teased him about it for days after despite his claim that he actually enjoyed the game because it was one of Marcus’ favorites.

“Stop lying! You just wanted an excuse to openly watch my ass.”

“Why you always gotta call me out?”

You shopped a cozy health and wellness store with hundreds of cool little trinkets for sale. Neither of you had been there before, so you took your time exploring, stealing unexpected kisses from the other. Rio took full advantage of the size of the store, pulling you by the hand and holding you close to his side.

He frowned at the large collection of shiny crystals. “A rock, really? What does anybody need with a rock?”

“It’s not a rock!” You hissed, head whipping around as you hoped the owner didn’t hear him.

“What is it then? It looks like a rock to me.” He picked one up, turning it over in his hands.

“It’s a crystal!”

“What’s the difference?”

“It has healing properties...” Rio snorted but strung his arm across your shoulder and listened intently as you read the info cards to him. When it was all said and done, he bought an aventurine stone to apologize to the owner for prosperity, well-being, and good luck.

The next day, he disappeared with no warning. You had been worried sick until Mick let you know he was busy handling something. It would have only taken a minute to tell you that, so you were (understandably) pissed. He showed up at the shop several days later like nothing had ever happened. “What’s up, mama?” The greeting that usually melted you grated on your nerves. All of your feelings about the situation bubbled up to the surface. It was hard to find the right words— you were still getting to know each other, so how mad could you be? At the same time, how little did he think of you to not say anything? Finally, you settled on, “I can’t do the disappearing act.”

Rio wasn’t used to answering to anyone, not even his child’s mother, about his whereabouts, but he put his palms up in surrender when he saw the serious expression you wore.

“You’re right, mama. That’s my bad. It won’t happen again.”

And it hadn’t.

But knowing ahead of time only made it a tiny bit easier, especially when he didn’t have a set return date. You were going on day seven (the longest you had gone without seeing him since you started dating) when he called to say he made it home and wanted to see you. Your heavy heart swelled with relief. You missed him way more than you probably should have, so you insisted on a night in at your place, wanting him to feel relaxed and at home instead of on guard somewhere public.

It had been a long six weeks without sex while he romanced you with delicious food and beautiful words. It wasn’t an easy task, but you knew as soon as sex was thrown in the mix, you would be done for, either destined to be his or ruined by him. It was a scary thought, but distance had indeed made the heart grow fonder, and you cared about him enough to take a chance.

He was set to arrive within the hour, but you were still unsure of what to wear, frantically rummaging through the dresser for something cute and comfortable. You let out a frustrated groan when your phone started to ring, thinking Rio might have come early, but when you look down at your phone, you see your best friend’s name and face. You swipe quickly, accepting the FaceTime call. “Hey, girl!”

“Hey, stranger!” You pick up the phone, so you can look at her. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” She replies with just as much sass. “I haven’t talked to you in what— two weeks?”

“We talk—“

“—text.”

“Okay, fine. Text. We text every day. What are you talking about?”

“That’s not the same.” She insists even as you remind her of the ridiculous amount of time you spend trading memes and food pictures with her.

“Anyway, what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to decide what I’m going to wear between this, this, or this.” You move the camera around, showing her the different options. A black-and-white tank and short set with ‘Being cute is not a crime’ in a cute font. A fuzzy grey sweatsuit set with hearts, or a simple cream hoodie with matching shorts.

“Um, what’s the occasion?” You giggle at the look on her face, knowing she thinks none of the above are appropriate for wearing outside of the house.

“Movie night in.”

“You need help picking an outfit for movie night with yourself?” Her face scrunches up in confusion. “Wait, is it movie night with yourself?” You try to be casual about it, shrugging your shoulders in response. As usual, she sees through your bullshit and goes straight into an interrogation. “Oh, bitch. You been holding out on me!” She asks you five questions in a row without stopping to breathe before settling on one. “Who?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip. “...Rio.”

“Rio?” She frowns. “Like the guy we work for, Rio? With the eyebrows and the neck tattoo, Rio?”

“Yes, that Rio.”

“Wow.” You wince but decide it’s best to get it over with. “What? I know you, so I know there’s more where that came from.”

“I don’t know what to say! From what I can tell, he’s a decent dude, I guess, but you know what he does. You definitely know what we do for him! You don’t think that could be a problem?”

“It’s messy, for sure, and I can admit that, but I’ve been thinking about getting out anyway...” She nods. “Then, I guess there’s nothing else for me to say about that. You’re both grown, and you know what you’re doing.” She was your best friend, which meant she’d always give her honest opinion, but wouldn’t berate you about your choices. Just like that, you return to your regular discussion topics, everything from warehouse gossip (yes, even in the business of crime, there’s a rumor mill) to new music releases. Before you knew it, forty minutes had passed, and Rio was calling your phone. You promised to call her more often before hanging up.

You sing your ‘hello’ into the phone, hoping Rio can’t detect the shakiness in your voice as you clumsily pull on your bottoms.

“Hey, mama. You about ready? I know you’re sensitive about your space and all that.” He was referring to the fact that he had never been past the doorway of your home. Your home was your sacred place, so you were extra careful about who came in and what energy they brought. It was always nerve-wracking to let somebody into the space that you cherished so much.

“Yeah.” He picks up on the hesitancy in your voice. “Are you sure?” You nod your head as if he can see you before telling him yes with a giggle. “Alright, well, I’m outside. Can I come in?” You bite your lip, butterflies fluttering in your tummy. “Yeah, I’ll come unlock the door.” He whispers his thanks, and you take a moment to force yourself to relax. When you meet him at the door, you do so with an open mind and heart, taking in his appearance with a goofy grin on your face. As usual, he’s dressed in all black, wearing a well-fitted t-shirt and sweatpants. He’s casual but still so high quality and attractive.

“Hi.” You breathe out like a dork when you realize you’re staring. It helps that he seems just as mesmerized, stepping forward to envelop you in a tight, warm hug. He sways you from side to side before pulling back, his hands resting heavily on the top of your ass. He settles for a quick peck on the lips because he has something to say. “You’re as pretty as ever, darlin’.” He says earnestly, shaking his head as he steps back to look you over once more.

“Kiss me again.” His hands cup your ass as you devour each other in the open doorway. You forget your surroundings. “Damn, ma. Can I at least get inside before you jump my bones? I don’t mind giving your neighbors a show if that’s your thing, but…” You turn to hide your embarrassment, leaving him to close the door behind you as you gesture around the room as if you’re in an episode of MTV Cribs. “... here’s the living room. The kitchen’s through the arch. The bathroom’s over there...” He follows you with his red as you point.

“And the bedroom?”

You snort. “The tour stops here for now. Sit down.” Your tone leaves no room for argument. He settles into the soft couch while you grab the snack tray from the kitchen. Homemade popcorn, chocolate-covered pretzels, and dried fruit gummies are on the menu.

“All this for me?” His arms snake around your waist so that you can curl up into his side. “What we watching?” You grab the remote. “I saw a trailer this week that caught my attention. I’ll play it for you.” He didn’t care what you watched as long as he got to be close to you, so it didn’t take long for you to get the movie started. He stole glances at you when his knuckles brushed against your bare knees under the blanket. You’re embarrassed at how wet the small action makes you, so you stretch out across the couch and place your bare feet in his lap, silently planning your revenge. The movie may as well not be playing because you couldn’t be less interested in the plot as you lightly stroke him through his sweatpants with the balls of your feet.

“Ma...” He warns, watching you in the low lighting. He’s come to learn you like to tease, but he doesn’t think he can take it, not tonight. “Hmm?” You hum innocently, loving the strained look on your face. He doesn’t move even as you sit up on your haunches and kiss him. It’s slow and long in the best way. He pulls you to sit in his lap. His hands roam your body as you grind down onto him, relishing in the feeling of the soft skin on your tummy. He sighs into your mouth as one hand finds your bare breasts.

He pulls away to talk shit. “No bra? You just knew I was gonna put out, huh?” He pushes the cotton material up so he can see you properly. “Perfect.” He murmurs into your skin. You let him kiss and lick and suck on your nipples until the pressure you feel below is too much to handle. You’re a quivering mess when he finally helps you pull the cotton material up and over your head. It lands on top of the television behind you, but neither of you notice.

You nudge him until he removes his own shirt, and then he lifts his hips to help you when you begin tugging on his sweats. They puddle at his feet while you spread your legs wide, desperate to get your hands on him. “I could cry right now.” You admit honestly when you finally see him, biting your lip. He arches a brow. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing, darlin’?” His hips jerk when you take him into your hands, the cold temperature surprising him.

“It’s definitely a good thing.” You whisper excitedly, staring with wonder as he hardens in your hands. He barks out a laugh, stunned by your ability to make him laugh, even with his dick in your hands. “That’s really nice, ma. I feel real special.” Your eyes meet, and silent promises of all the filthy things you’re going to do to each other are exchanged. “You should. I’m about to change your life.” He throbs in your hands, loving that you find small ways to challenge him.

“Come on. Let’s go to bed.” He wraps his arms around you in preparation to get up, but you stop him with a shake of your head. “I don’t wanna.”

“No? What you wanna do then?”

You answer him by slipping to your knees. You spit on his dick, stroking him up and down slowly. He watches you closely as you lower your mouth, wrapping your lips around the tip. It takes a lot of restraint, but he lets you do your thing, slowly working him deeper into your throat. He closes his eyes as he concentrates on lasting, but he can’t turn his ears off, the obscene smacks painting a vivid picture for him. When you swipe your tongue across his balls, he moves to stop you, grabbing your shoulders. Fire dances in your eyes as you realize you got him where you want him. “I don’t wanna.” You repeat.

“You are a brat.”

You release him with a pop. “The biggest.” You admit, swallowing him once more. He groans, thinking he can’t believe you’re the same sweet girl who bakes in a frilly pink apron and begs him to tell her bedtime stories.

“I want you to fuck me now.” He stops you before you can bend over the couch. “Slow down. I want you on your back, darlin.”

You throw his earlier words back at him. “That’s nice. I feel really special.”

“You should.” He mocks you, instructing you to hold your legs wide. He wastes no time licking and sucking you as enthusiastically as you had done him. “You’re so pretty. I could eat this pretty pussy forever.” He compliments as you squirm in his hold. “You’d let me, huh?” You shake your head frantically. “No! You’d drive..me crazy!” Payback is a mother, especially when Rio’s the one dishing it out. “Wait, wait—“You whimper, clawing at his shoulders.

“What?” He cajoles. He almost wants to laugh at the distressed look on your face. “I want you.” You pout, trying to sweet-talk him.

“You have me.”

“Not like this. Inside.”

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Mhm.” You swallow, watching as he fumbles around with his pants searching for a condom. He opens the golden foil packet with expert fingers, positioning himself in between your spread legs. “You don’t have any pointers for me now?” He drags his tip up and down your slit, slowly pushing his way further. Teasing. You shake your head. “No. Just fuck me.”

“That ain’t polite. You gotta say please, mama.” You scowled, but he didn’t budge. “Please.” You pleaded with the sweetest tone you could muster, sighing as he gave in. You cursed at the stretch, him at the way you squeezed him. “You feel…” He couldn’t find the words, so he buried his face in your neck, trying to gain some composure. You caressed the back of his neck sweetly. “You feel good too, baby.”

His hips stuttered forward, and you gasped as he worked himself deeper. You grasp his shoulders tightly, your nails embedding themselves into the soft skin.

“Yes!” You squeal.

“Like that?” He grits out, struggling to keep his rhythm.

“Yes, just like that!” You cry, moaning as he pounds up into you. His lips find yours again, and it’s bliss. Then before you can stop yourself, you’re calling him Daddy like it’s his given name. He groans into your sweaty neck like he’s in pain.

“You’re so nasty.” Overwhelmed and breathless, you whine your protest, “You’re nasty. Look at what you’re doing to me.” His eyes shift to where you’re connected. You’re creaming all over him and leaking down onto the couch, but you can’t bring yourself to care about anything other than coming. You do just that, mewling as you make an even bigger mess between your legs. He whispers filthy things into your ear as he finishes, grunting at the way you seem to be sucking him in even deeper.

“That was—“

“—unreal.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you can bring yourself to move. Your sweat-covered skin sticks together. You swipe your hand against your forehead while he pants.

“I wanted to ride you at least once tonight, but after that, I’ll be lucky to make it to bed.”

GENERAL TAGLIST

@woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @everyhowlmarksthedead @yourwonkywriter @trulysuccubus @sparklemichele @luckyharley1903

RIO TAGLIST

@xsweetdellzx

#good girls rio #nbc good girls #manny montana #rio x reader #rio x black!reader

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hardlyinteresting · 3 years

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Risks Worth Taking 2/2

This is the second half, part 2/2 of the story, thank you to everyone who has read it! Professor!Zemo x Student reader Part 1 here The reader takes Zemo’s philosophy class focusing on Machiavelli. Posted in 2 parts because it exceeded the textbox limit. Apx 3k words.

Warnings: student-teacher relationship (the reader is of age, no real focus on power imbalance), implied age gap, consumption of alcohol, implication that the reader is sleeping with Zemo for better grades (she's not) and of course let me know if you want me to add anything else!!

Week five, he is not shocked to find she’s once again the first one in class. “Good evening,” he greets warmly, unwrapping his scarf from around his neck as he makes his way to his desk. She smiles back, “I left my paper on your desk there, I figured I’d get the pile started”. He laughs setting down his coat and bag, “Something tells me there will be few submissions for this class”.

He’s right. Less than half the class bothers to show up. Most of her peers seem to be getting a head start on winter break, at least the class is quiet she thinks content listening to Helmut summarize the most recently assigned chapters, providing historical context where needed.

“Enjoy your break Helmut,” she says softly as he shuts the lecture hall door.

“You as well. Do you have plans?” She shakes her head, “No, just reading”. He smiles, “Then I am sure it will be a good break indeed”.

The cafe is warm and cosy. She settles comfortably into her favourite booth with her favourite book and a second cup of tea.

The bell at the front door dings as a man enters in a long black coat and leather gloves. Fancy she thinks to herself as he approaches the counter to order. It's usually other students dressed in sweatpants and hoodies, the man’s put together dress piques her interest. He orders and then she watches over the top of her book as he drops a $10 bill into the barista’s tip jar. Oh, well dressed and exceedingly well mannered. She can't help but watch him as he waits. Removing his gloves he tucks them into his pockets and unbuttons his coat, she swears she can smell his cologne from where she sits; it's incredible!

“Cherry blossom tea for Helmut?” The barista calls sliding the cup across the counter.

Helmut? It isn't. Is it? He turns after saying a polite thank you, and she can feel her heart hammering as he turns and she sees his face. It is. She's not sure why she's shocked, she did tell him about this place after all. Do I say something? She wonders, weighing the pros and cons, but her thoughts are halted when she hears his voice,

“Hello,” he smiles softly, “I didn't expect you to be here--I know you pointed this place out, but I wasn't--”

He's worried he's intruding. Oh, how the tables have turned.

“No, no. It's okay! I don't own the place-- did you want to sit? You don't have to--”

He chuckles as her nerves get the best of her.

Silently he sets down his cup shrugging out of his coat, putting it over the back of the chair before sitting down.

“What are you reading?” He smiles, trying to peak at the cover.

Again, after their initial stiffness, the conversation flows smoothly, just like it had in his office. After several warm drinks, and a couple croissants ordered between the two of them it’s grown dark outside. Neither had noticed the cafe empty out slowly over the hours, the barista cleaning up for the night until she clears her throat from behind the counter. They both turn to look at her, finally noticing how quiet the shop is.

“Sorry, we’re closing now,” the barista smiles sweetly. “Not a problem. I apologise, we lost track of time. We’ll get out of your way,” Helmut apologizes. The pair collect their things sliding back into their coats and gloves. Helmut waits patiently for her to be ready to go his hand resting gently at the small of her back as she slips out of the booth and past him.

Helmut stops and puts another bill in the girl’s tip jar.

“Sorry for keeping you,” he apologises again.

Outside the winter wind is cold against their faces.

“Are you hungry?” Helmut asks.

“I could eat,” She responds. “Ever been there?” Helmut asks pointing to the pub across the street. “I don’t know if it’s your speed. It’s not super nice or anything, but their food is decent,” she says honestly. He laughs, “‘Decent’ is better than what I can make at home by myself”.

She bites her lip thinking about it, does he want to spend more time with me?

“Okay,” she smiles as they make their way across the street.

Settled at a table, they wait for their server, she asks, “Was that a fifty dollar bill I saw you put in that tip jar?”

He shrugs, “Yes”.

He says that as if it’s normal, she thinks.

“I know you’re not from here, but you do know that’s a lot of money right?” “Yes,” he shrugs again, “But she made excellent tea all afternoon, she let us stay as late as she could and she was polite. And I have been here long enough to know that servers of any kind don’t get paid fairly. I can afford it, she deserves it”.

She feels the smile grow across her face, she considers gushing that he’s such a good person, but instead what comes out is, “I’m really starting to consider becoming a professor”.

He laughs, “I told you, it’s family money, not my facility pay”. God, that laugh, sets off butterflies in her stomach, the warm, genuine sound of his laughter.

He continues, “Before Sokovia fell, my family were royalty. I was a Baron there”. “I knew your name sounded familiar,” she sighs, “I remember hearing about Sokovia on the news. I remember your name, you were building orphanages and relief centres”.

He nods sadly, “Many of us thought we could salvage what we had left after everything. We couldn’t”.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, without thinking she reaches across the table to place a comforting hand on his arm. His hand comes to cover hers, so much larger than her own.

There’s a silence between them for one of the first moment since he sat down with her earlier at the cafe. But it’s not uncomfortable, it’s the opposite -- a silence of understanding, both parties knowing there’s nothing they can say to make things better-- they can only ruminate.

The peace is broken by a waiter coming to take their orders. “Do you drink Helmut?” She asks with a mischievous smile. “I have been known to indulge,” he confesses, his eyebrows furrowed. “Two shots of ?” she turns to look at Helmut expectantly. “Vodka,” he replies. “Two shots of vodka, and an order of cheese fries to share please,” she orders, “thank you”.

The waiter returns not before long, placing the drinks and food on the table.

She holds her shot glass up waiting for him to do the same. “Prost,” he says raising his glass towards her. “Cheers,” she responds clinking her glass into his before they both tip them back.

And that’s how their night begins.

It’s nearing midnight when they settle their bill, Helmut insisting he pay-- though she put up a good fight. “Can I walk you home?” He asks looking at her under the light of the street lamps. She nods, her face feeling warm both from his attention and the alcohol coursing through her bloodstream. Her apartment is only three blocks away, but time seems to slow down as they walk arm in arm through the freshly fallen snow. At her door they stop, she looks up at him, him down at her. Without a thought, lips meet. It’s not rough or particularly sexy, but she feels her knees go weak when his hand comes to cup her cheek, his other splayed across the small of her back pulling her closer. This kiss deepens and she clutches the lapel of his wool coat before they both pull away. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “Don’t be,” she sighs.

Then the thought hits her, “How are you getting home?” “Oh-- I was going to get a cab and go back to the cafe to pick up my car in the morning,” he explains. “Nonsense-- you can stay here,” she offers unlocking her door and stepping inside, he doesn’t follow. “Not in my bed,” she laughs flicking on the light, “I’ll set you up on the couch”. He steps inside.

In the morning he wakes to the sun shining through the window. It takes him a minute to orient himself remembering he crashed on her couch. He sits up taking a moment to look around the apartment, it’s cute. Books and textbooks and notebooks strewn about the place. It’s homey and inviting and every bit what he’d expect her space to look like. Carefully he grabs one of the open notebooks tearing out a page he writes a quick note:

Good morning, I find that I feel very sorry for having to leave before you wake. Alas, I have much to get done, and I do not wish to trespass in your home longer than needed. I am grateful for your hospitality, and even more, your company. If my memory serves correctly I must also apologise for making that advance towards you last night. It was ungentlemanly, and you are unquestionably deserving of much better. I hope you can forgive me, and that you might allow me to make it up to you. -Helmut

Week six.

“He should appear to be compassionate, faithful to his word, guileless, and devout.” Is written across the board. When she settles into her seat. She’s not early this week, rather just on time. Helmut notes the heavy rise and fall of her chest as she tries to catch her breath, he holds back a smile at the thought of her sprinting to his class. When the class is settled, he proceeds to hand back all of the submitted essays, now marked. He smiles as he sets hers on her desk, “Bravo,” he says quietly enough that just she hears it as he shuffles along to the next row of students. She anxiously flips to the last page, red pen scrawl reads 100%. Her jaw drops. There’s no way. She thinks back to the rumours she heard on campus at the beginning of the year, about how difficult a marker he is. Bullshit. Her blood boils, rage sizzling beneath her skin. She avoids his eyes for the rest of class staring down at her notebook as she notices the indents in the blank page-- indents left from where he had written her a note that morning. Her anger freezes replaced by the cold sinking feeling in her chest. All his kind words, all those moments shared-- did he really think she was just spending time with him for a better grade? What kind of handout does he expect to get from her? She scolds herself now for the little crush she’d developed-- how stupid could she be? The prince must appear to be virtuous in order to hide his actions, She remembers from her reading, a dagger to her chest as she thinks bitterly that she’s not shocked that the professor is practising what he preaches.

The class ends and he moves to collect his paperwork, sorting it back into his bag. She stays. “I’m glad you stayed behind,” he starts. “I’m sure you are,” she says sharply. Confused he puts his things down turning to face her. “Have I done something to upset you?” He asks seriously his head tilted to the side as he racks his brain for anything he may have done to make her so cross. Perhaps his note was not sufficient in conveying his apology? “Do you think I’m stupid? Or that I’m naive?” she asks arms crossed, “I’m not sleeping with you for a good grade,” she states firmly, sliding her essay back across her desk, “feel free to adjust my grade accordingly”. Is that what she thinks? His mouth goes dry, his mind and heart racing with all the different ways he wants to apologise, to tell her that she has it wrong. He approaches her, finally making eye contact with her, “Your grade will stay as it is. I mark all of my student’s work without looking at the cover pages. I have always strived to remain impartial. Your essay was marked no differently,” He explains calmly, “I would be wrong to say that I don’t hold any affections for you-- it is quite the opposite. I enjoy the time we have spent together, and I would like to continue to remain in your company; I hope to eventually find myself in your affections-- but none of this has any bearing on your grade. I am sorry that I have acted in a way where this was not clear”. Her throat clenches, oh. “I’m sorry--Oh my god--I’m so stupid!” her hand flies to cover her mouth. “You have nothing to apologise for-- I should be the one apologising,” he insists. She shakes her head standing to stand in front of him, “We’ve both been obtuse”. “I’d like to make it up to you. I’d like to take you out for dinner-- a proper meal. If you’ll allow me”. She nods her hand coming to rest on his cheek, thumb running gently across his cheekbone, “I would like that,” she says quietly, her eyes glazing at his lips, “But only after the semester is done and I’ve graduated”. “If that is what you want,” he nods understanding. She can feel him leaning in, her eyes flickering up to his caramel eyes and back down to his lips, his hand rests on her hip, but he waits for her to close the gap between them.

Last day of the school year.

She waits by the door to the lecture hall as he speaks to his class. She listens to the back and forth of conversing ideas from the students, her heart beating faster every time Helmut speaks. It takes a while for everyone to leave when the class is over, but he does his best not to make her wait too long, gathering his things as quickly as possible, he makes his way over to her.

“Maybe I should’ve taken this course, the conversation was much more lively!” She laughs. “Your intelligent thoughts would have been wasted here, my dear” He smiles shutting the door behind him, “your class needed a brilliant mind in it”.

The summer goes by quickly. Fine dining, nights in. reading during rainstorms. Nights of soft romance, followed by nights of passion. Pasts shared. Futures envisioned. In his bed the night before the new school year she rolls over to lay almost on top of him, laughing when he lets out an oof. “Old man she teases,” earning a playful pinch on the thigh from him.

She glances at his nightstand, a copy of The Prince laying there.

“And what are your personal feelings about Machiavelli anyway? You never speak about your own thoughts”

“You're so clever,” he laughs, “but you're right”.

He sighs pulling her closer. he tries to focus on his hand running up and down her arm, how soft her sweater is under his fingertips. He takes a deep breath before speaking, “every time I read it, my opinions change,” he confesses, “there was a time when I was young and stupid; thought I was invincible that I agreed with a lot of his ideals. Then I grew older, fell in love--I thought him stupid and lonely. I experienced an incredible loss--”

She squeezes his side as she hears his voice grow tense with tears, he swallows and continues, “and then I thought I understood him. I learned how to grieve and I thought him intolerable. In the end I learn more about myself than I do him”.

She smiles, “and have you read it lately?”

He nods kissing her softly, “I have”.

“And?”

“I learned to trust my instincts. To take the risks that are worth taking”

“You're kind of a sap,” she laughs, her face getting warm she buries it in his chest. Part 1 here

#zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #professor!zemo #daniel bruhl x reader #zemo #daniel bruhl #baron zemo x reader

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silksandcravats · 3 years

Text

All Tied Up - Viscount!Kylo

Once again I find myself taking my sweet time with the backstory kylo piece so in its place please accept another piece of viscount!kylo smut <3

Lady Ren stumbles across a rather indecent piece of literature which leads to her taken certain sexual liberties with her husband OR reader insert ties Kylo to the bed.

masterlist

Warnings/contents: fem!reader, bondage, PIV sex, unprotected sex, regency era, reader still has limited sexual knowledge, historical inaccuracies probably

You fidgeted with the ribbons in your hand, turning them over and over again. Blue felt like as good a colour as any to use. It was a wicked idea, surely not one that might be expected from a gently bred lady such as yourself. But then, the idea wasn’t originally yours, that terribly indecent book was to blame. And it’s not like you sought the book out! You had only been seeking out the newest Jane Austen novel, which had the town abuzz (though the opinion of the female author herself was rather mixed).

You, unfortunately, had been rather late to hearing about the work, meaning there was not a copy to be spared in all of Mayfair. Not to be deterred, you had linked arms with your ladies maid, and bribed one of your coachmen a whole two pounds to take you into the city. (The act of bribery had become necessary after the man expressed concern that the Viscount might not approve of your excursion, he was right of course but you were not easily dissuaded.)

Whilst scouring the shelves of that London bookshelf, you noticed a book at the end of the row had been turned down so the spine was hidden and pushed back slightly as if someone had been trying to hide it. Upon further inspection you found the title to be, “The art of Basketweaving”.

How curious, you thought to yourself, turning the book over in your hands. Why would anyone have need to hide this?

It took only a brief look inside for you to realise the book had nothing to do with baskets at all. Your cheeks grew very hot and you slammed the book shut, not wanting to be caught reading it, at least not here. And so in the end you returned to Mayfair with a very different sort of book.

Which lead you up to now, sitting in your bedchambers, awaiting your husband who should return from parliament any time now. You turned the book open to study the position once more. It was the most devious, most erotic drawing you had ever seen. The way the man’s wrists had been crossed over and snuggly tied to the bedpost, the way the woman on top appeared to be lowering herself onto him, you had to admit you hadn’t even known it was possible!

You slammed the book quickly when you heard approaching footsteps you knew belonged to your husband. You hid the book in the top drawer of your writing desk, beneath loose stationery, and pushed the door shut.

The Viscount used your first name to greet you, coming into the room just as you tossed the ribbons onto the bed.

“Hello darling,” you smiled turning to face him. You felt slightly nauseous as you watched his eyes flicker briefly to the ribbon on the bed. You made yourself take a deep breath as he turned back to you, trying to force your nerves to calm, he didn’t know what you were up to, he couldn’t.

“I did not expect to find you here at this time of day,” he spoke walking towards you. You hated when he looked at you this way - like he already knew all of your secrets, but you knew you couldn’t look away, that would be as good as branding yourself with the word “guilty”.

“I was hoping we might enjoy each other’s company for a while, before dinner,” you did your best to sound innocent, snaking your arms around his neck.

“Is that so?” He queried, his hands coming down to grasp your waist.

“Yes,” you breathed, tipping your face up to meet his. He kissed you briefly, before pulling back.

“And what might be the occasion?”

“No occasion,” you shook your head, tugging slightly at his cravat. He hummed thoughtfully but didn’t reply, allowing you to pull the material free. You knew he was suspicious, but he didn’t push, allowing you to pull through his layers. His hands roamed you, undressing you at a much slower pace than you were him. And so when you finished you splayed your hands across his chest, and leaned forward, kissing slowly up his torso.

“You’re very eager,” he noted, finally removing your drawers.

“Is such a sin to want one’s husband?” You looked up at him through your lashes, hoping to replace his curiosity with lust.

“Not at all,” He smirked, pulling your now naked form closer to him and kissing you again. You knew you had to be careful here, one wrong move and you would end up below him, and then you might as well forget your plans. You let your hands roam him a moment longer and slowly, slowly backed him up to the bed and then-

“I know you left Mayfair today,” He broke away, speaking down to you. Your brows furrowed.

“How did you-”

“I gave him five pounds.”

He then took you by surprise, dropped back on the bed, and pulling you along on top of him. This was good, now he was right where you wanted him.

“Five?” You gasped, trying to linger on the topic of staff rather than your unauthorised outing. “We shall be out a coachman when he runs off with his new fortune.”

His fingertips grazed the flesh of your hips, tracing your skin, his touch was sinful but you couldn’t allow yourself to bask in it now, you needed his hands higher up. Your situation was still quite precarious after all, he might flip you onto your back at any moment.

“I don’t know what was more foolish, you leaving Mayfair or thinking I wouldn’t know,” he admonished. You grasped his hands, feeling pleased when he cooperated, and dragged them up slowly.

“I did bring Daisy along,” you pointed out, frowning innocently.

“I’m beginning to believe I allow you too many liberties, perhaps I ought to take you in hand,” He spoke suggestively, the meaning of his words not lost on you. His eyes were darkening, you were running out of time, if you were going to act it had to be now.

“Actually,” you leaned in.

All at once, you took over. In a speed even you hadn’t known you possessed, you snatched up your hair ribbons, which were already within arms reach, and shoved his wrists against the headboard, tossing one over the other and tied them to the spot, quickly and firmly. You prayed it was tight enough.

“I should like to take a few more liberties before the day is through,” your lips ghosted over his, your stomach lurched at the boldness of your actions but you held your composure.

“You devilish woman,” he pulled his head back from you, leaning against the pillow to look up at your handiwork. He survived the bonds for a moment but made no effort to yank free, instead he sighed.

“That was very clever of you darling,” he admitted, turning his gaze from his hands to meet you again. “But what do you plan to do now that you have me?”

“A great many things I should think,” you spoke boldly. You reached down and grasped his length, first loosely, then you tightened a bit, give him a few teasing strokes. You watched proudly as his already partially hard cock grew firmer in your grip, fully standing at attention now. Still in the first bloom of marriage, you hadn’t mastered his body yet. You were still learning the best ways to touch and tease.

A few drops were beginning to collect at his tip so you swiped your thumb along his slit, collecting the moisture, the contact making him hiss. And then, feeling incredibly vulgar, you lifted your thumb to your mouth and licking slowly. Kylo let out a shameless moan in response, watching you with great interest. This was going very well indeed.

“And where might my sweet little wife get such a wicked idea from?” He quirked a brow, watching your hand work him. Even now, bound to the bed he looked calm and collected, and perhaps even somehow still in control. In fact, he looked almost as if he was lying in the garden of your country home, basking in the summer sun.

You didn’t answer. He was fully and entirely erect now and so you pulled away, leaning up on his thighs and looking down at him with determination. Your hand slipped between your legs and you touched yourself, pushing two fingers inside of yourself and moving them in a sort of scissoring motion the way Kylo always did before he took you. It wasn’t the same of course, your fingers were smaller and you couldn’t work yourself open the same way, but you did your best given your position.

“If you need help wife, you need but ask,” he chimed, watching you touch yourself. His demeanour was still collected but there was a hunger in his eyes, clearly you weren’t the only one who wished it was his fingers plunged inside of you.

“That’s quite alright husband,” you shook your head, pulling your fingers away and moving above him. You grasped him again aligning himself to your opening and taking a deep breath.

“Go ahead, darling.”

Perhaps he was asking you to hurry along because he was eager, but it was also possible his words were encouraging, and you couldn’t have him thinking you were nervous, so you briskly lowered yourself all the way down, filling yourself to the brim. You both moaned loudly at your action.

You hadn’t been able to open yourself up as well as he does, so the stretch of him burned more deeply than you were used to causing you to wince. Being on top you knew you had all the time you would like to adjust, but you couldn’t give your husband the satisfaction of knowing how affected you were.

And so you adjusted slightly and, -consequential soreness be damned- you began rocking yourself on top of him, up and down. The third time you moved you went too far and he slipped out of you. You nearly cursed but instead you simply repositioned and tried again.

It took you a few tries to set a rhythm, and Kylo, knowing when and when to not tease his wife, kept his amusement to himself as best he could while you gathered your bearings. Finally, you slipped into a fluid pattern, bouncing on top of him rather pleasantly.

Whenever Kylo bedded you, he fully sheathed himself with every single thrust, knocking against something deep inside of you, and he couldn’t help but notice that now that it was your turn you made sure to never drop all the way down. Not because you didn’t enjoy the feeling, he knew you liked it quite a bit, but rather he realised it was too intense for you to subject yourself to.

It felt wonderful to have him this way, but it was taking quite a bit of energy to maintain your pace and you were beginning to develop a newfound sense of respect that he was able to ravish you so frequently and for so long. You knew you’d be able to finish this way, and you were fairly sure he could too, and so you willed yourself to carry on. It wasn’t until you begin to pant softly that Kylo couldn’t resist speaking up.

“You seem to be overexerting yourself, dear, shall I take over for you?” He cooed, his voice sweet and heavy like honey. It was a tempting proposition, to roll over and let him have you, but you finally held power in your grasps, and who knows when you might have it again?

“N-no,” you shook your head violently, picking up the speed even though your muscles were screaming, begging you to stop.

“Very well, come here then,” he nodded once, urging you toward him. You complied, sliding your hands further up his chest and leaning down to kiss him. Once he had your mouth on him he began to move beneath you, rocking up in time with you so that the next time you came down he slid farther inside of you knocking against your cervix making you screech his name, and then he did it again, and again.

“Touch yourself for me,” he groaned against your mouth. And so you did without thinking, having to shift in the process so you could reach, which only allowed him to further space to thrust up into you. You couldn’t believe it, he was topping from the bottom?

“Oh Kylo!” you exclaim, jolting when your fingers found your own little bud.

“That’s it darling,” he groaned, his own composure beginning to cripple, “come with me.” Your chest tightened, your rocking had grown sloppy and he was doing the bulk on the work now, he pushed up into you once, twice more and then your world shattered. Your eyes squeezed shut and your head tilted back, your mouth falling ajar. You felt him finish inside of you, gushing around your walls.

You were breathing heavily, even after the effects of your release had faded, feeling utterly and completely exhausted.

“That was excellent my love,” he spoke, and before you had the chance to free him, he tugged away from the bonds all on his own. The ribbons fell to the bed and you realised he had merely been allowing you to believe you had him subdued. He leaned up to wrap his arms around you, pulling you down to the bed. In instant, you were lying on your back and he on his side, holding you tenderly and wrapping you up in sheets.

“But in the future, I should think it better suited if you were the one in bondage, dear wife.” He dropped a swift kiss on your cheek. “And we will be having a discussion later about your little trip.”

TAGLIST - @mrs-zimmerman @maryforyou @ellenmunn @tashastrange89 @morby @clydesfavoritegirl @mariesackler @fizzywoohoo @reyloaddict55 @the-unmanaged-mischief @loganluckylover @boltonbritreads @cornmousequeen @lessismorestuff @icarusinthesea

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#visocunt!kylo #kylo ren #kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren fic #regency!kylo #regency au #kylo ren x you #adam driver x you #ben solo #ben solo smut #kylo ren writing #adam driver smut #ben solo writing #kylo ren fluff

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purselover2 · 3 years

Text

Title: Going Once, Going Twice…….

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: None that I can see, but please let me know if there are and I will add them.

This is for @amythedvdhoarder. Happy Hoelentine’s Day!!! I hope you like it. Its based off a picture I found of Seb and Hemsworth. I used my magic brain waves to turn them into Bucky and Thor and this is the result.

Mood board by the amazing @constantwriter85

❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜

As you stood backstage watching the other models get ready you found yourself wondering not for the first time why you were here. Surely there was someone who could have filled the spot left vacant when Maria got called away on an assignment. But no, they had come to you, said you had to, it was for the puppies and damn if you could ever resist helping puppies. Or the kitties, or any other animal. So that’s how you found yourself backstage getting stuffed into an evening gown that cost a small fortune getting your hair primped and your makeup caked on waiting to go on stage and walk down a runway, trip and fall more like it, to hopefully sell the high end clothes you wore to the highest bidder.

If that alone didn’t make you nervous there was the other part of the auction, the bidder got to take the model out on a date wearing said outfit. There was no way anyone was going to bid on you. You weren’t popular, not even an agent. You were the IT girl, you know the one no one pays attention too until something breaks.

“Hey y/n! You look amazing.” Nat said and she and Wanda joined you. “Don’t be nervous. You’re going to do fantastic.”

“Yes. This is going to be a great night. We’re going to save all the puppies!” Wanda was way too happy.

“Thats easy for you two to say. You have guaranteed bidders. No way are Bruce and Vision going to let you two go without bidding. I’m the one who’s gotta stand up there and hope for a pitty bid.” You said.

“I think you’re not giving yourself enough credit.” Wanda hugged you.

“Yeah, you never know, Mr. Right could be here tonight.” Nat agreed.

“Well lets hope he doesn’t get held up trying to find a parking space.” You joked. You made your way over the curtain and peaked out. There on the front row was the one person you never expected to see at a charity fashion show. Bucky Barnes sitting right next to Thor dressed like a million bucks. What the hell? Could this get any worse? It was bad enough to embarrass yourself in front of the other Avengers, but you at least taken comfort in knowing that the one Avenger you had a secret crush on, wouldn’t be there to witness your humiliation. But no, fate had other plans. There he was front and center sitting next to the fucking god of thunder who couldn’t hold a candle to Bucky in your book.

“Hey y/n.” The backstage coordinator announced. “You’re going to be the last one to walk okay?”

“Yeah sure.” You thought maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, maybe everyone would just leave after they bid and you wouldn’t have to even walk on. Walking over to the puppies and kitties that the rescue had brought to show off and hopefully get adopted you saw a white kitty that looked as nervous and out of place as you did. Bending over you picked it up and began to pet it.

“Well hey there little one, you look like you want to be here as much as I do.”

You saw Nat come back through the curtain and hand the puppy she took on stage over to a handler and you motioned for her. “How did you do?”

Taking her hands and smoothing them down her dress she shook her ass and replied. “A date with me cost the gentleman $5000.”

“Damn girl you go. Bruce is a lucky man.” You winked.

“Who said it was Banner?” She smiled.

“That smile.” You giggled. “Here comes Sharon. I’m guessing she took some of Cap’s social security check tonight.”

“Those age jokes never get old.” Nat laughed. “Hey Sharon, how much did grandpa spend?”

“$5000!” She yelled. “He got into a bidding war with some guy from the Pentagon. Apparently Steve doesn’t like to loose.” She chuckled.

“Great a bidding war.” You held the kitty tighter as you stroked its fur.

“Y/N! You’re up.” The handler bellowed.

“You go girl!” Nat said pushing you forward. Wanda high fived you and Sharron patted you on the shoulder.

You stood just to the left of the stage and waited for the MC to announce you.

“And now ladies and gentlemen, its time for our final model. Please welcome to the stage Ms. Y/F/N, Y/L/N!

The curtain parted and you took the first step, then another then you realized that with the lights in your eyes you couldn’t see anyone in the audience. This was perfect. You’d just pretend you were out for a walk holding a cat and everything would be fine. You had already during rehearsal counted the number of steps to the end of the runway. You’d walk down, stop, let them get a good look at the dress and the cat and turn around, walk back and not see a single face. Especially Bucky’s.

You counted the steps and reached the end. Stopping you made a point of petting the kitty and it nuzzled your face and tried to curl up closer to you, taking a pink tipped paw and placing it on your lips drawing an awe from the audience and a few chuckles. You took the moment to snuggle him some more and then hold him out for everyone to see. Finally you turned and walked back down the stage to the MC.

Once you reached him, you stopped and stood waiting for the torture to begin.

“Alright ladies and gentlemen, lets start the bidding shall we. Do I hear an opening bid?”

You braced yourself expecting to hear silence, when out of the crowd you heard a familiar voice yell, “$1000!” This was a dream. There was no way Bucky Barnes was bidding a $1000 to take you out.

“I have $1000, do I hear $2000?” The MC continued

“$2000!” Came a voice from the other side of the stage. Squinting you could just make out the smirk on Brock Rumlow’s face. Great. He had asked you out a couple of times and you had politely tuned him down. He gave you the creeps in a major way and you didn’t want within ten feet of him.

“I have $2000, do I hear $3000?”

“$3000.” Came Bucky’s reply.

“$4000.” Brock countered without even waiting on the MC.

“$5000.” Bucky returned.

“Well it looks like we have quite the bidding war here tonight ladies and gentlemen.” The MC was obviously unable to contain his excitement. “I have $5000, do I hear $6000?”

“$7000!” Brock yelled.

“The bidding stands at $7000, do I hear $8000?” The MC asked. You couldn’t believe this.

“$10,000!” Bucky yelled louder and you almost hit the floor. Holy shit, ten thousand dollars. That was going to go a long way to help the puppies and the kitties. In your arm your new fury friend must have sensed your nerves because he again started rubbing your face. Taking your hand and rubbing his ears, you waited.

“$10,000 ladies and gentlemen! This is indeed a record setting bid. Do I hear another bid?” He motioned to Brock, who took a moment before shaking his head no and you released the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Relief that you wouldn’t have to endure a night with Brock Rumlow, only to relize that it meant you’d be enduring a night with Bucky Barnes. Even if it was a different kind of enduring.

The crowd went crazy as the grand total for the evening was announced and you made your way back stage, where Wanda, Sharon and Nat were all waiting for you.

“Oh my god girl!” Wanda exclaimed.

“And here you were worried about no one bidding.” Nat teased you.

“I’m so excited for you.�� Sharon replied. “I swear to God though if Rumlow had won I would have insisted on a double date so that you didn’t have to be alone with him. That guy is major creep.”

“I was scared there for a while. But damn, how did that even happen? Why in the world would Bucky Barnes ever want to go out with me?” You shook your head at the thought, not noticing the girls looking over your shoulder as someone approached.

“Well doll, I can give you about ten thousand reasons if you really want to know.” You heard Bucky say from behind you.

Turning around you saw him standing there with the other Avengers as they came to collect the other ladies. As each couple paired off and made their way to the door you suddenly found yourself alone with Bucky. You still had the cat in your arms and he was sleeping contently.

“Hi Bucky.” You smile at him. “Thank you for not letting Rumlow win.”

“You’re welcome, but if you think that’s the only reason I did this, then I have some making up to do.” Bucky walked closer to you and used his flesh finger to stroke the cat on top of the head.

“Making up to do?” You asked.

“Yeah, I thought you knew that I wanted to ask you out.” He explained.

“Uh you did?”

“Yeah. I just never thought you’d go. So Thor talked me in to coming tonight and taking my chances. His thought was that if you had to go out with me, it would give me a chance to show you what a great guy I am, his words not mine, and that I could woo you.” Bucky chuckled at the last part.

“Woo me?” You giggled. “Well, I appreciate the effort to impress me, but you could have saved yourself some money and just asked me out the old fashioned way. I would have said yes.”

“Yeah?” He looks at you.

“Yeah.” You answer. “BUT now that you’ve told me about this mighty plan you and the god of thunder have cooked up, I’m wanting to see it play out.” You move to walk towards the handler to give the cat back. “Let me just give this little guy back and we can go.”

“No need.” Bucky tells you and you look at him. “I adopted him. He’s obviously a very smart fellow for picking you to cuddle up to. I only hope he can teach me his moves so that I can get some cuddles.” Bucky took him from your arms so you could find your coat and bag.

“Cuddles, Sargent Barnes come AFTER the proper wooing, not before.” You replied as you walked off.

“Well then let the wooing commence.” He said following after you.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #happyhoelentines2021 #bucky x reader fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes valentine exchange

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caxsthetic · 4 years

Text

With Bond

Miya Atsumu x F!Reader

Summary: The benefit of knowing him since high school, was how you knew every little thing that he needed. You could solve all of his problems, watching his back on every single move. But this one particular issue? You need someone else to back you up.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *. STUCK WITH YOU MASTERLIST .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"I don't want to live anymore..!"

It had been the most torturous forty minutes of your life.

"I didn't get the number that I wanted, they messed it up!"

He whined, and whined, and whined.

"What did I do in my past life to be treated like this?"

And there you were anyway, listening to every word that spilled from his lips as you sat across from him. By breathing in the steam from the cup of coffee in your hand, at least the circumstance became a little bit—bearable, to say the least.

"Atsumu, dear, I love you. But my ears are going to bleed if you whined just one more time." To the world he was that one person who never once looked like a clown. Perfect hair, pretty face, megawatt smile, picturesque man that every woman wanted to have and every male population wanted to be, "Have you talked to the club about this?"

"Ngh, no?" How in the world did I agree to be his girlfriend in the first place. You let out a sigh and put down the cup of coffee on the kitchen counter, "There's nothing I could do once I got the jersey number, (Y/n). It's not Jackals anymore, it's a goddamn national!"

He had been so giddy ever since he became one of the setters to the Japan National team. It was great with how he didn't feel butthurt for becoming the benchwarmer (Though he would grumble under his breath every time Kageyama popped on the television screen).

Ever since he confirmed his jersey number with the association, he always spent his time sitting on the terrace. Hoping that his jersey would appear miraculously in a matter of second.

Today, he finally got it. And when you heard him scream (Wailing to be exact) on the outside, you knew for sure that something wasn't right.

"It's not his number, (Y/n)..." His nosy whining was now died down, replaced with a sad baby phase, "How can I face Samu, now? I don't want him to think that I forget about him!"

It was incredible actually—how he always thought about his brother. As much as he told the whole world how he wished he was born without a carbon copy of himself, deep down, he loved his brother with all of his heart.

"Isn't it supposed to be a surprise?" You stood up and walked towards your boyfriend, "He didn't know, right? That you were going to use his High School number?"

"He didn't know..." He huffed and grabbed your hand when you were finally near, "I am sad..." You could only chuckle at this, "The match is next week. It's sad enough that he couldn't watch it in the stadium, and now this..."

You knew how important the game would be for him. He had been running in the same direction since childhood. And even though he lost someone in the middle of his journey, he still continued the dream.

"Hey, now." You pulled him towards you, resting his head on your chest while your fingers roamed in the strands of his hair, "How about we take a break? Maybe a date? Let's just get your mind off—things."

He looked up at you, golden brown orbs gazing at your face with admiration as if you just declared him as the best setter in the world (He was indeed the best setter for you, but you were not in the mood to meet his cocky self).

"Ooohh, where will we go?" You chuckled softly from how excited he sounded just now. Your fingers stroking on his now better coloured hair—unlike his high school one—setting the fringe up.

"That's for me to know and for you to find out, Atsumu."

He was so so eager, looking so innocent as he buried his face on your chest once again. Not knowing what laid for him in the future.

»»————-　♔　————-««

"I regret shit."

"Uhuh, of course you do, Atsumu."

"How could you do this to me?!"

"Don't be such a wimp and shut yer trap!"

He swallowed a huge lump, a thin layer of sweats already glazed his forehead due to the nervousness. When you said you were going to take his mind off things, he didn't expect you to lead him here.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please wear your seatbelts right away." The announcement from the speaker made him more agitated than before.

"(Y/n), I don't want to die. Please, please, I don't want to do this." You snorted from his exclaim, he was always—dramatic. "Can we go back to the merry-go-round, please?"

"You are a twenty-six years old man, Atsumu. Man up!" Your statement only answered with a groan, "Come on, let me check your seatbelts." Both of you were now in the front row—of a rollercoaster.

"Baby, if I die, I want you to know that I love you so much but at the same time I want to throw you on a gutter." He said it with the sulky tone, "Why do you always bully me, (Y/n)? Samu is enough."

"That’s how Osamu and I showed our love for you, you big baby." You booped his nose with your index finger before positioning yourself once again, "Come on, Atsumu, don't pout like that."

Since both of you came to the amusement park, you noticed how people glanced towards your direction. Well, if you had a famous setter wearing a casual sweatshirt as your boyfriend, you have to prepare for all the stares—and sometimes the glare, "Atsumu, look!"

You grabbed his chin and directed it to the horde of the crowd who had their phones up, camera rolling to record every movement and expression of the national's setter, "Smile for the camera, dear!"

"I am going to wreck you tonight for doing this to me." He spitted the words under his breath,

"That’s if you survive."

"I fucking will."

»»————-　♔　————-««

Well, he was not, at least not completely.

"There, there, baby." You have been patting his back for five minutes now, "Do you need water again? I am sorry, I will treat you to any place that you want after this..."

Concerned lingering in every word that you spilt. His face was incredibly pale once he got down from the rollercoasters, and when he suddenly ran behind a tenant, you knew something wasn't right.

He grabbed the water bottle from your hand, gulping it down to erase the taste of a nightmare from his throat.

"Please don't ask me to ride it again." The setter asked you with a genuine plea, "I swear if you are not there to grab my hand, I would see my soul fly away."

You frowned at this and engulfed him in a big hug. Yes, it was fun at first, with how loud he could be when he complained about almost anything (Just like a baby). But never once you would want to see him like this,

"I am sorry, Atsumu..." You muttered softly, and within seconds, he immediately wrapped his arms around you, enjoying the comfort that you radiate, "Let me make up for it, okay? How about lunch? I know a place that you would really love."

He didn't answer you, nodding softly and just pulled your body closer with him. You couldn't blame your boyfriend from becoming like a lifeless corpse since you were practically the cause of it, "Then let's go."

You eyed the area around you, trying to sneak out from the prying eyes of his fans. With hands interlaced with him, you strolled the amusement park as subtle as ever. When you walked, you could feel how sweaty his hands were—and goddamn it broke your heart because you were the cause of it.

"Oh my god, that's Miya Atsumu!"

"W-What? The setter?!"

"Take a picture, take a picture! OMG who is that ugly woman?"

You tried to ignore all of the murmur around you, and for that you decided to walk faster. Still, that last line you heard stung your heart (Even if you have heard it all the time), you just wanted to get away from this place and get your boyfriend to safety.

But Atsumu noticed something amiss from your expression,

"Shut it, you pigs!" You got pulled by him when he suddenly turned his head towards the woman, "Look at yourself first if you're ever going to insult someone!" He scoffed one last time before dragging you away, "Come on, I hate it here more than anything now."

Your eyes widened as you saw the annoyed facade that plastered on his face. It was rare for him to actually snap—he grew so much since high school after all. But one thing, one thing that he wouldn't let it slide was when you or people that he held dear in his life, insulted.

"Atsumu..."

You called out to him, wanting to catch his attention, "Atsumu, dear..."

When the two of you finally arrived at the parking lot, that was when he faced you. You could see the pained and rage in his orbs, swirling there as his mind replayed the words that he heard before.

"Hey, baby." Your voice sounded so delicate, angelic even in his ear, "Thank you for standing up for me." Your thumb grazed the back of his hand. And from the little gesture, his orbs gradually filled with a warmth gaze, "You are the best boyfriend that I could ever ask."

He snorted and rolled his eyes from the praise, a contrast to how his lips shaped into a sweet smile,

"You know I always hate it when people hate you for no reason." It was not the first time you received such words. But even though you started to get used to it, he never once would be, "No one. I swear no one. Could insult you right in front of me and didn't get a taste of spite."

He was rarely being sweet—if you had to be honest. Your relationship with him filled with banter and jokes (And some innuendo here and there). So when he acted like this, you always savoured the moment, imprinted every movement, every word, every flutter of his lashes—deep inside your heart.

"Alright, alright." You answered him, and he leaned his head closer to yours. Knowing what he was going to do, you shut your eyes, and when his lips met with the soft skin of your forehead, a wide smile emerged on your complexion, "I love you, Atsumu."

"I love you too, my pretty bully."

»»————-　♔　————-««

You flickered your gaze between the road in front of you to your boyfriend who was incredibly quiet for the whole ride. You thought going out and having one hell of a day could distract him. But when all of the crazy events were done, it was back to square one.

He knew how he acted right now made the woman that he loves worried. Yet, he could not help but think about the match with Argentina next week. He planned everything for that day. From how he would show his brother that he was there with him, to a plan that he had for you at the end of the game.

"Oh, shit. Sorry, 'Tsumu, but I couldn't be there." A frown slipped on his facade in an instant. The setter thought that he would have his brother by his side when he was at one of the biggest milestones of his volleyball career, "Hello? ‘Tsumu, you there?"

"Yeah, yeah." You leaned your body on the door frame, listening in to the conversation that you knew—didn't turn up good for your boyfriend, "Yeah, I get it. That's alright. That's fine, Samu."

After he hung up, you could see how the giddy smile that once spread on his face, now replaced with a solemn expression. His eyes never leave the screen which darkened gradually, scrutinizing the picture that was taken on one of his games with Schweiden Adlers. A picture of him with the owner of Onigiri Miya.

"He couldn't come." He said with a low tone as the screen blacked out completely, "Things about meeting and such with some business partner from overseas. Expanding Onigiri Miya to another country."

But even though he was hurt by the fact that his twin wouldn't be there physically with him on his first game as national's setter, his words coated with something else. Because through his eyes—he could see that the two of them were basically at one of the biggest milestones. Even when they were on a different path,

They were winning in life today.

The gloomy look from before was gone as a smirk appeared on his face. His eyes twinkled with excitement with pride burned on his orbs. Then he turned to look at you, lips shaped into a broad grin,

"He's awesome isn't it?"

He chuckled under his breath, staring outside the window car as he replayed the information that he got a few days ago. But then he sighed once again when his mind went back to the jersey's number that he got, making him grumble.

"Atsumu, we are home."

"I know."

He didn't. He was actually too lost in his own thought he didn't realise that you already parked the car on the driveway. You unclasped his seat belts after doing yours, resulting in him to turn his face on you, a genuine smile on his face.

There was no need for you to do that, but it was just a habit of yours to spoil him here and there. A little gesture that was so simple it was unnecessary but gave so much impact in his heart, "Thank you."

"You are welcome," You leaned in and kissed his cheek shortly, bringing a flutter of butterflies to storm inside his stomach. His cheek tinted with pinkish hue after that as he shook his head, still abashed once in a while when he received an affectionate gesture from you.

You got down from the car first, leaving him to settle down his feelings that still branched out all over the place. His gaze trailed on your figure that was now gone behind the front door. You were an angel in his eyes, someone that always stayed for him, no matter how antics he was.

To found you and actually have a chance with you was a blessing for him, and you were one of the things that he never wanted to trade with anything. I should stop being a burden, he thought, realising how childish he acted since yesterday he received the cursed jersey.

With a new mindset, he got down from the car and ran inside, wanting to just engulf you in a hug. He wanted to embrace you, pampering your face with lots of kisses for staying, and for god sake he couldn't wait for the match because by then—hopefully—you would agree to be his forever.

"You stupid, I told you that I put the key on the second pot!" But he didn't expect to hear you having a conversation with someone,

Atsumu tiptoed as he made sure to close the front door carefully, wondering who could make you laugh as beautiful as that. And when he popped his head to the kitchen, his pupil dilated as his gaze fell to the exact copy of him.

There was a different spark in his eyes the second he laid his eyes on the black haired man. His mouth agape, too starstruck as he just stood there with a stupid look on his face,

"W-What the fuck are you doing here?!" Something that couldn't be mistaken from his shout was excitement, and you were there sharing a look with his twin and chuckled from his outburst. Realising how he acted just now, the setter immediately cleared his throat and calmed himself down; at least he tried to, "I mean, what are you doing here?"

Osamu raised one of his eyebrows playfully, a hand rested on his hips as he stared at the national's volleyball player,

"A little bird told me that you were sulking and she needed my assistance to make sure you were back to your usual self." His words dripped with smugness as he looking down at the groaning man in front of him,

"Duh, both of you would only bully me at the end."

"That's exactly our job."

"Grr..."

But despite the complaints that rolled from your boyfriend's lips, there was a grateful gaze on his eyes as he looked at you. He was too shy—no, not shy. He was too prideful to ask for his brother's presence. Even if he needed it so badly, he would just sulking and whining, literally do nothing.

"Okay, boys. Go out to play some volleyball, I am taking care of the kitchen for today." So as someone who knew him for a long time, you were ready to do things for him as long as he was happy. You were ready, to be there pushing him forward and got his back.

"Thank you so much," He ran up to you, pushing his brother aside and engulfing you in a big hug. Lips close to your ear as he whispered, "Thank you for everything."

And he would be forever grateful, to have you in his life.

»»————-　♔　————-««

Today was the day, the big day for him and the entire monster generation—ah, the nickname which he got from his ex-captain that he respected so much. Thrill and excitement surrounded the entire stadium as cheers and shout never once died down. Filling his lungs with remarkable energy.

"Hoi, Atsumu." The athletic trainer of the national team called him as the entire team prepared themselves in the changing room, "Catch this."

"What-"

He was not ready to retrieve anything as a plastic bag being thrown towards him, greeting his face at the process, "-The fuck!" He whined, making the entire team to snicker; and for Sakusa to cringe hard.

Atsumu rolled his eyes and fetched the bag from the floor, eyeing it with confusion written in his eyes, "Huh? Why did you give me this jersey? I already had one." He opened up the seal,

And he couldn't help but let out a small gasp.

"Oh, your wife called and told me that we printed you the wrong number."

Wife. How the words rolled down from someone else's tongue sounded so beautiful as he heard it.

In his hand, there was a brand new jersey that was still fresh from the production house. It was the same with what he wore right now. Red coloured fabric and soft texture. The only difference? The number that printed large in the chest.

It was eleven.

"You better wife her now, Atsumu." He flinched a little when he heard Ojiro's voice beside him, "The two of you had been together since high school anyway. Don't tell me you still worried that someday she would leave?"

Ah, him in the past was incredibly stupid—and it actually got worse by time. He used to talk to either Kita or Ojiro about his feelings for you. About how he didn't deserve to be with someone who literally could have anyone with how caring and thoughtful you were from the start.

But you chose him. You chose him before, you chose him now, and you swore you would choose him over and over again.

"Aran-kun," He called out to his senpai with a determined look on his face, "How long did we have before the match started?" He took off his jersey,

"Hm?" The wing spikers looked at the clock, "We have fifteen minutes, why?"

"That's enough." The platinum blonde setter was now wearing the new jersey, and somehow, he felt powerful. As if he was not alone as he grabbed a little box from his locker, "You were right, Aran-kun."

"What was right?" Everyone was now eyeing the interaction between the two. Curiosity playing in each of their orbs, wondering the reason behind the setter's sudden change of behaviour.

Atsumu stared at the box in his hand as a genuine smile emerged on his face. It was lightweight, but he felt like he had the entire universe in his hand at the moment. Because it was exactly how it is. Because the box held his possible future. A future that he wanted to have only if you were there with him.

He turned towards Ojiro before resting one of his hands on the shoulder of his teammates, patting it softly.

"I better wife her up now."

And in just a split second, Miya Atsumu dashed away from the locker room, ignoring all the shouts and cheers from his teammates. He sped up, running without a care in this world as his mind only filled with a thought of you.

He ignored all the confused glance that was being thrown towards him, ignoring all the squeal and scream from people that he walked past to. He didn't feel nervous, not even a slightest as he finally set his foot on the VIP bleachers where you sat.

But he was starstruck. He saw you there with his old jersey that was tucked under a simple pair of jeans, looking as magnificent as ever. His focus was all for you, he didn't care how the commentator called out to him, he didn't care when the camera zoomed on his face and followed his every move.

He walked up to you with confidence radiated from him. And you, you could always sense when he was in the same room with you. You whipped your head towards his direction, eyes widened as you didn't expect to see him right now.

"Atsumu, what are you doing?"

You asked, and just like any other day it filled with love and adoration. He didn't feel nervous before, but now as he stood right in front of you, that was when all of the realisation dropped upon him.

What if you say no?

What if you wouldn't look at him?

What if you didn't like all of the attention?

But all of a sudden, the worry that he had in his mind vanished into a thin air. You could do this, It was as if someone whispered in his ear, Come on, dumbass, she's waiting, It was as if he could feel one comforting hand patted his back at this very moment, Go get your girl.

And now he was ready,

"Be mine forever, (Y/n)."

From how tears glossed your eyes, how you clamped your mouth with your hand, how you let out a sob. And from the nod of your head that you gave to him,

He was sure that he was winning in life today, and any other day as long as he had you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ༶• ┈┈ ⛧ ┈ ♛ ♛ ┈ ⛧ ┈┈ •༶ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

I dedicated this fic to @gulfwanq who I always ship with this baby Miya Atsumu even though she dick hop to a lot of guys.

“Stuck With You” Enthusiast:

@sakusakiyo @kunimwuah @ayachii @meepeo @gyubit17 @blacckdiamondposts @muffins-puffins @evermorehaikyuu @rintarhoe @kkyeoptae @oikawhas @greenleaf-fantasy @sugawsites @reogou @captain-shittykawa @spiritofthescarletwoods @keigosbitch @applepienation @yeehawnana @lunebiscuit @osamusamusamu

@councilowl @haikyuuwithadashofart @yeahhemmings- @k-poopers20 @dramaqueenweeb1469 @peachytexan @mrs-kuroojinguji @kiyoojima @mikaashi @potatosugar @yams046 @shinycitrusfruit @celamoon

If you want to get tagged, please reply under the MASTERLIST 💕 And for the url who couldn't be tagged, please tell me another acc that maybe I could tag! Have a nice day!

#atsumu miya x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya imagine #miya atsumu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #atsumu miya scenario #miya atsumu #atsumu miya #miya atsumu scenario #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! atsumu #haikyuu atsumu miya

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kaylorrehabcenter · 3 years

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Rating Every Song on Fearless Based on How Gay it is

Hello friends! I still have a few song analyses in the pipeline (and one on Lover the album) but today in honor of Fearless (Taylor’s Edition) being announced and Love Story being released in a few hours I thought I’d do something fun to celebrate!

And you know what? Fuck my usual disclaimer, I am the word of god here. Try and change my mind about any of these. I dare you. (I kid I kid this isn’t that serious and you’re free to disagree <3)

1. Fearless 15/10

Everything about this song is so fucking gay oh my god. This isn’t a fruit, this is a whole ass edible arrangement. As a small rural town Gay (my hometown has a population of less that 4,000 and where I’m living now has a population of 2,500) this uh. Hits.

“And I don't know how it gets better than this/You take my hand and drag me head first, fearless”

Y’ALL

The idea of falling in love with someone who makes you less afraid of your homophobic small town…….it’s getting to me.

“My hands shake, I'm not usually this way but/You pull me in and I'm a little more brave/It's the first kiss, it's flawless, really something/It's fearless”

This is making me emotional, I'll be honest. I see so much of my friends and my experience in high school in this song.

This quote I found on genius is from when the album was released on BMR’s website.

“When I wrote ‘Fearless,’ I wasn’t dating anyone. I wasn’t even in the beginning stages of dating anybody. I really was all by myself out on tour and I got this idea for a song about the best first date. I think sometimes when you’re writing love songs, you don’t write them about what you’re going through at the moment, you write about what you wish you had. So, this song is about the best first date I haven’t had yet.”

This just screams baby Tay writing gay folklore to me, about the gay stories she wish she had. Notice how there are no pronouns in this song??? Fruity I’m telling you.

All that to say. I’m crying because the linear note says “I loved you before I met you” and I want to go listen to Long Story Short and cry now.

2. Fifteen 1/10

Objectively pretty straight as she’s singing about her and Abigail’s dating boys in HS. And Taylor got with a senior guy. Good for her I suppose.

Unless he was one of the shitty ones in which case.

“This is life before you know who you're gonna be”

This however, is a cute line and the whole song makes me warm and nostalgic. You can also hear her crying after the line “and Abigail gave everything she had to a boy who changed his mind” which makes me emo and I’m sure will take on new depth after Abigail’s divorce and hurt me even more.

Other highlights that make me sob include.

“When all you wanted was to be wanted/Wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now/Back then I swore I was gonna marry him someday/But I realized some bigger dreams of mine”

Bigger dreams of hers indeed :’)

(Also how can you say she’s a gold star lesbian when this song exists. She was obviously dating boys in high school and even if you think she’s a lesbian. Comp het is a hell of a drug kids.)

3. Love Story 8/10

Tried to change the ending indeed.

This is THE Taylor Swift song, and maybe it’s the nostalgia talking but damn I still love it. Written because she wanted to change the ending of Romeo and Juliet (how anyone likes RandJ enough to want to rewrite I have no clue.) and/or because her parents didn’t approve of a guy she was seeing. (according to genius, it would’ve been too early for Joe J so it could possibly be Boys Like Girls frontman, his image did clash with hers and they did release some cute songs together. However if you want my take it’s probably folklore about Emily, take for what you will)

This song has very oft gay vibes with the ‘They don’t approve of our love angle!’ but uses male pronouns so points redacted for that. HOWEVER this is a very early use of ~the male perspective~ in Taylor’s songs and for that it deserves all the love.

“ So I sneak out to the garden to see you/We keep quiet, 'cause we're dead if they knew/So close your eyes/Escape this town for a little while”

More rural town angst!!!

Nothing gets me more than rural town angst.

“Romeo, save me, they're trying to tell me how to feel/This love is difficult, but it's real”

Originally the lyric was “this love is different”. Granted I do not remember the source, i’s just lore implanted into my brain, but make of that what you will.

“"Marry me, Juliet, you'll never have to be alone/I love you, and that's all I really know/I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress/It's a love story, baby, just say "Yes"”

Marry me Juliet from the male perspective :)

Also worth noting. This is Karlie’s (and Kim K’s lmao) favorite Taylor song which. While basic as hell. Makes this cover sad as hell to this former Kaylor. (thanks @swiftgron-get-married for the tears <3)

Also not to make this about a man AGAIN but the secret message is “Some day I’ll find this” AND SHE DID IM CRYING.

4. Hey Stephen 1/10

The one thing Camilla Cabello and I have in common is loving this song, so I have to live with that for the rest of my life.

This song is very painfully straight.

How can you think this woman is a gold star lesbian.

The only noteworthy thing is that this is one of the few songs she confirms who it’s about. The secret message is “Love and Theft” which is the name of a country music duo who went on to open her Fearless tour. Which, does make me side eye this song a little bit.

Still a cute song.

“Hey Stephen, boy, you might have me believing/I don't always have to be alone”

5. White Horse 1/10

Oh look. It’s track five.

You know maybe this is just me being a bitch but in my ranking of track fives this is. Pretty low. Maybe on the bottom.

Like I don’t have a lot to say about it.

She’s going through it over a guy. He was a cheating dickweazel.

“'Cause I'm not your princess, this ain't a fairytale/I'm gonna find someone someday/Who might actually treat me well”

“Try and catch me now, oh/It's too late/To catch me now”

These lines hit though!!

And she found Joe!! Who treats her well!!!! And she isn’t the princess, she’s the prince who dropped her sword and knocked on her door!!! But this time if they come for them she’s ready!!!

Yes I will make every song about Long Story Short <3

6. You Belong With Me 5/10

Ah yes. The other THE Taylor Swift song.

You know. If I went to a high school with a cheerleading squad. And I had a crush on a cheerleader. I would blast this song. So for that it gets a 5/10. Otherwise. Fairly straight and fairly iconic.

7. Breathe 8/10

Well. We know this one is about a woman. (Emily Poe for those not in the know. Ha. A rhyme!) That alone has an 8/10. And it’s the first time she has a featured artist so bonus points for that!

It was nominated for a Grammy and it fucking lost to Jason Mraz. When’s the last time you thought about Jason Mraz.

I will not have Kaylor feels on a fucking Fearless song but damn is it VERY easy.

“Never a clean break, no one here to save me/You're the only thing I know like the back of my hand”

“It's 2 A.M, feeling like I just lost a friend/Hope you know it's not easy, easy for me”

Also this bridge? Goes off. HIGHLY underrated.

8. Tell Me Why 3/10

You know. Maybe this album isn’t as gay as I once thought.

This song does bop though, not as good as her other angry songs on this album. But I can vibe with this you know. Why are you being an asshole mysterious man.

“You could write a book on how to ruin someone's perfect day”

This has to be one of baby Tay’s best burns. Damn.

“Why do you have to make me feel small/So you can feel whole inside?/Why do you have to put down my dreams/So you're the only thing on my mind?”

Men ain’t shit kids. However, bonus points for the shade.

9. You’re not Sorry 1/10

Ok, ok. Maybe this was a foolish endeavor.

Because yet again we have a very straight song. A good song. That was on Taylor’s episode of CSI. But oh dear. Very straight. Gets a measly one point. We started this post off so very very gay but damn. We seem to be nearing the end on a very straight note.

10. The Way I Loved You 20/10

Hey Remember what I said about this album being very straight.

WELL THAT WAS A LIE.

Is this a comphet album or am I projecting.

This is one of my favorite baby gay Taylor songs. Her masterful use of pronouns (he is sensible! And so incredible! And all my single friends are jealous! But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain, when it was two am and I was cursing your name!) makes the other person she’s singing about completely vague, while we know she isn’t happy with whichever guy she’s dating.

Mayhaps an early reaction to PRomances?

Either way this song is so good, truly an underrated gay gem I mean. Look at it.

“Breaking down and coming undone/It's a roller coaster kind of rush/And I never knew I could feel that much/And that's the way I loved you”

AND THE BRIDGE. Do all of her gay songs just have kickass bridges?

“He can't see the smile I'm faking/And my heart's not breaking/'Cause I'm not feeling anything at all/And you were wild and crazy/Just so frustrating/Intoxicating, complicated/Got away by some mistake and now…”

Damn. I’m imaging this with 2020 vocals and fucking ascending.

Also please watch the live performance of it from the Fearless tour. It’s such a damn shame this got cut from the movie and some woman in the front row is wearing a cowboy hat. Everyone is holding up those cameras everyone had to have before smartphones. Taylor is being endearing. It’s a good time.

11. Forever and Always 6/10

Bonus points for the ~drama~ of it all. Added last minute to the album? The iconic throwing of the chair in live performances?? All of it very dramatique and for that we stan.

Still pretty straight.

Also Joe Jonas responded to the song and why do I find his response so damn funny. “It’s part of being a musician, I guess. You write songs about each other.”

This is another song where the idea of Taylor’s grown up vocals on this is………..whew

12. The Best Day 0/10

This gets zero points because it’s about her literal mom.

Still makes me cry.

God bless Andrea Swift indeed

13. Change 13/10

We start the official tracklist with a gay song. We end it with a gay song.

We will ignore that it was originally written for Scott and BMR and instead induct it into the hall of gay pride anthems, as it should be.

“We're getting stronger now, finding things they never found/They might be bigger but we're faster and never scared/You can walk away, say we don't need this/But there's something in your eyes says we can beat this”

“This revolution, the time will come/For us to finally win/And we'll sing hallelujah, we'll sing hallelujah”

The music video is cringe though lol

14. Jump then Fall 10/10

This song is gay because I choose it to be. <3

Like. Picture baby Taylor writing this song and playing it on her guitar to a girl she has a crush on telling her that she’ll protect her and they’ll be safe and in love and happy together. Gah, maybe I’m ~projecting~ but this sweet ass song always gets me and is EASILY in my top five Taylor songs. Super underrated and hecking cute.

“We're on the phone and without a warning/I realize your laugh is the best sound/I have ever heard”

Like. Look at this shit.

“I watch you talk, you didn't notice/I hear the words but all I can think is/We should be together”

Tell me this is about the first time you get a crush on a girl and she’s your best friend and she’s amazing and beautiful and you realize you kinda want to kiss her and you hope she wants to kiss you too.

“I had time to think it oh, over/And all I can say is come closer/Take a deep breath and jump then fall into me”

And she’s the Romeo who's going to protect her!!!!! She’s the knight in shining armor in this song and I love that for her??

“The bottom's gonna drop out from under our feet/I'll catch you, I'll catch you/When people say things that bring you to your knees/I'll catch you/The time is gonna come when you're so mad you could cry/But I'll hold you through the night until you smile”

I won’t divulge into full on analysis here because. This is what this post is about but PLEASE listen to this song more. It’s such a gay little gem.

15. Untouchable 9/10

How does she make a cover sound gay.

It sounds so gay.

“You got to come on, come on, say that we'll be together/Come on, come on, little taste of heaven”

Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay

16. Forever and Always Piano Version 1/10

This song gets 1/10 because I don’t like it. There. I said it.

17. Come in With the Rain 3/10

I can see why this is a bonus track. It doesn’t hit me as much as the other songs on the album.

But damn if I don’t want to scream sing this one driving down a high way.

18. Superstar 7/10

You can’t tell me this song is about a man. I simply won’t entertain the idea.

You cannot prove to me that this song is about a man. There is not a male pronoun in sight.

>:)

19. The Other Side of the Door 6/10

Is this song about having a fight about being in the closet? Probably not. Will my gay little brain make it about that? Yep!

And that, funky little queer pals, is my gay rating of every Fearless song. Like and subscribe, #t3atmidnight

#long post //#fearless the album #gaylor #what do i tag this for it to show up for peope??#gay rating

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iturbide · 3 years

Text

United in Song

okay so this has been in my drafts for I don’t even know how long and I’m tired of it sitting there collecting dust, so please enjoy this fluffy 3H platonic one-shot.

/////

If there was one thing Dorothea missed about the opera, it was the audience. There was a certain kind of thrill that came with standing on the stage, staring out into the darkened crowd while the music swelled beneath her voice and feeling their tension, knowing that they held their collective breaths in anticipation, in wonder of her song…there was nothing else quite like it, in her experience. And while she didn’t really want to go back to that life of endless practices and performances, of cutthroat rivalries and patrons as dangerous as they were wealthy, she felt a little pang standing in the Garreg Mach cathedral, singing her heart out for absolutely no one.

Well, no, that wasn’t quite true. The monastery choir had finally gotten a few more members, and as the nun in charge dismissed them for the day, Annette and Hilda hurried over before she could wander off. “Wow, Dorothea! You were really amazing!!” the little redhead gushed.

“Aw, thanks, Annie,” Dorothea giggled, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “You were both great, too!”

“You’re so sweet,” Hilda smiled. “But we couldn’t hold a candle to you! Your voice was so beautiful -- and I swear, it filled the whole cathedral.”

Well, that might explain all the sharp looks and decrescendo gestures she’d been getting from the director.

“It’s really a shame nobody else was around to hear,” Annette sighed.

“I know exactly what you mean.” Dorothea scanned the rows of empty pews as they walked toward the doors, feeling again that ache of longing. Even when they did get to stand before an audience, something told her they would just be the choral lead to a devotional hymn for some religious service or another. “Sometimes I really wish we could just…go out and perform, you know? Show off a little, hear the applause…”

“…well, why couldn’t we?”

Dorothea paused at the top of the steps, reeling her mind back from another stage dream to focus on Hilda. “I didn’t think they did that here.”

“Not that I’ve seen. Or heard about,” Annette agreed.

“So why not do something about it?” Hilda asked. “Put on a musical performance! There’s lots of places that would work, like the lawn outside the classrooms, or the walk along the dormitories…”

“Would that really bring in an audience, though?” Annette pointed out. “Back in Fhirdiad you’d see performers doing shows on street corners, but they never really drew crowds or anything.”

“And wouldn’t it be nice to have a real stage, and a real audience?” Dorothea sighed. It was a quiet walk across the bridge to the monastery…and the whole way, she just kept turning Hilda’s suggestion over and over. It really would be nice to have an opportunity to perform…maybe she could ask Professor Manuela about it--

“This is it!!”

Dorothea jumped at Annette’s excited squeak, whirling just in time to see her grab something off the Bulletin Board. “What is?” she asked, taking the parchment and smoothing it out.

“A flier for the Weapons Tourney?” Hilda read over her shoulder. Apparently this month’s challenge was for axe-wielders, and while the pink-haired noble might excel, something told Dorothea that she wouldn’t go anywhere near it without proper incentive from the Professor.

“No! …well, I mean, yes, that’s what it is, but I mean -- this is the answer! We have a music tournament!”

“…a music tournament?” Dorothea repeated.

“Yeah!” Annette giggled. “We could have sign-ups, and people could bring their instruments or sing, and it could have brackets just like they do in the training grounds, only they’d be competing with their music! And the audience response could be how the winner’s picked!”

Dorothea felt a smile dawn across her face. “…Annie, that’s brilliant! We could get a sponsor to help judge ties, and offer a grand prize for the winner…”

“We could make fliers the way they do for the training ground matches, too!” Hilda added.

“I bet if we ask around the monastery, we could get tons of sign-ups -- and I’m sure lots of people would want to see it!” Annette insisted. “Ooh, this is so exciting!!”

“It’s a wonderful idea,” Dorothea agreed. “And I’m sure if we join forces, we can make it into a dazzling show.”

As they put their heads together to plan, for the first time in ages, she felt a thrill of excitement for what lay ahead. Garreg Mach might not have much appreciation for music now -- but if they got their way, Dorothea would make sure that changed.

-----

“A music show? Oh, you mean like they’ve got at the fair? Hey, count me in! Are you gonna have snacks?”

“No, Raph,” Dorothea sighed.

“You sure? Everybody likes good food -- I bet you’d get a ton of people to come if they could eat while they watched.”

She shook her head, fighting back a smile. It was hard to be frustrated with him when he was so enthusiastic, but she did wish he’d think about more than food. “Do they have snacks for the weapon tournaments at the training grounds?”

“Heck yeah they do!” he laughed. “I never miss a tourney, they’ve always got something for the people in the stands…”

“…huh.” She hadn’t known that. Maybe they could ask about refreshments: after all, everything else had been going splendidly so far. Professor Manuela had been over the moon when they approached her with the idea, and had swiftly appointed herself as their ‘impartial’ judge (said with a wink that made Dorothea certain she was far more partial than she’d ever admit to being); while the former diva took to planning and preparations, including venue selection and construction, she left the three students in charge of gauging interest and getting early sign-ups so they could start preparing their brackets. Hilda, rather expectedly, had complained of feeling poorly, so Dorothea had agreed to help out in canvasing the Golden Deer…which had led her, rather unexpectedly, to Raphael and his surprisingly helpful suggestion.

“Alright,” she agreed, making a note for later. “I’ll see what we can do about snacks, then.”

“All right!!” he cheered. “You’re the best, Dorothea!”

“Aw, thank you,” she smiled. “But would you want to take part? You know, be up on the stage in front of the audience? We’re looking for any kind of musical talent, whether you sing or play an instrument…”

His face scrunched up for a minute in deep, somewhat painful-looking thought. “Hmmm…I’m mostly good for muscle,” he shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, I love music! I’m just not much good at makin’ it -- oh, hey, have you asked Bernadetta yet?”

“Bernie?”

“Yeah! Oh, man, she’s got this little brass thingy she plays -- she was playin’ it in the greenhouse one day, an’ I heard it from all the way in the training grounds! It was the best thing I’d ever heard!”

“Interesting,” Dorothea mused, scribbling another little note down.

“You didn’t know?”

“Bernie’s pretty shy about her talents,” Dorothea confided. “Seems she’s got all kinds of hidden ones…”

“Uh…if you go ask her, can you maybe…not tell her I told you?” he asked nervously. “See, uh…she got pretty upset when I found out, and made me promise not to tell anybody, but then you came talking about music an’ stuff and I just got real excited about maybe seein’ her up there an’ hearin’ it again, so…”

“Oh, Raph, you’re a sweetheart, aren’t you?” she giggled. “Don’t worry. I won’t say a word.”

“Thanks, Dorothea,” he beamed. “You really are the best.”

-----

“M-music show? Me? Perform!? How did you find out? Did Raphael tell you!?” Bernadetta demanded through the tiny crack between the doors of her room.

“Raphael? I haven’t talked to him,” Dorothea lied. “Hilda’s asking around with the Golden Deer, since they’re her classmates, just like Annette’s asking the Blue Lions and I’m asking all my fellow Eagles. We’re trying to get a list together of students who want to take part. Do you have any musical talents, Bernie?”

“N-n-no!” she stammered. “Nope, not me, Bernie’s just good for staying out of the way, yes indeed…”

“I think you’re good for a lot more than that,” Dorothea insisted. “I know you’ve got so much talent, and it’s such a shame to hide it all away. Maybe you sing in here, or play an oboe when we’re all away from the dorms…”

“Trumpet,” the archer mumbled. “B-but I could never get up in front of so many people!”

“Oh, but from on stage, under the lights, you can’t even see most of the audience -- and wouldn’t it be great to share all that talent with the whole academy?”

“Maybe for you!” the archer squeaked. “All those people out there in the dark, staring at me, and no place to hide? That s-sounds terrifying!”

…Dorothea actually hadn’t thought about that. She was so used to basking in the attention…but that would be scary for someone as shy as Bernadetta. “That’s okay,” she smiled. “You don’t have to. But…would you maybe come to watch? Ferdie and I have already signed up to take part, and we could always use someone to cheer for us.”

“…m-maybe,” came the muffled reply.

“And if you do change your mind about being on stage, you know we’ll both be cheering you on, right?” she coaxed. “Annette even told me that Felix promised to come watch the performances, and you know how he feels about everything that isn’t training. We’d all really love it if you joined in.”

Silence from the other side of the doors. Had she pushed too hard…?

“I’ll…I-I’ll think about it.”

Beaming, Dorothea made a note on her sign-up sheet. “That’s all we’d ask for. Just let me know, okay?”

And maybe it was her imagination, but she thought she heard the smallest sound of agreement before the doors clicked firmly shut between them.

-----

Even in her fantasies, Dorothea never could have dreamed things would go this well. Not only did they get enough sign-ups to make a full five-round bracket, the whole monastery was buzzing with anticipation days before the event. It reminded her a little of Enbarr the week before a Mittelfrank production, where every group she passed on the street seemed to be talking about the upcoming show -- whether it was about their excitement to see the spectacle or despair over not getting one of the endlessly coveted (and frightfully limited) tickets. Here, thankfully, seating was hardly an issue, since Professor Manuela had managed to secure the Reception Hall for the event: the whole student body could fit there with standing room to spare, even with the stage taking up the front quarter.

Come the morning of the show, posters listing the contestants appeared on every bulletin board, and Dorothea scanned the starting matches before the thought of breakfast even occurred to her. She recognized more than a few names: Ferdinand of course, and herself (naturally), as well as Lorenz (unfortunately), Hilda, Annette, and even Bernie.

It was all so exciting, she could hardly bear it.

Time crawled by while she waited for the tournament to begin. Before noon she’d warmed up, improvised a few little tunes as practice, and rehearsed a few of her favorite songs in preparation. By the time the Reception Hall opened to the competitors, she’d chosen her starting and ending arrangements and decided on the pieces she would use if she faced any real competition. And once the doors opened and the audience began to crowd into the available seats, she felt her heart begin to race in anticipation of what was soon to come.

She didn’t even mind that she had to wait. The first match, to her delight, featured Annette and Bernie: blushing fiercely, the little red-head made her way cheerfully through an obviously original tune, while Dorothea’s fellow Eagle stuck to a familiar Imperial melody, squeezing her eyes shut tight and playing her trumpet at the stage rather than the audience. In spite of that, it was a remarkable performance, and Bernie might have won just by virtue of Raphael’s enthusiastic applause -- but his thunderous cheer startled the poor recluse and sent her bolting from the stage before the match could be officially declared, forfeiting her chance to proceed. But that might have been for the best, she supposed: Bernie clearly wasn’t big on the spotlight.

The rest of the first round and all of the second went smoothly enough. Though she didn’t bother watching every pair, she saw both Ferdinand and Annette proceed on to the quarterfinals, while Hilda lost to Lorenz in her second bout (though the noblewoman hardly seemed bothered by the loss). Dorothea’s own matches barely required any effort on her part to win: she’d spent so long practicing her favorite songs from her favorite operas in the days leading up to this competition, but a few simple melodies were all it took to ensure that she made it through the preliminaries. Even against her third opponent, all it took was the chorus from an Adrestian folksong to seal her victory...though Annette lost her own bout against Ferdinand in the same round. Dorothea congratulated her all the same, and promised to win for Annie’s sake -- perhaps a bold promise from anyone else, but one that the former Mittelfrank diva felt assured she could keep.

And sure enough, in the semifinals she not only faced her fellow Eagle but beat him handily with one of the arias she’d so carefully prepared. He lost quite gracefully, too, applauding her as enthusiastically as the audience itself and conceding even before Profesor Manuela could announce the final judgment. And with the round done, Dorothea made her way back behind the stage, humming to herself as she waited for the intermission to end and the finals to begin…

“Congratulations on sweeping the competition, Dorothea.”

She paused, turning to see the leader of the Golden Deer House grinning at her from a few feet away. Mustering up a pleasant enough smile, she offered a nod in greeting. “Why, thank you, Claude. Are you here to wish Lorenz well before I crush him?”

The nobleman blinked. “Why would I do that? Lorenz got knocked out in the last round.”

Dorothea stared at him for a long, silent moment. “To who?” she demanded, hunting about for a bracket that might give her an answer--

“...me, actually.”

Slowly, carefully, she turned again to face the leader of the Golden Deer. “Guess you weren’t watching the match,” he chuckled, hefting an odd lute-like instrument. “Lorenz was...less than thrilled with the outcome, if it helps.”

Actually, it just made her regret all the more that she hadn’t paid attention: she’d been looking forward to seeing his face when he finally lost. “Well, I suppose congratulations are in order for you, too, then,” she said, turning away from him again. “May the best musician win.”

“Oh, uh...about that.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear as he drummed his fingertips along the neck of his instrument. “I was...well. I was wondering how you’d feel about calling it a draw.”

A thin smile carved its way across her face. “Are you that confident you can beat me, Claude?”

“Hardly,” he scoffed. “I have no doubt that you’d mop the floor with me.” She felt sure he was flattering her -- but she waited all the same, watching his grin soften almost shyly, though it still didn’t quite touch his eyes. “I was just...hoping I could perform with you, instead of having to compete against you. Y’know, everything here at the monastery is about pitting us against each other: the weapon tourneys, the fishing competition, and now this...I feel like we could put on a better show working together than we could separately trying to one-up each other. You can have the prize, too, if you want,” he added. “Pretty sure you’d win it anyway, but...what do you say?”

Beyond the curtain, she heard Professor Manuela take the stage again and announce the final round to the audience. Claude only watched Dorothea, though, seeming content to be patient and wait for her even as their names rang out over the wild cheering of the crowd.

And at last she smiled, lifting a hand to cup her cheek. “How are you at improvising with that lute of yours?”

“If you can sing a few bars, I can probably make something work,” he grinned.

“Why don’t we put that to the test?”

“With pleasure,” he agreed, bowing playfully before offering his arm to her. Returning the gesture with a teasing curtsy of her own, Dorothea accepted -- and they walked out onto the stage together, applause washing over them in waves of wondrous sound. They parted smoothly, Claude taking up his instrument and strumming a few notes to ensure it was properly in tune before looking expectantly to her, waiting for her lead; Dorothea turned her own attention to the darkness, savoring the anticipation of the shadowed audience before her...and finally beginning to sing, the somber melody echoing throughout the crowded reception hall.

“Reach for my hand, I’ll soar away, Into the dawn, oh I wish I could stay…”

A soft chord joined in, the notes as sweet and clear as her own...and yet it did not overpower her voice: instead it seemed to carry the words higher, elevating the music in ways she had not heard since she left the Mittelfrank Opera House. She did not falter, though: instead she continued, allowing a smile to creep into her voice as she sang.

“Here in cherished halls, in peaceful days I fear the edge of dawn, knowing time betrays…”

“Is this really gonna be the last song we do?” Claude asked, his voice carrying out into the dark and startling her back to reality. “Come on, Dorothea, we’ve gotta liven it up a little!”

Even as he spoke, his fingers flew over the strings, keeping the key but tumbling into a bright, rousing accompaniment. He winked at her when she turned to stare at him, repeating the same refrain in invitation...and though she’d only ever heard the piece as a wandering lament before, she could not deny his compelling harmony.

Their music rang through the reception hall, her voice rising into the rafters on the strum of lute strings...and for the first time since she’d come to the Officer’s Academy, Dorothea felt that familiar, wonderful thrill again as the enraptured crowd watched them perform their duet on the stage.

-----

In the fortnight following the tourney, Dorothea had become the most popular girl in Garreg Mach. It seemed like every young man, noble birth or otherwise, wanted a moment of her time, a scrap of her attention...and, of course, a chance to hear her sing again.

While they’d agreed to a draw before ever taking the stage, Claude had gracefully conceded when Professor Manuela declared Dorothea the winner. It had bothered her when it happened -- all the more for how she couldn’t correct the matter over the riotous applause -- and try as she might over the intervening days, she’d still been unable to set the record straight with anyone she spoke with (aside from Hilda, who didn’t seem the least bit surprised to hear it). But strangest of all was the fact, despite now having an audience eager to hear her perform again...she couldn’t find that thrill anymore. It had been there while she was on stage with Claude, but in every performance since -- no matter how many people she had hanging on her every note -- she just felt the same hollow sort of yearning she had in the cathedral before all of this began.

Dorothea sighed as she made her way out of the dining hall, taking the stairs down to the fishing pond and wandering toward the dormitories. All the attention did get tiring after a while; luckily the grounds seemed deserted this afternoon, and she stretched her arms high as she tipped her head back, breathing in the crisp autumn air while the sun warmed her face and the soft sound of music drifted by…

She stopped, scanning the lawn and the path along the row of dorms. No one was there that she could see, but she could hear the strum of lute strings; she hurried on, listening to the music grow louder and louder until she felt certain she was close -- but the sound was too clear to be coming from behind the closed doors, and there was still no one around that she could see. “Claude?” she called, raising her voice as much as she dared.

The music stopped. “Dorothea?” the nobleman’s voice replied -- not from beside or behind her, but from above.

Tilting her head back and shading her eyes, she stared at the young man peering at her over the eaves of the dormitory roof. “What are you doing up there?” she asked.

“Playing,” he said.

“How did you even get up there? And why are you playing on the roof, for that matter?”

“It’s complicated,” he shrugged. “...well, alright, it’s not that complicated, but...should I come down so we can talk?”

Dorothea opened her mouth to agree...and paused. “...I could always come up,” she offered.

A grin twitched across his face. “I’ll meet you at my room, then,” he laughed, waving before disappearing from view. Hurrying back down to the greenhouses, she turned into the stairwell leading to the second floor of dorms where most of the noble students stayed; at the top of the steps, she saw Claude poke his head out into the hall, beaming at the sight of her. Smiling despite herself, Dorothea hurried over and ducked past him without even thinking...and as he closed the doors, she stifled a giggle at the sight of his room.

She had seen cluttered her share of dorms before -- Linhardt’s came immediately to mind -- but she’d never seen anything quite like this, with books taking up half the bed, papers spilling off the desk and onto the floor, and shelves cluttered with a mix of plants, vials, and strange brass instruments she couldn’t identify. Claude seemed briefly puzzled by her reaction...though, after another moment, he rather sheepishly began gathering up the parchment piled on his chair to give her a place to sit. “So what can I do for you?”

“Well, first of all I’d like to know how you got onto the roof,” she replied. “And off it so fast, for that matter.”

He quirked one eyebrow in apparent surprise. “What, that? It’s easy.” Dropping the papers in a haphazard pile on the desk, he stepped up onto the wide ledge beneath the open window, leaning out into empty space and stretching one arm up...

Claude jumped.

Dorothea lunged for him, knowing already it was too late -- but he did not fall. She stumbled into the sill, gaping as he effortlessly pulled himself up out of sight; crawling up onto the ledge, she cautiously poked her head out the window...and saw him lean out over the eave, grinning down at her from his perch. “That doesn’t look easy to me,” Dorothea pointed out.

“It just takes some practice,” he laughed. “Want to come up? The view’s great,” he added, reaching a hand down to her.

The sensible, logical, rational part of her brain insisted that she’d rather not break her neck trying to get a nice view of the monastery...even as she extended her own arm, gripping his wrist and feeling him hold fast. She heard the instructions he gave her -- she was more than certain of that, since she never would have done this on her own -- but whatever he’d said escaped her the moment she stepped off the ledge into empty air, clutching tight to Claude’s wrist even as his pleasant laughter rang in her ears. In the end he did most of the work pulling her up beside him...but once she caught her breath and her heart stopped feeling like a bird trying to escape its cage, she had to admit that he was right: the campus was lovely from so high up.

“You doing okay?” he asked, patting her shoulder gently.

“Better, I think,” she agreed, scooting further back from the edge. “So, that explains how you got up here -- now why are we here?”

“Well, in my case it’s because it’s a nice day, I don’t have anything going on, and I’m tired of dealing with Lorenz, so I figured I’d come up here and play a bit. He can yell all he wants from down there, but I’m not stopping unless he gets on this roof to make me.” As he spoke, he removed the lute strapped to his back, strumming a few notes and idly beginning to tune it again. “But what brings you up here?”

“Well...actually, I was looking for you,” she admitted, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. “I haven’t seen much of you since the music tourney.”

“You’ve been busy,” he winked.

Dorothea rolled her eyes, leaning back against the slightly pitched roof. “Don’t remind me, I needed to get away from it for a while.”

“Really? I thought you’d be happy about all the attention.”

“I was at first,” she sighed, “and it’s been wonderful to have more chances to sing, but…”

She trailed off, watching a few wispy clouds wandering across the pale blue sky. After a moment, the quiet strum of lute strings fell silent; glancing over at the nobleman, she found him watching her with interest, his head canting slightly to one side as he gestured for her to continue. “It...doesn’t feel like I thought it would. Back in the opera, it was always so grand and emotional, singing to an audience -- I loved that feeling, and it’s one of the things I’ve missed most since I left. I’d hoped the competition would bring it back, and singing with you I found it again, but...I haven’t felt it since. I’ve been feeling guilty about the way it ended up, and…”

“Hey, I said from the start that you’d mop the floor with me in a competition,” he laughed. “I don’t mind. I’m glad I got the chance to perform with you -- that was my prize.”

“Be serious,” she huffed. “I’m trying to apologize!”

“And I’m saying you don’t have to -- it’s not like you had a say in Professor Manuela deciding on a winner.”

“But if I don’t get it sorted out, how am I supposed to enjoy singing like I used to?”

“Are you sure guilt is what’s keeping you from it?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“You said that you haven’t felt that thrill since you left the opera. You didn’t get it again until the finals, right?” She nodded in agreement. “And then after the finals it was gone again?” Again, she nodded in agreement. “So what was different about the finals, compared to everything before and after?”

“The drama of the grand finale?” she offered.

“Well, that, too,” he chuckled, “but you weren’t performing alone, either: your melody had a harmony.”

Dorothea scoffed at the notion. “That seems…”

She trailed off as Claude leaned forward, propping his chin on his hands. She hadn’t thought of it like that before, but...her fondest memories from the opera were of performances with accompaniment: grand arias carried by a full orchestra, soft odes lilting over quavering strings. “...possible,” she conceded.

“So maybe what you were really looking for was a chance to sing with somebody, instead of going it alone or singing over them.”

“I’m flattered you think I’m so selfless,” she giggled. “Really, I just wanted an audience.” But even so, that final performance with him, building on one another’s leads and creating something far grander and more beautiful than Dorothea could have done alone...it had brought with it a familiar, delightful frisson.

“Well, I know I had more fun playing with you than I did taking Lorenz down a peg -- and I really enjoyed that,” Claude laughed, strumming his lute again, “and I, for one, would be honored to reprise the performance -- though, fair warning, I can’t promise a crowd this time around.”

“You know, I am free this afternoon,” she grinned. He beamed back at her, picking a cheerful tune on his lute strings -- an Adrestian folksong she recognized instantly; as she started in on the first verse and their duet drifted out over the quiet campus, she felt the thrill lift her heart again...and maybe it was just her imagination, but she swore Claude’s smile finally reached his eyes.

#fanfiction #fire emblem: three houses #dorothea arnault #claude von riegan #dorothea & claude #these two could have had such interesting conversations #but the only way to get that is with fanfiction #which is a shame #the title song reference is one of my favorite nods #dorothea singing it at half tempo to start #and then claude kicking it up to the faster pace #is just so much fun to me #also even though they don't have a huge impact on the piece as a whole #i just love the bits with raph and bernie so much #overall i'm still a little unsure about this particular one #but i really wanted to get it done since it's been sitting around for so long #and i needed something to get my mind on other things #let me know what you think #and if you'd like to see this one kicked over to ao3 too

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mmvalentine · 3 years

Text

Home is Where You Are pt 5 | Feysand

Girl next door AU. CW: Tamlin DV times under the cut. It gets better though, there's HEAPS of fluff that follows I promise!! Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

Rhys and Feyre stayed up talking for a little bit, Rhys poured her a glass of brandy and tried not to say too much as she recounted the night's events.

They had gotten into a fight. Tamlin had gotten angry. He was always angry, these days. Tamlin threw a desk, and knocked Feyre to the ground. An accident, just an accident.

"And... him controlling your food intake?" "Not an accident," Feyre admitted. "It started out as meal plans, when he was my personal trainer. And then we were dieting together, because he had done all this research. Then it was just me. I don't know where I lost control of it, I just stopped having opinions one day." She laughed, bitterly. "Not like me at all." "It's hard to form coherent thoughts when you're starving all the time," Rhys said.

Bottom line, Feyre had done it. Gave him back the ring and everything. There was a part of Rhys that was relieved but he also felt awful for having let it get this far. For not stepping in earlier.

"I should have said something," he told her. "You did," Feyre said. "I didn't listen." She pulled her feet up under her.

"It's just, I never had anyone look after me, you know? Not since I was thirteen. So, when Tamlin came along, and he dictated my exercise schedule and cooked my meals, it was nice. For once I wasn't the one running after everyone else. I guess I became afraid to leave.

"Until he threw a table and I remembered telling you that Tamlin wasn't your father. I was sort of right. Tamlin didn't even have to be drunk to start throwing furniture. I shouldn't have stayed so long."

Rhys slid a little closer to her and made sure she was looking into his eyes. "It is not your fault that this happened," he said. "This is no one's fault but Tamlin's."

In the weeks that followed, Feyre bounced back at a rate that had Rhys marveling at the strength of her. She was quiet the first couple of days, and mostly stayed in her room. But Rhys would come invite her to taste what he was cooking, or watch what was on Netflix, or give an opinion on the magazine piece he was working on. The bruise on her cheek faded, she gained weight back little by little, and then one day Rhys came home to find her humming in the kitchen while she made spaghetti and he wanted to pick her up in his arms and spin her around the room.

Instead, he settled for sitting on a bar stool and letting her bring a spoonful of sauce to his lips, while wearing the biggest, goofiest grin he had ever had. "Good?" Feyre asked. "Amazing," Rhys said, and when she beamed at him it knocked the breath out of him. "Excellent. Give me like, ten minutes and then come eat." Rhys raised his eyebrows. "You're cooking me dinner?" he asked. "I am. Now go take a shower and put on your comfy pants, because I made so much garlic bread."

Rhys didn't move. Feyre put the ladle back in the pot, wiped her hands on a tea towel, then realised he was staring at her. "What?" she asked. Her blue-gray eyes went wide, and a wisp of hair fell into her face. She had her curls piled on top her her head, beautiful and shiny again now that she was eating, and she was wearing a knitted, over-sized sweated that was rolled up at the sleeves and somehow looked incredible on her.

"Feyre Archeron you are a wonder," Rhys said. Feyre grinned. "Why thank you, Rhysie darling." She flicked the tea towel at him. "Now get, my garlic bread is burning." Ten minutes later, Rhys sat at a small, round table in sweat pants and a black sweater. It was the table from his balcony, but since it was raining out, Feyre had dragged it inside and draped a table cloth over it. She fussed around him, setting everything on the table and slapping his hands when he tried to help. Finally, she sat down opposite him, and the table was so small their knees knocked together.

"And just what is the occasion here?" Rhys asked. Feyre's cheeks were rosy from standing over the stove, and then rushing around the table. She smiled at him, and then took a deep breath.

"I just wanted to say, thank you. For giving me a place no one could find me. For seeing me. For reminding me that carbs exist!" She grinned. "For-" "Don't," Rhys cut her off. "Don't thank me for doing the bare minimum for you. After everything you've been though, you amaze me every day with how strong you are." "Well," Feyre said, "if you can survive after your dad..." Her face changed then. Her mouth got sad, but her eyes were bright. "I can survive after Tamlin." She raised her wine glass.

"Fuck those abusive shit heads," she said. Rhys picked up his glass. "Fuck yeah."

Then Feyre smiled again, and Rhys had no idea how he was going to get through dinner if she kept doing that.

"Okay eat up!" she said, and he laughed into his wine as he watched her twirl and then devour an enormous mouthful of spaghetti. A fucking wonder indeed.

Over the next six months they settled into an easy routine. Feyre was at the studio three days a week, and also started a kick boxing class with another woman she had met in her therapy group. Rhys started to wish his days away so he could get home and watch Feyre bounce around the apartment. He had never particularly enjoyed being there, but these days he couldn't wait to get home.

They cooked together on the weekends, and watched TV on the couch on week nights. At first, Rhys had been very careful about being in her personal space, since he remembered hating to be touched for years after his father had died. But Feyre seemed so comfortable around him. She would grab his arm when she thought of something funny to tell him, or smack him when he teased her, or lean against him when she started to doze in front of the television. After she started her class, she would practice her kick-boxing moves on him, and once accidentally hurt him more than she had meant to. It had been utterly, completely worth it.

They never outright discussed how long she would stay. Early on, Feyre had mentioned apartment hunting. But Rhys had just shrugged. "It's rent controlled here," he said. "And I'm paying for that room whether you're in it or not. Stay as long as you like."

So little pieces of Feyre started to appear all around the house. Her toiletries in the kitchen cabinet, stray hair ties on the bench top, her favourite biscuits in the cupboard. Once, he had come home and she had a row of underwear hanging up over the balcony. He had almost had a conniption at the thought of her in lace.

It was a thought he buried, hard. The last thing he wanted was to have told Feyre that she could come and be safe here, and then make a move less than a year after her broken engagement. If she wanted a quiet life here with him, that would absolutely be enough.

Although, some days were harder than others. The thoughts could be shoved aside, but he had no control over the way his body reacted to her. To her barefoot in the morning and rubbing sleep from her eyes. To her stretching in the living room before a run. God, one time the washing machine broke and she had nothing to wear, so she borrowed one of his shirts to wear to bed. It was almost cruel.

One day, Rhys had worked late and by the time he was home, Feyre had fallen asleep in front of the TV. He turned the screen off, then squatted down and gazed at her resting face. Her perfect, rose petal lips were slightly parted, she had a frown, and was muttering under her breath.

"Feyre," he whispered. "Feyre we've got to get you to bed." "Rhys," she murmured. He thought she was waking up. "Yes honey, it's just me." Then she moaned his name. "Rhys, don't stop." What? "Mm, right there, don't stop."

Rhys stood up so fast he nearly tripped over the coffee table. The sound of his heel kicking the wood had Feyre startling awake.

"Rhys?" she asked. He had to double check her eyes were actually open this time. When he was sure, he sat down carefully on the table.

"Hello," he said. "I'm sorry to wake you." "It's okay," Feyre frowned. "We were just... I was dreaming." Rhys chuckled. "I know. You fell asleep on the couch. Do you want to go to bed?" Feyre's eyes popped open wide. "What?!" Then she relaxed. "Oh. Right. Yes, I should, ah..." she looked at him then, and blushed. Very deeply. "I should go to bed."

And with that, she wandered off, leaving Rhys completely dazed and not just a little turned on.

Two days later, Rhys woke up on a Saturday and had trudged out to make some coffee. Feyre was already up, sitting at the counter reading a book. He turned on the machine, yawned, and stretched while waiting for it to do its thing. He hadn't worn a shirt to bed, and the morning chill sent shivers along his bare skin.

Then he glanced over, and found Feyre staring at him. Glassy eyed, parted lips, naked staring. And not at his face, either. A feline grin stretched itself over Rhys' lips.

"Good book, Feyre darling?" She jumped sightly. "Ah, yes," she said. "Very... very good." She slid off her stool. "I'd better get ready, kick boxing, you know." "Sure," Rhys said, still grinning. She slipped away, without making eye contact. Rhys poured his coffee.

Five minutes later, Feyre emerged wearing the tiniest pair of exercise shorts he had ever seen. He almost spat his drink.

"Well," she said brightly. "I'm headed off. Might go by the shops later, do you need anything?"

Now it was Rhys' turn to struggle. He shook his head. "Have fun," he managed. Feyre flashed him a dazzling smile. "Thanks!" she said, and bounced out the door.

Oh. Oh he was in trouble.

****

That's right folks, you have made it through the angst and I am now burying you in fluff. Nothing brings me greater joy except smut.

I apologise for the length and for squishing 6 months into this one chapter. It was originally two separate chapters, but I felt like I was undercutting you in the fluff department and I didn't want to break my promise. I kept the original pacing on my ao3.

As always please let me know what you think!!

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-babies @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @asteria-of-mars@booksmusicandgoodvibes @burritowithfeels

#feysand #feysand fic #acotar #acosf #angst #rhysand #mine

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elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years

Text

April Contest Submission #4: Stupid For You

Words: ca. 6,100 Setting: Modern AU Lemon: No CW: None

Anna adjusts her car visor to block out as much of the sun as possible. Just because the weather feels nice enough to keep her windows down, doesn’t mean she’ll allow the sun cook her through the windshield.

It’s 2:25 PM on a Friday. Back in college, she would have been powering through her final class of the week, racing back to her dorm on her longboard, changing into her pajamas, and replaying the entire Mass Effect trilogy for the fifth time. Now, she spends it idling in the parking lot of West Arendelle Elementary, breathing in exhaust fumes from other idling cars, and pitifully swiping through a dating app.

And to be honest, she might like this routine a little more.

But only because, in a couple of minutes the bell will ring and her favorite ten-year-old will burst through the front doors, skip down to her car, and tap on the passenger windows with both hands.

Not that…she knows any other ten-year-olds, she only knows this one. She doesn’t have like a top ten list of favorite children.

Anyway yeah.

Anna presses against the corner of a parking sticker peeling off at the bottom of her windshield, knowing she’ll have to get a new one soon. The sound of her phone buzzing grabs her attention, and a little bit of hope rises in her as she checks the notification. Unfortunately, it’s just a text from her mother saying not to park behind her when she gets back home.

Anna grumbles, “I swear there’s like zero lesbians in this entire freaking city.”

She’s saved from her petty lamenting by the forementioned bell, and suddenly the barren entrance of the elementary school is buzzing with activity as children pour out of the doors in droves. Some are running, some are walking slowly with their group of friends, but only one of them is skipping.

Or at least Anna could only see one skipping since she wasn’t focusing on any other kid.

Gleefully making her way to Anna’s car is a little girl in a bright-blue skirt, a clean white polo, and a messy braid. Her hands are clutching the straps of her glittery backpack and her lunch box is hanging on for dear life around her neck.

Serah Langford, the self-proclaimed “cooliest” ten year-old in Arendelle.

Serah predictably taps her knuckles against the passenger window and Anna rolls it down. “What’s the password?” she asks.

“Fart Sniffer,” Serah says confidently.

Anna shakes her head, “That was last week’s password. What’s this week’s?”

Serah looks off in the distance and purses her lips. A second later, she says, “Alright I said it!”

“Say it out loud.”

Serah rolls her eyes and says in a dramatically bored voice, “Anna de Milo is the greatest, prettiest, most wonderful babysitter in the world and deserves a million dollars.”

Anna unlocks the door and grins, “That’s the one!”

The embarrassed fourth-grader shuffles into the car, placing her bag by her feet, her lunch box in her lap, and her phone plugged into the AUX cord. Anna would be offended if they didn’t have the exact same taste in music.

A babysitting job wasn’t at the top of her list after she graduated, but when months passed and she exhausted all the search results for “Writer” on Indeed, she was starting to get desperate. Her mother advised her to look for any job so at the very least she could have a steady source of income while she continued to look for writing gigs.

That’s when she found Bizzybee.

Bizzybee is a company that prides itself on being “Tinder for babysitters”, which is a horrible vision statement but she kept from mentioning that during her interview. After a surprisingly long assessment process, Anna was placed into their system and she was free to take on any babysitting/housesitting job she wanted based on the profile of the parent and their needs. Everyone started with the same hourly rate, but with enough good reviews she would be eligible for raises.

The first five families she worked for weren’t a good fit for different reasons (one of the fathers actually tried to make a move on her, which is an entirely different, creepier story). She was beginning to lose hope until she stumbled on the profile of a recently divorced mother named Elsa Langford.

From the very first interview with Elsa, Anna knew she’d finally found the right babysitting job for her. She and Serah hit it off right away, and they worked out a Monday-Friday schedule which allowed Anna to continue searching for jobs while still getting great hours.

Six months later and, despite a couple of job offers, Anna decided to stay on as Serah’s babysitter. It was risky and not at all the path she set out for herself after college, but she found herself enjoying babysitting much more than she thought she would. And because of that, she stayed.

Well…that, and another reason.

Anna snuck a peek inside the lunch box at a red light and frowned at the unopened bag of cookies inside. “Seriously?! I thought you liked Chips Ahoy!”

“Only the chewy ones,” Serah argued.

“They can get chewy if you dip them in milk.” Anna waved the bag obnoxiously close to the little girl’s face. “These things are expensive, you know.”

“They’re $20 on Amazon if you buy them in bulk.”

“$20 is still a lot of money.” The light’s turned green, so Anna has to open the bag with her teeth. When she does so successfully, she pours a couple of the cookies right into her mouth. Chewing with righteous indignation, she says, “You know what you can buy with $20?”

“Dinner with my mom?”

Anna almost chokes on the cookies.

She hears Serah giggling up a storm while handing her a water bottle to keep from dying. After downing half the bottle, Anna takes a deep breath and gets back into the center of her lane to ensure neither of them is going to die. “Serah! What did I tell you about saying that kinda stuff while I’m driving?!”

Serah bounces proudly in her seat, “Well maaaaybe if you didn’t have a crush on my mom, I wouldn’t have to bring it up.”

“It’s not…I’m not…” Anna slumps in her chair, wondering why she even bothers denying it. “Whatever.”

Yes, she has a big, stupid gay crush on the mom of the kid she’s babysitting. But have you seen Elsa Langford? She’s gorgeous. Pale skin, light blonde hair always in a neat, tight ponytail, eyes like calm pools of water, and a killer body she worked tirelessly on after giving birth to Serah. Anna had to drink three glasses of water just to get through the interview with her.

But there’s nothing to it, and nothing’s gonna happen anyway. It’s just a crush.

A stupid, dumb, big, stupid, fleeting, doesn’t-mean-anything, stupid crush on a stupid, sexy mom.

It’s stupid.

[Line Break]

Anna pulls right into the driveway of the Langford’s small, one-story house. It’s in the middle of a long suburbian row of houses that look nearly identical in their mundanity, but this one always stands out to Anna. Not because she’s been to this house countless times, but also because it’s got a vibrant feel to it; like you can feel two main characters live here. Serah skips over to her front door with Anna close behind. She notices the grass is getting a little tall and wonders if Elsa might need some help mowing it this weekend.

She unlocks the front door and Serah immediately takes off her shoes by the front door, places her lunch box on the kitchen table, and hums to herself while she walks to her room. The schedule used to be on the fridge, but by this point Anna’s memorized it.

Make a light snack for Serah, help her with her homework before dinner’s done, clean around the house (that’s not a requirement, Anna just does it), make sure she doesn’t watch the next episode of Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix yet, and then kick back until Elsa gets home. In between this time, Serah continues to tease her about her crush.

It’s been like that for weeks now, ever since Serah stole her phone one day and read the text Kristoff sent to her about Elsa. The subsequent conversation about what a “MILF” was didn’t exactly help things either.

This time, however, is different. Around 7 PM, while they’re watching an episode of American Ninja Warrior, Serah says something that doesn’t sound like a joke.

“She’d say yes, you know.”

“What are you talking about?” Anna asks cautiously.

“If you asked my mom out, she’d say yes.”

Unsure of how she’s supposed to react, Anna goes with an uncomfortable snort/laugh, “Wh- stop it. Stop kidding around, that’s…that’s silly.”

Serah shrugs like she didn’t say something crazy, and then she proceeds to say something even crazier, “She talks about you all the time.”

“Well yeah, I mean duh. I’m the babysitter,” Anna says like that’s supposed to be her superhero identity.

“No, she doesn’t talk about babysitting stuff.”

Finally, unable to help her curiosity, Anna asks, “What does she talk about then?”

Of course, she doesn’t get a chance to hear the answer. The front door unlocks and the woman they were just talking about arrives from work. Serah rushes to greet her mom and Anna stays sitting to let them spend their mother-daughter time together. And also because, like usual, she’s trying to figure out how to greet Elsa.

She decides on a cheerful “Hi!” followed by asking how work went; it’s casual and unassuming, but shows she cares about her. With that game plan prepared, she takes a quick breath, stands up, and walks over to the happy, little family.

“Hi!” she says with a practiced wave of her hand, though her voice is a little higher pitched than she’d like it to be.

Elsa’s clearly tired by the look of her, but when she smiles at Anna it feels like she’s genuinely happy to see her. Which of course makes Anna’s stomach do backflips, especially when Elsa walks over to her and gives her a hug. Even after taking off her heels, the exhausted banker still has a couple of inches on her.

“How are you?” she asks with her sweet, caring voice.

Anna tries to ignore the faint, flowery scent of perfume on Elsa’s neck, and the intrusive thought of wanting to hold her until all of Elsa’s troubles melt away. “Doing good,” she finally answers with her voice still an octave too high.

Elsa pulls away far too soon, keeping Anna at arm’s length while the younger woman is trying her best to pretend she doesn’t want to know how those lips would feel against hers. “Well let me write you a check and you can head out.”

What? No! Thinking fast, she replies, “No, you look exhausted. You can just rest, you don’t need to pay me right away.” Which is a lie, she has bills due next week.

“No I’d feel terrible if I let you go empty-handed. Trust me, it’ll only take a few minutes.”

“Ms. Langford, it’s okay. I’m in no rush tonight. Give yourself a minute to breathe, at least.”

Elsa frowns, but whatever she’s about to say gets interrupted by a long yawn. “Okay fine, if you can give me half an hour, I’ll have your check ready by then.”

“Sounds perfect!” Anna squeaks.

“And again, you don't have to call me Ms. Langford. Elsa’s fine.”

Elsa pats her on the shoulder and walks over to her room, Anna gets a glimpse of it before the door shuts and she can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be in Elsa’s room one day. Her shameful thought is interrupted by someone bumping her hip.

She looks down and sees Serah with a smug grin on her face.

“Oh hush,” Anna says.

[Line Break]

Anna hates taking breaks, and she especially hates days off. Not just because that’s one less day she gets to see Elsa, but also because that’s who she is as a person. Days she isn’t working provide zero structure, and she forgets how to be a human being without a structure.

The weekends, then, are a tumultuous time for her. If she doesn’t have pre-made plans with her friends, she’ll spend the days thinking about doing everything, inevitably end up doing nothing, and then dragging herself out of the house to do something.

This particular Saturday, that “something” happens to be grocery shopping. With a list that only has “Eggs?” on it, she ventures through every single aisle, wondering if she could get herself hungry enough to buy whatever she’s currently looking at.

So far, aside from the eggs, there’s only one other thing in her cart. And it’s not even for her.

“Pop-Tarts…I don’t know, they might sound good later.” She reaches to grab a box of the frosted strawberry ones but waves it off at the last second. Maybe the next aisle will have something she thinks absentmindedly as her cart almost hits the person in front of her.

Who somehow happens to be Elsa.

“Hi! Hey! Wow hi!” Anna says while Elsa looks at her like she’s genuinely startled. “H-hey there, Ms. Langford.”

After registering that the person yelling at her isn’t a threat, Elsa smiles. “Anna! It’s so wonderful to see you.” She looks as if she’s going to take a step towards Anna, but changes her mind at the last second.

Unfortunately, Anna took that as a cue to also step forward and didn’t move back fast enough. So now, she’s just standing between both carts like she’s commandeering both. “I-I didn’t know you went grocery shopping. Here, I mean. I’m sure you shop, but like…I live near here. Like five minutes away actually.”

Elsa chuckles, and honestly it sounds like honey-dipped guitar strings. But less sticky, and more sexy. “Well I was in the area dropping Serah off to her karate lesson, so I figured I might as well do some shopping while I wait.”

Right, Serah started her lessons last week. She told Anna that she was super excited about “getting to punch bricks and stuff”. Still unsure if she should move yet, Anna adds, “Well I like this place a lot. It’s like one of my top ten places to be- to go. Maybe top five.”

“I’ll make sure to keep that in mind,” Elsa grins like she really is happy to have run into her. She shifts her gaze down and remarks, “Oh, that’s a really nice chopping board.”

Oh. Right. The chopping board’s…still in her cart. Anna lifts it up and holds it like she’s showing off the finest new features in chopping board technology. “Yeah thanks, it’s on sale actually.”

“That’s good news, I’m looking to replace the one we have. I’m tired of scraping plastic off my chicken when I’m cutting it.” Anna knows this, of course, because Elsa’s muttered it to herself every time she’s in the kitchen. “Which aisle did you find that in?”

Forgetting why she has the chopping board in the first place, Anna holds it out and says, “Oh it’s okay, you can just have this one?”

“Are you sure? Don’t you need it?”

Now remembering why she has it, Anna shamefully pulls it away, “Yes. I mean no. No I don’t, I don’t need it. It’s in my cart, but I don’t need it.”

Elsa’s eyes narrow, “I-I’m sorry, I’m confused.”

Well this is happening. And it’ll be even more awkward to explain things if she shows up with the chopping board on Monday. She sighs, finally admitting defeat, “I…I heard you mention you needed a new chopping board, so I wanted to get one for you. This one, actually. This is the one I was going to buy. And then give it to you on Monday.”

Elsa goes from confused to flattered in a second, and much like all of her expressions there’s an inarguable authenticity to it. There’s no exaggerated gasp or a drawn-out “Awww”, instead there’s a smile that could melt a million hearts and a casual touching of Anna’s upper arm.

“I knew I picked a good one,” Elsa says, oblivious to the screaming and fireworks occurring in Anna’s head.

“Ah, i-it’s nothing really. I’m using my paycheck, so in a way you’re buying it yourself haha,” Anna tries to laugh but she squeaks like someone’s just pumped her full of helium.

“Nonetheless, you’ve helped lift so much stress off your shoulders and I want to show how much I appreciate you.” Elsa straightens up a little and looks at the frazzled redhead curiously, “What do you think about coffee?”

“You mean like a coupon?” Anna shakes her head. “I mean a gift card?”

Elsa opens her mouth to respond, but another thought seemingly goes through her head and she purses her lips. A second later, she smiles again, “Yes. Like a gift card. Young people still drink Starbucks, right?”

Anna scoffs, “Ms. Langford, you’re only nine years older than me.”

“And yet you still insist on calling me ‘Ms. Langford’, which always makes me feel much older than I actually am.”

A ton of bricks falls on Anna as she realizes her grave mistake. “Oh my goodness, Ms. La- ah I mean I uh…I’m so sorry. I didn’t- I mean that wasn’t my intention. You’re young, a-and beautiful, and still in your prime. No you haven’t even reached your prime yet! If I made you feel like you weren’t, I’m-”

She’s silenced by the feel of Elsa’s hand coming to rest on…her shoulder? Well that’s new. And exciting. Anna focuses half of her mind on calming down and the other half on what Elsa’s saying.

“Relax Anna, it was just a joke. You can call me whatever you want.” Though Elsa’s voice is reassuring, her smile has a glint of proud mischief from catching her off-guard. “I’m not about to police my favorite babysitter on what words she can use.”

Anna tries to speak but finds her throat too dry. She clears it and tries again, “Really? I’m your favorite babysitter? You’re not just saying that?”

“I went through far too many babysitters before I found you,” Elsa lets out a breathy laugh, eyes glancing to the side as if she’s remembering back to the years she’d had to find the right fit to take care of Serah. Anna wonders what makes her so different from the others, but thinks that’s too invasive to ask. “You’re the best.”

The casual yet loaded compliments and the feel of Elsa’s fingers so close to her bare skin combine to create a dangerous, stomach-churning reaction in Anna. One that sets all her impulses alight, screaming at her to kiss Elsa.

Before she even has the chance to compose herself, Elsa’s already pulled away and is back by the safety of the handrails on her cart. “Well I think I’ve used up enough of your time this weekend. And besides, I need to find something for dinner tonight. I’ll see you Monday, okay?”

Anna blinks, still trying to register things that happened five minutes ago. “Uh yeah, no problem. Sounds great,” she replies without knowing what she’s saying.

Elsa smiles at her and turns the corner, disappearing from direct sight. After an eternity of standing at the end of the aisle like an idiot, Anna groans and covers her face with her hands.

“Stupid,” she mumbles to herself.

[Line Break]

“The evil scientist shouted, ‘This ain’t over, Super Gal! One day-”

Anna presses the buzzer she bought at a dollar store. “There’s no such thing as the word 'ain’t’,” she corrects.

Serah groans, “You’re the worst.”

“You asked a girl with an English degree for help with your story. What did you expect would happen?” Anna taps against the table like an evil villain.

’“I didn’t expect you to not go easy on-”

Anna presses the buzzer again. “Double negative!”

“I’m not even writing!” Serah protests.

“My buzzer, my rules.”

The sound of the front door opening interrupts them bickering like long-lost sisters. Instead of running over to greet Elsa by the door, Serah shouts with exasperation, “Moooom! Anna’s being a jerk!”

“Well that’s what happens when you ask an English major to look over your story, honey,” Elsa replies.

Anna gives Serah a smug grin, the little girl sticks her tongue out in response. Elsa joins them at the dinner table, the tiredness on her face is less concerning tonight but Anna catches her wince when she sits down.

“You okay?” she asks.

Elsa smiles, “Fell off a ladder at work.”

“Oh my gosh, how bad does it hurt? I could-” Anna has to take a pause to let the unhelpful thought of massaging Elsa’s back go away. “-get you some ibuprofen or an ice pack.”

“Thank you, Anna, but I’m sure I’ll be fine in the morning once I sleep it off. After all, I’m not even in my prime yet.” Elsa winks at her, and Anna has to pretend her insides haven’t turned to jelly.

“Is this like that time you fell in the bathroom while trying to pull your pants up?” Serah asks.

“Serah!” Elsa hides her face in her hands, though it’s still possible to tell the remorse she feels through her voice. “Why did I even tell you that story?”

Serah feigns innocence and shrugs, “Because I’m your daughter and you like telling me things?”

Elsa sticks her tongue out in response and it’s much cuter than it has any right to be. Unable to help herself, Anna asks, “Are you sure I can’t do anything for you? I mean like with your back…or whatever.”

Elsa rests her head against one of her hands and doesn’t try to hold back the tiredness in her smile this time. “You’re very sweet, Anna, but I’ll be okay. Just need some rest.” She mumbles afterward, “And a vacation…”

Anna lets her mind wander for a second, thinking of what it would feel like to take Elsa somewhere she could unwind. Like to a spa, or a lake. Elsa feels like the kind of person who finds solitude near water. In her mind, she sees Elsa in a baby blue sundress and a wide brim hat, looking out at the crystal clear waters from a creaky, wooden dock. She sees herself walking down the same dock and Elsa turning to her with a smile, holding a hand out and beckoning her to come over.

“What do you think, Anna?”

The wishful thought dissipates, and Anna’s pulled back into reality by a question she’s not ready for. “Sorry, I was uh…thinking of a story idea. What were you guys talking about?”

Thankfully not asking where Anna’s mind was really at, Elsa repeats herself, “Serah was wondering if you wanted to go to her play tomorrow.”

“I’m playing a tree!” Serah says proudly.

This invitation comes as a wonderful surprise. Serah’s been hyping this play up for forever, but Anna always assumed she would want Elsa to be there. “Oh, I…did something happen? Can you not make it?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare miss seeing my little girl play the part of Tree #2. But I really-”

Serah clears her throat obnoxiously loud.

“Right. We would really love it if you came. Tickets are free, but they’ll be selling popcorn and soda for $2.”

“You can sit next to my mom!” Serah adds, and her failed blink shows she knows exactly what she’s implying. It feels odd having a ten-year-old be her wing woman, but Anna’s learning to roll with it.

“No pressure, though,” Elsa says while wringing her hands together. “It’s on a Friday night, and I know you might already have plans.”

“I don’t,” Anna responds far too fast.

Elsa’s eyes widen in surprise, “Oh. Then do you want to go?”

The chance to sit next to Elsa for an hour in a dark auditorium? Anna would be an idiot to pass that opportunity up. And it isn’t lost on her that it felt like Elsa was about to say she would personally love it if she went.

“Sure, I’d love to go.”

[Line Break]

Far too many questions are still punching Anna in the brain as she pulls into West Arendelle Elementary’s parking lot and walks towards the auditorium. Should she have eaten something beforehand? Is she overdressed? Is she underdressed? Should she have texted Elsa to coordinate outfits? What if this is all some elaborate prank to make fun of her for her stupid mom crush? Did she sweat through her shirt? Is it noticeable?

Her crazy thoughts are interrupted by her phone buzzing. She pulls it out of the back pocket of her jeans and sees it’s a text from Elsa. She’s waiting by the door so they can find some seats together.

Well, that eases her worry about trying to find Elsa in a crowded auditorium. Though crowded might be an understatement. It’s a fourth-grade play, not an opera at The Met.

Once inside, Anna takes a second to admire the impressive renovations of what used to be a musty, old gymnasium (they even put in carpets and sound dampeners). But she’s not here to appraise this place, she’s here to root for her favorite fourth grader/tree and keep the ogling of Elsa to a minimum-

Holy baloney, Elsa’s wearing a dress.

It’s got blue-and-white stripes, short sleeves, and a similar colored waist sash. And instead of her hair being in a tight ponytail, the nearly silver locks fall across her shoulders and down her back.

It’s casual, it’s cute, it’s gorgeous, it’s beautiful, and it’s a stark reminder of how absolutely smitten Anna is.

“I was getting worried you might not show up,” Elsa says with a smile akin to the one she showed off at the grocery store.

Up close, Anna also notices a thin, snowflake necklace around Elsa’s slender neck and she’s already failed in keeping her ogling to a minimum. “You can always trust me to keep my promises, Ms. Langford,” she says with a goofy grin meant to reflect something called confidence.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Elsa responds.

Feeling like she has to mention it, and also because her brain’s still currently fried from seeing an angel, Anna adds, “You look beautifuller. I-I mean not like fuller, I just mean you look more beautiful than usual. Oh gosh, not that you usually look bad because you don’t. You never look bad, you’re-”

Elsa lays a hand on Anna’s shoulder again, which might as well be her reset button. “Anna, do me a favor and take a breath.”

Anna takes a breath.

“Good job. Now let’s go find some seats, okay?”

Anna follows her, too caught up on the feeling of being told she did a good job.

They find a spot at the end of an aisle and close enough to the stage that Serah will be able to find them without looking too hard. Elsa takes the seat on the left, Anna takes the seat on the right. They don’t start talking again right away, not until the conversations all across the auditorium become a blanket of white noise.

And then Elsa lets out a breath, “This feels nice.”

Anna turns to her and notices her eyes are closed, but she still commits to perfect posture so it looks like she’s meditating. “What do you mean?” Anna asks.

“Being…present. Not having to rush to make dinner or beat traffic or anything like that. It feels nice to have a break and just be.”

Anna finds it hard to understand what constitutes this as a break, but then again she isn’t a mother. And she doesn’t know much about what it means to take a break anyway.

Elsa tilts her head like she’s about to rest it on Anna’s shoulder, but instead, she turns to look at her. “Thank you again.”

“For the chopping board?”

“For the chopping board, for taking care of Serah, for being someone I can trust…for everything. It’s hard to- I mean you know it hasn’t been easy for me relationship-wise.”

Anna nods. Learning about Elsa’s divorce and her subsequent failed relationships was a part of why she took this job in the first place. She sympathized with the single mother and knew even then that Elsa could really use someone to have her back too.

“So thank you, for being my…the person I needed through all this. My knight in shining armor.”

The lights haven’t dimmed yet, so she needs to hope the blush on her cheeks isn’t too noticeable. She bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling too wide, and then says, “Well, outstanding service is the Bizzybee guarantee.” It’s supposed to be a playful joke, but Elsa doesn’t seem to take it as such.

She frowns, “Do you really only see this as a job?”

This is different, but it doesn’t feel like a good different. Elsa doesn’t usually look like she’s staring into her soul, and she hasn’t asked anything this personal since the initial interview. To Anna, the answer is obvious, but she’s also caught up on wondering what answer Elsa wants to hear. If she says the wrong thing, will she lose her job? What’s the right thing to say? When did it get so warm? And is that citrus she smells in Elsa’s hair? Gosh, why is she so weird?

Shrinking further underneath Elsa’s stone-cold curiosity, Anna finally decides to approach this with honesty. “No,” she starts far too softly. “No, I think I would probably do anything for you…r family. You mean a lot to me. Y-you and Serah, I mean.”

She really hopes that doesn’t sound like a confession. The last thing she wants to do is get fired and have to run out of an elementary school auditorium in tears.

A soft, warmth presses against her hand that’s been resting on her seat. Anna looks down and sees Elsa’s hand on top of where hers should be. If this is a dream, then she never wants to wake up.

“Thank you for saying that,” Elsa replies just as softly.

Finally, the lights dim and the principal is on the stage talking about how hard the fourth-graders have worked on this rendition of The Giving Tree. And maybe it means nothing, but Elsa still hasn’t pulled away. Anna pushes away the thought of her own hand being too sweaty, and the notion that this could be a fulfillment of her craziest wish. Right now, she just tries to enjoy the feeling.

Serah turned out to be an excellent Tree #2.

[Line Break]

Next Monday, everything falls apart.

Or at least that’s what it feels like is going to happen when Elsa gets back from work and immediately asks Serah to go to her room so they can talk alone.

Anna’s never seen her this distraught before. Her ponytail is poorly put together, she’s not wearing any makeup, and there’s a coffee stain below her collar. When she asks if she can do anything to help, Elsa’s response is a quick but harsh, “No.”

She stiffens up. “Oh. O-okay, I’m sorry.”

Elsa shakes her head, places her hand on top of one of the kitchen chairs, but then pulls back like it’s hot to the touch. “Could we maybe sit on the couch?”

Right now, Elsa could tell her to cut off her hand and Anna would do it. She nearly trips walking the five feet from the kitchen to the living room couch, and tries to take up the least amount of space as possible when she sits down. Elsa sits on the far side, clutching a pillow to her chest with her mind probably anywhere else but here.

It’s not a good sight, and Anna’s not only worried about the safety of her job, but Elsa’s condition. She purses her lips to keep from saying anything stupid, and hopes this isn’t the horrible nightmare she’s expecting it to be.

Elsa closes her eyes tight, “I’m afraid I have to let you go, Anna.”

Anna completely deflates. Had she not been expecting this, it would have come as a greater shock to her. But when she pushed her luck at the play by trying to hold Elsa’s hand…she knew her days as a babysitter were numbered. “I understand,” she says sadly.

“I don’t think you do,” Elsa replies, quickly turning to look at Anna. Her eyes look like they’re pleading with her, like she doesn’t want to do this. “You were amazing, and I will give you the best endorsement for any job you apply for. But after the play-”

“I know. I was out of line.”

There’s a tense, awkward second of silence where the two women are looking at each other with equal levels of guilt and remorse. Though their reasons are vastly different. Elsa sighs and places the final nail in the coffin, “No, you weren’t.”

…what?

“Anna, I wanted you to hold my hand.”

What?

“You did?” Anna asks, trying her best to curb her optimism. This can’t possibly be going the way she thinks it is.

Elsa nods, “I’m not- well okay, first of all, I don't want to fire you. Serah, she thinks of you as her big sister, and the thought of separating you two tears me up. But this needs to happen because I…having you around…I feel something for you.”

“Feel something?” Maybe someday she’ll be able to say more than two sentences again.

Again, Elsa closes her eyes. A sternness falls on her face which Anna can tell she’s had to use a lot “Say it out loud,” Elsa mutters.

“What’s wrong?”

One agonizing moment later, Elsa reopens her eyes, and the guilt in them has worsened. “I-I’m attracted to you, Anna, and it’s getting to me. Really bad. I can’t sleep without thinking of you, I got a ticket for speeding a couple of weeks ago because I couldn’t wait to get home to you and Serah, and when you held my hand? Gosh, I felt something I never felt with anyone I’ve ever been with. I have feelings for you, and I have to let you go before I do something I might regret.”

She’s not dreaming, Anna knows that for sure because there’s no weird fog around her and Elsa doesn’t have a horse head. Yet she still can’t wrap her mind around the fact that this is happening.

Elsa Langford, the most beautiful mom- hell, the most beautiful woman- she’s ever known has just confessed she has feelings for her.

But she has to know for certain, so she finally musters up the lucidity to ask more than two words. “Do you really mean that?”

Elsa laughs. But it’s not a “gotcha” laugh, it’s a deeply embarrassed, caught-in-the-act laugh Anna’s far too familiar with. “Yes. I like you a lot.”

That’s all the confirmation she needs. With all the social grace of a bowling ball tumbling down the stairs, Anna responds. “I like you a lot too. Like attractively, I-I mean romantically.”

Elsa’s eyes widen, “Really?”

Anna shows off her expertly crafted awkward laugh. “Of course! You’re sweet, caring, and you’re so beautiful I bet a potato sack would look good on you. When I look at you or even think of you, I just see like rainbows and flutes and warm stuff like blankets or bedrooms- I uh, I mean like…soup. It was just a stupid crush at first, but honestly I don’t think I’ve ever felt this strongly for anyone before. Elsa, you’re a dream come true.”

Elsa’s pale complexion makes the redness that appears on her cheeks much brighter and more beautiful than Anna could ever imagine. This magical moment…it’s something she’ll always cherish and will never forget.

“I love the way you say my name,” Elsa says quietly.

“It’s a very pretty name,” Anna adds.

“Gosh, just kiss each other already!” Serah shouts from the hallway.

They talk for another hour. Despite the looming threat of being fired disappearing, Anna still agrees it’s best she stops working for Elsa. There’s now a conflict of interest, and the last thing they want is for either of them to get in trouble. Which means it’s back to job hunting. On the bright side, however, Anna can now come over whenever she wants so Serah will still have her “big sister”.

As for her and Elsa, they both agree to take things slow to make sure they won’t drive each other crazy. In a bad way, obviously. They both have big, stupid crushes on each other, but with Elsa’s track record for relationships and Anna’s overall social awkwardness, it’s clear that attraction will only get them so far. They have to work for this, if this was something to work for. Nonetheless, they remain optimistic and their first date is set for next week.

Elsa just needs to find a babysitter first.

#elsanna #submission #April 2021 contest #prompt: break

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ineloqueent · 3 years

Text

the whole of the moon

Platonic!Queen x Reader

cannot remember where this gif is from. if it’s yours, drop me a line!

synopsis: a late-night shopping trip goes awry...

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking

word count: 1.8k

a/n: happy birthday, dearest vi ( @doing-albri )!! i hope you have a wonderful day, because you deserve it. i’m sorry this is so short; i’ve been terribly busy, for whole months, it seems. but i’ve done my best, and i hope you’ll enjoy it. inspired by this song <3

⭒

1975

“Just like old times,” said Roger happily, cranking up the music and beginning to tap his fingers on the steering wheel.

Brian immediately grimaced, and reached over to turn the volume down again.

“Hey!” Roger smacked Brian’s hand away from the knob, and you laughed, from your place between John and Freddie in the backseat.

Brian turned his head to wink at you.

“Some of us need our hearing to be able to play, Rog,” he said.

John wrinkled his nose, flexing his fingers as he shifted a ring from his pointer to his pinky, and back again. “You’ve still got yours left?”

Brian looked confused. “Yeah..?”

“Oh,” said John, with an air of sarcasm, “that’s right. You’re the one who talked our ears off yesterday.”

Now Brian looked miffed. “Just because you don’t understand zodiacal light, doesn’t mean it’s uninteresting.”

Deacy rolled his eyes.

“No offense, darling,” Freddie sighed, “but if you say one more word about science before we’ve finished this champagne-run, I’m going to climb over the console and strangle you.”

Roger guffawed, and John grinned so broadly one would’ve thought him a small child on Christmas morning.

“Fine,” said Brian, miffed. “I won’t talk at all.”

“Good riddance,” Roger muttered, and Brian crossed his arms.

“Why did I agree to going with you all, again?”

You leaned forward to tug on one of his curls, and Brian whirled, startled, pushing his fingers into his hair. He relaxed when he saw it was only you. “To be the voice of reason, of course,” you told him.

He smiled. “You’re not wrong.”

Roger grumbled, “Don’t boost his ego, sweetheart.”

“Too late,” said Freddie. “He’s going to start talking about time dilation any moment now.”

“Time dilation?” Brian asked. “Hadn’t even thought of that. But if you really want to know—”

A collective groan rose from the other three, and you laughed again.

You loved this.

You loved them.

You loved travelling the world with your four best friends, watching them live their dreams, and getting to be a part of that reality, the reality no one could ever have thought would take on such a life of its own.

Tour life could be hectic at times, but you wouldn’t have given it up for the world.

Not when you arrived in a ramshackle town where the nicest place in sight was the funeral home, not when your legs felt tired enough to give out from beneath you, as you stood watching the show from the wings, for the umpteenth night in a row.

Because when John decided to put on a record, he always asked for your opinion, and picking Roger’s outfit was as much your job as it was his, and when Brian and Freddie played to the crowd as though they were old friends, it was like you held the world in the palm of your hand.

Even if the four of them argued constantly.

As the van suddenly swerved, and the three of you in the back clung to each other in terror, Brian said crossly, “Jesus, Roger, watch the road!”

“I am!” protested the drummer, and Brian grumbled a response in the negative.

“You absolutely are not,” said Freddie, hanging onto the headrest of Brian’s seat. “And I refuse to die in the middle of nowhere, thank you very much, so you can keep your eyes forward if you want to still be in the band by tomorrow night.”

Roger rolled his eyes, and made a blah blah blah gesture with his hand. But he was clearly not as adept at multitasking as he thought, because a moment later, Deacy cried,

“Watch out for that deer!”

“Yes, Roger, slow down,” said Brian warningly. “I swear I will murder you in cold blood if you kill that deer.”

“What deer?” Roger squinted. “I don’t see a— DEER!”

He swerved so violently this time that your seatbelt dug into your skin, and you pushed against the seatbacks to keep from falling forward.

The van hurtled off the side of the road, but Roger had somehow managed to slow the vehicle significantly before the swerve, and so the off-road trip would have been only a momentary pause in your journey into town.

Had it not been for the barbed wire lying in the grass.

The tyres of the van had surely seen better days, after so many miles on the road, and you felt the moment all four of them punctured.

Roger gripped the steering wheel for dear life, and Brian, struggling to combat inertia, had both hands on the dashboard, one knee against the console and other against the door, whilst Freddie still clung to the headrest, and John pushed at the back of Roger’s seat. You, stranded in the middle, failed to maintain any sort of position.

The van ploughed forward like a tidal wave, into the field by the road, then sank abruptly to a stop with a whumph, when the last of its momentum had been wasted.

There was a silence as you looked around the car, at Roger’s tousled hair and Brian’s wide eyes, Freddie’s gritted teeth and John’s crooked collar.

Then the shouting started.

“Roger you moron!”

“How the hell did you not see that coming?!”

“I’ve told you, I need to get my eyes checked!”

“Well, kindly do it before you kill us all!”

“I’ve seen 90-year-old women drive better than you do!”

“Fuck off, Brian! If you hadn’t—”

“We’re never going to get that champagne!”

You all turned to Freddie.

“Really,” you said, “you’re thinking about Moët et Chandon right now?”

Freddie shrugged. “Seems we’d all be in better humour if we’d had the option to have a glass before we left.”

“Or maybe,” Brian drawled, “we’d all be dead, because Roger can barely drive when he’s sober.”

Roger was fuming, bright red in the face with a will to speak but no adequate words to suit, and he looked as though if he stayed silent for a moment longer, he would try to throw a punch at Brian.

Brian, to his credit, folded his arms and raised an eyebrow, and stared Roger down.

Laughter broke the silence, and you all turned to find John completely beside himself with amusement.

He did not stop laughing until he was wiping tears from his eyes, and by then, you had begun smiling too.

“What,” barked Roger.

Deacy shook his head, his soft hair flying about his face. “Don’t any of you see how funny this is?”

“Funny..?” asked Brian cautiously.

“Well,” said Deacy, “are any of you hurt?”

You looked around, tallied the appearances of everyone in your head.

“No,” you replied.

“Okay, then listen: we ran out of champagne, so, despite the fact that it was half-past eleven at night, we all piled into a sort of run-down van, without security, without crew, and set off to buy a bottle of champagne. We’d been driving for all of five minutes before we started arguing the first time, and half an hour into the trip, Roger drives us off the side of a road after Brian finishes rambling about science—”

“Astrophysics, actually—”

“—and all four tyres puncture,” John went on. “And now, we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

There was a pause.

But despite everything, John was right. This really was funny.

You started to laugh as well, and Deacy grinned at you until both Freddie and Brian were smiling, and the corner of Roger’s mouth tugged upward as his colour faded.

Brian sighed, running a hand through his unruly curls. “So, now what?”

“Spare tyres?” you suggested.

“About that…” Roger mumbled.

“Oh, dear god,” Freddie said, dropping his head to his hands.

John laughed again, and Brian made a noncommittal noise.

“So we walk,” you said.

Freddie shook his head. “I am not walking on the side of a road in the middle of the night.”

Roger wrinkled his nose too. “Bloody insects,” he muttered, “get in your hair.”

“And Brian’s stretched his hamstring again,” said Deacy. You glanced over at Brian, who winced apologetically. He wasn’t one to complain, though; you’d all but forgotten his incapacity.

“Which just leaves just you and me,” Deacy nodded to you.

“I dunno, Deacs,” you made a face. “Freddie’s onto something, about not walking on the side of a deserted road in the pitch black. And,” you continued, before John could object, “you’re not going on your own. We’ll simply have to wait until morning.”

Everyone seemed lost in thought.

“Right,” Brian said, “that’s it.” He pulled on the handle of the passenger door, and it clicked open. “We’re sleeping under the stars.”

“Not this again!” Roger cried, but Brian reprimanded him.

“I think you’ve said enough for the time being, Rog.”

The heavy door slammed behind Brian, and you could hear the boot being opened.

“He’s right, you know,” John remarked, in a rare display of solidarity with the guitarist.

Roger only sniffed.

A few seconds later, Brian knocked on Freddie’s window.

“Come on, then!” he said, smilingly. “I’m only sorry none of us brought our instruments.”

Deacy widened his eyes at you. “Thank god for that.”

You laughed and pushed him lightly, toward his door, and when he’d hopped out, you followed.

You rounded the car with John, to find Brian already staring up at the sky, as Freddie and Roger joined you as well.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Brian murmured.

You turned your face to the sky, and saw what he meant.

There was no light pollution here, no skyscrapers or tall houses to obstruct the view, and the world above stretched on endlessly, a plethora of life above your heads. It was so very bright, and yet so very far away. It was indeed beautiful.

You breathed the night air, and nodded.

“I found a picnic blanket,” Brian added, holding it up, “and apparently, Crystal keeps a chocolate stash, so we’ve got that too.” He then sank into the grass, stretching out his long legs, entirely without regard for the light blue suit he wore, and Freddie looked on in distaste.

“That’s no way to treat perfectly good fashion, darling. Now, if it’d been that horrible knitted sweater of yours, and those old, tatty velvet trousers, I’d have said otherwise, but that there is a perfectly good—”

“Sit down, Freddie,” you said, and Freddie closed his mouth and sat. You made your way over to Brian, who had now reclined completely, his fingers winding absently in the pale grass.

Soon, you were all sprawled in the field, which, funnily enough, was peppered with moonflowers, and you sighed, utterly at ease with the peacefulness of the scene around you: your family, the sky, the stars, and the whole of the moon. It shone radiantly this night, full and subtly tinged with orange, warmth softening the usual coldness of its light.

“Spare some of that chocolate?” John whispered from beside you.

You nudged Brian, who passed over the wrapped sweets, which you then handed to John.

Roger was placated by the sharing of the chocolate, and Freddie seemed perfectly content to laze about in a manner similar to that of one of his many cats. The latter fell asleep within minutes, having stolen Roger’s jacket.

It wasn’t long before only you and Brian remained awake, gazing up at the stardust which spilled from the heavens, and the world was quiet.

Brian shifted slightly, and you turned your head to find him looking at you.

A soft smile touched his lips, and his cheeks were rosy in the blue-dark.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said.

You could not help but smile back, because your heart was as full as it had ever been.

“I’m glad I’m here too,” you whispered.

#tina's writing #platonic!queen x reader #queen #fic

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bound-writings · 4 years

Text

Hananene For The Soul

♡tbhk secret santa for @amanebae aka Momica♡

“Game Day” fic + Hananene Relationship HCS

>nene has an overnight school trip, leaving her no choice but to leave a certain ghost boy themselves. spoiler alert - she doesn’t though.

>also nene introducing modern games to a baby boomer named Hanako

“Yashiroooo, you have to be lying right now!” Hanako whined as he squeezed Nene tighter, his neck resting on the crook of her neck, pouting.

“No, I’m not lying, Hanako-kun! I’m being one hundred percent serious!” the dual-colored hair huffed, dunking the mop in the bucket as she continued to scrub the floor. The boy groaned louder at Nene’s response and held on tighter as if trying to restrict her movements.

“But what about me, Yashiro? Are you just gonna abandon me and go off on your own??”

The girl sighed, furrowing her eyebrows at Hanako’s childish behaviors. Then again, he was always like that, wasn’t he? “Hanako-kun, you don’t need to be so dramatic! It’s only going to be for three days-”

“Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and then the weekend! I’m not going to be seeing you for five whole days in a row!” Hanako’s shoulders drooped as he released his hold on Nene. Nene sighed in relief and massaged her sore neck.

“Yashiro!” he whined, grabbing the mop and trying to pry it from Nene’s hands, “You can still rethink your decision!”

Yashiro squealed as she held on to the mop. “I’m not going to! You’ve survived without me before, Hanako-kun! And I’ve already paid for it and everything! I don’t know why you’re so insistent on me staying here!”

Hanako released his grip on the mop, tilting his hat so it would cover his eyes. “I see, Yashiro. If that’s what you want.”

Yashiro frowned as her heart twinged. She didn’t mean to hurt the boy’s feelings. Or maybe he was trying to guilt-trip her, like the time he used the fake tears? Hmph, she wouldn’t be fooled! (She was.)

>the next day

“Why not?”

“What?! No way! I came here to get you to stop me, Tsuchigomori-sensei!”

“I mean, the trip isn’t mandatory. It’s for pleasure only. I see nothing wrong with skipping it. And I could also refund your money as well.”

“Listen, I don’t know what to do!”

“What a pain… Did you ask Honorable Number Seven about it?”

“Yes, of course! He knows about it and he wants me to stay at school! But I don’t know anything about him! He never even told me about his past, and I never know what’s going on in that head of his. He’s hugging me one minute, and the next he’s cruelly making me clean toilets!” Nene sighed, pursing her lips at her outburst. “Clearly he doesn’t trust me… so I don’t know why he’s so desperate for me to stay with him…”

Tsuchigomori sighed, puffing out smoke from his pipe.

“You know kid, he’s been a lot happier ever since you came around.”

“Eh?”

“You should have seen him before. Always moping around in the stall and complaining about how boring it was around here.”

“And?”

“And now it’s the complete opposite. He doesn’t say it, but you made a huge impact on him, kid. Maybe he doesn’t tell you some things, but I believe that’s because he wants to protect you.”

“I-I see.”

“But don’t mind my rambling. Who knows, I might be completely wrong. You are too soft on the boy anyway.” Tsuchigomori guffawed as a tick mark appeared on Nene’s forehead.

“Don’t think too deep into it kid. Just make sure you don’t regret it.”

Nene sighed as she played with the ends of her hair. What would she do? No, she already knew what she was going to do.

>the next day

Hanako sighed, looking out the window, seeing other the trees shake in the wind instead of the usual commotion outside. The school was eerily empty because almost everyone had gone on the trip. Yashiro included. His eyes drooped as he stared as his tingly hands. The hands that would playfully squish her cheeks, the hands that would hold onto her as if she would disappear from his grasp. Her warm, warm body…

Hanako blinked and suddenly snapped out of his daze. Yashiro was right. Yashiro didn’t need to stay here with him. She was human. She was alive. She should be enjoying her life instead of staying here with him. But he sighed as he slumped into the wall, closing his eyes, taking in the silence. It will be quite lonely for a few days. Or so he thought.

“HANAKO-KUN!!!”

Hanako bolted upright as if electricity struck him. The Mokke lying around him were up and about as well, spouting but one word.

“Yashiro.”

“Yashiro!”

“It’s Yashiro.”

Hanako rubbed his eyes as he strained his ears, wondering if he was hearing right.

“Jeez, Hanako-kun! You can look at me already!”

The ghost almost comically turned his neck around slowly, eyes widening as he gulped. Much to his surprise, it was her. Yashiro Nene in the flesh, lip jutting out as she pouted, hands on her hips, a bag at her daikon legs.

“Y-Yashiro? Why are you here-?”

“The real question is why you’re sitting here being all mopey! I thought you knew how to exist without me?” she huffed as she grabbed the bag at her feet.

Hanako, still in a shocked daze, floated over to her, pointing a finger at the bag. “And that is…?”

The girl slightly blushed. “I brought for you… I mean I brought it so I wouldn’t be bored staying at school!”

“Staying… at school? What about the trip?”

Nene sighed, staring at her feet and then glancing up at the curious boy. She gently tugged on his sleeve, ushering him closer to her.

“I… I decided not to go. I wanted to stay with you Hanako-kun… even though you can be really annoying sometimes. But… I think you’re good company.”

The boy blushed as he stared at the floor as well. His heart pounded in his chest at Nene’s words and he could feel her soft skin brushing against the palm of his hand. Hanako tried to compose himself, but he could barely bring himself to say anything. Nene squirmed in the awkward silence and tried to break it. Pulling her hand away, much to Hanako’s regret, she spoke.

“A-Anyway! I brought this so we can play together!” Nene quickly threw the bag to the side and pulled out a colorful box that read the word “MONOPOLY” in big letters.

“Moh-noh-poly?’

“No, it’s Mah-nah-poly!” Nene said trying to sound out the letters as best as possible. She giggled. “I’m surprised you don’t know this game, Hanako-kun!” Nene dropped to her legs and removed the cover of the box. Hanako followed, squatting down to peer at the game, his heart feeling touched and all tingly.

She unfolded the board and dumped the figures onto it. Hanako watched on curiously, as she squinted and counted what seemed to be like fake money.

“Here, Hanako-kun!”

Fake dollar bills landed in his hands as well as a small figurine as he closely inspected them. “The game is quite simple, Hanako-kun. You just have to walk around the board by rolling the dice and try to buy some buildings and stuff like that!”

“So… it’s kind of like a game of luck?”

The girl pressed a finger to her lips as she gazed upwards in thought. “Hmm, I guess you can say that too!”

Too cute, Hanako thought.

Hanako kept getting screwed over because every time he rolled the dice he always managed to land on something bad. The first time he landed on the “Jail” spot and had no idea until Nene started laughing at him and explained what it meant. He was not happy. Then he landed on one of her properties and had to pay rent, making him go broke. Hanako ends up going bankrupt quite a few times simply because he’s like?? Wtf is going on???

But uhh he gets used to it really fast. Like he actually gets really good at it. It’s almost scary how good he is at this kind of stuff when he’s serious. When he understands the rules and stuff he starts making Nene suffer by making her go into debt and buying all of her stuff. And Nene is literally devastated. She thought wow haha I’m actually better than Hanako-kun at this! Time to show him whose boss! Well, that only lasted for like fifteen minutes because soon enough Hanako was whooping her at Monopoly.

Yashiro ends up having to eat lunch at one point, luckily she packed her own lunch today. But alas, Hanako kept bugging her to get a bite of her cooking.

An irk mark appeared on the girl’s forehead as her clothes were being tugged on by a certain ghost.

“Yashiroooo! You know I haven’t eaten in years…” Hanako whispered in Nene’s ear, mimicking the sound of a stomach grumbling as he nudged his cheek with hers. She cringed, shoveling a portion of food into his mouth so he could shut up. Hanako nearly choked as he hit his chest in an effort to swallow it.

“Are you happy now you idiot?” she huffed, stuffing her face with food as well.

It was actually pretty darn good, Hanako thought.

>the next day

Hanako eagerly floated around the girl’s bathroom waiting for the dual-colored hair girl. He had, quite indeed, grown fond of her, no, more than fond, whatever word that was. The naive girl who hopelessly pines after guys, the same one who managed to become a fish, the one with the adorable squishy cheeks he wished would look at him instead-

“Hanako-kun!!!”

The call of his name made him jump was again and before him was a pouty Yashiro.

“I’ve called your name like ten times, Hanako-kun!”

The boy blinked at her and a mischievous smile appeared on his face as he floated down to her level and placed both hands on her cheeks.

“Hmm… I was just thinking about a special someone ♡.”

She blushed as she swatted his hand away. H-Hanako-kun’s girlfriend! That’s who he must be thinking about!

“So what do ya got there today, Yashiro?”

“U-Uh! Oh yeah! The cards!” She smiled as she plopped down on the floor, taking a deck of cards out of the small box.

“Cards?” Hanako’s interest was piqued.

“Yeah! Have you ever played Uno, Hanako-kun?

“Un-oh?”

“Ooh-no,” she corrected, patting the space across from her, inviting Hanako to sit.

“It’s really simple! You can place a card that has the same color or number as the one on top of the pile, and if you don’t have one you pick up. And you have to say ‘Uno!’ when you place your second to the last card-”

“So basically like Crazy 8?”

“You can say that. But there’s color in Uno!”

Nene got absolutely destroyed in Uno. That’s all that happened. I don’t know if y’all have noticed but Hanako tends to play cards with the Mokke pretty often. And he’s always calm and collected WHICH MEANS HE’S LIKE A MASTER AT CARD GAMES. That is what happens and no one is going to stop him from stomping. He drops so many +2 and +4 cards that Nene has practically the whole deck in her hand. He wins every single time. Nene probably gets a bit pouty at this because she’s like how??? This boomer literally just learned about the game like five minutes ago and?? He’s already kicking my ass at it??

Hanako may or may not lighten up his game if he sees Yashiro get upset but you know. He freaking loves doesn’t really want to see Yashiro sad. So he purposely lets the girl win because he honestly went 🥺when he saw her cheering and throwing her arms in the arm, celebrating.

>the next day

“Sorry, Hanako-kun… I don’t have a new game today…”

Hanako merely smiled as he tugged on her cheeks, turning her frown into a smile. “It’s-”

“That’s why I made this!” The girl grinned as she held a bag high in the air for both of them to gaze upon.

“D-donuts!” Hanako’s face immediately glowed at the sight of the beautifully glazed donuts as he tried to grab them. Nene moved them out of the way as Hanako whined.

“Let’s go to the roof instead, Hanako-kun!”

“Finally, I can eat delicious donuts again!” Hanako cheered as he twirled around, holding the bag in the air.

The girl watched in amusement, settling down on the sheet as she poured tea into a cup. “Still a donut loving ghost, I see,” she giggled as she watched the boy scarf down the pastry. The boy sat down next to her, mouth full.

“Wow, thaft’s somfe real goof dofnuts!” he sighed with content, discarding the bag.

“Hanako-kun, that was for the both of us!” she frowned, peering at the bag. “Plus it’s not good for you to eat so quickly!” she scolded.

Hanako simply smiled at her, crumbs near his lips.

Nene’s eyes softened as she stared at the boy. “You’ve got some crumbs here, Hanako-kun,” she spoke softly, taking her thumb and brushing the crumbs off of his face. Hanako went red as he froze. Noticing his face becoming hot, she glanced at him to see how red he was. Then Nene realized what she was doing.

“Um! I-I was only helping you as a friend of course! You’re totally not my type!” she squealed, face burning as she tried to pull her hand away. But a hand gently caught her arm.

Hanako’s gaze was on the floor, his cheeks red. “Yashiro… these few days have been fun with you. And… and I’m glad you decided to stay with me,” he paused, unsure of how to phrase his words. “It’s been lonely-”

Nene tugged on his arm, smiling at him, not wanting feel like he was being forced to say anything. “Actually Hanako-kun… I’m glad I stayed too.”

“Yashiro… can I ask why you stayed with me?

“Well, because I like you, Hanako-kun!”

…

“As a friend of course! Nothing more!!”

“You’ve said that already, Yashiro…”

“I don’t think the trip would have been too much fun anyway. I had lots of fun with you though!”

Hanako smiled at her words, cherishing the moment. He placed the palm of his hand on hers, and then slowly intertwined his fingers with hers. The girl didn’t protest and instead squeezed his hand, brushing her thumb over his.

How both of them wished this moment would last forever.

Hanako x Yashiro Nene (Hananene) Relationship HCS

If Hanako was alive, they would be the cutest couple in the school! It was actually a shock to most people that they started dating. Yes, Hanako would tease Yashiro on a daily basis but no one thought he was genuinely serious about a relationship with the girl. These two clowns love each very much though, everyone can see that! Now that they’re in an established relationship, Nene becomes more lenient on Hanako’s constant affection, which has increased a huge amount. Hanako is literally around Nene at all times, he won’t directly say it but he cannot bear to not be around this girl. He’s been alone and touch starved for so long, but now he finally has human contact that just fills his heart up with warmth. So yea whenever Nene is not around he’s just like :(.

Also one thing. You know how he calls her Yashiro? Well not anymore! “Nene-chan” time! Hanako never fails to fluster her when he says her first name, especially with the ‘chan’ part. But Nene gets her fair share of making Hanako blush as well. It’s mostly the little things Nene does that touches Hanako’s heart. Maybe it’s making donuts for him, or comforting him after a confrontation with Tsukasa. And whenever the daikon girl initiates affection first, he always gets a little flustered! And then he would tease her for becoming bold. He must be rubbing off on her.

Hanako is always there with her during class. So Nene becomes known as the girl who talks to thin air on a daily basis. She becomes a bit depressed at this but her boyfriend 100 percent cheers her up! The real problem is when Hanako has to be by himself on the weekends. Now that part crushed both of their heart’s especially Hanako’s. He has to wait in the empty school by himself, with only Mokke to keep him company. He knows he shouldn’t feel this way but he’s jealous. Jealous of everyone who can leave this damn building. How he just wants to leave but he can’t step foot out of the school. How he just wants Nene to be by his side forever.

Definitely nerds out with Nene about space and whatnot. He just never had anyone who would willingly listen to him ramble about space! And even though Nene may not understand half of it, she’ll always listen and nod her head. She thinks it’s cute when his eyes get all glowy and excited when he’s talking about something he likes. One of her favorite things to do is to just hold the boy’s hand. His hand is cold, unlike her warm one. But she tries her darn best to transmit her warmth to his body. Why? Because she freaking loves Hanako.

Even though Hanako is so touchy-feely he doesn’t say the words “I love you” quite as often. He’s just a lot better at expressing his feelings through actions than words. Plus he gets insanely flustered and red whenever he says the words, even more when Nene is the one to say it.

Hanako deeply cherishes Nene despite teasing her so often. The fact a murderer like him was able to find love is just, well, astonishing to him. Hanako loves her though, and he will do anything to keep her alive. He always knew that ghosts didn’t have a future but… perhaps with Nene by his side, his one didn’t look so dim anymore.

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namjoonfluff · 3 years

Text

The Florist

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

summary: you own a flower shop in London and get to meet lots of interesting customers but none as interesting as Jungkook.

genre: this is pretty fluffy at the moment - tempted to make it a series if people like it and we might get smut or angst!

word count: 1,900 notes: i haven’t edit yet so if things don’t make sense, feel free to come for me in my asks

When you opened up Buds & Blooms last spring, it was partly because of your love of flowers but also your love of people too. You see, you were surrounded by the same beautiful blossoms every day. However, the individuals who entered the shop were exactly that - individuals. Each one completely unique from the others; with different lives, different problems and different reasons for buying flowers.

You had Mrs Norris who popped in every Monday to check out the latest bouquets. Her visits were never about purchasing a bunch but indeed, she was lonely. You would often see her leaving her terraced house, waving goodbye to her dog and shuffling across the street to the shop. Your eyes followed her every move; head bowed to the ground as she manoeuvred the cobbled street. The bell would ring to signal her entrance and you acted as if you hadn’t been expecting her arrival for five minutes now. “Hello, dear,” She would whisper softly across the rows and rows of roses and camellias.

You glanced up from your ribbons and smiled. She didn’t like to start a conversation straight away. Instead, Mrs Norris took a very slow lap around the store before settling upon a bouquet of sunflowers. Her fingers ran across the sunshine petals as she fell into a deep thought.

“Patrick used to buy me these,” Mrs Norris said to herself, looking sadly at the bright bouquet which sat waiting for her. You would never tell her this but you placed them there purposely. Before Mrs Norris’ husband passed away, he paid you to create her a bouquet every week. Even beyond the grave, he was finding a way to keep their love strong. It was enough to make you believe in soulmates!

Soon after, Mr James rushed into the store like usual. No matter what day of the week, it was always just before lunchtime when he threw the door open in a hurry. As his face flushed pink and chest heaved, he briskly walked to find the biggest bouquet he could possibly find. Lucky for him, you always had one prepared for his visits. “What is it this time?” You grinned from behind the counter.

“Forgot-” He said breathlessly. “Forgot the pickles and now I’m getting a bollocking!”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the panic on his face. Anytime Mr James and his wife had a slight disagreement, he would rush out to buy her flowers. It was because of him that the flower shop stayed afloat! He must have purchased about fifty bouquets since his wife got pregnant. He was seriously the best husband though.

Plenty more customers popped their heads into the store throughout the day. There was Miss Dean - a teacher from the local school who always needed a fresh arrangement for her classroom. You were also visited by Danny Jones, your next door, shop neighbour. He was always dropping by to offer you some of his luxury coffee. It was disgusting though; the bitter type of coffee that just sat in the back of your throat the whole day! With his cup of hell, he also brought an uncomfortable attempt at flirting. “So, do you ever leave this place?” Danny said, leaning up against the counter. Your eyes twitched as you watched him squash the head of a pink rose from one of your wedding displays. It was a shame you had to be polite in front of customers because you could have slapped him so hard in that moment.

“Well, you know what it’s like running a small business,” You shrugged. “I just wanna keep this place afloat!” He sipped his sludge while raking his eyes up and down your body. It would maybe make sense if you were wearing some kind of body-con, booby dress with heels. Yet, here you were in your favourite pair of mom-jeans and a baggy jumper. “That’s why I have my father involved,” Danny smirks from beyond the cup. “He pays the bills, I just make sure nothing goes wrong!”

You subtly roll your eyes from behind the vase you were plucking flowers from. How could someone get through life like this? You wondered. But you didn’t really have to think for long. He was lucky enough to have his daddy’s investment. Need more beans imported from Dubai? Get Father on the phone! Someone broke the coffee machine again? Well, looks like Daddy’s going to need the call. You were jealous really! After all, you had saved up the money to buy the shop, scrimped and scraped so you could afford the latest till. You had even dipped into your life savings to buy a new sign for the shop. That’s how much you cared about this place! It frustrated you to see someone have it so easy.

“Anyway, do you fancy getting a drink with me?” Danny asked.

“Not if it’s any of that coffee,” You whispered.

“Huh?” He looked up from the flower he had de-petalled just a second ago. You were this close from kicking him out the store!

“I’m okay,” You said shyly. How are you supposed to reject someone nicely? Someone who always gets their own way?

“Are you sure?” Danny’s annoying voice peaked again. “Do you really want to be single and selling flowers all your life?” Actually, yes. That sounded like an absolute dream plan right now! No annoying men trying to make you drink their horrible coffee. Maybe you could have a dog like Mrs Norris. Yes, a dog sounded like a great idea - plus, they are much quieter than men anyway!

“Honestly,” He huffed, bringing you out of the daydream where you’re walking your adorable dachshund around Hyde Park. Fucking idiot! How dare he interrupt you as you and Herbert settle on a park bench for a picnic. “You women confuse me beyond belief,” “You talk about marriage and babies but when a decent guy comes along, you reject him!”

Afraid he was going to start lecturing you on the benefits of marrying into his family, you made sure to place a pot down on the counter - loudly! That should wake him from his own daydream which probably involved an image of you being his trophy wife, feeding him his exuberant coffee beans. “Sorry, Danny,” You said, looking up at the clock. “I’m closing now!”

“No worries! Want me to do the tills for you?” He pointed at your cash register. “You want to make sure you’ve counted all your takings correctly!”

How could someone be so unbearable to be around!

“No,” You said firmly - or as firm as you could make it sound. “I’m okay!”

Despite his resistance, Danny finally left the shop five minutes before closing, leaving behind his stupid cardboard cup. In frustration, you lobbed it at the wall, hitting the space just below the chalkboard which advertises your prices. That was going to leave a mark but you would deal with it tomorrow. The only thing you need right now is to stick your head in a bunch of peonies! Thankfully, you were the owner of a flower shop and so a bouquet of peonies wasn't far away.

Sticking your head into the fresh flowers, you inhale their sweet, earthy scent. They act as a reset button, helping you to remember exactly why you love this job. It was your philosophy that flowers could fix anything. Whether it was a petty argument or full-on heartbreak, buying someone flowers was like putting a metaphorical bandaid on their heart. It wouldn’t fix them, of course! However, it helped the healing process feel a little easier. It was just nice to know someone cared enough to send you flowers. It takes the sting out of any sour experiences. It helps to forget just a little! And as a florist, you were so happy to be a part of making people’s lives better. Even if the shop didn’t make you any money, you would still get up every day at five o’clock and create bouquets and arrangements. This was your biggest passion after all!

“Hello?” A voice enters your ear from across the quiet shop. Shit!

You quickly whip your head around to see a man standing in your door, half smirking and half wondering ‘what the fuck is this girl doing motorboating some flowers!’ Well, at least, you think that must be what’s going through his head. How often do you walk into a shop to see someone with their face buried in flowers. “Sorry, I was just-” You start to explain but you wonder how you’re supposed to explain this to a stranger. Apologies, I just stuck my head in some flowers because this annoying guy keeps hitting on me. It’s not exactly normal person behaviour - the type a complete stranger would understand. “It’s okay,” The man spoke in a soft and calming voice. “I am looking for flowers.” “Well, you have come to the right place,” You gestured to all the flowers around you, which you had yet to stick your face in. “I promise I don’t do that with all the flowers!”

The stranger just laughed and began walking around the shop, admiring all of the flowers you had available at the moment. Completely embarrassed by what just happened, you rushed to the backroom to compose yourself. Oh god, what is my life! Did I really just embarrass myself like in front of some random guy? What must he be thinking right now! Maybe he’s already run out of the store and called the police. Amidst your thoughts, you hear a voice call out saying: “Excuse me!” With the heat from your cheeks slowly dissipating and breath starting to still, you walked back to the front of the shop with confidence. You see the man standing by the bucket of Ranunculus stems, staring down at them intently.

“How can I help?” You smiled, catching the man’s vibrant smile back at you. Now that you’re in touching distance of the stranger, you realise quite how handsome he was. His warm skin was actually glowing - like he was sweating but it was a beautiful kind of sheen that wasn’t gross at all. As if you had made a complete fool of yourself in front of someone as beautiful as him. What an idiot!

“Can you tell me about these?” He said softly and you nodded.

“These flowers are called…” As you explained the history of the flower and its meaning, his deep-brown eyes watched you intently. It was almost hard to keep eye contact with him because every time you looked in his direction, his eyes were staring right at you; full of wonder and intrigue. No one had ever looked at you like that. He even smiled and laughed at your little jokes, which definitely no one ever did! Nobody cared about flowers as much as you do to even understand your jokes. “So, these are perfect in bouquet, wreaths and things like table settings,” You finished with a smile as always. However, it didn’t feel forced like it did with other customers.

“Could I get them in a bouquet to collect tomorrow, please?” The man said quietly. “A mixture of colours, please?”

You nodded. “Of course, can I take a name for my book?”

“It’s Jungkook!” The man smiled as he told you his name. To be honest, you didn’t need to know his name. How could you forget his handsome face after all! You just wanted to know more about him; it was an interesting name - one you definitely would never forget.

#jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook au #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #bts fic #bts fanfic #btsfanfic #bts smut #jungkookfic #bts #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction #theflorist

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nanoland · 3 years

Text

new chapter (supernatural fic)

(earlier parts are here; whole thing is here)

Clean Hands, part 3

Crowley/Castiel/Dean Winchester, warning for violence and spn demons being spn demons

Another day, another assassination attempt.

“Congratulations, sir,” said Paula, bustling in with his coffee and daily planner. “That brings it to eight, yes? I recall your making some remark about throwing a small office party if we hit ten before the end of the month.”

Lifting the corpse off the row of retractable spikes he’d installed in his desk, Crowley grunted, “It was a joke. On the other hand, maybe it would be good for morale. Make the blighters less determined to snuff me.”

“I’ll add it to the calendar. Sir, your ten ‘o clock is waiting in the lobby. Should I send him in?”

Technically, ‘ten ‘o clock’ didn’t exist in Hell. Time didn’t exist in Hell.

But by God, it did for Paula.

Infamous among Crowley’s minions, she ruled his appointment diary with an iron fist (well – iron talons, more accurately) and kept a horseman’s pick tucked neatly under her workstation for anyone who was more than five minutes late.

She’d been the most competent corporate PA in the business when Crowley had purchased her soul in exchange for a medical breakthrough that had beaten down her cancer and allowed her those ten precious years. It would, in fact, have allowed her a normal human lifespan, if not for Crowley’s hounds.

(Her wish was among his favourites and her contract had pride of place in his trophy cabinet. She could have just said ‘cure me’; she’d dreamed bigger. Ambition! Now that was what Crowley liked to see. Very few people who sold their souls managed to leave the world a better place than they’d found it.

Truthfully, arranging the breakthrough had taken an amount of power on his part that, ordinarily, he’d have objected to. Ever since the Zuckerberg Incident of 2004, Crowley had maintained a policy against granting wishes that fundamentally altered the pace and trajectory of human scientific development. But he’d wanted her. Reliable PAs were like gold dust and they almost always went to bloody Heaven. “And for what, I ask you?” he’d said to Dean once. “How much admin is really involved in keeping people locked in a lotus-eater machine?”)

“The ten… oh, piss. It’s Alan, isn’t it? Yes, yes. Let’s get this over with. Send him in.”

Another day, another fucking workplace harassment mess to sort out. How many more sodding seminars was he going to have to host before they all got it through their heads that biting off a co-worker’s arm was not a viable long-term conflict resolution strategy?

Sigh.

It was only after four meetings and sixteen calls that Crowley remembered he’d not yet disposed of the assassin.

“I suppose I should make an example of you,” he huffed, already imagining it.

The hassle.

The bother.

Getting an apron on.

Finding the hammer.

Lugging the stupid bastard up a ladder and nailing him to the office noticeboard by his scrote.

He could always ask Paula to do it. But, bless her heart, she’d only been a demon for six years and arranging a corpse for maximum intimidation was just as much a matter of practice as talent.

As Crowley was fetching the ladder, Gwen from Legal arrived whey-faced and dogged by two dozen assistants and interns.

“Sir, it’s a catastrophe,” she wailed.

Five minutes later, Crowley was back at his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Avoidable. Utterly, pathetically avoidable. All you had to do was amend the contract to state that the phrase ‘ten years’ refers solely and specifically to Earth’s orbital period, not the orbital period of the contractee.”

Gwen hung her head. “I don’t know what to tell you, sir. Finding qualified staff to manage this sort of deal is tricky. When people with, you know, science degrees and stuff die and are damned, the assholes over at the Experimental Punishments Department always snatch ‘em up first. It’s a real problem.”

“I’ll have a word with them. Ugh – alright, alright, let’s try and sort this out. How long is a Martian year?”

“The internet says six hundred and eighty-seven days.”

“Damn. Almost twice as long,” Crowley grumbled, pouring himself a drink. “What did he even want from us? He’s a billionaire. The list of things they can’t get without our help grows shorter by the day.”

“He wanted to guarantee that he’d be the first man on Mars, sir; that none of his competitors would get there before he did.”

“Wait. Hold on. The thing he wished for and the mechanism by which he’s attempting to fuck us over are one and the same? Oh, no, no, no. I’m not going to take that cheeky bollocks lying down. Get the head of Research and Development in here, now. We’re going to find out how to crash a spaceship.”

Gwen’s gaze flickered to the assassin’s corpse. “Um.”

“Fuck,” Crowley muttered.

At which point Paula tapped on the door to ask if he wanted to reschedule his next five meetings, because unless he could deal with them all in a grand total of twelve minutes, he’d be late for his call with the NRA’s chairman.

When Castiel arrived – without an appointment, as per usual, but Paula had standing instructions to let him through – he found Crowley resting his head on his desk, fantasising about being a paperweight.

“I’ve come for more sex,” he explained.

Dragging himself from despair’s depths, Crowley slurred, “T’riffic.”

He instructed his meat suit to sit up and turn on the winning smile. Unlike more reliable vehicles, possessed bodies didn’t have dashboard lights to indicate an exhausted battery; instead, it announced its displeasure by growing three new tumours.

Castiel stepped back, confused. Displeased. “You’re usually more enthusiastic than this. Why is your desk covered in diagrams of rockets? Is this a ‘new hobby’?”

Exaggerated finger quotes. Damn him to the pit, he was precious.

“Kitten, rest assured I have only two hobbies and they both dress badly.”

He expected retaliation for that. Castiel hated being reminded that Crowley regularly dallied with his favourite human. It came as a surprise, then, when the angel simply reached out and firmly gripped his shoulder, declaring, “You need to rest.”

Wings flapped. Suddenly, Crowley was standing in front of a wide, glassy lake, surrounded by dense forest, and in the distance…

“Is that Mount Fuji?”

“Indeed,” said Castiel, smiling briefly. “She’s a childhood friend. I first visited when she was little more than an unusually picturesque bump in the ground.”

There was no one around. There was nothing around. No boats on the lake, no fishermen, no families on holiday, not even the distant roar of traffic. Just them, the view, the water, and a – huh – a bright orange tent pitched nearby.

“This is where I come to relax,” Castiel informed him, opening up the zipper.

“Whose is it?”

“Mine.”

“Huh. I wasn’t aware that you…”

“That I what?”

“Owned things. Or even grasped the concept of owning things. Don’t give me that look; you’re the one who’s worn the same socks ever since you slipped into that God-bothering flesh puppet.”

Castiel sniffed. “Materialism is a disease. But I’m not a child, Crowley. For your information, in my time on Earth I have owned many things.”

Always fun to ruffle the pretty bird’s feathers. “Yeah? How many of them were hand-me-downs from the Hardy Boys?”

“Most of them,” he said, levelly. “With the exception of this tent and your ass, demon.”

A pin drop pause.

Castiel maintained unblinking eye contact for exactly twelve seconds, then turned and crawled into his neon den.

Practically vibrating with adoration, Crowley followed.

It was evident that Castiel, despite his laudable efforts to create a space for himself in a world that had no space for him, didn’t entirely grok camping.

There were no sleeping bags. Instead, the tent’s bottom was covered in duvets, dozens of them, soft and fresh as if they’d come directly from the shop – or, more accurately, Crowley suspected, someone’s washing line.

“I cured her dog’s foot infection,” Castiel said, somewhat defensively, settling into his cotton and fleece nest.

“Ah. And she was so grateful she said you could make off with all her laundry, hm?”

“She… did not say those words, precisely. But it was heavily implied.”

Thank sin this was only a meat suit. Thank sin, thank everything that Castiel couldn’t see the expression of hopeless, pitiable fondness that would have adorned Crowley’s true face at that moment.

It was a relief when Castiel, without further ado, started undressing. Crowley, copying him, took the opportunity to talk sense into himself.

Come on. Grow up. Get it together. You know what you are. More importantly, you know what he is. Ageless. Unfathomable. Demons, at the end of the day, are just distilled human nastiness, but him? He existed before humans. Before microbes. He’s nice to babies and bees and pot plants and Dean and that makes it easy to forget that… that…

Oh, yes. Remember when he came to Hell? The first time he saw Dean; the start of their epic, eternal, infuriating romance? And where were you? That’s right. You were with the others, standing there slack-jawed and helpless, like dinosaurs watching the comet hit. Like children gazing up at a mushroom cloud.

Twelve thousand. That’s how many demons he burned out of existence, without even trying. Twelve thousand.

Do you think he ever thinks about them? Do you think he even noticed?

Twelve thousand.

Do you think he knows how close you were to being one of them?

Do you think he cares?

He’s nice to babies. Bees. Pot plants. Dean. You, even, sometimes. He’s sweet. He’s got big, soft blue eyes and hair that aches to be tussled. He’s a top-tier, world-class fuck. And at any moment, for any reason, he could end you, easy as blowing away dust, and you can’t say for certain he would even remember your name in a month’s time.

“What? No,” Castiel protested when Crowley kissed him. “We’re here to rest, Crowley.”

Drawing back, Crowley leered. “That’s what you want to do, is it? Rest?”

Perpetually thirsty tart that he was, Castiel bit his lip and looked torn. “I… yes.”

Crowley pouted.

Firmer now, Castiel said, “We will rest for a while first. Then we will have sex. Is that satisfactory?”

No sooner had Crowley resignedly nodded than Castiel seized him and finished undressing him, tossing his undershirt and socks out the tent. When they were both naked, the cold air coming off the lake making Crowley shiver, Castiel burrowed into his pilfered pile and dragged the demon down with him.

“Rest first,” he ordered him. “Sex afterwards. No, no – stop that. Afterwards, I said.”

Crowley groaned and whined and fussed, but obeyed.

And bugger him gently if it wasn’t actually pleasant, very pleasant, to lie there with Castiel’s strong arms locked around his torso, toasty warm under layers of wool while, outside, the lake lapped at its bank and wind rustled through the trees. No assassins. No paperwork. No blood. Everything nice and quiet. Everything calm and clean.

Then Castiel sighed, a hot puff against the back of Crowley’s neck, and said, “You know, the thing that vexes me most about Dean is the way he…”

#supernatural #crowley #castiel #crowstiel #dean winchester #drowley #destiel #drowstiel #fanfic #my fic

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years

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So Henry, you want to start a YouTube channel? - Chapter 3

Summary: Twenty five year old YouTuber Sandy Choi has no idea that one of her five million subscribers is the one and only Henry Cavill. When he asks her to help him out with starting his own YouTube channel, she falls more and more in love with her. But she should’ve known that dating one of the most desirable bachelors, does come with a prize.

Henry Cavill x Sandy Choi (ofc)

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 4k

A/N: If you want to be on the taglist, please let me know. Also, I really like reading that you like the story. Such a great way to make my day xx

Masterlist // Channel introduction // Previous chapter // Next chapter

So, this is where Henry Cavill lives. It’s a cute home, but never figured he’d be the one that would live here. I take a few deep breaths, but it doesn’t calm down my nerves. I look down at my white dress and wonder if it’s too much.

I think it’s too much.

I don’t know what I could wear to meet him. I was thinking about a short and a top, but felt that was a little bit too revealing, but come to think of it, this dress is pretty short.

I still don’t know, it looks almost wedding dressy. I shouldn’t have worn this. I stare at my Dr. Martens sandals, thanking the fashion angels that I didn’t wear the cute white heels that I initially had in mind. The only thing I would be missing, was a bouquet.

I grab my phone from my purse, to check what time it is. I was supposed to be at his place at eleven and 10:59.

I walk up to the door and press the doorbell. I hear a loud bark, causing me to jump. From behind the door, there are some stumbling noises and I can even hear his long and deep voice. The door opens with a crack and Henry greets me with a bright smile. ‘Hi Sandy.’

Holy shit, is this even legal? Why on earth is he wearing a tank top? Why would he do that to me? What is the point of doing such thing? Is he actively trying to kill me, because if so, it’s working. I can barely function anymore, since his arms are really distracting. I mean, I noticed it yesterday, I noticed it on the best video online, the PC building one, but now…

Holy shit, I can’t even seem to find the right way to greet him.

‘Are you okay, Sandy?’ he asks, when I haven’t said anything at all.

‘Yes, yes, I’m fine,’ I say, way too quickly. I clear my throat, not knowing what to say to him.

‘Please,’ he says, ‘come in.’ Henry takes a step to the side and I walk past him. He has a nicely decorated house, something that I hadn’t expected. It’s really neat too, didn’t expect that from him. ‘You want something to drink?’

‘Water would be nice.’ Kal has noticed me too, because he slowly struts towards me, his butt wiggling from side to side, while he wags his tail. ‘Hi, you big ball of floof. You are nice and clean again.’

‘It was pretty hard washing him in the tiny bath tub,’ Henry recounts and hands me a glass of cold water, with some ice cubes in it.

I clear my throat. ‘Right,’ I say. Standing in front of him shouldn’t make me feel this awkward, especially not after yesterday. I slowly managed to loosen up, but from the looks of it, we are back from square one. I feel my hands shake a bit from the nerves and my shoulders feel painfully tense.

It doesn’t help that Henry is this tall, this bulky, the complete opposite of me. I can’t seem to make eye contact with him and I curse myself for that. Why do I even feel tears out of pure frustration burning in my eyes?

‘You play video games, Sandy?’ Henry asks me. His voice is sweet and thick at the same time.

I scratch Kal behind his ear. ‘Just some Animal Crossing.’

‘Is it worth the hype?’

‘Mhm.’

‘Why do you play it?’

Though it almost feels like a third degree, I’m happy that he is asking me questions about simple things like Animal Crossing and not those deep questions about the existence of life. ‘It’s relaxing,’ I confess. ‘I need that from time to time.’ I look up again, when I know for a fact that my eyes aren’t glossy anymore.

‘So, you don’t play other games?’

I shake my head, not ready to confess that I sometimes grab my old Nintendo DS to play Style Boutique on it. I mean, I like Henry a lot, but sharing this, is one—or five—bridges too far.

‘I think you played this one,’ he says with a confident smile, while he walks to the television.

Is he wearing some perfume? I inhale again, only to be met with a mix of salty and sweet, the perfect combination for a male perfume. He didn’t wear that yesterday and I know that, because I was pretty damn close to him and you bet your ass I took a sniff.

Henry holds up two Mario Kart wheels and I see the remotes are already attached to it. ‘Look at that precious smile,’ he says and only then I realize that I’m indeed smiling. Did he just call my smile precious? ‘You want to play?’

‘Mhm.’ I walk up to the couch and place my glass on a coaster. He hands me a wheel with a remote and plops on the couch, as he starts up the Wii. There is only one more spot left for me to sit and that is right next to him.

As if Kal senses I’m hesitating, he pushes his nose against my leg and I sit down next to Henry. I feel his warmth radiating against my skin, causing me to nearly hyperventilate. His bulky arm accidentally touches me and I clear my throat, not knowing what I should do with myself. Sitting next to him on this couch, is less intimidating than standing in front of him, but it’s still pretty scary.

And I know that I shouldn’t be scared of him, but I can’t help but feel nervous. ‘Are you any good?’ I ask quietly.

‘I always kick Jackson’s ass.’ He looks to the side and our eyes meet. ‘But he is so so. Usually ends at sixth place.’

We pick out our characters (he is Donkey Kong, while I opt for baby Daisy) and once we have chosen our vehicles, Henry leaves it up to me to choose an entire cup for us to race. ‘Special Cup.’

‘You know Rainbow Road is on that cup?’ he mentions.

‘I’m aware, yes.’ I get ready for the first course: Dry Dry Ruins. ‘Good luck,’ I say to him.

‘You think I need it?’ His eyebrow is cocked and he has a smug grin on his face. Besides him getting more and more confident, he is also getting more handsome every passing minute. ‘I’m really good, Sandy.’

‘I figured. Just, don’t hold back for me, okay?’

‘Sure?’ he asks. ‘Because… I don’t want you to feel bad or anything afterwards.’ That’s adorable, oh my God.

‘I’m not a sore loser, so just race like you would usually do.’

The first race is about to start and we both watch the countdown. I push in the right button at the exact moment I know it’s going to give me a better start. Baby Daisy shoots from the 11th place to the sixth, while Henry stutters Donkey Kong to tenth place (from twelfth, if I may add so). While I soar over the roads, pushing myself to a first place, I manage to stay there for the rest of the race, making the gap between me and second place (and everyone else) bigger and bigger as the race continues. I race over the finish line, making a wheelie as I do so and I watch Henry trying to get himself from seventh to sixth place. He is muttering to himself, growing more and more annoyed.

He finally crosses the finish line. ‘I do need luck,’ he mutters. ‘Can’t believe you kicked my ass like that.’

Our second course is Moonview Highway and I snort every time Henry gets run over by a car or a truck and even drives himself off the road multiple times. He ends up in twelfth place and he is visibly frustrated now.

I shouldn’t be thinking like that, but he looks hot as hell when he’s angry like that. He could easily break the Mario kart wheel and the remote in half and knowing that he can do that, it’s something I’ll probably dream about tonight.

‘We can stop, you know,’ I say to him.

‘No, no, no,’ he says, ‘there is still a chance I can not make a total fool out of myself.’

The third course is Bowser’s Castle and this time, Henry is not a total disaster. He managed to earn himself a third place, while I’m still at number one. ‘I have come to realize and accept that I won’t be beating you, but I have to make sure I’m not losing from the computers.’

I can’t help but chuckle.

The final race is my favorite. I love Rainbow Road and know exactly how to maneuver over the roads. While I’ve crossed the finish line, Henry is still falling behind. I press the + button to pause the game. ‘Let me,’ I say and gently pull the steering wheel from his hands. I race Donkey Kong from eighth place to fourth (I’m good, but I’m not a magician. I can’t poof myself over the finish line) and when I cross the finish line, I hand him back the steering wheel. ‘Congratulations,’ I say, ‘you managed to become fifth.’

‘How on earth are you this good? This was unbelievable!’ Henry starts to laugh. ‘You were crossing the finish line twenty seconds before number two would finish, or worse, a whole minute.’

‘Back in college, we did this a lot. We even had a championship.’

‘Tell me you became first.’

I smile. ‘I did, was the best of entire UCLA, three times in a row.’

‘You never shared that on your vlogs.’

That’s cute. He really watches my videos intently, something that is insanely endearing. ‘I didn’t, no. Seemed a bit: oh look at me, you know?’

‘There is nothing wrong with flaunting,’ Henry says. ‘I mean, you do it with your dance videos right?’

I know that he has seen a lot of my videos, but thinking about him sitting on this couch, Kal pressed against his side and him watching those particular videos, makes me uncomfortable. ‘It’s barely flaunting.’

He tilts his head, I notice from the corners of my eyes. ‘You shouldn’t be this hard on yourself, Sandy,’ he says in a soft tone. ‘You are amazing, five million people and probably more watch your videos. There are a lot of people who are reading your books and…’ He doesnt finish his sentence, while he is looking for the right words to say.

‘You’ve read my books?’ I ask him.

Now he’s blushing a bit and he isn’t looking at me anymore. ‘I’ve read them,’ he admits.

I chuckle. ‘That’s sweet.’

‘But I’m not the only one who adores your videos and finish your books from cover to cover in one sitting. There are tons more and you being modest is absolutely admirable and it only makes you more likable, but there is nothing wrong with admitting that you are talented in many other ways. There is nothing wrong with saying that you are indeed amazing, because it’s true and it shows confidence.’

I bite my lip. ‘Well, fake it till you make it, isn’t that what they say?’

‘Eventually it’ll not be fake anymore.’

A deep sigh leaves my lips and I look at my hands, my thumbs fumbling together. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper.

‘Why are you apologizing, Sandy?’

‘That I’m like this again,’ I say. ‘I have a lot of trouble meeting new people and after yesterday…’ Why am I sharing this with him? He’ll probably think I’m the biggest whiny baby on the planet. ‘Never mind.’

‘No, no,’ Henry says, ‘tell me, please. I want to know.’

Kal sits in front of me and I place my hands on the sides of his face, scratching him. ‘I felt really good yesterday after we met, but now I feel like none of that is left. I feel like we’re starting over again. It’s just that I’m not sure what I can say to you now. And you do make it easier and I’m already less nervous and you being a total loser at Mario Kart obviously helps too… I think I don’t want you to think that I’m not having fun.’

‘Sandy,’ Henry says, ‘we’re not starting over. I’m happy that you told me this, though.’

I look up from Kal, to only notice he is already looking at me again.

‘You’re not mad?’

‘This is the last thing I should be mad about. I’m just grateful that you trust me enough to tell me this.’ He bumps his knee against mine and says: ‘I don’t think I can handle it again if I lose.’

‘Figured.’ I look around me, to find something to talk about. As if he is waiting for me to take the first step, he doesn’t say anything. ‘Do you have filming equipment?’

‘I have my phone.’

I scrunch up my nose. ‘But a camera is better. You can separate your files more easily, believe me, you’d want that.’

‘I’ll have to believe the expert on that one,’ Henry laughs.

‘Editing software?’

‘Well, I have a few computers around here, but I also have a MacBook, with iMovie on it. Heard that was pretty good. I bet you use something else.’

‘I used to use iMovie,’ I tell him, ‘but now I use Final Cut Pro. It’s around three hundred bucks, maybe a bit more.’

Henry nods. ‘So, I should buy a camera?’

‘Mhm and more.’

‘What?’

‘A hard disk, a tiny tripod, a big tripod. I was thinking you should buy like a microphone and better lightening, but that’s not really necessary. Yet.’

‘Right.’ Henry rubs his hands together and asks: ‘Want to go shopping with me?’

⟢⟡⟣

Henry spend around five hundred pounds on a camera. In a different store we bought a hard disk and indeed two tripods, though they were heavily overpriced, but Henry said that it was fine.

For the occasion, Henry put on a shirt, but this one still accentuates his arms. For a second my mind wanders to my lovely daydreams: thinking about how it would be if he’d wrap those arms around me, pulling me against his insanely strong body and kissing me on top of my head. But to not go into cardiac arrest right here and now, I decide I’ll just have to wait and dream about that when I go to sleep.

Henry is unpacking his camera and turns it on. ‘God, this is beautiful,’ he says, holding the camera up, to take a picture, while he is watching the screen. He packed everything in a blue backpack, that rests between his legs as we sit on a park bench in the shadow. He looks around him and his eyes fall on a field filled with flowers. ‘Let’s have a little photoshoot,’ he says when he turns around, to meet my eyes.

I frown. ‘What?’

‘I have to test out this camera and when I have you with me, you should be my model.’

I’m visibly confused. ‘You want to take pictures of me?’

‘Yes,’ he simply states. ‘Come on.’ He grabs his backpack and walks to the field. I follow him, but now I’m growing more nervous.

Henry Cavill wants to make pictures of me?

‘Go stand over there,’ he tells me and points to the sunflowers. I walk up to it, my legs nearly turning into jello as I stand next to the sunflower that is around my height.

He crouches down and I cock an eyebrow. ‘I’ve seen your editorials, Sandy, you’ll do amazing here. Besides, it’s just me.’

It’s never going to be just you, Henry, don’t you get that? I take a deep breath and start to pose for the pictures. He clicks his tongue, as he continues to snap pictures, telling me I’m looking beautiful, but finally the sun is frying my head. ‘Can we stop?’ I ask him. ‘I’m a sweaty mess.’

Henry starts to chuckle and looks at the screen. ‘Sure thing.’

I walk up to him, so I can look at the pictures as well and oh my God, these all look really good.

‘Wow,’ I mention. ‘Those are pretty decent.’

‘It helps when the model is easy to photograph.’

I clear my throat. What does one say to that? ‘Judging from these pictures, you’ll probably do great with filming,’ I say and together we walk back to the road again. ‘Oh look,’ I say, when Henry has put the camera in his backpack. ‘Cotton candy.’

‘Candy floss. You’re in the UK now, Sandy.’

I roll my eyes. ‘Fine, candy floss then.’

Henry tells me to wait, before he takes a few strides and he’s at the stand, buying one. I decide to watch from a far, especially when the man behind the stand wants a picture with him. I don’t want to intrude, so I wander a bit down the road, making sure that Henry can still see me.

Henry walks up to me, with a giant ball of cotton— candy floss on a stick. He plucks off some of the sweet stuff. ‘Open your mouth,’ he tells me.

If that isn’t something right out of my fantasies, then I don’t know anymore. ‘You’re going to feed me?’

‘Yeah, so your hands don’t get sticky.’ Henry has a lovely smile on his face and I wonder what is he going to be like as a boyfriend? As my boyfriend to be exact.

Would he be rough, dominant and strong, like the fanfics suggest (yes, I read those) or is he soft and cuddly? Now I do suspect a bit of both.

He could be pretty dominant. I mean, he told me to open my mouth and my first reflex was wanting to ask how far open he would’ve liked it. But on the other hand, he is also pretty soft, especially towards me. He wants me to be at ease with him, keeps giving me thoughtful compliments and he even said I was beautiful and that I’m easy to photograph.

I mean, who says that kind of stuff?

Boyfriends do right?

Rolling my eyes, I open my mouth and he feeds me some of the candy floss. He retract his hand, before my lips can reach his fingers. I shouldn’t be thinking like this. I can barely look at the man from time to time, let alone if I have these kind of impure thoughts.

‘Last time I had candy floss,’ he says, ‘was when I was sixteen. My friends laughed at me, because I wanted a pink one. I know they all taste the same, no matter what color, but pink is the color it’s supposed to be, right?’

I nod. ‘Agree,’ I say as the sugar dissolves on my tongue.

‘When was the last time you had it?’

‘I think I was eight. My dad took me out to the park, because we knew there was a stand where they sold cotton candy. We always walked passed it a few times, because my mom told us that it was really unhealthy and that your teeth would rot off if you ate it. But my mom wasn’t with us then, so we ate like three of those sticks together and we had to lie down on a park bench for about an hour, because we felt so sick.’

‘Does your mom know now?’

‘No, we’re too scared to tell her.’

Henry chuckles. ‘Are you close with your parents?’

I nod. ‘Yeah, I am. My mother reminds me every single day I should take my vitamins, to stay hydrated and not to frown, but that’s her way of showing me how much she cares. My dad texts me everyday, just telling me how his day is going.’

‘Don’t you miss them?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘Why did you even move to London?’ He plucks off some more cotton candy and brings it to my lips. Butterflies flutter inside of my stomach. I feel myself getting more relaxed around him again and him doing this, it feels so normal to us. ‘You never mentioned it in your vlogs.’

I smile, licking the sweet stuff off my lips. ‘I wanted to see the world and I earned enough money to afford it. My parents were really supportive and they wanted me to explore the world. They just hoped I was going to New York or Canada. But they are excited for me. They always watch my videos and even wake up in the middle of the night if I post in the mornings. They have been there for me since the beginning and though I’m in another continent, I feel like they are always right there.’

‘Isn’t it scary?’ he asks. ‘Being in another continent, without your parents at like twenty five?’

‘Every single day.’

We walk down the street and he continues to feed me the cotton candy. It feels weirdly intimate, but not awkwardly intimate. I open my mouth again, but he holds it a little above my reach. ‘Henry,’ I mumble, ‘not funny.’

He chuckles, lowering his hand, but I could’ve known that he was just messing with me. When I stand on my toes, he holds it further above my head and eventually eats the pink stuff himself.

I want to grab some off the stick, but even that he holds above my head. ‘Henry, come on. Don’t be mean.’

He doesn’t think this is mean, because he continues to do it, laughing the entire time. He does it again and I jump up, hoping I can reach it, but it’s hopeless.

I jump up again, but this time I fold my fingers around his forearm, pulling his strong arm with me so I can finally get a bite.

But holding his thick arm like this, it’s giving me all sorts of thoughts. He feels so strong and it’s quite intimidating of course, but something about his warm skin, is also intensely soft.

‘I knew that was there,’ he says with an almost proud smile.

‘That was there what?’ I ask, letting go of his arm.

‘That bit of assertiveness.’

My cheeks flare up. ‘Hardly.’

‘Hence the bit part.’

I glance at him, but it doesn’t last long. He can’t seem to stop smiling and to be fair, I don’t want him to. He looks breathtakingly handsome and like a perfectly sculpted human. He licks his fingers and I bet he knows exactly what that is doing to me. He throws the stick away and wants to wipe his fingers to his shirt or pants, but I stop him.

‘Wait,’ I say, before digging through my small purse, finding a tissue. ‘Here.’

‘Well prepared,’ he comments, as he takes the tissue out of my hand.

‘Always.’

He cleans his hands and throws the tissue into the bin. ‘Thanks for coming with me today.’

‘Sure,’ I say. ‘What do you want to film first?’

‘No idea yet. I want a bit of everything, you know.’

I nod. ‘Get it. When I started my channel, I was thinking about doing a fashion channel. When I thought about it, I realized I didn’t want that and wanted more lifestyle related videos.’

‘What stopped you from doing fashion videos?’

‘Not being fashionable enough.’

‘Nonsense,’ he tells me in a stern voice. ‘You look fashionable.’

I hold in a giggle that bubbles up. Dominant boyfriend Henry is definitely a concept.

‘What even made you start your channel?’

‘I wanted to romanticize my life,’ I answer. ‘I felt like I was wasting my life and realizing that ever moment is worth noting, it’ll give you tons of footage. Just keep that in mind when you film. Nothing is too boring for a vlog, as long as you edit it nicely.’

Henry nods. ‘That’s beautifully said, Sandy.’

Taglist: @flhorah // @henrythickcavill // @toomanystoriessolittletime // @tumblnewby // @newts-fan-case // @thelastsock

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #so henry you want to start a youtube channel #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavil x sandy choi

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