#and this kind of wine color of suit is rather nice on him too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

be-gay-do-heists · 3 years

Note

hardison/parker || masc day for parker, potentially while on date with hardison

i think it ended up a little more the dysphoria route with this one but i hope this at least touches on what u were looking for!! had a spark of an idea and had to write it :V

---

If it was just the dress, maybe Parker could stand it.

Hardison had won choosing date night this time around, and he had suggested a new restaurant that recently opened up on the other side of town. A nicer restaurant. Which meant fancier clothes and Hardison had said the dress code recommended dresses so. The dress. It had been fine, leaving the brewpub in it to go meet Hardison at the restaurant. It was comfy enough, the fabric had a nice texture, and it was the same kind of green that you could see if you looked sideways at a professionally cut emerald, which was one of their favorite colors.

It was only upon arriving at the restaurant that they realized they really, really, really did not want to be wearing it.

And if it was just the dress, maybe it would be fine. But they were out in public, and Parker had come to understand over the years that if people in public thought they had your gender clocked, you had to act, walk, and talk a certain way if you didn’t want weird stares, unwelcome attention. A performance that they didn’t particularly have the energy for if there wasn’t a con and the promise of a payout at the end of it. The first “miss” they got from the hostess made them twitch, but they made sure to keep their mask up as they saw Hardison, already at the table, who smiled sunnily as they approached and stood to help with their chair. He was wearing his purple suit, the deep plum colored one that reminded them of a bottle full of red wine.

“Wow. You look amazing, I can’t believe you’ve been hiding that dress for so long,” he said as they both sat down. “It’s not one of Sophie’s?” There was a trace of playfulness in his voice.

“No, it’s mine, I didn’t steal it,” Parker replied, latching onto his good mood for stability. They fidgeted, hyperaware of their bare shoulders and the cut of the dress around their torso. “Well, not from her anyways.”

Hardison snorted in that fond way of his. “Hey, it’s not stealing if it looks that good on you. That’s just proper re-appropriation. Anyways, you’re gonna love this place, the whole idea is normal fancy food, boring boring et cetera, but! They change the colors around so it messes with your senses and makes you experience it differently, you get me? I’m talking like green steaks, purple mashed potatoes. Cool, right?”

“Yeah, sounds great,” Parker agreed absently, discreetly hunching a little and hoping Hardison wouldn’t notice. They fiddled with the utensils on the table, which had little chameleons etched on them. That was fun. This was supposed to be fun, they reminded themselves.

“Hey, you ok?” Hardison asked, brows furrowed.

A waiter came up before he could say more. “Welcome, folks, pleasure to have you with us this evening. Can I start you with drinks?” After Hardison, concern still showing in his face ordered a fruity-sounding cocktail, the waiter turned to Parker. “And for the lady?”

They couldn’t help their flinch, knowing that Hardison saw it, and pulled out their most flawless grifting voice to respond. They deflated a little again once the waiter left.

“Shit. I shouldn’t have said dress. I should have specified that you could have worn anything you wanted, who even cares about restaurant dress codes,” the hacker said, rubbing his hands over his face. Parker had to give it to him, sometimes his brain worked faster than his computers, and he was always twice as perceptive. “Is it a they night? A he night?”

Parker shrugged a little apologetically. “I’m not sure. It’s just really, really not a she night.”

“I’m really sorry Parker, I should have checked in before we came,” Hardison sighed, and having him in the loop did actually make Parker feel a little better. “Do you wanna get out of here? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable for any longer than you have to.”

Parker immediately felt bad again. “No, you won date night, you were so excited about this place.”

“Man, don’t even sweat it,” Hardison reassured them, waving a hand. “We can come back some other time when we’re actually feeling it. Or if it’s never the date vibes, I can ask Sophie if she wants to try it sometime. You know she gets a kick out of dressing up and I’m sure she would call this place ‘an exercise in creative expression and reaction’ or something.” He smiled at Parker’s bark of laughter following his terrible impression of Sophie, which made a couple other patrons startle in their seats.

“I don’t really want to be in this dress anymore,” Parker admitted. “Maybe we could go back to the brewpub and do something there?”

“Hey, if I ever refuse a quiet night in, know that I’ve been replaced with a clone or maybe a mind-eating fungus,” Hardison beamed at them, and flagged down the waiter to pay for their drinks with a tip that made the man’s jaw drop, letting Parker lead the way out.

On the ride home, Hardison gave Parker his suit jacket, pretending he was too hot even though it was damp and cold out. It was far too big for the thief and they thought it was kind of ridiculous how it came down to almost their knees, but the broad shoulders on it made them feel good. And the wine color purple was fantastic, even though they thought it looked far better on Hardison. They said as much, and took a silent satisfaction in the way Hardison ducked his chin to hide his face.

Entering back into the safety of the brewpub and the upstairs apartment took a weight off Parker, and they sighed, kicking off their shoes and slipping off Hardison’s jacket to cast onto the back of the couch. Hardison picked up to carefully keep it from creasing with a “heaven help me” kind of look. “You got everything you wanna wear here? Need anything of mine?”

“Mostly, but…” Parker thought aloud. “Could I borrow one of your shirts? The soft ones?”

Hardison nodded fondly. “Sure thing, lemme grab one.” While he was in the bedroom, Parker stripped off their dress like it was burning them, shaking the feeling of it away once it was off. They spotted their good jeans on the chair by the hallway that Hardison liked to call “Parker’s wardrobe,” where all the clothes they had left while over lived, and rushed to put them on. They were comfy and boxy and had a button-up fly. More buttons felt good.

“Incoming,” Hardison’s voice called, and he entered with his eyes covered, tossing a shirt in their direction. Parker jumped to catch it, and quietly approved of his selection, a wooly flannel type. They wiggled it on, tucking it in slightly, and exhaled in relief on how delightfully big it was, draping off the prominent muscles in their shoulders, leaving enough room on their torso so that the fabric wouldn’t cling to them. They rolled up the sleeves to expose their strong forearms, looked down at their broad hands. Yeah, this was much better, they thought, tying up their hair high.

“I’ve still got those canvases from last time, and the same paints, if you wanna do that. Ooh, I just got some good charcoal too if you’d rather sketch,” Hardison was saying, sifting through his art supplies. Parker bounded over and pressed up against his side. He jumped slightly but turned to look at them. “Feeling better?”

“Lots,” Parker hummed.

The hacker took in their outfit change. “And looking damn handsome too. Real suave, James Dean kinda look.” When Parker wryly grinned and crossed their arms, squaring their shoulders and standing tall, he mimed a swoon (Parker could see the slight, genuine flush that rose to his face). “So what do you wanna do tonight?”

“Dunno, it’s still your date night,” Parker replied, putting a little more husk in their voice and enjoying the way they could see Hardison’s thoughts stutter slightly.

He recovered quickly. “Well, all I want is a nice night in with my fella, whatever we do is gonna be more than alright with me.”

Parker felt another glow of joy at the endearment, and moved to wrap their arms tightly around him, one hand coming up to grip the back of the hacker’s neck. “Thanks Hardison. I really mean it.”

Hardison softened a little against their firm embrace. “Of course, I never want you to be uncomfortable. I love you.”

“I know,” Parker responded, and smiled mischievously into Hardison’s shoulder as he sputtered.

“Oh no you did not—“

#i will die before i stop loving characters talking w and affirming each other #thank u so much for all ur prompts!!! i def hope to get to a couple more of them when i next get some writing energy #i really hope this is somewhat what u were looking for #leverage #miko speaks #my fic #parker x hardison #gender dysphoria #ask #havent had the bad gender feelings in a while so hope this works

196 notes · View notes

hakasims · 3 years

Text

The Most Important Review of Every Single Marwan Kenzari Film

If you’ve seen this one about Luca, you know the drill.

Now, Marwan’s brand is a little less defined than Luca’s but I managed to find similar tropes in a lot of his films. Also, rather than copy myself and give you a redundant Marwanmeter, I decided instead to recommend which Luca character best pairs with each Marwan character for your crossover pleasure. Let’s see if we ship the same things! Some of them are crack. You’re welcome.

(all gifs again by the awesomely amazing @weardes who did not ask to be my gif factory but life’s a bitch)

Het zusje van Katia (2008)

Will you miss him if you blink? Kinda. They talk about him a lot but his actual screen time is like 43.7 seconds. Also can I just say... he’s supposed to be from Italy?? The boy says literally one (1) Italian word, and you’ll never guess what it is. (Obviously, it’s “bella” like there’s a chance he could’ve said anything else.)

Is he hot? Painfully hot.

Is he naked? There’s this one scene where he’s wearing the sluttiest pair of speedos I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

Does his hair look great? Actually, yes. Perfect hair, perfect beard, he looks amazing.

Does he fuck? Yes, a lot - off screen, including an M/M/F threesome he presumably, probably, most definitely initiated.

Best paired with? From what I’ve gathered, this hoe ain’t loyal, so the best course of action is to find him a Luca that would benefit from a one night stand with no strings attached and wouldn’t fall in love with him. The obvious choice here is Valerio from Slam - Tutto per una ragazza. They meet, they fuck, then Giac makes his 4-hour drive back to Pisa, and they don’t see each other again until the next time he’s in Rome. Everybody’s happy, especially the two sluts in question.

De laatste dagen van Emma Blank (2009)

Will you miss him if you blink? Yes, absolutely.

Is he hot? Very.

Is he naked? Almost constantly.

Does his hair look great? He’s got those cute short curls, he looks so good.

Does he fuck? That’s literally why he’s there: to fuck and to die.

Best paired with? Man, I wish I had something to work with here. The only thing we know about him besides his sexual prowess is his affinity for white suits and toy helicopters. And as far as I know, those might be the exact things Fabrizio from Nina finds hot in guys. So like, why not?

Loft (2010)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s the fifth most important character.

Is he hot? Yeah, sure.

Is he naked? There’s a scene where he’s wearing underwear and a tank top but it somehow makes him look like a kindergartener.

Does his hair look great? It looks quite nice.

Does he fuck? Yes, though I wish he didn’t.

Best paired with? Tom is a very violent person and a drug addict. He does messed up stuff to his sexual partners I’d rather he didn’t do to any of Luca’s characters. Feel free to use him for your sadistic fantasies or as a villain or whatever.

Rabat (2011)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s one of the three leads.

Is he hot? Oh yes! And cute!

Is he naked? He’s at the beach wearing nothing but boxer shorts.

Does his hair look great? He’s got this extreme undercut thing that would look ridiculous on anyone less pretty, so like no, he doesn’t have great hair, but also like it’s Marwan, you know what I mean?

Does he fuck? Before he embarks on a road trip with his friends, he has an offscreen threesome with two girls he picked up at a wedding. Slut.

Best paired with? Gabriele from Waves. They’re both sweet guys who could meet in some Tunisian port and decide to sail the Mediterranean Sea together.

Black Out (2012)

Will you miss him if you blink? Not unless your blinking is very deliberate.

Is he hot? Not really. He’s a dirty cop with a shitty moustache and oral fixation.

Is he naked? No, but I wish he was: his clothes are awful. Marwan is 29 in this movie and he looks 50!

Does his hair look great? Nope. They took Marwan’s usual short hair and made it not work somehow.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? The one thing Luca’s characters all have in common is that none of them come off as bootlickers. All of them are either too soft for such a relationship or wouldn’t waste their spit on a cop.

Wolf (2013)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the protagonist.

Is he hot? *gestures wildly at the gif*

Is he naked? He’s got quite a few shirtless scenes.

Does his hair look great? It’s nothing special but suits his character well.

Does he fuck? Oh yes.

Best paired with? Hear me out. I know that some people ship him with Fabio, but in my opinion that pair, while hot, doesn’t work. Here’s my pitch: Cesare from Non essere cattivo. The drug connection is still there, but in this case Majid’s problem-solving skills won’t fall on deaf ears. Cesare needs a daddy, ok? Majid can be a daddy when he needs to, especially when he has a soft boyfriend to care for. And Majid needs soft, not psycho.

Hartenstraat (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the protagonist once again.

Is he hot? Painfully.

Is he naked? There’s that iconic scene where he’s wearing nothing but black boxer briefs and boots while carrying a tray...

Does his hair look great? He’s got Joe-like curls and looks like what every male romantic lead should aspire to look like and then cry because they all fail.

Does he fuck? There’s one very unfortunate sex scene played for laughs. I’m pretty sure he’ll need therapy afterwards. I certainly do.

Best paired with? Paolo from Il padre d’Italia. Paolo deserves the best boyfriend, and who’s better than Daan, an extremely hot man who cooks? They both have daughters, so they can talk about that, I guess, and Paolo can finally have a family. Honestly, this is so wholesome I just made myself cry.

Lucia de B. (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? For sure.

Is he hot? He’s a cop. Again. But he looks good.

Is he naked? Fully dressed, but man are his clothes ugly. Is that a cop thing?

Does his hair look great? He has slightly longer curls, which is fine and the best thing about this character.

Does he fuck? ACAB. (I know this doesn’t answer the question, I just wanted to make it clear.)

Best paired with? See my bootlicker comment from earlier. While Detective *checks notes* Ron Leeflang isn’t explicitly corrupt, he’s obviously a dick, so the best I can do here is recommend any Luca character that has ever been in trouble with the law for any fics about power imbalance you want to write but aren’t comfortable with a nice Marwan playing the villain.

Bloedlink (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? Oh no, he’s there the entire time.

Is he hot? In a weird way, yes.

Is he naked? So, so, so naked. Like, leave nothing to the imagination naked.

Does his hair look great? I’d say that little rat tail is the exact opposite of great.

Does he fuck? Probably more than is good for him. I should also add that he’s canonically queer in this.

Best paired with? Rico is a pathetic loser in need of someone who’s got his life together and has a lot of experience dealing with fuckups. Enter Loris from Il mondo fino in fondo. He has a stable job and a savior complex, and with his little bro gaying it up in Chile and not needing him anymore, all he wants right now is someone to fix. I should be a fucking matchmaker in real life, for real.

Pak van mijn hart (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? Undoubtedly.

Is he hot? No. The whole point of his character is to be the lesser choice compared to a guy who looks like a completely ordinary bland white dude...

Is he naked? ...so of course he isn’t naked! What, are they gonna take this poor woman, show her Marwan Kenzari’s post-Wolf body and expect her to choose her deeply mediocre ex? Please! They’re gonna dress him in the dorkiest clothes possible...

Does his hair look great? ...and make him wear the most awful wig that was clearly run over by a truck.

Does he fuck? No. As you can observe, they tried really hard to make him unfuckable, but honestly, he seems like a perfectly nice guy.

Best paired with? You know what? Mattia from La solitudine dei numeri primi is in desperate need of some sweetness and normalcy. I’m sure Richard will treat him with kindness and respect.

Collide (2016)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s the fifth most important character. Out of five.

Is he hot? Very hot.

Is he naked? Not for a second! What’s up with American movies where people aren’t just casually walking around naked without any plot necessity???

Does his hair look great? His curls are so cute you guys! Look at them!

Does he fuck? Not explicitly.

Best paired with? Fabio from Lo chiamavano Jeeg Robot. Again, the drug connection is there, but Matthias is soft enough not to butt heads with Fabio and, by the end of the movie, rich enough to satisfy his cravings for good living and fame. Also look at how good their color coordination is with those dark wine red clothes! Sometimes planets just align, okay?

Ben-Hur (2016)

Will you miss him if you blink? Yes, especially if you aren’t watching the background.

Is he hot? Your usual Marwan hot.

Is he naked? No.

Does his hair look great? His typical short curls with a twist. I think the forehead area is supposed to invoke the Caesar cut? I don’t know. It looks fine when not hidden under that dumb helmet.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? A better script and a much better director. (Seriously, what is this blocking?)

The Promise (2016)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s there a decent amount in the first half of the movie and then almost completely disappears in the second half.

Is he hot? Very much, yes.

Is he naked? Unfortunately, no.

Does his hair look great? He’s got short curls again, but this time they’re fashionably styled, it’s magnificent.

Does he fuck? Oh yeah! And there’s no way he isn’t bi or pan in this. No way.

Best paired with? Roberta from L’ultimo terrestre. Listen, Emre Ogan may be a slut but he’s a gentleman, okay? He’d treat Roberta right and he’s got daddy’s cash to spare on hundreds of gorgeous white dresses for her.

The Mummy (2017)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s there, but barely.

Is he hot? Dangerously hot.

Is he naked? Not once! Instead we get a naked Tom Cruise literally no one asked for.

Does his hair look great? It’s your basic professional short hairdo.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? Malik is a member of an organization tracking and destroying various monsters and historical artefacts related to them. Guido from Tutti i santi giorni speaks four languages, including Latin, and is a literature and ancient history nerd which makes him a valuable asset. Malik can fight and protect; Guido is bumbling and in need of saving. Guys, this writes itself.

What Happened to Monday (2017)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, especially not in the third act.

Is he hot? He’s okay.

Is he naked? Very naked.

Does his hair look great? They shouldn’t have greased his curls back. He looks like another victim of Fabio Cannizzaro’s stylist. Also I wish he’d either shaved or finished growing out that beard.

Does he fuck? He fucks and he fucks good. He’ll go down on you, he’ll deflower you slowly and gently, he’ll choke you if you want him to, he’ll spoon you all night, he’ll give you emotional support, he’ll murder people for you - he’s down for whatever.

Best paired with? There’s one Luca character who needs a lot of sex and even more emotional support. Alright, most of them do, but I’m thinking of Ettore from Lasciate andare. He needs it, okay? Good dicking, good spooning, a good ear, a fine piece of ass to cry into - you get the gist. Most importantly: someone who’d love him for who he is and with whom he could relax and be himself. (Also, I see you, people comparing him to Fabio. Shame on you for sleeping on this soft boy and judging him based on his appearance.)

Murder on the Orient Express (2017)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s kinda always present, being very French.

Is he hot? Very hot.

Is he naked? No, but I’m willing to forgive that because he looks so good in his conductor uniform.

Does his hair look great? He never takes off his hat.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? Mickey Miranda. They’re both murderers morally dubious characters who would look hot together. What else do you need? (Again, I see you, people who want Pierre for Roberta because he’s a “nice guy”, and I know for a fact you didn’t watch the movie. Spoilers, I guess.)

The Angel (2018)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the protagonist.

Is he hot? Oh yes.

Is he naked? Not once, but you won’t regret it because he’s wearing excellently stylish 1970s clothes.

Does his hair look great? It looks fantastic. The sideburns (not yet seen here) are a good touch.

Does he fuck? He can definitely get it, but he’s loyal to his wife.

Best paired with? As the most aesthetically coherent and fashionably hot pair in this post, Ashraf and Primo are a no-brainer. Can you imagine Primo calling him “Angel” in different contexts? When he’s being intimidating, not realizing how palpable the sexual tension between them is, and later not even hiding his arousal? Sometimes things just work because they’re hot. That’s all, folks.

Aladdin (2019)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the main villain.

Is he hot? It’s not like he went viral for being the “hot Jafar” or anything.

Is he naked? No! Fucking thanks a lot, Disney.

Does his hair look great? He has a buzz cut under that turban but he looks good in the turban, so that’s something.

Does he fuck? It’s a Disney movie, so he doesn’t fuck - explicitly or otherwise - but he still comes off as a thirsty bitch.

Best paired with? Jafar ends the movie as a genie who’s obligated to grant his master three wishes but is enough of a petty bitch to exploit the hell out of the “gray area” and screw them over Wishmaster style. My unconventional pair for him is Lui from Ricordi? So many scenarios with distorted memories and magic-induced mindfuck. So many possibilities for awesome and messed up crossover gifsets! Don’t say I never give you guys anything.

Instinct (2019)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s very prominent.

Is he hot? I hate myself for finding him hot but I do.

Is he naked? He’s playing basketball shirtless in one scene, shaking his sweaty boobs everywhere.

Does his hair look great? His weird mohawk-like thing is honestly terrible, but if anything can make it work, it’s Marwan’s bone structure.

Does he fuck? Um, I’m pleading the Fifth on this one for the sake of good taste.

Best paired with? Prison. A very lonely, Luca-less prison.

The Old Guard (2020)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, unless blinking in your case means sleeping through the gloriousness that is the first ever canonically gay couple in an American action film.

Is he hot? Painfully.

Is he naked? Shirtless in one scene.

Does his hair look great? Soft curls courtesy of Luca Marinelli’s tireless lobbying.

Does he fuck? Not on screen, but you can just tell by the way he looks at his husband and reads impromptu poetry right to his face. And everybody knows nothing kindles the fires of passion quite like murdering homophobes together.

Best paired with? If you have to ask, you’re clearly reading this by mistake. In which case, kudos for finishing such a long and confusing post, now go watch The Old Guard and cry at the beauty that is The Immortal Marriage.

#marwan kenzari #luca marinelli #the old guard #and other movies #i'm lazy #immortal husbands #and their parallel versions i guess #crossover ships galore

1K notes · View notes

hazzasgayvodka · 3 years

Text

Panty Thief - Harry Styles

So this is kind of a trial run for this fic, I’m inclined to make this a series but I’m not sure how the response to it will be. I have lots of ideas for more parts to this but only if it’s what the people want haha. Here is my belated Valentine’s Day gift to all you lovelies I hope you enjoy this heavy daddy kink/dom harry fic I’ve been working on for ages!

p.s. everyone say thank you Nathan for giving me lots of smut inspiration this is literally based on him sorta

pairing: daddy!harry x oc

warning: sexual content, smut, daddy kink/dom vibes so if you’re not here for that this is not for you

word count: 5k

In which Harry is a new student at Harley’s university and he seems to just keep popping up everywhere. The tension between them is palpable and she can’t get away from him, especially when he happens to knock on her door with a pair of her favorite red lace panties she left in the laundromat dangling from his finger.

I roll my eyes as the lady in front of me in line takes out yet another handful of coupons from her purse at the checkout counter. The cashier looks almost as annoyed as I am, but still sporting a smile despite the absolute exasperation rampant in her eyes. She takes the handful of coupons and starts scanning them begrudgingly as the woman digs around in her purse for anymore and I hardly even notice my foot tapping as my eyes instinctively roll once again. I just came to get toilet roll, ice cream, and a bottle of prosecco and the universe decides today is the day coupon Karen ends up at the checkout line five minutes before I do.

“I like your hair.” A voice speaks up behind me.

I know they must be talking to me, I don’t believe any other boring college blonde in this line warrants a compliment like that but the bright purple curls I sport tend to elicit quite the reaction from bystanders, especially the uninteresting conservatives of Publix.

“How do you uh, get it that color?”

I finally turn my head over my shoulder to face the voice, a tall guy with tousled brown hair and quite the shit eating grin on his face. He’s obviously very pleased with himself finally getting me to turn around but I can’t be bothered to entertain this excited puppy of a man with more than a word.

“Dye.”

I’ve barely even gotten the word out of my mouth before I turn back to face the cashier with an uninterested eyeroll. He scoffs behind me, clearly not giving up that easily.

“Wow,” He chuckles, “At least you’re straightforward.”

I turn back around without thinking to face him once again, “Hair dye, idiot.”

“Oh, well I could have guessed that much.”

I turn away from him again just as coupon lady finally pushes her rattling cart towards the exit doors and the cashier gestures for me to come up to the checkout. I drop my basket on the conveyor belt with a thud and she rings it up quickly, sensing my impatience and clearly wanting to get me the hell out of here as quickly as she can. I pay and grab my bags to head for the door and just before I’m home free the voice is suddenly behind me yet again.

“So, are you really not going to tell me?” He asks, catching up to me outside, “It’s going to keep me up tonight, I’m waiting with bated breath over here.”

“Tell you what exactly?” I huff, finally turning to face him.

“How you get your hair that color, of course.”

I roll my eyes, surely, he’s not keeping this bit up for the sake of hitting on me in the fucking supermarket, “Do you want something from me?”

He chuckles a bit, and I’m glad to see my utter frustration is amusing to him, “I mean,” He starts, rubbing the back of his neck, “Maybe your name would be cool.”

“No thanks.”

“Well, I’m Harry-“

I turn and walk away before he’s barely got the sentence out of his mouth. What was he even in line to buy? He wasn’t carrying any bags.

Mental note: always wear headphones to the grocery store.

***

“You’re late.”

I collapse in the seat next to my friend Danielle with a huff. She gives me a certain look that says something like you’ve been late the past three times too, but honestly at this point she should know to expect it.

“I’m always late,” I groan, attempting to lean back in the incredibly uncomfortable library chair, “So, why are we at the library?”

“We have a math test tomorrow, or did you forget about that?” She asks, scolding me over the top of her math book.

“Of course I remembered,” I say sarcastically, “Math is my absolute favorite subject how could I ever forget we had a test?”

She rolls her eyes, turning her book to the right page to start taking notes and I try my best to follow along, “So do you have a legitimate reason for the lateness or just regular Harley excuses?”

“Actually, I do,” I say matter-of-factly, sitting back up straight in my chair, “There was a freak at the grocery store, dude would not leave me alone.”

“What was he doing?” She asks, suddenly interested.

“Just talking? I guess? He like wanted to have a whole conversation waiting to check out.”

“So, a nice guy just struck up some conversation with you at the store and that’s a bad thing?”

“Yes,” I huff, closing the book once again, “I was just there to get groceries I didn’t need the extra human interaction.”

She opens her mouth to reply but she’s cut off as a group of guys walk in the front door of the library talking at full volume. I can feel almost every person in the room turn in the direction of the loud noise at the front and suddenly my eyes land on him. There’s no fucking way.

“Dani,” I whisper, sliding down in my seat so I can go unseen, “Dani that’s the guy, the guy from earlier.”

“What?” She whispers harshly, trying not to stare as the boys get scolded by the librarian at the front, “You mean grocery store guy?”

“Yes!” I huff, electing to sit in my chair backwards so my back is to him.

“No way Harley, it just looks like him-”

“No Dani, it’s him,” I whisper, “Tall one with the curly hair in the black hoodie.”

“That’s him?” She asks, “You had a problem with that talking to you?”

“Shh!” I huff, “God he’s going to hear you, are they still at the front?”

“They um, yeah,” She stutters, her eyes diverting to her book again, “They’re still up there, at a table now.”

“What’s wrong?” I ask, sensing the discomfort in her voice and turning around myself.

My eyes immediately lock onto his and I look away quickly, shielding my face from him with my hand and turning back towards Danielle.

“He’s staring right at you.” She says, trying not to be too obvious.

“Yep.”

“Are you gonna go over there?”

“Why would I do that exactly?” I ask, my eyebrow raised in disbelief.

“Because a hot boy is staring you down across the fucking library!” She whispers harshly, reaching over to smack me in the arm.

“More like a fucking psychopa-”

“Hey there,” I hear his voice cut in and my whole body cringes in on itself without my volition, “Fancy meeting you here.”

I turn around in my chair, forcing myself to face him while my whole face heats and I’m sure I’m the color of a rather ripe tomato. Something about the way he says hey there in that fucking accent makes my entire body tense up.

“Hey there,” I mimic, “Long time no see.”

I feel Danielle’s eyes on me as the words come out of my mouth, her gaze flickering between the two of us and watching the horrifically awkward exchange play out in front of her.

He laughs, electing to lean on the table, “What are you doing after this?”

“She’s doing absolutely nothing.” Danielle answers for me and I kick her under the table, making her wince.

“Glad to hear it,” He grins, his eyes zeroing in on me once again.

“I’m very busy actually,” I cut in, closing my textbook and throwing it in my bag, “We both are, but um, I’ll see you around.”

Danielle is looking at me with eyes the size of dinner plates as she frantically packs up her stuff, shoving it in her bag to follow suit. I stand up from my chair, slinging my bag over my shoulder and he rounds the table to stand right in front of me, the only thing between me and the front door.

“Can I at least get your name?” He asks, his voice incredibly deep clearly for only me to hear.

“Harley,” I quip, side stepping around him, “See you later uh, Harold is it?”

He gives me a very particular look as I walk away from him, taking steps backward and relishing in the smirk on his face. He knows what I’m doing. I feel Dani’s hand grab my arm and I finally turn around to face the door, walking through it, but even as I’m outside and carrying my feet down the steps I feel his eyes on me, drilling into the back of my head.

“The hell was that?” Danielle asks, “He was so cute and you just, you just blow it like that?”

“Harmless flirting.”

“You call that flirting?”

“Oh Dani,” I sigh, taking out a cigarette and lighting it between my lips, “I call that winning.”

***

I’m woken up with a start when I hear the loud roar of music start from Dani’s room. She always blasts music in the morning while getting ready for class. I look over my shoulder to check the time, at least she waited until 10 to start with the noise. My head is pounding ever so slightly, and I realize why when my eyes land on the empty bottle of pink Moscato on my bedside table.

I drag myself out of bed and into the tiny common space between our two rooms, “Good morning sleeping beauty,” Danielle teases, “I noticed the bottle of wine went missing from the fridge.”

“That’s bizarre,” I joke, “Must be a wine thief in the dorms. I’ll get on that mystery right away.”

She shakes her head at me, rolling her eyes as I grab my basket of laundry from my room. I slide on a pair of slippers electing to go put it in the wash, so I hopefully have a single clean pair of jeans for class tonight. I call to Dani letting her know I’ll be right back and as soon as I open the door to the hall I’m staring at him.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” I groan.

He stops dead in his tracks, taking a glance over his shoulder to see me standing in my doorway. He’s dressed in only a towel, holding it closed while it hangs low on his hips. His hair is wet, clearly making his way back to his room from the showers and his chest and arms are rippling with muscles under his damp skin.

God those arms could crush me like a grape.

“Morning neighbor,” He grins, clearly getting a kick out of this, “Someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?”

“You’re in this building?”

“You bet, room 7C down the hall.”

“Well, neighbor, for future reference, most people in this building take their clothes to the shower with them.”

“You Americans,” He chuckles, starting to walk away from my doorway, “So prude, have a nice day Harley.”

He disappears down the hall and then behind his door and my mind gets to work on picturing what he looks like without the towel. You can nearly feel the tension between us in the air, it was palpable. I could even feel his eyes on me, looking me up and down and lingering on my lips. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to clear my head as I take a deep breath and start on my way to the laundry room downstairs.

I put a load in the wash, briefly tuning into the dramatic soap playing on the tiny TV hung on the wall. I decide to head back to my now empty room since Danielle left for class and end up wasting most of my day away on a bad Netflix original movie, only pausing half way through to go move my clothes to the dryer.

I order a pizza for dinner before my night class and go back downstairs to grab my laundry out of the dryer. Just as I’m opening the dryer and emptying my clothes back into my basket I get a text that the pizza guy is downstairs waiting for me.

“Shit, shit, shit.” I huff under my breath, quickly shoving all my clothes in my basket and slamming the dryer shut behind me.

I rush back to my dorm, chucking the basket of clean clothes inside before heading to the stairwell and nearly sprinting down them to get to the ground floor. I meet the rather impatient pizza guy downstairs before bringing the food back up to my room. I’ve just barely finished the first slice half way through a Criminal Minds episode when there’s a knock at the door. I groan, dragging myself from the couch and tossing the blanket off.

I open the door, rolling my eyes, “Dani, you have got to start remembering your key when you-” I’m cut off as I come face to face with him rather than Dani, “Oh, um, hi?”

“Hi,” He repeats, now dressed in a pair of grey joggers and a plain black t-shirt, “I believe you dropped something in the laundry room earlier.”

He reveals his arm from behind his back, holding out his hand with my bright red lacy thong dangling from his pointer finger. I can feel my entire face heat to match the shade of my panties, but I won’t let him get the satisfaction. I go to snatch them from his hand, but he stops me, gripping them in his fist instead and using them as leverage to pull me a bit closer to him.

“Probably want to be a bit more careful where you leave your panties lying around, darling,” He smirks, “Unless you want to leave them on my bedroom floor of course.”

It’s the final straw, those few words spoken in his deliciously deep voice absolutely dripping with that amazing accented tone, on top of the way he’s dressed, every muscle visible beneath the fabric of his t-shirt. I don’t know what I’m doing until I’m pulling him to me by my own grip on the lacy underwear between us, my mouth meeting his and his teeth instantly biting my bottom lip between them.

“Yours or mine?” He breathes out, pulling away from me just long enough to get the words out.

“Where’s your roommate?” I ask breathlessly.

“Vacation,” He says, “Till Wednesday.”

“Yours,” I laugh, pressing my lips back to his, “Definitely yours.”

He walks me backwards down the hall to his dorm room, shoving me up against the wall as he unlocks the door, his lips working down my neck. As soon as the door is open he walks me through it, bending down to grab the backs of my thighs and hoisting me into the air. He kicks the door closed with his foot and I laugh against his mouth as he carries me past his bedroom doorway, slamming that behind us as well.

He lays me out on the bed, nearly tossing me right on top of the mattress, my lacy red underwear still gripped in his hand.

“Any chance you got something this cute under there?” He chuckles, holding them up in both hands to really show them off.

“Why don’t you come find out?” I tease.

He rolls his eyes, finally kneeling onto the edge of the bed and crawling over to me. He starts to lean over me, but I shove his shoulder, forcing him to lay against the mattress before swinging my leg over him. I can feel him underneath me immediately and it makes my legs clench together on either side of him.

“Hi,” I breathe, planting my hands on his chest and meeting his eyes.

“Hi,” He repeats back to me, that bright smile of his making my stomach flip, “You gonna come down here or...?”

“Oh, shut up,” I laugh finally leaning down and connecting our lips once again.

His lips are ridiculously soft against mine while the feeling of his muscles under his t-shirt are quite the opposite. He reaches up to cup my face with both hands, trying to somehow pull me closer as if we aren’t close enough as it is. I can’t figure out exactly where I want to put my hands; his shoulders, his biceps, god, in that amazing curly hair.

My hips start to move against him without my volition and he groans into my mouth, a deliciously deep reverberation that makes me grind my hips into him even more. He grunts against my lips, finally pulling away and resting his forehead against mine instead, breathing heavily.

“You alright there tiger?” I tease him, threading my fingers through his hair, “Need a breather already?”

“Shut your mouth,” He chuckles, grabbing me around the waist and trying to flip us over so he’s on top.

He greatly underestimates the size of his twin dorm bed when he does so, both of us rolling off the edge and tumbling to the shag carpeted floor beneath us. I expect the mood to be ruined, for him to get up and usher me right out the door because how awkward is this, right? I’m beyond surprised when he starts laughing, both of us splayed flat on our backs and heaves out a sigh as he rolls over to face me again.

“That was pretty smooth of me, eh?” He jokes, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

I shake my head, chuckling too, “No I’m okay, just gonna have a massive bruise on my ass most likely.”

He laughs again, finally pulling himself to his feet and offering me a hand to help me up. I’m not sure what I expect past that, maybe a hug to send me on my way now that the atmosphere has completely changed but that tension is still between us, the same tension that’s been building since the moment he said a single word in the supermarket.

The second I’m back on my feet he shoves me onto the bed and I can’t even begin to hide the shock in my features. He’s back on top of me in seconds, his lips pressed to mine and I’m sure the surprised whimper that leaves my mouth fuels his ego to the gods.

“You alright there tiger?” He mocks, and I resist the urge to reach up and slap him.

“Careful.” I quip, pulling away from him to meet his eyes.

“Careful?” He asks, quirking up his eyebrow at me, “I’m sorry are you telling me what to do sweetheart?”

I gulp, the smooth but stern voice he’s using making my thighs quiver. He seems to notice, his eyes darting down between us and a small chuckle escaping his lips. He looks back up at me, his eyes dark and brooding, before they flicker to my hands at my sides. He grabs my left wrist roughly, holding it above my head against the mattress before doing the same to my right arm as well. I’m nearly squirming underneath him, my entire body steaming to the touch as his eyes bore into mine.

“Something wrong, love?” He asks, the condescending tone to his voice making my whole body shake.

“Course not,” I pant, my breath coming out heavier than I anticipated, “Just fuckin peachy over here.”

He chuckles a bit, his grip on my wrists growing tighter, “You’re not very patient, you know that?”

I’m not sure what it is that’s making me writhe the way I am; perhaps it’s the countless months I’ve gone without sex since my last messy breakup, or maybe it’s the way in which this all panned out with a stranger over some fucking underwear, or fuck, maybe it’s just him and the way that cocky smirk on his face makes my insides twist.

“Patience is a virtue,” I say carefully, making sure to keep my tone even, “I’m more about vices.”

His left hand releases my wrist and I prepare myself for his hand reaching where I need him most, sucking in a breath between my teeth and letting my eyes flutter closed but it never comes. My eyes peel back open to see his hand hovering over my neck instead. He meets my eyes before his fingers finally grace the skin of my throat, applying just the slightest bit of pressure almost as if to test the waters.

I’m nearly dizzy as he does so, the temperature in this room suddenly a million degrees. He removes his hand again, the pressure around my throat leaving me and I whimper in distaste, making him chuckle again.

“Poor thing,” He chastises, my legs clenching together on either side of him, “I can’t do it all though, if only there was a way I could hold down both your wrists and choke that pretty neck.”

I watch his hand dig into the pocket of his joggers and once again pull out the thin red lacy fabric of my panties, holding them between us.

“Mind if I use these?” He asks, clearly knowing the answer but wanting to get a reaction out of me anyways.

“Yes, god,” I gulp, “Please.”

He grabs my hands, moving them completely above my head before wrapping the panties around them a few times, tying them together. He tugs on them a bit to make sure they’re pretty secure before looking back down at me, his eyes completely blown out in lust, his pupil swallowing his surrounding iris.

His lips are back on mine in seconds, his now free hands roaming my body before one hand rests on my neck, gripping the sides and applying a bit more pressure than the last time. I whimper into this mouth and curse myself for doing so as soon as my eyes flutter open to see that cocky smirk on his face once again.

“Eager, sweetheart?” He teases, and my hand reaches up to smack him before I remember I’m bound in a pair of my own underwear, “Ah, ah, be a good girl and stay still.”

Hearing the words good girl come out of his mouth makes my entire body squirm and he grins again, that lopsided condescending grin and I know he’s getting off on this, making me writhe underneath him. He leans down to kiss my stomach, hiking my shirt up as he goes before working his way down and tugging my pants down my legs. I hold my breath in anticipation but when I look down the bed to meet his eyes he simply kisses the inside of my thighs, ghosting his mouth over the thin fabric of my panties.

“Fucking please,” I beg, my breath coming out in heaves, “Is this some kind of joke to you?”

“Please what, princess?” He asks, my legs threatening to squeeze his head between them, “Tell me what you want, hm?”

“You cocky bastard,” I huff, my mind getting fuzzier by the second the closer he gets to my center, “You know what I want.”

He stops abruptly, sitting back up from his small assault on my inner thighs, “What did you say, love? Care to repeat that? Couldn’t quite here you down here.”

There’s an edge to his voice, like glass, it cuts right through me and makes my thighs quiver, “N-no,” I stutter, “Didn’t say anything.”

“That’s what I thought,” He grins, leaning back down between my legs, “Now be a good girl and tell me what you want me to do to you.”

I suck in a breath sharply, but I won’t let him know how his words affect me, “Oh daddy,” I mock, rolling my eyes, “Need you so bad.”

He grabs me by the ankles, flipping me onto my stomach and sends an echoing smack to my ass, the stinging sensation that radiates afterwards making my toes curl. He flips me back onto my back, his dangerously dark eyes meeting mine as he spreads my legs apart once again, holding my thighs down against the mattress.

“Want to try that again, princess?”

“Fuck,” I gasp, the edge to his voice making the whispered swear fall from my mouth involuntarily, “Um, yes.”

“Yes what?” He growls, leaning down to hold my jaw in his hand, his eyes drilling into mine waiting for a response.

“Yes daddy.”

“Now you’re getting it, good girl,” He grins, his hand that was gripping my jaw moving to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, “Now open up,” I oblige, slowly opening my mouth and he pushes his middle and ring finger past my lips. It catches me a bit off guard, but he only nods his head, “Get them nice and wet for me love, don’t want to hurt you.”

He pulls them from my mouth, a small string of saliva connecting them to my lips. He chuckles a bit, clearly getting a kick out of how worked up I am for him before finally pushing my panties to the side and pressing his fingers into me. I instantly turn my head to the side, muffling the moan that escapes my mouth into my pillow. As soon as he realizes what I’m doing he grabs me by the hair, holding my head straight.

“None of that,” He says sternly, “Wanna hear your pretty sounds, babygirl.”

I’m dangerously close to the edge just from the words pouring from his mouth in that accented tone that makes my entire body shiver. That condescending smirk finds its way back to his lips and I know that he can tell I’m close, just teetering on the edge already.

“Needy little thing, are we?” He teases, “Already gonna cum and daddy’s barely touched you yet.”

His words are almost just enough to push me over the edge, but I hold off as much as I can, straining away from his touch as much as I can with my hands bound above my head and his weight on top of me. I feel the particular twist in my stomach, that burning sensation in the very pit of my abdomen just as my eyes squeeze shut and my vision goes white. His fingers work me through it, his mouth finally hovering over where I need him most, sucking my sensitive bud into his mouth and making me shake.

I feel his fingers withdraw from me and suddenly he’s pushing them past my lips once again, but this time I taste myself on them, swirling my tongue around each one to suck them clean. I meet his eyes as he pulls them from my mouth and my hips involuntarily buck up to meet the bulge prominent in his pants.

“Still needy, are we?” He chuckles.

“Please shut up and take your pants off already.” I beg, my hips bucking up to meet him again.

“You see I would but,” He starts, sitting back on his heels, “It seems I don’t have a condom, would you happen to have one?”

“Would I, no, you have got to be fucking kidding me,” I stutter breathlessly, my blood starting to boil in disbelief, “What kind of guy doesn’t keep a pack of rubbers around you idiot?”

“Careful,” He warns, his voice dropping into that deep calculated tone that makes me shiver, “And perhaps a guy that just moved in this week and hasn’t necessarily had buying rubbers on the mind,” He says, “That is until he met a spunky purple haired girl in the supermarket.”

His words make my stomach do a few somersaults, but I don’t let it extinguish the pissed off fire burning in my stomach knowing that I won’t be getting the relief I desperately need right now.

“You’re serious?” I ask, “You don’t have any?”

“Serious, darling,” He chuckles, “But instead of moping about it, you’re going to take what I give you and say thank you daddy when I’m done, understand?”

I nod my head vigorously, despite wanting to do the exact opposite. What kind of hold does that goddamn accent have on me?

“Good,” He smiles, clearly pleased with my response, “And maybe if you’re a good girl next time daddy will remember to hit the store.”

“Next time?” I ask, not filtering the shock from my voice.

He laughs a bit, reaching up to finally untie my hands, “Yes, next time, did you want this to just be a one-time thing, princess?”

I can’t form the words I want to say as I sit up a bit, rubbing my wrists only slightly from the rough fabric of the lace wrapped around them, “I um, I don’t-”

“That’s what I thought,” He smirks, standing from the bed and holding out a hand to me, “Now come on, didn’t you get pizza?”

I smile, taking his hand and starting to stand to my feet, my legs a bit wobbly and I’m thankful for the stability of his arm to lean on.

“Do you have anything to uh,” I start, cringing when I feel the wetness in between my thighs, “Clean up with?”

“Nope,” He says cheerfully, “You keep that pretty mess I made between those thighs, babygirl.”

My knees nearly buckle, and I’m cursing him for his lack of condoms and the ache between my legs as I pull my pants back on, following him to the door to the hall. He stops abruptly just inside the doorway, turning back to meet my eyes.

“What’s my name?” He asks cheekily.

“Harry,” I say confidently, “Why? Are you worried I forgot already?”

He grabs my ass in his hand tightly, squeezing the skin, his voice calculated, “I said, what’s my name?”

I gulp, leaning into his grip on me a bit more as my knees wobble, “Daddy.”

He releases his grip on my ass, giving it a quick smack, “’Atta girl, let’s get some pizza in you so you’re ready for round two,” He grins, throwing his arm around my shoulder and tucking me into his side as we walk down the hall to my room instead, “Maybe after we can hit the store, I seemed to have forgotten to pick something up last time I went.”

#harry styles #harry #harry styles smut #one direction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #one direction smut #harry smut #harry styles oneshot #daddy!harry #dom!harry #sub!y/n

601 notes · View notes

mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Something Different

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader and Spencer go on their first date. PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 / EPILOGUE Category: Fluff, Smut 18+ (oral sex- female receiving, penetrative sex, unprotected sex- creampie) Warnings: Sex, language (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 5.9k

NOTE: This was my favorite part to write so far! I hope you all love it as much as I do! I have a little epilogue planned next, and I’m not sure when it’ll be up, but I’ve really loved seeing how much you enjoyed this series! Thank you for reading! 🥰

***

Y/N had never felt as much like a teenage girl as she did that Friday night. She stood in front of her floor-length mirror, smoothing out her dress and contemplating whether or not she should change. For the seventh time. And she'd been on dates before, but this time was different. Usually she barely knew the guys she'd gone on first dates with, but she'd already slept with this guy. On more than one occasion. And every time she did, she felt herself fall deeper and deeper under his spell. She wasn't sure if he knew the full effect of what he was doing to her, always taking up space in every crack and crevice of her thoughts until she felt like she couldn't breathe.

And that was what made this date different from all the rest. She knew Spencer. She liked Spencer. And she was almost positive that after this date she would be, at the very least, a little bit in love with Spencer.

At that thought, Y/N felt her heart swell in her chest, suddenly invested in the act of making him feel the same way, if he wasn't already.

So she reverted back to her original outfit choice, something she at first thought was too sexy for a first date, but ultimately was the boldest and best option. It was satin and deep violet in color, the fabric clinging to her body in every best way possible. It landed mid-thigh and the neckline was low enough to show just the right amount of cleavage without it being too overwhelming. Her father would have told her it looked more like a dish towel than a dress, and that fact alone was enough to convince Y/N that it was just perfect. It did have thin straps though, and it was freezing as hell at night, so she added a black cardigan that added just the right amount of elegance and warmth to the look.

She paired the whole look together with black pumps and threw her hair up in a loose clip, made for easy taking-down if the night ended as well as she hoped.

Just as she was applying the last of her makeup—simple black eyeliner and mascara, complimented with tinted cherry lip balm rather than lipstick—there was a knock on the door.

"Just a second!" she called out, rushing to spritz on some vanilla perfume and give herself a final onceover in the mirror. With a final deep breath, she switched off the lights and made her way to the door, silently praying that she wouldn't fall on her face.

"Hey, pretty gi— oh..."

The second she saw Spencer in the doorway, Y/N felt her insides swarm with butterflies. The way he took her in, completely captured by her presence as his eyes couldn't decide where to linger longest utterly wrecked her.

And he looked... God, if he wasn't the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. And of course she'd seen him in some rather beautiful positions prior to right then, but his hungry eyes, practically claiming her as his own as they raked her figure accompanied by the outfit he wore and the way his hair perfectly framed his face in soft waves... It felt like she was bathing in sunlight.

He wore a white undershirt and navy suit jacket, the tie the same color only accented with red stripes, and black dress pants. If she had to describe it, she would have said he looked like he came right of the page of a magazine, and even that wasn't generous enough. She knew she should say something to break the silence that had fallen between them, but she couldn't even remember her own name.

Thankfully Spencer seemed to get a hold of himself before she did, saying, "You look... amazing. A-and that's not even the right word, I... Wow."

Y/N felt her cheeks grow hot, playing with the hem of her cardigan. "Thanks, you... You look great, too. Um, let me go grab my purse, I'll be right back."

"Wait, before you do..."

She hadn't even noticed his hand was behind his back until he brought it out, bringing with it a small gathering of flowers. Lavenders. "You brought me lavenders?" she inquired, taking them with a smile. "They're beautiful. Thank you."

Spencer seemed to rock on his feet nervously. "They're generally known for their relaxation properties, and, you know, I figured since we always seem to end up talking about de-stressing, they seemed fitting."

Y/N laughed, her face growing warmer. "That's perfect, I love them. I'm gonna go find a vase for these real quick."

As she rummaged through her cabinets for something even remotely resembling a vase, she settled on a tall mason jar she had in the back, filling it with water and placing the flowers inside, letting it perch on the kitchen counter. When she turned around she found that Spencer had made his way inside, the door closed behind him. "Unfortunately they won't last very long without soil, water, and sunlight, but if they dry up you could always use them for decorations. I noticed you have lots of dried plants in your apartment."

With a smile, she grabbed her purse off the coat rack in the living room. "Oh. Yeah, I guess I do. I've always loved pressing flowers and stuff. My mom and I used to do it all the time when I was younger, and I guess it stuck."

"That's really nice. It's definitely better than the clutter of my apartment," he says with a laugh as they both make their way to the door.

"Oh, I don't know. I like your clutter, it's rather charming."

He laughed as he opened the door and stepped aside so she could walk through. "You've only been to my apartment once, and we were a bit... occupied for you to notice, so how would you know?"

They paused in the hallway as she closed the door and looked up at him, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. She grabbed the end of his tie and tugged it a little, turning it over in her fingers as she stared at him. "Trust me, Spencer, it's hard to believe that anything about you isn't charming."

It was his turn to blush, his smirk transforming into a shy smile. She let go of his tie and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together before leading him down the hallway.

***

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were surprised," Y/N said once the waiter left to grab their drinks.

"Oh, I-I guess I just... I don't know why, it's just that I didn't... expect you to be a white wine person, that's all."

"You can tell what kind of wine I like?" she laughed.

Spencer returned it, brushing some of the hair from his face. "Well, I guess not, since I pegged you wrong..."

She shrugged. "You don't have to be embarrassed about that, I wouldn't expect you to have known."

"Oh, I'm not embarrassed, it's just that usually I'm better at reading people, that's all."

"Is that right?" Y/N mused, leaning forward a little. She smiled at him. "How come?"

Spencer swallowed before answering. "Well, my job... I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, so my team and I study human behavior to catch killers."

Holy shit, that's so hot, she thought, silently hoping she didn't say that out loud. "Wow, so... you're a total badass, then. I gotta say, G-man, that's impressive."

He blushed under the dim light of the restaurant lights. He'd picked out this nice Italian place not too far from their apartment. Y/N had always wanted to go because she loved Italian food, but it was always too expensive and she never really had the time. When Spencer had suggested it, she practically begged him not to, insisting that she didn't want to make him spend so much money on her. In turn he told her, "I don't mind, you're worth spending a little money on," and that was that. Still she felt a little guilty, but he didn't seem to mind one bit. Not to mention the place was absolutely beautiful, easily one of the nicest places she'd ever been to. So if he was willing to do all this just to spend some time with her, then Y/N figured it was a good sign.

"What about you, what exactly is it that you do?"

Y/N shrugged a little. "Oh, well it's no fancy badass government job, but I work at a music store downtown. I just got promoted, so I'm an associate manager."

"Oh, that's great! What kind of music do you like?"

The way he genuinely looked so interested in what she had to say made her heart swell. She cleared her throat before answering. "My parents raised me on Classic Rock, so my brain is pretty much just made up of Queen lyrics, but... I listen to a little of everything. There isn't much I don't like, really, save for maybe hardcore metal. Though, some of it I've heard is okay."

Spencer laughed a little. "That's nice. I don't really listen to a variety of things, mostly classical, but... I don't know, maybe you could... introduce me to some of your favorites? Broaden my horizons?"

He almost sounded shy asking, but that only made the sentiment more endearing. Y/N smiled so hard her cheeks hurt. "Anytime, G-man."

The waiter came back with the wine then, and they got to ordering. Y/N ordered a lemon chicken piccata while Spencer settled on pasta alla norma. Of course they had a side of breadsticks and they each got a small tomato soup to sip on while they waited.

They continued to chat about their favorite things, anywhere from as general as their favorite books and movies to as random as their favorite flowers and candle scents. It was nice getting to know these tiny details. And normally this type of small talk was awkwardly necessary and devastatingly tedious, but with Spencer it felt effortless. She liked telling him about her favorite things, no matter how small they were, and just the same she liked listening to him. The way he spoke, his eyes lighting up as he talked about what made him happy made Y/N warm, feeling once again that night like she was bathing in sunlight.

That's what he was. The human embodiment of pure sunlight.

As they ate they talked a little bit about their childhoods. Spencer mentioned how it was mostly just him and his mother, and he almost seemed a little sad when he talked about it. She wanted to let him keep going, but at some point she realized that he was getting a little emotional and uncomfortable, so she made a point to respectfully change the subject, in turn telling some embarrassing childhood stories of her own. For one thing, she loved telling anyone about how she angrily chucked a remote at her brother when they were kids and gave him a permanent scar on his forehead, but ultimately she loved seeing Spencer smile, and she knew that the story would do the trick. It always did.

"Why did you do it?" he laughed after swallowing a bite of his food.

Y/N shrugged with a smile. "He was bugging me about wanting to watch something else, and it just annoyed me so badly that I decided I had enough. I should have been sorry, too, especially after being yelled at, but I really thought he deserved it. And now when people ask why he has this big-ass scar on his forehead, he has to tell them that his big sister chucked a remote at his head. It embarrasses him and it amuses me, so..."

Spencer laughed a little harder, setting his fork down and folding his hands together. "Sounds... like an interesting childhood."

"Yeah, that's putting it mildly. My brother and I did a lot of roughhousing, which would make more sense if he was the older one, but what are you gonna do?"

"So... What, you put him in headlocks and pinned him to the ground like a wrestler all the time?" he asked with an amused laugh.

"Yeah, something like that," she laughed right back.

"Well, I hope he hasn't sustained too much injury permanently over the years... Maybe one day I can ask him about it."

The thought of Spencer meeting her family gave her more butterflies, and it became evident that he was feeling the same way, because he blushed almost immediately after he said it.

"You two would probably get along really well, actually. He loves true crime and stuff, so I'm sure he'd love to talk to you about your job if that's not too forward. Plus, he reads more than I do, so I'm sure you'd find something else in common there."

"Yeah, that sounds great. I like him already."

She smiled, her heart still beating exponentially fast. A small part of her wondered if maybe talk of meeting family members was going too far for a first date, and on any other first date it would've been. But Spencer seemed to be genuinely entertaining the idea of meeting and discussing some of his life with her brother, and that was what flipped the switch. She was starting to feel it. She was starting to fall in love with him.

***

When the two of them got in the car, Spencer turned on the radio before they started their journey home— a Classic Rock station. Y/N smiled, immediately recognizing the melody to, coincidentally enough, her favorite Queen song, Who Wants To Live Forever. She told him as much.

He turned the volume up and started driving, listening to her sing along softly. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed him turning his head every once in a while, obviously sneaking a glance at her enjoying her favorite music. The thought sent a bloom of warmth through her chest as the song faded out and started playing Photograph by Def Leppard. Spencer turned the radio down just a little and nodded, turning down the street.

"I like it. I can see why it would be your favorite."

"This is another one of my favorites, too," she replied with a gentle nod towards the radio, giving him a smile. "A lot of these songs probably will be, though, I've practically been spoon-fed Classic Rock radio since I was a baby."

Then she noticed where they were. A street she didn't recognize. "Where are we going?" she asked, looking around.

"Oh. I-I know I only really promised to take you out for dinner, but there's somewhere else I wanted to show you... If that's alright?"

"It's more than alright," she reassured, placing a hand on his arm and wondering where he planned to take her.

He took her hand in his and continued down the road, the radio shuffling through more songs that Y/N recognized and sang along to. At one point she made a point of dramatically serenading Spencer with Love Song by Tesla, air guitar-ing and everything.

Soon enough they were out where she couldn't see any buildings and only a few streetlights. Y/N hummed softly along to the radio, holding Spencer's hand once again as he pulled the car over down a random road and under this large tree. In front of them she could clearly see the sun setting over the skyline, illuminating everything around them in a soft orange glow.

"It's beautiful out here," she mused as Spencer turned off the car, the radio with it.

"Yeah, I, uh... I was in a particularly stressful point in my life a few years ago, and one day I just drove aimlessly. I don't normally drive at all, but I needed something new, something different to do that I could focus on, and I just ended up here. It's one of my favorite places."

She looked over at him and smiled, running her thumb over his hand. "I find that some of the best things in life happen when you try something different."

His eyes softened as she spoke, squeezing her hand and leaning his head against the seat. "You're right. That's... actually how I got you, know know."

She raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Mhm... Yeah, I didn't even want to confront you about hearing what happened that night because I thought it would be too awkward, but... I don't know, I guess there was just something that felt right about the whole thing, like... like it was an opportunity to get to know someone new. And I couldn't stop thinking about knocking on your door and getting to know everything about this woman who likes to invade other people's privacy." He laughed as he said that last part, obviously teasing her about the whole thing, and she laughed with him.

"Well, then I guess that means I don't have to be embarrassed about that anymore," Y/N noted. "I felt absolutely awful about it, you know."

"Oh, I know. You were practically the color of a tomato when I gave you that Advil."

They laughed together as the sun sunk lower in the sky, and as the air between them grew silent, they just stared at each other, smiling. Even as the sun was leaving, Y/N could still feel its warmth radiating in the form of Spencer's presence.

***

They walked up to her door hand in hand, laughing about a joke she'd told him when Y/N realized the night was potentially over. The thought silenced her laughter, and suddenly she was nervous, like she hadn't already considered that the night would eventually have to end somewhere.

"I... I had a really great time tonight, Spencer, thank you. "

He smiled shyly in that way of his that made her just as shy. It was sickeningly cliché, she thought, feeling this way about a man she'd only just started to get to know, but she welcomed those feelings nonetheless. He was so obviously infatuated with her in a way she hadn't felt before, and it made her nervous because she didn't know how to react. All she could do was welcome and embrace his adoring glares and little touches and compliments, and hope that he knew in turn just how much she appreciated and adored him all the same.

His free hand reached out and cupped her cheek, to which she happily leaned into. "I did, too," he said softly, barely above a whisper. "We should do it again some time."

She smiled against his hand, and she didn't realize it then, but they were closer than they had been all night, toe to toe. "We should."

The world stopped for all of two seconds before he leaned down to kiss her. But something embarrassingly stopped her from letting it happen, pulling her face away just a little. "Wait. My breath probably smells like breadsticks."

Hardly the most romantic thing to say, and she regretted it the second it left her mouth.

Spencer only shrugged, smiling amusedly. "Who doesn't like breadsticks?"

That made her laugh. Hard. And she was still laughing as she pulled him closer and kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

When he kissed her back, it was head-dizzyingly sweet, his hands softly brushing over her cheeks as she melted into him. Every time his lips parted, he came back stronger, pressing his lips and tongue to hers with slow, methodical precision.

She could have died right there.

But eventually they pulled apart, and she looked up at him with as much gratefulness as she could provide. "Look, I... I know it's not typically customary to sleep over on the first date, but... What about trying something different?"

Spencer grinned at her, rubbing his thumb over her bottom lip. "Lead the way, pretty girl."

She couldn't hide her blush as she reached over and opened the door, pulling him into the apartment with her.

The door closed behind him, and Spencer kissed her again, this time using one of his hands to press her to him, resting promptly on her lower back. Their kisses were just as slow and sweet as they had been in the hall, though there was a slightest shift in the atmosphere, bringing forth a newfound passion behind each of their movements.

His tongue traced over her bottom lip before he took it between his teeth and tilted his head to the other side, pulling her even closer to him than she thought could be possible. They both stumbled around the living room as they kicked off their shoes. Y/N got significantly shorter after removing her heels, so Spencer bent down and lifted her off the ground, setting her on the back of the couch. Her dress had ridden up to the tops of her thighs so she could wrap her legs around his waist. She slid her cardigan off at the same time he slid off his jacket, their lips still adjoined. Once they were removed, Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck again, and he brought his arms under her ass as he lifted her off the couch

She expected the journey to her bedroom to be rocky, stumbling into furniture and walls and tripping, but was glad to be proven wrong when suddenly she was swiftly seated on her bed, Spencer standing between her legs.

He pulled away from her for all of two seconds before kneeling and pressing kisses to the insides of her right leg, starting at her ankle and trailing all the way up past her knee and eventually to her thigh. His hands reached up to grip the bed as he looked up at her and pressed kisses to her other thigh. Hoping to give him more access, she used her hands to pull her dress up even higher, scooting out from under her butt and bunching up at her hips as she spread her legs a little wider.

He smiled against her inner thigh, running one of his hands over the other. "Patience, pretty girl. I want to take my time with you tonight."

The way he said it made her shiver, and her head leaned back as she leaned back on her hands, feeling Spencer continue his exploration. His mouth travelled from thigh to thigh, doing just about everything he could think of—kissing, licking, biting... One of her hands found themselves in his hair as she sighed out, "Please, Spencer..."

For a moment she thought he wouldn't give it to her, if only because she wasn't specific enough and that had become part of their sexual routine, but this time he granted her what she wanted, one of his hands reaching up and ghosting along her clit through the fabric of her panties.

She instinctually rutted her hips forward at the contact, which made him laugh softly, and before too long, he hooked his finger in the waistband of her underwear, sliding up her dress just a little so he could reach. She lifted herself off the bed so he could bring them out from under her, and he slowly, very slowly, slid them down her legs. His lips travelled up her leg again, taking the same care and curiosity as he had before, each second burning impatiently through Y/N's body as she took it all in.

Right as his nose brushed over her clit, he pulled away, leaving her cold and desperate. She opened her eyes and looked down at him, running a hand through his hair and silently pleading to do something.

He smiled and stood up, pressing a kiss to her neck before whispering in her ear, "Will you ride my face for me, baby?"

"Oh, God, yes," she breathed before she could think, and he laughed, his breath sending goosebumps down the right side of her body.

Spencer got up on the bed and leaned back, his head resting on the pillows as Y/N straddled him, hiking her dress up over her hips and stroking the hair from his face before hovering over it. Before she could do anything, his hands wrapped up over her thighs and pulled her down to him, not wasting any time getting to work.

The initial contact jolted her awake, and she cried out, reaching forward and grabbing the top of the headboard as she ground down on him. His tongue plunged deep into her while his nose pressed against her clit, and the more she moved, the more his tongue drew patterns, wanting to taste every inch of her until she was shaking around him. And that's exactly what happened. His tongue came up to flick and swirl over her clit, and right when he wrapped his lips around it and started softly sucking, she cried out. "I'm gonna— ohh..."

He hummed into her, encouraging her to finish, and she did, clenching her thighs around his head as he shook it back and forth, lapping up every last drop of her arousal until her thighs lost their grip. She lifted up off of him, but he brought her back down to run his tongue through her pussy a few more long, meaningful times. He finally let go of her legs, and she kneeled beside him, catching her breath.

Looking down at him she noticed how wonderstruck he was, running his tongue along his lips to still taste her, his eyes searching hers hungrily before she leaned down and kissed him. The taste of herself on his mouth made her groan, and he reached up to pull the clip from her hair. It tumbled down in a curtain around them before he tossed the clip aside and ran his hands through it, gathering it all to one side and pulling her closer to him.

As he kissed her, she brought her hand to his chest, working at his tie and struggling to get it off. He laughed against her mouth and sat up to do it for her, breaking their kiss apart. Has he undid the tie and the first few buttons of his shirt, Y/N reached back to grab the zipper of her dress, but Spencer stopped her.

"Wait. Can I?"

She nodded, turning around.

"Stand up for me," he told her.

Y/N got off the bed and felt Spencer behind her, his hands brushing her hair out of the way and slowly zipping her dress down, pressing kisses down each inch of skin that exposed in its wake, all the way to her lower back. His hands slid up her back and pushed the straps off her shoulders, then tugged the dress down to watch it fall on the floor, leaving her completely bare.

He kissed her neck and ran his hands up and down her body, eventually reaching around to cup her breasts. She sighed at his touch, leaning back against him as he rolled her nipples in between his fingers. Her hands reached back to wrap around his back and pull him flush against her, the unmistakable feeling of his hardening dick through his pants pressing against her bare ass.

"I love how soft your skin is, pretty girl," he murmured into her neck, sliding his lips down to her shoulder and biting down. She sucked in a breath, her hands removing themselves from his back and placing themselves over his own, feeling the veins strain as they kneaded her breasts. His tongue traced over where he bit down before he kissed the same spot, then he worked his mouth back up her neck and reached her jawline. She turned her head, meeting his lips and pressing herself further into him, whining at every single sensation coursing through her veins.

Eventually she'd had enough and turned fully around, breaking apart from him just to come back. She faced him and wrapped her arms around his neck once more. He leaned in to kiss her again, but she stopped him, pulling her head back and using one of her hands to grip the hair at the nape of his neck. "Tonight's your lucky night, you know..."

At her teasing tone, Spencer laughed, his eyes searching hers before giving in. "Why's that?"

She used the hand that wasn't in his hair to slide over his shoulder and down his chest, drawing patterns across the bare skin he'd left exposed after undoing the first few buttons of his shirt. Then she smiled, bringing herself closer and gripping the collar. "Because I'm on birth control now..." She leaned forward and lightly brushed her lips against his, feeling them just barely as she whispered, recalling what he'd told her a few weeks ago. "You still wanna fill up this slutty little pussy? Make me yours?"

He didn't give a second thought. Before she was aware of what was happening, Spencer had his lips crashed against hers and his arms wrapped around her back, pulling her forward so that the tent in his pants pressed right up into her bare crotch. She gasped against his mouth and reached down to take the rest of his shirt all the way off, and he let her.

Her hands fumbled with the buttons, severely close to just giving up and ripping the shirt apart but she got there in the end, sliding the fabric off his shoulders and tossing it God-knows-where as his tongue slipped into her mouth. She trailed her hands softly down his chest and stomach, making him shiver, and she relished in the feeling of his lean figure tensing under her touch. She scratched her nails along the lower part of his stomach before touching his belt, and then he stopped her, grabbing her wrists.

"Sit on the edge of the bed," he commanded softly against her lips.

Y/N pulled away reluctantly, immediately missing his bodily warmth before doing as she was told and perching herself patiently at the edge of the bed.

Spencer got off his knees, climbed out of bed, and stood on the floor, coming over to her and placing himself between her legs once more. Only this time, he towered over her rather than kneeled. His hands unbuckled his belt while his eyes bore into hers, the anticipation of what was to come as high strung as it had ever been.

He pulled his pants and underwear down in one swift motion, and right a he kicked them to the side, Y/N reached out, grabbing his hips and pulling him closer. One of his hands gripped his hard cock while the other found purchase in her hair, brushing it behind her shoulders and resting at the base of her neck as he leaned down and pushed her back onto the bed. She scooted back just far enough for Spencer to kneel on the edge of the bed, her legs instinctually wrapping around his waist once more as he kissed her.

Her hands brushed the hair from his face and stayed weaved there, whimpering with anticipation as he ran the tip of his cock along her pussy, just as slowly as he'd done everything else so far. He broke their kiss apart and pushed the tip in, not going any farther than that. "I told you, pretty girl, I'm taking my time with you tonight. I want this to last."

As his forehead rested against hers, she barely caught a glimpse of his eyes before he pushed all the way in and squeezed his eyes shut. Y/N sighed and massaged his scalp, completely aware of every inch of him as he held himself inside her. He pressed just about the sweetest kiss to her lips before setting a slow pace that gradually became faster with every passing minute. She was still a little sensitive from when he'd eaten her out, but that only added to the feeling.

"Fuck, you're perfect," Spencer breathed, pulling his head just far enough away from her so he could look her in the eyes. "You're so goddamn perfect, Y/N..."

She slid her hands down his back as he picked up his pace inside her, gasping when he hit her g-spot. "Speak for yourself," she breathed.

When she started to feel herself getting closer, Spencer seemed to notice, because he slowed his pace again and ran sloppy, passionate kisses along her jaw and neck, and she reveled in the feeling. He was all around her, consuming every fiber of her being, and she could bask in it forever if he'd let her.

"Spencer," she breathed, her hands reaching down to grip his ass as he hit inside her deeper. "Fuck... You're so good to me..."

In turn he cradled her face and kissed her deeply, moving his tongue against hers in tandem with his hips' ministrations. Her fingernails bore deeper into his skin, and it wasn't long before she started to feel an orgasm surfacing. He rested his forehead against hers again, biting her bottom lip softly as he pulled away to speak. "Almost there, pretty girl. "

Y/N removed her hands from him and brought them up to bring her face to hers again, sighing into his mouth when they reconnected. And then he grabbed her wrists softly, pinning them above her head and sliding his hands up her forearms until his fingers laced together with hers, squeezing and pushing them both closer to the edge.

"Cum for me, baby," he mumbled against her lips, and within a matter of seconds, she did. Her legs tightened around him and her ankles hooked round his waist, just above the top of his ass to keep him tightly inside her while he found his own release. "Fuck," he sighed, giving three more hard thrusts forward. He held himself inside her while he came, the warmth spreading through her being just about the best thing she'd ever felt. It was the cherry on top, the last puzzle piece falling into place, and she kissed him once more while he finished, feeling him groan in her mouth.

The two of them stayed like that, their hands still laced together and legs still tangled, and even when their lips pulled apart, their foreheads rested together while their breathing slowed.

"Have I already told you how perfect you are?" Spencer breathed, nuzzling his nose against hers.

Y/N laughed a little, nuzzling him right back. "You may have mentioned it."

"Well, it's true. Everything about you is just so..."

"Perfect?" she offered.

He laughed, kissing her once more on the lips before slowly pulling out of her and unlacing their fingers. "Yes. Perfect... But as much as I love laying here with you, UTIs are not perfect, so I'm gonna get you cleaned up. Come on."

She sat up with a grunt, not wanting to get up so soon but she knew he was right. So she let him lead her to the bathroom as quickly as they can, his cum slowly sliding down her thighs when they got there. Spencer turned on the light and closed the bathroom door, a small smile on his face as he got on his knees to help.

"I can grab some toilet pa— holy shit..." Y/N was cut off when he dragged his tongue up the inside of her leg, scooping up his mess and making his way to her pussy where he cleaned out the rest of it. She was still sensitive, so he went as gently as he could, making soft, gentle swipes of his tongue until it was mostly gone, at least not dripping down her legs anymore.

When he stood up to meet her face, she felt stunned, absolutely enraptured by everything about the man in front of her. "So, does that mean I'm officially yours now?" she asked with small laugh.

He gave her that bashful smile again, and it made her feel even better, basking in the familiarity of his boldness of sexual acts followed by instant shy demeanor. "Only if you'll have me."

Y/N grabbed his face and kissed him before looking him dead in the eye and saying, "I hope I'll always have you, G-man."

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid

922 notes · View notes

wienerbarnes · 3 years

Text

A Certain Romance (2/6)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1,685

Warnings: not rlly anything

A/N: a lil bit of a deeper dive for these two’s relationship👀... enjoy!

MAIN MASTERLIST | A CERTAIN ROMANCE MASTERLIST

Your apartment is nice. Very you.

Sam invited him out to some restaurant, but after the last one he suggested, he decided to pass. And when Sam asked him what he was doing instead, if he was seeing you, Bucky lied and said yes. It made Sam happy and got him out of going to another ridiculous restaurant, so he saw it as a win-win.

Once Sam left, though, his thoughts did drift to what you were doing.

You two exchanged numbers at the pizza place after your date, but you two haven’t texted much. He texted you making sure you got home safe, which you did, and a day or so after, you texted him a picture of some advertisement with an awfully cheesy pick-up line written on it, which even he agreed was awful.

But that’s about it. So, he texts you.

Hey. What are u doing?

About to make dinner. Y?

Told Sam I was seeing u. Wanna hang out?

Come over.

Simple enough, he thinks.

You two haven’t had the most meaningful text conversations, clearly, but it’s still nice. No flirting, no typing and retyping messages in order to hook, line, and sinker, no ghosting. No relationship texting.

It was a dream for him. To have a new friend. He’s made plenty of friends, both in New York and in Wakanda. But it’s all under the same… umbrella. Always an agent, a fighter, an analyst of some sort. Someone to train with, to fight with, to fight for. Never someone like you. Someone that works a mundane job and lives in a mundane part of New York where her weekends are filled with going on mundane blind dates or otherwise cooking dinner for one.

It’s a breath of fresh air to not talk about fighting or missions or press or media or anything else he has to hear about at work. The only connection you have with Sam is that you met in a coffee shop a few years ago that has since closed down. He was one of your first friends here.

You could care less about Captain America, too. Which hurts Sam’s ego, and in turn, makes Bucky smile.

So, he goes over to yours.

He’s not sure what you’re making, but he brings a bottle of red wine as a courtesy. You are making dinner after all. Besides, women love wine, right?

Your apartment is nice. Very you.

Enough going on to show that someone does indeed live here, but also enough to show that you’re not exactly swimming in riches, like most people that live in this city.

The place smells like garlic and basil, and he’s glad that he brought the wine.

Shoes discarded at the door, he helps chop up the rest of the ingredients while you put a pot of water to boil. He chops up mushrooms, onion, pancetta, eyeing the bottle of vodka out on the table and tube of tomato paste next to his hand.

It's an understatement to say he’s excited. Most of the pasta he makes is from a bag of precooked noodles and a jar of tomato sauce.

Basic small talk floats through the air as the two of you dance around one another in the kitchen. Even though you’re “dating”, you don’t know much about each other. This isn’t too uncommon from how dating was for Bucky when he was a teenager; you’d marry women knowing very little about them.

Your favorite color is orange. You played violin in grade school. You had a childhood dog named Chowder. Bucky tells you his favorite color is green. He played a little bit of piano when he was younger, but did boxing in his late teens and early twenties before the war. You poke fun at him when he can’t remember the name of his own childhood dog.

“He’s probably rolling over in dog-heaven.”

“Good boy; he’d deserve a treat.”

You laugh.

Easy conversation continues on the couch as bowl after bowl of pasta is eaten and replenished. As fun and seemingly simple questions are asked, like each of your favorite movies or whether or not you pour the milk before the cereal, the room that’s left is used for deeper questions.

“What’s your most embarrassing moment?” You ask him.

He thinks for a moment before opening his mouth, only to close it again. “One time when Princess Shuri was fixing my arm it wasn’t secure completely, so it flew off while I was playing with some of the children.”

“That’s not your most embarrassing moment. I know it’s not, now you have to tell me what it really is.” You tease him.

He’s never been the best liar.

“You’re right, it’s not my most embarrassing moment. My actual most embarrassing moment is just kind of… sad. And I didn’t want to ruin the mood or anything.” He explains, hoping you’ll accept that but instead you give him an encouraging smile to hopefully give him some comfort that whatever it is he wants to tell you is safe in your apartment.

“Okay, uhm. So, in the 40’s, after I was rescued by Steve, but before we shipped out again where I was recaptured for the second and final time. We were all holed up in this little dance club, all the soldiers and their gals. And in walks Peggy Carter in a pretty red dress,” He begins, only glancing at your eyes periodically as if to make sure you’re still there.

“I know she’s Steve’s gal, he told me all about her. I wasn’t flirting with her because I wanted her, I was flirting with her… to make sure I still could. I mean, after being held in that… place… they injected me with stuff, told me things that weren’t true, I mean Steve told me I was repeating my number over and over again when he found me, I didn’t even remember doing that. I felt… violated, used, not like myself. I felt like I wasn’t me anymore.

“So, when Peggy walked in, I thought about how everyone always called me a ladies man, how good I was with women, I mean, I’d take girls out about every damn weekend, you know? I wanted to feel normal, so I flirted with her, tried to get her to dance with me. And she completely ignored me. She never even took her eyes off of Steve. It’s like I was invisible. And it just sort of felt like the nail in the coffin for whoever James Barnes was before the war. It was a realization that I’m never going to be that person again. And it was embarrassing for me.” He explains.

He hasn’t looked up at you again, but he heard your fork stop moving around your bowl a minute or so ago. He feels a lump in his throat thinking about that time, how he knew he’d never get back the man he was, even before knowing what was in store for him after falling off that train. How he used to be this man that wanted a long, happy marriage, six or seven kids running around a big backyard, a white picket fence surrounding a big two-story house in a neighborhood of identical homes. He wanted the cheesy life, at one point. But the same man that wanted that life died falling off a train many years ago.

All of that’s forgotten, though, when you open your mouth, and seem to say the perfect thing to make him feel better.

“One time in the third grade, this girl pulled my skirt down in front of my crush, and I wasn’t wearing any undies.”

A snort escapes his throat as you, somehow, after he’s shared something so deeply personal, something he never even told Steve or Sam about, still found a way to make him laugh. Which is what he wanted, he realizes. The comfort of moving on from that confession and not having to wallow in it like other people would try to. His hand leaves his fork to cover his face as tears threaten to leak out from how hard he’s laughing.

He took that secret to the grave, even if it wasn’t his own. He told himself he’d never tell Steve about how he felt in that situation, and he never did. He never told Steve that he didn’t enlist, either. He couldn’t imagine how Steve would’ve felt knowing that the army would’ve rather taken men that didn’t want to go to war, men who were terrified to go to war, had too much to lose and wanted to be selfish and stay home, than men like Steve who would do anything to enlist. Including lying on the damn enlistment form.

He wonders if Steve is looking at him now. Watching over him as he shares something that he never did with his best friend, with you, a girl he’s met barely a week ago, on your couch over bowls of pasta while he points out leftover sauce on the corner of your lip.

“What’s your greatest fear?” He asks you next.

“Dying alone. Actually, no. Getting kidnapped, probably.”

“Oh, mine’s spiders.” He shares.

It’s so easy to laugh with you, he finds. He jokes with Sam a lot, all the bickering and teasing all in good fun at the end of the day, and it’s mostly pretty funny. But laughing with you. He feels like a teenager again. Somehow, everything is funny; he doesn’t remember the last time he’s laughed so much, especially about things that aren’t even that funny.

It’s raining at the end of the night. Early morning, rather.

“You can take the couch, if you’d like.”

“Nah, I don't mind a little rain, and I like the ride home.” He fed Alpine before he left, but he imagines his cat misses him, even if she’s probably busy licking herself to even notice he’s left.

“Suit yourself.”

You don’t push him. A simple pleasure that’s more of a luxury for him. There’s no pushing or convincing or Are you sure’s with you.

Certainly a luxury, you are.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes au #marvel

193 notes · View notes

jenlvr01 · 3 years

Text

BAD ROMANCE

Pairing : Jaehyun x Reader

Genre : Greek God Mafia Au !

Warnings : Cursing , mention of drugs and violence.

Summary : Jaehyun Or in The underworld He is Known As The King or people would call him Hades. Ruthless, Cold and a selfish Bastard. One day Everything changed when He laid His Eyes On the most beautiful maiden he has ever seen but The problem is...he doesn’t wanna fall in love.

Notes: Yall i suggest you listen to Bad romance by Lady gaga While Reading this! And also this is my first time posting something on tumblr hehehejais sorry if there is any grammar errors english is not my first language T^T

“Damn where the fuck is Jeno” Jaehyun Sighed as He sat on his Gold throne inside the biggest and darkest castle in the underworld. Everybody feared him and would tremble at the mention of his name.

“Hello Your grumpy Highness” Jeno Rolled his Eyes At him as He handed Him a Letter. Jaehyun Looked at Jeno and shook his head.

“You do know i can Take your life right at this very moment if you keep up that attitude of yours” Jaehyun Glared at The poor boy and Jeno just bowed and walked away.

There are Three worlds that exists. The first one is Heaven where all the Gods And Goddesses live. Second Earth where Humans And Some demi Gods Live and Lastly the Underworld Ruled By Jaehyun Where he punishes all the bad people and The Corrupt Gods And Goddesses are thrown.

Jaehyun opened the letter for it to be an invitation to the Heavenly Ball. Jaehyun receives one every year but he never once attended these kind of gatherings and he is always labeled as A VIP guest . He just thinks its a waste of time and silly but this year he wanted to Go For a change

“Hey Mark” he called Mark His Guard and Personal Assistant “Yes Your Highness” he Bowed slightly and was preparing to throw the invitation “Get dressed in The finest suit you Have..we are going to this damn Ball” He stood up and left Mark with a confused Look. “Your highness why are you going?” He asked afraid and was sweating cold sweats

“I wanted to go for a change..besides i wanna see my brothers ” he smirked as he opened the main door.

He dressed in the finest Suit that he had and his slick back hair that made him look 10x more intimidating.

Mark drove him to the venue also looking as dashing as ever. When they arrived at the venue it looked like everybody saw a ghost except for his 3 brothers ofcourse. Mark Followed Jaehyun Quietly at a distance

“FINALLY SOMEONE WENT OUT OF THAT DAMN HELL HOLE AFTER A LONG TIME” Taeyong Screamed Happily while approaching his Brother. Taeyong The God of The sky and Thunder happily approached his brother with champagne. Winwin Just sighed at the sight of Taeyong screaming so loud to the point where everybody had their eyes on them.

“Taeyong I swear to God lower your damn voice” he smacked his Brother at the back of his head

“So What made you attend this event this year My dear brother” he casually approached his brother and took a sip of his champagne.

All the Goddesses had their eyes on Him. Whispering endless thoughts and probably thirsting about how hot he is. Meanwhile all of the Gods Are starting to Fume with anger because all of the Women’s eyes were on him.

“I also dont know i felt like i needed to go here for a change” he took a sip of his champagne.

Johnny The God Of the Sun Approached Jaehyun and His Brothers

“Jaehyun im surprised to see you here my friend” he looked at him with disbelief.

Johnny and Jaehyun along with his brothers are Good Friends And they also run a business along with a few friends In The Underworld.

“Yeah i just went here for an appearance i really cant believe You attend something like this every year” he tsked and looked around the place as His brothers continue chatting With Johnny

Whispers and loud chattering can be heard. Loud music can Be Heard and the sight of Gods And Goddesses Flirting can be seen. The thought of love and flirting has never crossed Jaehyun’s mind. He had too much On his plate to be Even thinking about matters like those.

Jaehyun’s one and only rule? Never fall in Love For It will destroy you. Jaehyun saw what love did to humans and other Gods and Goddesses and he thought it was Stupid.

“Im Gonna go Out Where is The garden?” Jaehyun asked Taeyong and he answered with a smile “go straight then turn left you’ll see a glass door” jaehyun nodded and Mark followed with a glass of wine in his hands.

“Sooo are you enjoying this party your highness?” Mark asked with wiggly eyes brows

“Fuck no This was a wrong decision to come here..How are the transport on the drugs?”

“Its alright the same as usual no need to worry” as he looked up and saw bright colors and expensive gold on the ground and walls “Good Make sure Nothing Goes Wrong. Tell Jeno To Gather The Team to Monitor the transport we need to be careful this is a huge amount make sure it doesn’t Get stolen” Mark Does a bow and said “yes Your Highness” Jaehyun nodded and dismissed Mark. He Was faced With A very elegant Glass door The doorknobs made with diamonds and rubies. Slowly he Opened The Door to be greeted by The scent of Hyacinths. He slowly walked over the stone path. He Never really gets to see flowers back in The Underworld because no living thing can survive in the underworld. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ “oh My God What happened to You. You poor thing let me fix You Up real quick” You said in a concern voice looking at the dead flowers in the Garden. You placed your hand on top of the flower and used a tiny bit of your powers to heal the flowers. You smiled and giggled at the sight of healthy flowers. Yes You are the Goddess of vegetation and Fertility. You never really wanted to attend these kind of Parties. You Just feel so out of place and uncomfortable with all the people surrounding you and all. The thought of it makes you sick. You sighed as You drank Wine and slowly leaned back onto the tree. It was a nice view. The garden was filled with many green and colorful Plants. You'd really Rather spend your day here rather than talking to people. You Fished out your phone from your Pocket To call Jisung the cupid and Your bestfriend ofc. “Jisung are you really not gonna attend this event? I have no friends here seriously i was forced By Naeun That's why I'm here” You groaned when you heard Him laugh " I told You You need to stay away from that girl" He laughed even harder when he heard How annoyed You were “ Let me Guess You are either at some random room in the mansion or you are at the garden ”You did a little snap and said “BINGO! I'm at the garden " You chuckled “anyways i need to go get more wine please pick me up later" you can feel him smiling through the phone and said “okay okay ill pick u up bye” he suddenly ended the call and all you could do was stare at the phone with disbelief. "Woah I cant believe this man He suddenly - “ You suddenly turned to your side and bumped into a God...well probably the most handsome God You have ever laid your Eyes on. He shut his eyes shut and sighed. “Oh my God I'm So sorry" You panicked because he seemed like he was having a bad day and he looked so pissed at the sight of wine staining his Suit “damn Woman watch where Your Going.” As He opened his eyes you could feel his hot gaze pierce through you skull. “ I'm really so sorry about this......’’ You looked at him and gave him the “what's your name??” Kind of look. “ You don't know me??” Jaehyun asked because he couldn’t believe it. “yeah I don't know you so I uh...may I know your name??’’ he smirked and leaned down to whisper in her ears “My name is Jaehyun”

#nct au #nct jaehyun #nct x reader #aunct #nct b jaehyun #jaehyun #jaehyun au #jaehyun imagines #nct fluff #nct mafia au #nct mafia fic #nct fic #jaehyun reaction #jea #jaehyun scenarios #nct blurbs #nct scenarios

176 notes · View notes

binniesthighs · 3 years

Text

1-800-Be-Mine | reader x minho | sfw

happy valentines day!! this lil fic of mine is something very new and different from what I’ve tried before and I’m so so excited to share it with you!!

Pairing: self insert, gender neutral reader x lee minho

Genre: fluff, sci-fi, futuristic au, valentines day special!

Tags: strangers to lovers, sci-fi au, futuristic au, blind date au, AI au with a twist, mentions of food and alcohol, featuring hyunjin, tiny heart-shaped confetti of comedy and rebelling against the man lol, fluffy growing feelings

Warnings: Minho’s character in this is an adorable, charming, feeling, AI robot. haha idk if this is a warning but it might not be everyone’s cup o’ tea, if so, that’s why I’m mentioning it :)

Tagging: @stayhavens thank you for allowing me to be a part of this event ❤️

Word count: 7.1k

“If it’s the color of your shirt that you’re worried about, I don’t think that he’s gonna care.”

“--I can’t believe that you’re putting me through this. I didn’t even ask for...whatever the hell this all is.”

“You’re getting worked up over nothing, Y/n. This whole thing is literally the lowest commitment thing that you could ever do on Valentines Day.”

For the twentieth time, you held up the shirt and hanger over your torso in front of you streak-stained mirror. It shouldn’t have mattered much, or even at all, but here you were, wondering what color a synthetic human would like on your body the most.

With feet in the air, your best friend swung his feet with pointed toes and eyes glued to his phone.

“Quit looking at me like that.” Hyunjin didn’t even need to rise his head up to feel your glare. “He’s programmed to forget about you the second that your time runs out, so, I really don’t know why you’re wasting your time over this.”

One more time, you switched the creamy white satin for the wine-red velvet.

“God, this is so depressing.” The shirt hangers clinked together where you threw them down on your bed. “It’s all your fault too.”

“I can’t see why you aren’t excited for this!! I literally made it so he’s perfect for you. There’s like, a 0% chance that this is gonna go badly. You could spit escargot into his lap or get his tie stuck in the car door and he’d still think that you’re the best thing ever. You can do no wrong.”

“That’s the point...”

The floor started to look a lot more appealing in your despair. If you were making a dramatic show for yourself or for you friend, you had no idea, but somehow it felt a little better letting your body sliiide down the side of the wall into a little pool of half-done make-up and hair still damp.

“Stop throwing a tantrum.” Hyunjin scolded. “You have to be there in 45 minutes.”

“What if I...just don’t show up?”

“Then, you’d be robbing me of $360 and the most expensive gift that I’ve ever gotten for you. And, you’d break my heart. I don’t wanna be heartbroken on Valentines Day. I’d hate you forever.”

“Nooooo you wouldn’t.” You tossed your forehead into the palms of your hands.

“I’d hate you for a month probably.”

“Don’t you have somewhere that you need to be?” As expected, your hands were smudged a bit from the tiny dusting of eyeshadow that you had added to your lids.

“I told you already, she doesn’t get off until 8 so I’ve still got time. Besides, I already set everything up back at the apartment. I’m in no rush.” At last, your friend cast aside his phone on the mattress with a bounce. “Get up. I’ll help you. You should still look nice anyway...even if he doesn’t care. This night is about you anyway.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Is satin supposed to feel scratchy...? What? Satin being itchy? ...You must be going crazy if you think--

“--Annnd we’re here!”

The wheels of Hyunjin’s less than glamourous car skidded in front of the hotel with an obvious screech. He was never one for being a good driver anyway. With the pull of his hand through is blond hair he nodded his head for you to open your door.

“Time’s ticking. It’s nearly 7.”

“--Jin--”

“I’m not explaining it again. Just go do the damn thing. You’re overthinking it. Like you do with everything...”

Your best friend rolled his eyes which were blue today: a part of his own Valentines Day outfit: that of which he looked much better than you thought you had. He had slung his arm over his steering wheel looking on, and even more impatient with you by the second.

“Is it a fucking crime to be nervous??”

Hyunjin laughed out sharply. “You’re so cute. ~Especially when there isn’t anything to worry about.~”

You flicked him hard on his perfect arm covered by his perfectly planned and billowy white top.

“Would you like to go out there and meet him if it’s so easy?”

After a subsequent eye roll, your friend reached his long arm to pop open the car door on your side. “You’re not going to make me drag you, are you?”

“I can get it myself.” You growled, shoving his hand away.

The February air was crisp, and just cold enough for your breath to appear lightly in front of your face. Immediately, you started to regret everything: the itchy satin shirt (which you guessed probably wasn’t satin) the stiffness of your styled hair, and the way that your feet felt in the pair of shoes that you had broken out just for the occasion. You had even put perfume on; something that a “strictly deodorant” person as yourself found to be suffocating and odd.

Do Mirrors even have a sense of smell?

On the busy street, cars whipped past with headlights of yellow and red, and the bustle of the holiday evening buzzed on the sidewalk with couples marching down the way arm and arm and hand in hand. The energy of the evening seemed vibrant almost as if the whole world seemed to be slightly more awake. The plastic heels of ladies in their best shoes clicked past.

“Good luck!”

Hyunjin mustered up the most genuine smile that you thought possible for him to craft considering it wasn’t genuine in the slightest.

“Text me about it tonight--or--actually, not tonight, I’ll be...” He obviously winked, “...busy tonight.”

“You’re disgusting!!”

You slammed the car door in Hyunjin’s snide smirk while he laughed out a “Love you!” before speeding away without a care.

The remnants of old snow caked up in the corners of the hotel where Hyunjin had arranged the date. The hotel itself was very old fashioned looking, almost like it had come right out of one of those old movies he would tease you for liking--it was probably why he had chosen it, you thought to yourself. There was a large golden marquee with a strand of lightbulbs tracing the edge all around it much like an old-timey theater, which gave the name for the hotel. At the doorway made of the same golden hue, there were attentive bellhops in matching blue velvet uniforms and leather gloves that they blew in to to keep their hands warm.

When you thought more of it, the night was a bit colder than expected, so you pulled your coat closer to your body. Hyunjin had suggested that you wear your pea coat, however it’s warmth factor wasn’t something to write home about. He had something about how it had made your arms look good...as if he would care anything like what your arms looked like.

You pulled out your phone with your cold fingers to find the information that Hyunjin had sent you.

Name: Lee Minho

Model: Generation Four

Specifications: Personalized

Service time: 7pm-12am

Instructions: Meet at the front entrance of the the hotel The Grand at exactly 7pm where the Mirror will be waiting. Mirror will look like: [see image]

You hovered your hand over the little see image tab. Before, you had decided that you didn’t want to see the picture, and rather leave it as a surprise. That was the thrill of a blind date, right? For a moment, you rationalized it as peeking so that you knew what he looked like so you could find him. You hovered, and hovered...

“No, I shouldn’t...” You whispered out to the open air while you shoved your phone back into your pocket.

“Excuse me?” One of those attentive bellhops had snuck behind you and rose a caring hand to your shoulder: an action which made you jump. “Is there anything that I can help you with? Are you waiting for someone?”

“Oh.” You straightened yourself. “Yes, I am waiting for someone. They’ll be here really--”

“--Is it me that you’re waiting for?”

He had strolled right up to you, and you could barely form the words on your mouth to say “yes.” You had heard the stories about Mirrors before, but as far as you had known, this was your first time ever seeing one this close...and you wouldn’t have even known that he was any different from the flesh and bones that you knew you had.

He was devastatingly handsome; the kind of handsome that models were. Every single one of his features seemed to be carefully planned and calculated down to the little freckle on his nostril and his nose bridge of a perfect angle. Even his physical proportions seemed to be perfect: his arm muscles curved in wonderful angles under his black suit jacket that had one button at the front. He was dressed simply: merely a black tux with a white button up underneath and a deep navy blue tie. His chocolate brown eyes were a bit unique, looking even slightly cat-like.

Not like you had a type, but if you were to have one, he definitely would have been it.

He smiled upon seeing you, and coolly adjusted his silver cufflinks which you noticed had an insignia on them that looked a familiar: it was that picture of the eye with the spokes around it, the symbol of 3rdEyeCorp. As expected, everything in life seemed to come with a branding: even synthetic humans.

“Should we go inside?”

His voice was gentle and soothing, the kind of voice that you knew could lull you to sleep or convince you to do things that you wouldn’t want to. It was a voice that could put you at ease, and you wondered if that was intentional. Perhaps Hyunjin had told them that at times you could be neurotic.

You finally squeaked out a, “Yes.” then followed him towards the soft glow of the magnificent building. He had slipped over past you to open the door, letting you enter first.

“Oh...thanks...”

As you passed him, you could have sworn that he smelled like some kind of citrus scent. In fact, you didn’t know that he could even have a smell. This was but one of the many questions that had been plaguing you for the past couple weeks since learning of Hyunjin’s plan.

It wasn’t that he smelled like a person: that kind of earthy scene mixed up with the lingering scent of shampoo on hair, or a bit of mint holding to the corners of your mouth after you had brushed your teeth right before you exited the door. Still, you didn’t mind the citrus, it was better than nothing at all, you assumed.

He walked up to the maître d with perfect posture, and it was then when you noticed that you were slightly shorter that he was. His suit was pressed, and a line ran down the back directly over his spine.

“2 for L/n?” He said properly, and it felt strange hearing your last name come from his mouth.

“Right this way.”

He looked back at you, almost as if to see if you were doing okay. He held a little glint in his eyes that looked careful, caring even. From the very few words that he had said to you, he still maintained a composure about him that was...human. He was comfortable.

The three of you reached the table with the ironed white table cloth, small bouquet of red roses and two flickering tea candles. The lighting of the room was dim as all restaurants such as this were, and there was a light hum about the room coupled with the occasional clink of silverware on China. There was a fireplace to the corner of the room, and the dense smell of expensive wine hung in the air.

The maître d placed down the menus. “Your server will be with you shortly.”

You thought the small action a bit comical. You were the only one who knew his secret. Still, he nodded with a polite smile. “Thank you.”

The satin fabric on your shirt scraped at your bare chest, and you attempted your slyest attempt at making a tiny itch look nonchalant. He picked up the menu with a few of his brown strands dipping over his eyes. You studied him as he looked it over, not having a clue why. You thought that you had heard somewhere that his kind couldn’t eat. Perhaps he was a new model.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t formally introduced myself yet.” He put the menu down with a little embarrassed smile. “I must’ve forgotten. I’m Lee Minho.”

“I know.” Your cheeks felt hot. “Uh-and I’m Y/n. But--you probably knew that too.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Smile lines crinkled under his eyes. It was the first imperfection you could find about him.

“Yo-you too.”

Minho reached out a slender and pale hand for you to shake and you stared it in a moment of fear. You had never touched a Mirror before, much less wondered what they felt like.

“I don’t bite.” He chuckled out a small laugh that was much too cute for his own good. His shoulders then appeared to relax and he allowed himself to slouch. “At least, my model doesn’t.”

You choked out an ugly chortle at the joke. “Ah. I see.”

“You don’t have to be scared of me. I promise that I feel like anyone else.”

You took it, jumping a little at the sensation. He was warm--not exactly like you expected him to be cold and metallic however. The skin of his hand was cracked and grooved as normal, and it was squishy as if you could feel the muscles that would be underneath.

With a warm grin, he soothed you saying, “See?”

‘Oh...mmhm.” You shook his hand firmly. “Holy shit that's really creepy.” You muttered the words as softly as you thought you could have.

“Creepy?” He laughed out again. “Should I be offended? No one has ever called me creepy before.”

“Oh! Um, s-sorry, I didn’t mean--”

“--It’s okay! I was just kidding. I completely understand. Especially if this is your first time meeting someone like me. It is your first time?”

You nodded drawing your hand back with the warmth from his hand still lingering on yours.

“Let me know if there is anything that I can do to make you more comfortable. Seems like...we’re meant to be too.”

“--Meant to be?” You nearly dropped your cloth napkin to the ground.

“I mean, based off of your profile, they thought that I would be best suited for you. And you know...the programming and all that.”

“Oh! I guess so...”

Next, you thought it best to busy yourself with that glass of water that was looking very oddly refreshing.

“I meant to tell you as well that you look very nice. I think that color suits you very well.”

Drops of water got caught in your throat, “T-AHEM-this?” You pinched at the fabric.

Minho’s eyes widened at your sputtering coughs, signaling to a waiter to come fill your glass once more.

“Sorry, was I not supposed to say that?”

“No! No no, it’s...you’re fine. I was just a little surprised.”

“Surprised? Why?”

“I just didn’t think that you would...nevermind.”

Even though you had nearly choked yourself seconds ago, up went your water glass to your lips once more.

Minho fidgeted with his bangs with his pinky finger: a surprisingly vain little task. Under the dull lighting of the whole room, he did look very handsome; almost much too handsome to be in such a place with you. All at once, you became suddenly aware of the irregular patterns of those eyes peeking at you from their own tables with haughty and whispering words on their lips.

“You look...very nice as well.”

“Mm thank you.” As charming as ever, he gave a smile back. “This is my first time wearing this. I actually picked it out myself. I thought that you would like the color.” His pale fingers ran down the silk indigo tie.

“You thought about it too??”

“Thought about what?”

A snide smile crept over your mouth. Hyunjin could eat his words.

“Well do you? Like it?” A curious little smearing of worry painted Minho’s brow that was once again must too cute for his own good.

“I-I do like it.”

In all honesty, Minho would have looked good in anything, you thought, no matter how ridiculous. Under the thin white cotton of his shirt, you could see his toned pectorals as well. One pinch to the side of your leg was just enough to scold yourself.

He looked around himself in a bit of a silent wonder: from the rafters of the high ceilings painted in gold leaf, to the speakeasy on the far edge of the room with the posh looking bartender.

“I always thought that places like this were kind of stuffy.” He wrinkled his nose.

“You...what?”

“There's always someone at one table wondering if they look better, rank higher, or are more successful than the person at the other. Don’t you think the same?”

“I mean...I think they do keep looking us?”

“Ah. I noticed that too.”

Minho looked around himself carefully, then leaned in closer towards you. “Do you think that they know that I’m...you know?”

You snorted out a laugh covered by your hand. “What? No? How could they?”

“A hunch.”

“Can you even get hunches?”

“I may be a robot, but I can still read a room.”

You hushed him, “Shhhh! Say that any louder and then they’ll really know.”

A waiter in a black apron sauntered up to your table with a thin moustache and a big of a sagging face. He looked a bit less like a real waiter and more like a cartoon one.

“Good evening. Have you finished looking over the menus? Perhaps a bottle of wine to start you off? We have a new house merlot that I would highly recommend.” He reached a spiny finger to point at the name on your menu. “It would pair particularly well with our specials tonight. Seeing as it is Valentines day--”

The droning of the waiter continued on, and you had noticed that Minho wasn’t paying any attention at all. Rather, he had settled his gaze on the flickering of the candles, and the yellow light sparked in his pupils. For mere seconds, you could see something a bit different about them: a extremely thin circle of blue-white light around his irises.

The waiter pulled out his pad with an expectant gaze.

“Uh-yeah, I-I’ll take that. That--whatever-you-just-mentioned.”

He appeared puzzled. “You wish to start with the special orange Crème Brule first?”

“Ah-no! Sorry, can you..” You cringed, “Repeat what you just said?”

He rolled his eyes, but did respectfully as he was told while you sunk further into your chair with Minho’s teasing smirk. This time you listened to the specials, even though you decided you didn’t even want one, but rather picked one of the cheapest items on the menu. That was one of the drawbacks of paying for your date: he had no obligation to pay for your meal.

The waiter looked even more puzzled when Minho said he wasn’t ordering anything, but shrugged, burying his pad back into his pocket saying, “I’ll be over with the wine shortly.”

“Do you want to know something?” Minho leaned back in once the waiter was out of an earshot.

You treated yourself to yet another sip of your emptying glass, and nodded.

“There’s at least four others like me in here.”

“Four? How can you know?”

“I think I’d know my own kind when I saw them.”

“I would never be able to tell.”

The waiter returned, showing the label to the wine to both of you before popping it open and pouring it into glasses with the twist of his wrist. Two drops from the crimson top stained the little napkin he used.

Minho’s hands toyed with the stem of the glass, but didn’t take a sip.

“That’s why they call us Mirrors.”

“How do you mean?”

“Because you’re supposed to see yourselves in us.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Your body had started to warm with the energy of the room after long, and your appetizer of escargot had arrived. Oddly, since Hyunjin had mentioned it before, it embedded in you an odd craving that you couldn’t satisfy until you had some. By now, you had realized that Minho likely wouldn’t have been eating with you, but it was strange: even the other Mirrors in the room appeared to be.

“I’m assuming that you can’t eat then?” You popped the buttery taste into your mouth.

“Yes. It doesn’t make sense for my...biology. If you can call it that. I can’t digest food nor do I have the mechanisms to do so.”

“Maybe we should have done something that didn’t include food then.”

“I do have something though! I know that eating alone like this can be uncomfortable.”

He grabbed inside his inside suit pocket and pulled out a wallet: thin and black leather. It had almost nothing in it save for what looked like a iridescent square. Over top of it was the same logo on his cufflinks. He flipped it around his fingers like a playing card.

“What is it?”

“My dinner.” He sated matter-of-factly.

“You’re gonna...eat that? Maybe you shouldn’t--”

He placed it neatly in front of himself, pressing the surface and it morphed into some kind of three dimensional polygon shape of pixels, both large and small, until it settled into a perfect copy of your dish that you had sitting in front of you.

“It’s holographic.”

“Of course it is.”

“Newest in tech at 3rdEye. This is my first time using one. They thought it would be a good idea to send the prototypes out with the Mirrors tonight for the beta test. What do you think?”

“It’s very...realistic.”

“It’s pocket sized, and it can really transform into anything that you could want, but of course...its still not really solid. Perfect for me though.”

He took a bite of his escargot with an equally holographic fork.

“I imagine that it tastes very good.”

“You can’t taste things?”

“Unfortunately, no. Since I don’t need to eat, don’t know why I would need to. I’ve got all the other senses though.”

The house merlot was bitter on your tongue and full bodied. You couldn’t imagine what your life would have been like without taste. He chewed on, and somehow the action really did seem comforting.

“You’re very um, open about yourself. You know...talking about yourself so bluntly. I feel like some people when they do these things, they just want to keep on that suspension of disbelief as long as they can; pretending that you're--”

“--A real person?”

You hadn’t intended on it coming off as insulting, and a “sorry” formed on your lips.

“--I’m not offended. And, you’re right. Most people do. But, I could sense that you were different. I don’t have a problem telling you about me. Something told me that you would like to know.”

“Something?”

“Enough about me though, lets talk about you. You’re a doctor aren’t you?”

“-For animals. Nothing too crazy. I’m working up my way to have my own practice some day. For now, I’m just doing nurse type stuff. Giving immunizations, checking teeth and stuff like that.”

“I read your thesis. The one from your pre-vet. I thought that your research was very interesting. How come you didn’t continue on with animal behavior?”

His string of questions made you crack out into laughter. Never had anyone you had ever dated said that they had read up on you.

“I can’t believe that you just said that.”

“What? I had assumed that you might want to talk about something that interests you like that.”

“That was...so long ago, I don’t even think about that paper anymore.”

Minho took some of his wine down with a polite dab of his napkin to his lips.

“How about hiking then? Or those Frank Capra movies that you like? Which one is your favorite?”

“Stop, stop. This is--”

His eyes widened. “Did I misspeak again? Your friend said that it would be okay if we did the proper research--”

“--Just...sorry, it’s strange that you know everything about me already and we’ve hardly just met.”

“I’m not following.”

“Can you just...forget like, everything you know about me for a minute? This is supposed to be a blind date isn’t it?”

“I can do that.” Minho tightened his tie.

“How about we talk about something else?”

Minho nodded in agreement with a determined tiny grin. “I can tell you about what I do?”

“You have a job?”

Your prompt waiter appeared with a giant silver platter which glinted in the light of the numerous dancing candles around it. The ceramic plates clinked into the glasses assorted on the table, and he lastly offered out freshly grated parmesan for your pasta. You said “when” and he was just as quickly out of your way, but not after granting the both of you one more questioning glare.

“Yes.”

Your date flipped over his holographic square, and soon it transformed into another spitting image of your meal.

“I’m supposed to tell you that I’m a college professor of ornithology but since we’re being blunt here, my job is working for 3rdEye, and doing basically whatever they ask of me. Including this. And actually...” He twisted a string of noodles around his fork. “...I think that it’s going pretty well.”

A quick giggle erupted out from you. “I’m glad that we’re being honest because you do not look like someone who teaches twenty somethings about birds.”

“But if I had said I did, would that have made you like me more?”

“Maybe. I’m sure that they picked that because I did graduate research on migration and flight patterns.”

“Likely.”

“Maybe I should have stuck with animal behavior. Then we would have had more to talk about.”

A silence filled the space between you as you tried your best to eat your pasta with as much grace as you could. Of course, you were still one to get it on your lap and the table cloth, but luckily you had a napkin to protect you. Your date on the other hand, ate as if he was eating with the queen herself. For several moments, you really did allow yourself those brief moments of ignorance: you really were just two people, sitting in a fancy restaurant on Valentines Day, eating a meal together, on a date, as an normal two people would do. Every few moments too, he would look at you with a type of gentle adoration in his eyes too.

And it felt nice.

It really was as effortless as Hyunjin had said. You would be eating your words on this one.

At last, you had scraped out the last chunks of tomato and vegetable bites from your shallow dish, and you sat back which a sense of drowsiness clinging to your eyes. Over time, you had slumped deeper and deeper into your chair as you felt your body warm with the fireplace. You didn’t mean to look, but your watch had read just past 9 o’clock.

“That all tasted good.” Minho sighed, and slumped along with you.

“I thought you couldn’t taste?”

“Ah. You’re right. Well, I enjoyed eating that with you. Did it taste good?”

“It did.”

“Should we get some of that orange Crème Brule from earlier?”

You folded up your napkin on the table. “You mean should I get some of that Crème Brule? I’m the one paying here remember?”

“Are you?”

With the stretch of your arms, you answered, “Not today. I don’t have that doctor’s pay...yet.”

“But shouldn’t you eat something sweet on Valentines Day? Isn’t that also what its about?”

You laughed, “I don’t know where you heard that, but no, it doesn’t.”

“Ah, I see. My understanding of the holiday is very jumbled. Holidays are like that for us. The sort of emotional attachment to them is hard for us to understand. I’ve watched millions of hours of films to understand them...but--”

“--Millions?”

“Yes?”

“That’s…insane.”

“Not for me.” He said with a happy little grin. “Should we be leaving?”

In one motion, he swept up his shirt sleeve, just over his wrist where you had expected him to have a watch. Instead, a faint blue glow emerged on his skin making letters and numbers that you couldn’t read as well from upside down.

“Hm. 3 more hours. What else would you like to do with our time together?”

»»————-　♡　————-««

The winter cold bit at your ears while the two of you walked together down the busy urban stretch. Even later into the night the giddy excitement of friends ambling down the streets and couples linking to eachother with tipsy happiness could still be found everywhere. You barely knew him, but you still felt in some way compelled to reach out and interlock your arm with his as those other couples did. You had a half a mind to reach out to him, but another half a mind to keep your arms wrapped around yourself.

But, as if he had read your mind, he reached out his hand behind him to quietly slip your arm into his.

“Put your hands in your pockets.” He asked, and you did so. “I figured that you must be cold, so...my body heats itself too, makes me more...you know.”

He was warm. Much warmer than your entire body felt had felt then, but still you noted that the tips of his ears and nose had turned pink.

“Where to?” He questioned next.

“I-I’m not sure. I didn’t think this far.”

“I could pick?”

“You know where to go?”

He was silent for a moment, then nodded. “There’s a place that I wouldn’t mind going to. Do you know how to skate?”

“Ice...skate?”

He huffed out with a tiny smile, and you noticed that when he did, no visible molecules could be seen in front of his face.

“Do you? I can pick something else? It’s not everyone’s skill.”

“N-no. I can do it.”

You don’t know why you had said it: perhaps you felt as if you had something to prove to this inhuman person, or you really did want to go there with him, no matter where it was.

You had never learned how to skate in your life.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The ice rink was lined with pink and white string lights: likely a Valentines Day decoration. Plastic hearts made of fuzzy tinsel also decorated the edges of the rink and sparkled under the lights. It had been built into the center of a public park, and bodies huddled in winter coats sat together on the benches to the side, waving at those they knew when they slipped past. Tinny music played over the outdoor speakers: it was some pop song that you had heard before, but didn’t know the name of.

Minho laced up your skates for you, and even then you noticed that his knuckles had turned pink too.

“Are you...cold?”

“Oh! This?” He turned his hands around. “No, I’m not. it’s just another one of my humanisms.”

“Humanisms?”

“Something to make me look more like you. When it’s cold outside my body senses it and does this.”

“I see.”

Even if you knew that he couldn’t possibly feel things in the same why, he was damn convincing--and you couldn’t help but think it was unbearably cute as well.

“Done! You ready? You can take my hand if you want?”

You stood wobbly as a deer taking its first steps. Walking on the blades was much more difficult than you would have guessed. He didn’t need to ask twice for you to grab hold.

“I’m assuming that you know how to do this?”

“There’s a lot of things that I know how to do.” He winked.

The second that your feet met the ice, you felt your heart start beating into overdrive with your anxiety of falling. Over the ice, it too felt colder, and that didn’t help much either. With one hand you clawed to the side of the rink, and the other dug into Minho’s arm.

“I thought that you said that you knew how to skate?”

“I lied. I’m gonna fall on my fricking face and its gonna be the most embarrassing thing ever. Worse than spitting escargot into your lap.”

“Spitting escargot? What?”

“Just--can you help me?”

He tittered with an adorably warm laugh and grabbed back at you firmly. “I won’t let go.”

Even the toddlers in their little training bumpers were more skilled than you. Minho was patient, and coached you through the skills of the left and right motions of your feet and getting into a rhythm. You still flapped your arms around wildly like a wobbly penguin, but he was eventually able to coax you away from the wall.

“See! You’re getting the hang of it!”

“Really?”

Minho nodded profusely, letting go of both of your hands to hold just one. “Stop looking at your feet and just look at me. You’ll trip yourself up focusing so hard.”

Other couples whipped past you, and you thought it best not to look at how easy it was for them.

“I-I think that I’m doing it!”

Minho’s eyes lit seeing you start to swing your feet back and forth. In that pink lighting of the rink, you could see that thin ring of light around his eyes once more. Even though it was unnatural, you still thought that it looked beautiful.

“WATCH OUT!!” Came a distant voice from behind you.

Before you had a second to turn around, a fuzzy blur came barreling into you. Two small bodies: a couple middle school boys chasing each other, came colliding with your teetering body, forcing you to fall to the hard ice with a terrible thud.

“Oh my God! Are you okay?” One of their pre-pubescent voices cracked.

“I-I’m fine...I think.”

Your air had been knocked right out of your lungs and your butt ached with a sharp pain that you hoped you wouldn’t be feeling for days. Both of your hands were wet with ice from the contact. Minho quickly offered you his hand up.

“-You okay?” He brushed ice off of your coat.

Truthfully, you were horribly shaken, and your chest shook, but you lied once more. “I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.”

“No you’re not.” His worried eyes studied you. “Lets get you something warm to drink okay?”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“One hot chocolate please.”

Minho fiddled with his wallet, picking out that same iridescent square from before. As soon as his fingers touched it, it glimmered into a credit card.

“It can do that?” You had uttered, but he gave you back a cautious glare.

The man at the little coffee stand took it without question, and somehow, it worked.

“$3.15″ He monotoned, and gave the card back.

The white Styrofoam cup warmed your hands instantly, and the chocolatey steam delighted your nostrils.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to.”

“It’s no problem. I wanted to.”

You took a sip, but a strange silence befell over your date, and he furrowed his brows.

Under his breath, he repeated the word “...wanted?”

The further that you walked along the river together, the less that you wanted to take another look at your watch where it peaked out from your coat sleeve. You imagined that it must have been nearing almost 10:30--optimistically. Instead, you took long and purposeful sips of of your drink and indulged in the way that the heat would seep down from your throat and all the way down your body.

Onward, one of the great and massive bridges of the city blinked with an array of multicolored lights: some from cars, others from the way that it was decorated to look a bit like shining stars. Under the lights, the navy-black of the river reflected the fractals of light. The walkway was nearly empty of people except for the odd couple sitting and cuddled up by the edge of the water. The water should have been frozen, but it didn’t appear to be giving up just yet.

Your companion had drawn quiet with eyes cast down to his walking feet. You had half a mind to reach out to him...

“Is there anything you would like to do?” Your question filled the quiet, but you didn’t expect him to stop in his steps upon hearing it.

“Are you asking me if there is anything that I want do to?”

“Yes...?”

Minho was again quiet, then turned to look at the vast expanse of the cityscape in front of you both.

Suddenly, he began, “Valentines Day is a holiday that has to do with loving, doesn’t it?”

You stammered at the question in your confusion, but still answered. “Yes.”

“You express love on the holiday? You show people that you love them, and that you care for them. Right?”

“I think so...but why are--”

“--What do you think that it means to love something?”

Distantly, cars honked, and music boomed out from drawn down windows, and it floated in the evening air.

For you, loving was something that was second nature. It was little bits of happiness, fuzzy feelings, but it also ached, and felt like being lost. How could you possibly begin to describe what it meant?

Minho’s eyes were full of intrigue and even maybe a twinge of desperation. Could Mirrors even hold such a thing in their eyes?

“I-I’m not sure how to cover it all, but, I guess that I could say that loving something, or someone, is to want them. You want to be around them, you want to see them laugh or smile, you want to make them feel that you care. I don’t think that it is much more complicated than that.

The man appeared even more confused, almost like he had been computing his own mental calculations right before his very eyes. Then, all at once, his eyes softened.

“If loving something is to want it; to have desire, desiring is the first step? Love must be simplier than I thought that it was, and maybe...I think that I can do it.”

“What are you talking about?”

Minho swept up his hands in yours after casting aside the cup to the ground.

“You asked me if I wanted to do something. But the thing is...I don’t think I’ve ever wanted do to anything ever before in my life. It was just, what others wanted of me and what I colud do for them. Not me.”

Realization swept over Minho piece by piece, and soon it all unfolded for you too.

He drew your arms and hands around the back of his neck to pull your body closer to his.

You might’ve looked before, but his lips looked soft and unbelievably sweet: like melting snowflakes, whipped cream, or the fuzzy flesh of peaches.

“I do want something.” He said at last.

“Minho...what are you saying?”

“I-I can’t tell if what it is that I’m feeling is some kind of algorithm, or I’m just...you’re so...different.”

“I hope that you’re not just saying this all--”

“--I’m not! I’m not. I promise...an-and Mirrors can’t lie.” He laughed out. “How can you make a machine that’ll lie to you?”

His hands crept up your sides, and all the way up to cup your face in his hands.

He was impossible. In every way, but he was real. As real as the warmth from his hands and as real as the way that his mouth appeared to wet with saliva and how you could count the tiny moles on his face.

“Well, what is it that you--”

He had drawn your face close up into his, then closed any space that divided the two of you. Your lips parted with his into a meeting of his plush lips that were even softer than you had imagined. Even though you knew he couldn’t taste it, you flooded the taste of chocolate into his mouth, and your body shivered in the way that he ran his tongue over your bottom lip. He wasn’t intrusive, but rather curious, and thrilled. Any semblance of him that was any less than the skin that you felt on yours faded, and you poured yourself all back to him. His fingers held fast to the sides of your face while he kissed back every with every bit of him that he could. Even in the one moment when your eyes had fluttered open, he held his eyes closed, to focus only on you. Your own wondering hands laced into his fuzzy locks.

Each and every kiss that he painted across your lips was laced with indescribable want: something that he shouldn’t have even known, but you could feel it. He echoed the smile that you had pressed into his lips.

“I just want to be with you tonight. Just a bit longer. No more timers.” Minho whispered onto your mouth, barely breaking.

On the one hand, his request terrified you. A Mirror, one who you thought to be unfeeling, pre-programmed, an empty shell, wanted you. But still, you couldn’t control yourself from wanting him back, and everything about him that you knew and didn’t know. Wanting him, was the simplest thing you could have done.

“I-I want that too.”

His smile was thankful, and suddenly every little way that his eyes would crinkle or the corners of his mouth would upturn seemed more genuine.

Minho traced your hands to the back of your his neck where he guided them to the tip of his spine.

“Touch here.” He guided your fingertip over what felt like a bone. “Press down.”

You did so, and the patch of skin sunk down a bit like a button. You held his eyes which flickered wholly with that blue-white light you had taken notice of before.

“Say “Bypass LK2510.” “

He held your finger down still, and you repeated the phrase, watching as the light vanished all at once, even that thin ring around his irises.

“What did that do?”

Minho blinked a couple time like he was ridding sleep from his eyes, then beamed with a grin that only got wider and wider. “They shouldn’t know where I am for a while. You disabled my tracker.”

“I did what??? Can’t I get in trouble for that??”

“Not when I made you do it.”

In his delight, he pressed his lips back up against yours with a kind of light air that was ecstatic and hurried--it was contagious, and the feeling swept over you until you were just as giddy. You were nearly as giddy as a school child reveling in the mischief of knowing what they were doing was against the classroom rules.

Your chest swelled with nervous excitement, but it wasn’t nearly as addictive as any drug that you could imagine.

“Where do you want to go now?” You asked him with hands clinging to the sides of his coat.

“Anywhere.”

[nsfw version/ending coming soon on binniesthighs!]

272 notes · View notes

mundane127 · 3 years

Text

nct127 as ideal summer holiday destinations and what it says about them.

taeil : jeju, south korea. taeil appreciates familiarity and finds comfort in travelling alone where he is able to move at his own pace. he doesn't need to plan out and follow a strict itinerary and need not worry about not being able to communicate. the kind to ditch conventional drives and impulsively ride a bike to enjoy the sea view. loves to self-indulge when he is alone - booking a beautiful suite near the beach and taste the freshest seafood. and yes, since music = taeil, watch him explore the hipster and rustic music stores where he has the luxury to spend as much time as he wish in his personal bubble away from the world.

taeyong : lisbon, portugal. a man of art - taeyong really enjoys that mix of rustic building and the rich culture. he is like a burst of colors, eccentric and expressive. might pop a dance move or two in the middle of the streets and loves to maybe just lay back and have a cup of coffee as he people watch. enjoys the preparation process of holidays, reads up and learns a few lines to communicate with locals. i can just see him with his tinted sunglasses, map in hand and a new friend he met a few minutes ago that finds him really friendly despite a language barrier behind the camera helping him snap pictures. taeyong lives in the moment.

johnny : mallorca, spain. music, beach and chill screams johnny. not getting drunk or going to clubs for five days straight kinda rave but more of enjoying the night scene to the fullest, basking in the local nightlife, unafraid to try interesting concoctions, vibe and free from the shackles of the world at the music festivals and meeting new people from around the world through wine-tasting and paddle surfing. won't hesitate to spend on trying local food and there's always a snack in one of his hand as he walk around. doesn't like plans too, very spontaneous and focuses on making memories even if he ends up at a dead end where he least expects it.

yuta : okinawa, japan. also enjoys domestic travels because he doesn't like the hassle or being bound to a tour guide in somewhere he isn't familiar with. besides, okinawa is a combination of so many other famous summer hotspots! slightly more on the adrenaline side, can dive and snorkle for many days if he enjoys it, researches on the top local food to eat and makes sure to structure a schedule to visit all of them. spends his final day on the beach sun-tanning, no thoughts and no worries at all and taking the opportunity to recharge fully to start afresh after the holiday. not exactly a big fan of shopping.

doyoung : amorgos, greece. apparently, the only way to get to this island in greece is by ferry and can take up to eight hours but the result at the end of it is exactly why doyoung started on this journey anyway. he is not only competitive, but very very tenacious and determined and believes that at the end of a long painful journey, he gets to savour the beautiful view. obsessed with being away from people, loves his alone time and probably carries a diary with him to document his holiday. may have chosen not to buy roaming so he can truly unwind. plans his finances well and stays in a hostel / guesthouse where he can find like-minded travelers.

jaehyun : istanbul, turkey. loves shopping and admiring the cultural elements of this modern yet rustic city. jaehyun gives off an energy where he likes trying everything but not exactly the kind that find importance in meeting new people. also another avid photographer, but rather than pictures of himself, he takes pictures of cats by the streets or locals going about their day. our boy may be a little shy and reserved contrary to what people often see and he is a 'feeler' so he remembers the moments in their scents, sounds and the energy it gives him. a quiet and peaceful traveller, don't want too much attention and emphasizes on blending in.

jungwoo : gold coast, australia. rubs off me as someone who really loves to spend his entire trip high on adrenaline and the capital of amusement parks is where jungwoo will be. has lots of fun even if he takes scary rollercoasters alone. an introvert with extrovert tendencies where he'll unknowingly crack jokes and naturally become the life of the party. his long day ends with him just taking nice long showers in his hotel bathtub with some good music to recharge from all the human interaction. not a detailed planner but likes having a rough idea of what to expect at the next amusement park he is about to conquer. always checks his documents.

mark : san diego, usa. we've seen how he blends in so well with the local asking whether they know that song. lonely travels are exciting because he gets to geek out without anyone else's opinion. honestly prefers nights over days because of human traffic, likes therapeutic activities like watching fireworks and star-gazing or cinemas under the stars. loves to just stand among many and enjoy music. may or may not take part in hot-dog eating competitions because of the sudden burst of energy. in a place where mark doesn't feel out of place and matches his energy, it is where his true self is unleashed.

haechan : bangkok, thailand. bold is the only word to describe haechan. crazy nightlife, food and shopping that he just cannot resist. wants to try everything and doesn't give two shit about anything else. so spontaneous and his only worry is about not having enough fun. haechan is youthful and i can only see him being so even in future. never plans and may lose his passport but doesn't sweat a single bit, he is street-savvy and he is definitely a master at thinking on his feet. probably someone who is actually very realistic and understands that everyone is living on borrowed time and why not make the best of it while he can.

#nct scenarios #nct scenario #nct reactions #taeil scenarios #taeyong scenarios #johnny scenarios #yuta scenarios #jaehyun scenarios #jungwoo scenarios #mark scenarios #haechan scenarios

61 notes · View notes

hatterstan-shameblog · 3 years

Note

Smut, you say 👀

You're this cute, kinda innocent woman that gets the help of this handsome gigolo to not be as... innocent.

💕 The Professional: Chapter 1 💕

Chapter Two

Rating: PG-13 (for this chapter only)

Pairing: Danma Takeru (Hatter)/Reader (she/her

Tags: flirting, suggestive conversation, alcohol consumption, smoking, kissing

“Well, darling,” he says, voice low and smooth and so much closer than before, “I think it’s high time we got to the heart of the issue. The root of the root and the bud of the bud, as it were.”

“Uh,” you say, unsure of where he’s going with this but very much enjoying his simple touches, “what do you mean?”

“I’m just wondering,” he clarifies, pausing to let out a soft sigh, “when you’re going to give in and kiss me.”

Notes: This is a kind-of sort-of AU—in the show, Hatter references his involvement with the host club business, and mentions that he “would do anything” to be the best. Although host clubs do not usually involve sex work (as far as I know), I believe that he would definitely offer that “off the books” in order to win over his clientele.

You’re nervous. Nervous and jittery and—oh, dear, there’s a lot of feelings going on in here, and all of them seem to fall under the umbrella of ‘mild to moderate discomfort.’ Not that feeling uncomfortable is anything new; in fact, there are very few times where you happen to feel truly comfortable outside of, say, the warmth of your bed or the soothing calm of a late-night bath. Places where you feel safe. Places where you can let yourself breathe and be, unhindered by expectation.

The place where you currently find yourself—this strange little pocket of a room in the buzz and bustle of a Friday-night Kabukicho—is full-to-bursting with expectation. From the polished wood floors to the glittering gold chandelier that hangs from the center of the ceiling, there is an inescapable sense of opulent whimsy that is tinged pink with a blush of sensuality. There are even fresh flowers on the table in front of you—a vase of ranunculus, blooming bright and orange like a green-stalked bunch of tiny setting suns.

Something like an itch tickles your sweat-damp palms, making you ball your hands into tight fists around the fabric of your skirt. Oh, you should have worn something different! Something sexier, maybe, with a deeper neckline and a shorter hem, that hugged the shape of your body as opposed to ghosting over it in fluttering chiffon. Not that you actually, you know, owned anything like that, but—

The pop! of a champagne cork makes you jump. Hell, you feel like you’re about to pop, too, from the nervous energy boiling and swelling in your chest. It’s so very difficult not to fidget, to keep your toes from tapping out a frantic little rhythm on the rug.

Looking back, you realize that the paperwork had been the ‘easy’ part. Not that it had been particularly easy—who knew there would be an application process for this kind of thing?—but it was less stressful to fill out a (surprisingly comprehensive) questionnaire in the privacy of your own home as opposed to this agonizing waiting.

And what, exactly, are you waiting for?

Why, you’re waiting for him.

His name is Takeru—or, at least, that’s what he’s asked you to call him. Whether or not it’s a stage name is difficult to tell; but what you do know is that it sounded so very nice in the deep clear of his voice. The only thing that sounded better was your name, which he said in a gently-sultry half-whisper that made you feel…many thing, and not all of them innocent.

In a devastatingly well-tailored suit of lipstick red—a vibrant pop of a color you would so often consider buying at the makeup counter but always put back—it’s nearly impossible to look at anything but him. A small collection of rings glisten from his fingers, most of them delicate little things that wink a tiny gleam when the light hits them just right. The dizzying black-white-gold pattern of his shirt is unbuttoned just a smidge too low, offering you a tantalizing view of his chest.

And although his back is toward you, concocting some kind of magic at the bar cart along the far wall, you can all but feel the warm-dark of his eyes on you. Oh, he has beautiful eyes, dark and warm with the glitter of laughter—or perhaps mischief, if the situation calls for it. A slim nose leads down to a shapely mouth, handsomely framed by a neatly-trimmed beard and mustache.

Also, his hair—oh, that man has a great head of hair.

Aesthetics aside—he has been undeniably lovely. Slipping the coat from your shoulders when you walked into the room, fingertips skimming the slope of your shoulders with only the barest of touches. Offering you a glass of champagne (“Yes, thank you”) as he leads you to sit on the green velvet settee, hand hovering above but never touching the small of your back. A serene smile on his lips as he talks, as he tells you that your dress is lovely (“Blue is definitely your color, darling”) and letting out an airy chuckle when you mention that this was as good occasion as any to dig it out of the back of your closet.

It is impossible to ignore the way he is so very provocative—subtly so, in a way that makes you second-guess whether his flirtations had happened at all. Did his eyes really linger over the shape of your legs, or was he simply taking a moment to admire your (new, very cute) shoes? Did his fingertips slip over the curve of your shoulder as he removed your coat, or were you just imagining it?

His gaze tiptoes over your shape as he sits down beside you, two flutes of pink-tinged something in hands.

“I’ve taken the liberty of making something a little special,” he says, “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, uh, thank you,” you say as he hands you one of the glasses, “it…it looks nice.”

“Know what it is?”

“Uh,” you say after a moment of silent deliberation, “Maybe alcohol?”

He huffs a short laugh at your half-joke—a rather polite response, and it manages to soothe the bubble of regret that had risen up your throat the moment you’d said it.

“You’re not wrong. More specifically, though, it’s a Kir Royale—or, my take on one, at the very least,” he watches the bubbles fizzle to the top of the glass, “I find myself more or less incapable of keeping with convention, even when it comes to alcohol.”

“Well, uh,” you say, “it’s pretty. I like the color.”

You taste the drink, bubbles like tiny fireworks tickling over the surface of your tongue. There is a dry bitterness, no doubt from the champagne, but it’s softened by a fruity sweetness. Something familiar, something that reminds you of summer and shaved ice and walks along the river and—

“Cherry,” you say, half-lost in the hazy-warm memory of days gone by—until you remember where you are and snap back to reality, “it’s, uh, it tastes like cherries.”

“Very good. Usually, the drink calls for creme de cassis, but I used Kijafa instead. It’s a dessert wine from Denmark, made from cherries,” his brow raises just a smidge, “I thought it appropriate, given the situation.”

And it takes you a minute to understand what he’s talking about. Cherries. You. Ah. A rather crass comparison, but accurate all the same.

“Oh,” you say, picking a very uninteresting spot on the rug to look at in an attempt to avoid meeting his eyes, “I, uh…”

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he adds, “In fact, virginity isn’t even a real thing. Completely made up. Means nothing, really.”

There is a kind of lag—he’s speaking, you know he’s speaking, but it takes your brain a few extra seconds to figure out what he’s actually saying. It’s strange, hearing someone talk to you so openly about sex. Not unwelcome, by any means, but you need a moment (or two, or ten) to adjust.

“That being said,” he continues, as if he’s discussing the weather, “just because it doesn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of life doesn’t mean it’s nothing to you.”

He’s fishing. He’s fishing, and you kind of want to take the bait, but…well, you’re finding it difficult to get your thoughts in order. He’s the very picture of calm, all while you’re floundering over a simple conversation.

“Apologies if I’ve overstepped,” he says, taking a slow sip of his drink, “I thought you might prefer to talk it over a bit. ”

“No, uh, you’re fine,” you answer quickly, “I’m just…I thought the paperwork kind of covered all that.”

“More or less,” he answers, “however, I’ve found that the person who fills out the forms and the person who ends up sitting across from me are not always of the same mind.”

He reaches a hand into the inside of his jacket and pulls out a silver-plated cigarette case. Although he is not gentleman enough to ask your permission to smoke, he is gentleman enough to offer you a cigarette before taking one of his own. You decline. He shrugs and quickly snaps the case shut before laying it on the table.

“In fact, it’s not uncommon for my clients to have a complete change of heart the second they walk through the door,” he continues, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, “Or, sometimes later on, for that matter. Depends on the person.”

Cigarette held between his teeth, he retrieves a lighter from his right trouser pocket. With a sharp little snick, he ignites it, pulling the little orange flame towards his face and hiding it behind his hand to let it catch.

“Really?”

You watch him intently, the way his eyelids flutter closed at the first inhale. The way his lips pucker around the filter and release, the red-pink sticking slightly as they pull away and let smoky white flow out and fade into the air.

“Really,” he confirms, “once, I had a client step inside, take one look at me, and promptly walk right back out. Never saw them again, which is fine. I’ll never fault someone for doing what’s right for themselves.”

“Are you, uh, trying to talk me out of it?”

“Not at all. Just making you aware of your options,” he says, “Doing anything for the first time is scary. Driving a car, swimming in the ocean, traveling abroad—sex is no different.”

“Yeah, well,” you respond, “you also get to do most of those things with your clothes on, so…”

“Depends on who you’re with.”

You can’t help but laugh a little.

“Well I still want to…you know,” you answer, “uh, do it. The…the sex part.”

“I’m happy to hear it.”

“Yeah, well, you’re supposed to say that.”

“It’s the truth,” he insists, “I can’t imagine anyone being upset at the thought of having a pretty thing like you in their bed.”

“I’m not—“

“Don’t,” he interrupts, taking on a tone that brokers no arguments, “I will suffer many things, but a liar isn’t one of them. You are an attractive woman and I refuse to be told otherwise.”

“Sorry, I,” you say sheepishly, “I guess I just…wasn’t expecting you to…like me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He ashes his cigarette and takes another long, slow drag, “You’re very sweet. A bit shy, maybe, but I happen to like the shy ones.”

And there is something about the way he says it, the way his voice wraps around the words—oh, there are implications to those words, and you find yourself growing warm at the thought of what exactly those implications could entail.

You sip your drink. He smokes. The quiet between you is almost comfortable. Maybe it’s the alcohol working it’s bubbly magic, but you’re starting to feel a bit more at ease in this strange little place.

Moreover, you’re starting to feel a bit more at ease with him. The thought of kissing him crosses your mind, then doubles-back and crosses it again. Oh, that sounds nice. He would be good at it, too; starting gently, mouth pressed soft and sure against your own, and then just the tiniest tease of his tongue—

“And there you go, biting your lip again,” he says, snapping you out of your impromptu fantasy, “You have no idea how sexy that is, do you?”

He is sporting a devilish grin—not only is he aware that you had been daydreaming about him, but he’s relishing the fact that he was able to catch you so off-guard.

“Didn’t even realize I was doing it,” you admit with a shrug. But you can’t help but feel a thrill at the thought of being considered ‘sexy’—you never really let yourself feel that way, but now that it’s happening…oh, it’s nice.

“It’s absolutely delicious, darling. Makes me wonder what else you do when you’re turned on…”

And he’s got you—like a knife held under your chin, his sharp gaze pins you in place. He is impossible to avoid. Not that you particularly want to avoid him—there’s something irresistible about this man, something that you can’t quite name but definitely want more of.

It’s scary.

It’s exciting.

“I’m,” you say with a nervous chuckle, “not really sure, myself. Guess we’ll have to, uh, figure it out together.”

His gaze darkens. He takes one last lungful of nicotine before stubbing out his cigarette.

“I suppose we shall.”

And he’s moving now, sliding himself down so that he’s closer to you. He stops when there is barely an inch of space between the outside of his thigh and your own. His right arm has draped itself over the back of the sofa, the fingertips of his hand now skimming the skin of your shoulder in loose, mindless sweeps.

“Uh,” you say, unsure of where he’s going with this but very much enjoying his simple touches, “what do you mean?”

“I’m just wondering,” he clarifies, pausing to let out a soft sigh, “when you’re going to give in and kiss me.”

He plucks the champagne flute from your grasp and sets it on the table in front of you.

“I, uh—“

The fingertips on your shoulder continue to make their idle little circles, almost hypnotic in their swirling pattern. His left hand catches your right wrist, his thumb pressing above where your pulse thrums beneath sensitive skin.

“Bit fast,” he observes, pulling your arm closer as if inspecting it, “Could be nerves, but I think it’s more from excitement, don’t you?”

You have no choice but to lean into him as he brings your hand closer. Your shoulder presses against his arm, and you feel the solid shape of him through the smooth of his suit. He’s strong underneath all of those layers—warm, too, judging from the heat that radiates from his person.

“I’m—“

The thumb that had been testing your pulse inches higher, stopping when it’s pressing into the center of your palm. His eyes lock with yours, a heartbeat of a moment, and brings your wrist closer and closer until his lips are ghosting over your flesh. When he finally decides to make contact, you gasp—it’s a delicate sensation, but sends your heart skipping in a shaking staccato.

And, then.

Then he sucks.

The sound you make is halfway between an oh of surprise and a desperate little moan—oh, wow, that’s really weirdly unexpectedly hot—and you don’t even have the presence of mind to feel embarrassed by your own reaction. He’s not even doing much, not really; just a little bit of pressure, lips parted just enough to let his tongue slip out and have a taste of you.

But, oh, it feels…it feels filthy, it feels decadent, it feels like something you should not be doing but very much want to keep doing for the rest of your life. Takeru’s eyes have since fluttered shut, and he hums the tiniest sound of pleasure as he maintains his seductive tease.

“Please,” you manage to sigh, sounding as breathless as you feel, “please, I, I want you to kiss me.”

His lips release from your wrist with a pucker-pop noise—which was no doubt intentional on his part, and does nothing to quell the thrill of desire in your belly.

“Hm. I’ll make you a deal,” he says, shifting a bit to the left so that he can turn to face you better, “I’ll kiss you for the rest of the night, but right now…you kiss me.”

And what a deal that is—you don’t even have to think about it, head bobbing in an affirmative nod as you wet your lips in anticipation. The hand that had so lovingly held yours is now guiding you to rest your palm just above his knee. You reflexively reach your other hand out to steady yourself, and it lands against his chest before you can stop it.

He’s so close now. There’s barely any space between your faces, barely room to breathe—

“Go on, darling,” he whispers, “if you want me, have me.”

And you do.

You kiss him like it’s the easiest thing in the world. The anxiety that has plagued you since the moment you entered the room hasn’t completely dissipated—it would be foolish to think it’d be that easy to banish those feelings completely—but all that is now secondary to the feeling of his mouth on yours.

Kissing Takeru is warm. It’s soft and it’s sure and it’s…comfortable, in a way. Safe, even. He does not press, doesn’t do much of anything except mirror the way your lips slide against his own. A gentle rhythm, a push and pull between the two of you that feels as natural as the moon guiding the tides to shore—yes, kissing him is good and right and something you want to do many times over.

Unfortunately, you have to pull away to breathe. He doesn’t let you go far, though, one hand cupped behind the nape of your neck and the other pressing into the small of your back.

“Oh, you are sweet,” he purrs, his gaze dropping to your freshly-kissed lips, “and, seeing that I’m a man of my word…”

As it turns out, being kissed by Takeru might be better than kissing him, yourself. He is still so very careful when he presses his lips to yours, but this time…this time, there’s fire. He tastes like the best part of a cigarette, like warmth and alcohol and cherries, and it only intensifies as he tests the seam of your lips with his tongue.

Little by little, you begin to test him, too. Hands cradle the curve of his jaw, feeling the way his face shifts as he moves against you. Fingertips run through the soft dark of his hair—oh, he likes that, if the half-sigh that slips from his throat is to be believed. And when you nip at his lower lip with your teeth (he had, after all, very much enjoyed the way you bit your lip earlier), he genuinely moans and pulls you even closer to himself.

It’s when he begins to wander lower, with his mouth skimming the sensitivity of your neck and his hand splayed across your lower back in a way that flirts with the idea of indecency, that you begin to want more. Fear—and maybe that’s not exactly the right word for what you’re feeling, but it’s the only one that comes to mind—begins to creep up the column of your spine.

The “what-if’s” start filling your brain; what if you mess something up? What if you do something he doesn’t like? What if you freeze up later and—

“Alright, darling?”

His voice is a low soothe against your ear; he’s retreated, just a bit, and his hand has wandered to a chaste and respectable area of your mid-back.

“I—“

You want him to take you to bed. You want him to take off your dress and kiss you in all the places you thought weren’t worth kissing, to let his hands trace sparks along the curves of your shape and let him be close to you in a way that no one else has. You want him, despite the uncertain ache that burns between your ribs and bids you to hide yourself away and leave behind the pleasure of his touch.

…But all you can manage is a nervous glance to the bed behind you (the one you had been avoiding thinking about up until this point) and a stammered “Can we, uh…?”

“Ask me,” he says, his index and middle fingers idly skimming the notch in your collarbone, “I’ll give you anything you want, as long as you ask me.”

It’s difficult to make eye contact with him—every time you try, you feel embarrassment swell up beneath your tongue.

But Takeru is, as you have come to learn over the last hour or so, decidedly patient. He shows no sign of relenting, appearing to be perfectly content with giving you an expectant grin and continuing his little touches as you try not to squirm in your seat.

“I,” you gulp, “I want…“

You bite your lip—oh, wait, he likes that too, and he’s staring at you with those sharp and sultry eyes, and it makes something behind your heart squeeze and unsqueeze itself and punches the air from your lungs and—

“Take me to bed,” you manage to spit out, and it all sounds like one word with how quickly you pushed the words into the air. The “uh, please” you tack on at the end is an afterthought, but perhaps it’s polite enough to pass muster.

“Was that so hard,” Takeru asks with a good-natured chuckle, “but since you asked so nicely…”

He takes your hand in his and brings it to his lips for a kiss—and even that, after everything, still has you feeling a flutter of something giddy in your stomach.

“Darling,” he says, “it would be my pleasure.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

…and now, you’ll have to wait until chapter two to get to the “good stuff!”

It’s been a challenge writing this—I’m trying to make the scenario believable while still keeping it vague enough to allow for people to make up their own little details. It’s also been unexpectedly difficult to write him, since he’s kind of being himself while also playing a character who’s trying to mold themself into their client’s fantasy…it’s a lot of layers, but it’s been fun trying to figure things out!

#alice in borderland #hatter #danma takeru #writings and such #spicy boy #alice in borderland netflix #takeru danma #we did it fellas. we finally wrote the first chapter.#I’ve been working on this for WEEKS #now to write the actual spicy stuff lol oh geez

39 notes · View notes

sopxhiea · 3 years

Text

Lush

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Summary: The infamous wild girl spends a night with Alfie and he soon seems to forget about her, or it seems until they run into each other in a familiar setting and this time, she’s the one pulling at his ropes.

Part 1

“Bite me..” “Where?”

The inside of the gallery is empty.

Other than the canvases laying around, splashes of paint on different surfaces and the many used rugs on the floor, there’s nothing else. There’s a hum that goes around, the quiet tone of a voice that fills the empty space. It’s a song from a movie, the one that Annabelle played for the younger girls in the school.

It’s hard to tell what time it is, the sun is not so cheerful these days. The sleeves of the dress you have on are covered with paint but you’re not the one to care. Most of the clothes you own have splashes of paint on them anyway. There’s the smell of oil paint but it’s familiar, there’s comfort in it.

You recall the bloke who gave you this place.

Some of the lads were so rich that they didn’t mind giving away a small property for the pretty lady who was willing to kiss them. In many occasions, you had been that lady. That was as far as you had taken with that particular lad, he still thought you’d open your legs for him but you just kept him waiting, on his toes like most men liked to be even though they wouldn’t admit it.

The etiquette classes start in an hour, you realise once you have fully grasped what time it is. It takes half an hour to get to the boarding school, a little more to prepare yourself for the scoldings you are going to have to listen to for showing up in a paint covered dress. There’s the meeting after that, the generous donors are invited to the house for an event.

It’s to show appreciation, Annabelle says, but you know the school’s just trying to snag more money from the rich. It’s like that night where they’d paired up girls with people twice their age to show their ‘good manners’ when it just meant that they needed them to be out of their hair for the new youngings. The men were mostly in their thirties, rich and known around the area, although they were all unattractive and inappropriate.

Yours hadn’t been though.

Alfie was his name, you recalled. He had blue eyes that were curious at times but he mostly reminded you of a calm ocean that could sweep you at any given moment. He’d taken you to his house that night, being a saviour of sorts and save you from the wrath of the head lady.

He had turned out to be nothing like you’d expected. His house was fairly large, and you’d seen your fair share of lavish houses. The furniture was mostly made of wood, the calm image of the interior suited him and it was easy to pinpoint that he, for a sole fact, lived on his own. He’d told you his maid had gone home but you could help yourself to anything you’d wanted and he had stared at you the whole time you played with his dog.

He wasn’t rude but intense. He’d asked you questions through the night, some of them were answered whereas for some, you just clicked your tongue. You had played a game of question for a question and he’d done the same, answering only a handful of what you’d asked.

But both of you had heard things on the street.

The chatter never stopped and especially not when it came to people that stood out, which was Alfie and you. You’d heard of the jewish gangster, too scary to even have a proper look at his face, they said. He’d killed many before, you knew that for a fact from the way he had looked at you when you’d asked if he’d killed over a dozen people. People didn’t talk to him, they just got out of his way and prayed that he didn’t pick on them. He had a temper, it was easy to tell from the way his calm side would disappear but he had been nothing but kind to you.

He’d also heard things about you. It was impossible not to, you thought, especially when you were someone like Alfie. You were the infamous girl every cockney banged on about, it was the way you moved or your million dollar smile he’d heard about but he hadn’t believed in any of it. He was proven wrong when he’d seen you, you were much younger than he’d thought but had a side to you that he’d only seen in reckless men during the war, the kind of people who’d go out knowing they wouldn’t see the end of it.

You didn’t think much of the way his eyes would soften when they landed on you.

Daydreams were not your thing, trouble was and you were known for it. You knew that Alfie was a cruel man in a harsh line of business and that night was the one time your paths had crossed and it would remain that way. Even though you couldn’t deny the fact that he sparked your curiosity.

A thrilling one he was, Alfie.

You had met your share of men, as most of the city knew, who were all dull and rather boring. Alfie seemed calculated, cold and distant at first and he was all those things but it was easy to see the layers he had, he needed time to peel back all of them to reveal a truer version of himself and that was a challenge you were willingly up to.

Although you doubted he’d come around again.

It had been a lucky day for you when he’d showed and saved you from hours of endless posh talk but that happened rarely, you knew. You had no problem with the life you had now: parties, sneaking out and making trouble. As far as you could tell, the lads liked it and that’s all you needed to get out of the boarding school with the excuse of having a date.

You’d had a lot of them until now but no one stuck. You were young, that was no deniable but the night was younger. Your reputation preceded you anyway, there was no reason to hide that and especially not when you’d turned out to be the opposite of everything the ladies in the school expected from you. It was fun, to say the least.

After making it to the school and hearing an earful from Annabelle about just how unlike a lady you were, you went up to change for the event. The classes had begun anyway and you didn’t want to attend. The mirror in your room soon showed the reflection of someone you knew, you liked her.

The blush colored dress had been deep in your closet somewhere with the delicates, it reached just under your knees with the silk material. The weather was cold for a slip dress, or so you figured so a beige cardigan was thrown over the dress and your hair was left unruly, the way it was after a shower. You didn’t bother scrubbing your hands hard enough in the shower to get the paint off, it looked better this way.

And so you made your way downstairs and saw that some of the most generous donors had already made their way into the large salon near the entrance. There were pastries and little treats everywhere, no drink other than red wine was served and you realised, almost all of the people who’d showed up were men. They liked to look at pretty young things, you knew, so they had given away more money than they could realised and you were sure some of the older girls would marry these rich men, it was regular occurrence.

Just when you were about to enter the salon and say hi to couple of these said gentlemen, you felt a harsh tug on your arm as Annabelle made you face her older face.

“Y/N, my dear..” she spoke in a soft tone. My dear? She never called you that. You squinted your eyes and didn’t say anything but she kept on talking anyway. “There’s a guest coming in a few minutes...He requested your company through the evening.” she said, the tone of her voice unfamiliar to you. Was it jealousy Annabelle was feeling?

“You’ll behave, won’t you?” she asked, but she already knew the answer. It was no. You nodded regardless before she spoke again but didn’t realise a big car, bigger than the ones the other gentlemen came in pulled up right in front of the school and a cane stepped out.

“Use your words, dear?” she said one last time while not letting go of your arm. She was behaving suspiciously but you chose to ignore it, it wasn’t your problem.

“Yes, Madam.” you half-whispered but before she could scold you furthermore, you heard a familiar voice. The one that had been hanging at the back of your mind since he’d left.

“’ere’s the lass I came to see.” he spoke, your eyes widening before you gained your composure again. It would take a lot for him to impress you, he knew that.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Solomons.” Annabelle spoke and you shot him a knowing smirk. He was putting on a plan like he did when your teachers were around but in private, it was you who played the devil.

“Yeah, it ‘s. Why the fuck is everybody inside, then?” he asked and you chuckled, not low enough so it made Annabelle turn to you and then to the broad gentlemen who was currently drinking your figure in a dainty slip dress.

“Well, the weather’s not been the upmos-”

Annabelle started speaking but Alfie just took a few steps towards you and she immediately stopped. His hand was tugging at his beard, your amused orbs met his and you eyed the hat afterwards.

All along, Alfie ignored the way Annabelle’s eyes widened. He had no manners, she concluded but it’s what made him better than the rest. He had no time for bullshit and you came to realise that once more as he stood right in front of you, hand around his cane while the other brushed through his beard. You had to look up to meet his eyes as he was twice your size but you were fairly short and he was larger than the average person.

“‘ello, lass.” he said, a hint of a smirk on his plump lips hidden between layers of scruff. You tore your eyes away from the dreamy pink clouds and met his orbs with a smile.

“Nice hat.” you said, a giggle at the end of the sentence. You didn’t want to do the proper greeting and all that, you knew he was here to see you so why waste time?

You saw Annabelle go crazy at your words, since you hadn’t said ‘good afternoon, mister’ with a fucking curtsy like she’d taught you on numerous occasions. You’d just smiled sheepishly and made a remark about his hat. Alfie realised it soon after your eyes drifted away to the old lady and he decided to remedy the cause for the rest of the evening.

“Her, yeah, she’ll be with me for the rest of the fuckin’ evenin’. That a problem?” he spoke, turning to Annabelle while your eyes caught his rings again. You had traced his tattoo the last time you’d seen him but you wanted to feel the golden rings against your skin.

She nodded, almost frantically and you chuckled with an unimpressed face. She was nothing but screams at you but when a rich guy told her something, it was like she has lost all power and became an obedient servant of sorts. You caught the flickers of jealousy mixed with worry in her orbs when he looked at you again.

He was dangerous, you knew that for a fact as most of London did, too. He wasn’t so easy to the eye, which was why he lit something up in you. He looked strong, enough to crush a man’s windpipe with one hand but that didn’t worry you, he didn’t seem like the type to hurt a woman.

“Shall we?” you spoke in the sweetest you could muster. He didn’t know where you’d be taking him but he shot the curly haired bloke,Ollie, a look and he disappeared in a matter of seconds as Annabelle also took the hint.

He offered his arm to you and you smiled wickedly, taking it still. The truth above it all was that Alfie had come back for more. He didn’t just pursue women. They were beautiful to look at but most of them were too scared of his reputation, which was mostly made up of things that were true, to come talk to him. He had his share of women around brothels but that was it.

His line of work didn’t permit it anyway, he’d be putting someone innocent in danger if she were to become his in a public manner. Most women until now had been a bit too hesitant, not voicing their opinions on matters but just agreeing with what he would say but you didn’t do that.

He knew you had a reputation as the girl who’d steal the air from your lungs and it was true, he had been proven of the fact the first time he’d met you. You danced in a way that made Miriam close her eyes and Alfie gulp, your smile was far too innocent in a way that made Alfie think that he was now dancing with the devil.

You were much younger, too but that didn’t bother him that much.

You took him up the stairs and he felt like he was in a brothel again until you made your way into the semi-large tea room. There were wooden shelves and paintings around and a tray. This was where you’d come to read and where Annabelle would have guests of high importance. The decoration was much more simple, he noted as he sat down on one of the wooden chairs.

“Tea?” you asked and he nodded. His eyes got stuck on your hips as you swayed them while walking towards he tray.

He was looking at the devil herself now.

Alfie didn’t shy away from danger, everyone knew that but you were a different kind of danger. You could very well ruin Alfie, without even getting in his bed and he knew it, maybe that was why he wanted to find out just what you would do with a man of his wrath.

You noted the way his eyes roamed around your body, stayed on your hips for a while and then focused on your hands that were still slightly covered in paint. You handed him his cup and he nodded as your hands brushed against his in an obvious manner.

“Yer hands..” he spoke, the first word to come out of his mouth since he came into the room and you settled on the chair, leg crossed in a manner Annabelle had labelled as ‘unladylike’.

You didn’t break eye contact while speaking, you knew the state of your hands. “I was painting.” you spoke in a soft manner and Alfie hated it, he hated the affect you had on him and how he’d been trying to get rid of the stiffness between his legs for the past two weeks since he’d seen you dance the way you had.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Solomons?” you asked in a sweet tone that made his attention snap back from his manly troubles to your shining orbs. A gangster of his reputation didn’t just come around for a cup of tea, or so you guessed.

“Ya’ know who I am, lass?” he asked, the feeling of deja vu washing over you when you recalled the first encounter you had with him where he’d asked the same exact question. You still didn’t have a clue.

“Not really. Some said that you were a cruel gangster but that’s not too hard to believe.” you speak, eyeing the way his eyes look at yours with some kind of feeling in them but it’s hard to read the man.

“Why’s that?” he asked again, hands moving around the air towards you but you had no intentions of answering.

“You always ask this many questions?” you spat back but he was quick to battle it out.

“You always this fuckin’ feisty?” his voice was tailored with amusement behind it.

You smiled then, a genuine one and he felt the need to memorise the lines of your face but soon reminded himself of the man he was and the young little thing you were.

Alfie has called beforehand to make sure that you’d be in, that you wouldn’t be in a class or whatever it was that they made you do here, he wasn’t quite sure. He knew a couple men in his business who ended up getting married to girls from this school, they were proper and posh, raised the way a high society lady would be but he ceased to see any of that in you. And he wasn’t keen on seeing you in another gangster’s arm so he figured he should act quick.

“Ain’t ya’ supposed to be in a fuckin’ class?” he asked, not touching the cup you’d given him but drinking you instead. He thought it was the better option out of the two.

You appeared annoyed for a second, your pretty features seemingly tense and Alfie lost his breath but was quick to gather himself. You were truly as beautiful as they’d said. “You were the one who asked for me in the first place so I should be the one asking the questions.” you spat out, not daring to break eye-contact as he tugged at his beard.

“Ask away, luv.” he said, a smirk on his lips as he spoke. He was toying with you, in a way that made you feel all bothered which only happened when you felt like you didn’t have the upper hand. You always had the upper hand.

“What do you want?” you asked, in an innocent voice which threw Alfie off. You were fighting his wrath with fire, the kind of thing Alfie wasn’t accustomed to.

He didn’t speak.

He wasn’t sure, if he were to tell the truth. He felt drawn to you, not like a moth to a flame but it felt as though you had gone through the same thing he had. You had lost something, he could tell but he didn’t know what it was and the exterior you had built yourself to cover that: the filthy dance moves, the beautiful smile and the trouble that always seemed to follow you, intrigued him. It made him wanna observe you.

And he wasn’t even going to mention how he had envisioned you in inappropriate scenarios, that was for him to know at the moment.

You spoke, cutting through the silence with a deep knife as you used your words to entice him further, even though he was already fucked. “You want a fuck, a kiss, a dance or just to talk?”

He didn’t like the words you said, they didn’t fit your pretty little mouth but it just aroused him more. You didn’t seem like the obedient type, although he didn’t need to come all the way to the school to know that, he could’ve just asked around the pubs and they’d tell him all about the wild girl who went home with a different lad every night, most of them left bruised now.

And he had done that.

They’d told him about that one time where you’d broken a man’s nose just because he had tried to touch you inappropriately, you could dance naked and it still didn’t give them the permission to be near you. They’d told him about your uncle, your deceased parents and how your uncle was getting married to a young thing soon, about five years older than you and how it had made you drink more lately and dance less, although you did both equally well.

But he wanted to hear them from you.

“None of that.” he said, one sentence and done with the conversation. You held his gaze, trying to read him but it was not so hard to realise that Alfie was nothing like the ordinary men.

You were tired, he wasn’t telling you what he wanted either. You sighed, wanting use vulgar words but you didn’t like it when he almost winced when you did it earlier. You weren’t a dainty lady but you’d put up with it for the sake of trying to get him to talk.

“Bite me...” you whispered, under your breath on purpose so that he wouldn’t hear it but he had and you hated the little glisten of amusement that appeared on his blue orbs.

“Where?” he asked, not missing a beat and you shot him a smirk. He wasn’t a regular one you were dealing with. Men usually wanted a fuck, open your legs or a nice dance, something to satisfy them. You wouldn’t give them the first option. Unlike what many of the inhabitants of London believed, you were still an amateur in the bedroom but you knew damn well to kiss and dance enough to keep them on your toes.

That’s what made it exciting.

“Are you going to take me to your house then?” you asked, nicer this time. You desperately wanted to be in the big place again, play with cyril and maybe even have a look at that library he had told you about but didn’t let you go in.

“Ya’ wanna come to my fuckin’ house?” he asked, clearly taken back but you just smiled.

“Well, seeing as you’re not here for a quick fuck or a chat, I don’t see why not.” you giggled at the end and spoke again before he could, you needed to speak or else the man was looking at you like his last meal before his death. “And I’d like to see Cyril again.”

If Alfie was honest, he’d like that too. It had been a while since there had been a woman in the house, let alone one that came just for cyril. He had his housekeeper but that was about it, he didn’t see a good reason why not but he was busy. Alfie was always busy.

“How ‘bout I pick ya’ up, hm?” he spoke and didn’t wait for an answer. “Seein’ as I’m fuckin’ busy now, yeah, I can have ya’ picked up tonight.” he spoke and you waited for a moment.

They were all excuses.

You wouldn’t go to his house for the second time just to play with cyril, you wanted to play with him and push Alfie’s buttons. He seemed calm as you assessed the offer. No one usually said no to Alfie, including the ladies he’d offered to have around.

Much to his surprise and dismay, you shook your head. A low smile resided on your lips as you spoke to him. He was in trouble, deep trouble.

“You told Annabelle that I’d be accompanying you for the rest of the evening..” you spoke and he gulped, women were far too dangerous. “..How bout I do that?”

It could go many ways.

He saw the visions of you bent over his desk or maybe his bed, he hadn’t decided yet as you’d chant his name over and over again until he knew you wouldn’t be able to move properly the next morning but you were not predictable, he didn’t even know what he’d do if he took you to the bakery.

But he wanted to see, desperately.

And you were out ten minutes later, out to his said bakery and a world filled with the kind of danger you weren’t quite familiar with.

------

Tagging: @clairecrive @parkbearum @sourirez @vetseras @mollybegger-blog @babylooneytoonz @peakascum

a/n: I read all of the sweet comments on the first part and thank you!!! I’m so happy that you guys liked it and this will be a multi-chapter series so i’ll keep them coming! Lemme know what you thought of the chapter <3

291 notes · View notes

ramzawrites · 3 years

Text

Prince!Eret x Assassin!Reader - One Dance

Pairings: Eret x Reader

Characters included: Eret

Warnings: mention of death, talk of murder, very small mention of alchohol at the beginning

Series: No, a small fast drabble

Summary: You were sent to the local ball in order to get close to the heir Eret only that once you see the perfect chance for you to strike your emotions and feelings think this would be the best time to flare up.

Word count: 2119

Authors Note: I wrote this in the 2nd person which I’m not sure I like but I tried doing it anyway. I have been super busy with college but I wanted to write something for Eret since I love them a lot! Also this is really just a small drabble for fun so don’t expect too much lol

You sighed, taking another sip from you champagne glass. It was more so you fit in with every other snobby looking rich person in this ball room who where either dancing or chatting the world away than to enjoy an alcoholic drink.

Everyone was wearing these garish gowns with even more horrible looking masks. Thinking it would hide their identity and making a fun game out of this. Of course if you knew someone it wasn’t hard to recognize who was standing in front of you but if you didn’t it was apparently a charming game of who is who.

Though you weren’t here to play games. No, you had a job to do.

The good thing about this kind of ball is that it was actually not that hard to stand out. Everyone was wearing glittery, garish dresses and suits that the easiest way to stand out was by wearing something more toned down. All you had to wear was something that showed off the good parts of your body with simple garments.

That’s what you did. The only real choice you made when looking for what to wear was the color. At the end you settled for a simple wine red color. The mask you wore was covering both your eyes while also covering half your face.

There was no way anybody knew you there but it wasn’t about being recognized. The point of this mask was that you remained unknown. The Syndicate who you worked for made sure you were dressed properly for the event and wanted to give you at first a ceramic mask that would cover your whole face but you made the point then that this would probably pull a bit too much attention to yourself. The whole allure of this mask business was that you could see a hint of the real person.

This wasn’t your first job technically but this was your first job doing it alone and while being face to face with your victim. Honestly when it came to assassinations this was a classic and therefore should be treated as such, meaning people were expecting this.

Your goal? Prince Eret. The old king died a few weeks ago and he was about to be crowned the next ruler of the country but there were a lot of people who would love to see otherwise. Surprising? Not really. Especially seeing how the last king was a horrible ruler making sure to make the rich richer and bleeding the common folk dry. As far as people knew Eret wanted to do his best to undo this damage.

You sympathized with him, really, but a job is a job. To that you weren’t a big fan of any kind of government as well. You grew up with the Syndicate and got raised by them. You saw it all from the normal folk starving, getting beaten by the guards for not paying their protection fees all while the rich where eating cake and drinking the most expensive wines. So no, you held no love for this ruling system.

Everything was set. You had poison hidden in your clothes in case you get a chance to put it in his drink, got knives hidden and if worse came to worse you could use your hands. Now, of course to use all these things the damn prince had to appear but as it stood he was nowhere to be seen.

Angry you remembered how you told your mentor that honestly the best way would be for you to sneak in and kill him in his sleep but no this assassination had to be dramatic. To be fair this was the easiest way to get close to him if he would appear that is.

Repressing another angry sigh you decided to get some fresh air at the balcony. Give it five minutes and then return, if he is still not there you had to go back home. Your mentor forbid you to do anything else as it could jeopardize the whole assassination. Better to not attempt a failed murder and just regroup to find the next best opportunity.

It was already dark. The stars were up in the sky next to a full moon. A beautiful night for a sneak mission. Yeah, you were still not over that.

You took a good look over the view from the balcony. Right beneath it was a beautiful garden with all kinds of different flowers and hedges. Placed in such a way that it almost looked like a maze. In the middle was a beautiful fountain placed. Silently splashing in the night. It was then when you noticed someone sitting at the fountain, hunched over. Their back turned to you.

“That damned Prince.” You muttered. Of course you haven’t seen him in the ball room he has been hiding out there. This was perfect! He was alone!

Not trying to show your hurry you walked painfully slow back into the ball room, then out the room and snuck your way out into the garden. Before visiting the palace you had to learn the basic layout of the castle which honestly hammer back in how unnecessary this building was. So many rooms with no real use.

Outside, once you got close enough to the prince, you slowly pulled a dagger out that was hidden on your body. All you had to do was stab him. Either in the throat or heart. Easy enough. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Though as you stepped closer Eret tensed up. Did he hear you? You made sure to be as quiet as possible, there was no way.

“So, I’ve been found.” He spoke and turned around.

As he did you put both your arms behind your back, hiding the dagger in your hands. Trying to put a soft smile on your face to look more friendly “I am sorry, your highness. I saw you from up in the balcony and excuse my manner of speech but you seemed a bit miserable. Who would I be if I didn’t check up on the future ruler.”

Horrible.

Wait, did he roll his eyes?

“Oh, sure. I’m good. You can go back to the ball and enjoy it.”

This really wasn’t what you expected. You thought he would speak in this posh manner as all the others up in the ball room but he seemed almost normal. In fact everything seemed suspiciously normal. He wasn’t sitting up straight, his shoulders slouched, mask askew, clothing splotched by water. This prince was far removed from being what you considered princely.

To your horror you let out a chuckle. Where was your control all of the sudden? The prince eyed you with a curious gaze.

Embarrassed you tried to salvage this situation somehow “Oh, I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect you to be so-“

But Eret interrupted you “So undisciplined? Rude, even?” There was some bite to his words. Someone must have really laid in on him because of his behavior if that is how he reacted.

You shook your head “I would describe you as normal. Not snobbish like the others.”

For some reason he relaxed at that. A smile appeared on his face “Sorry if this offends you but you seem rather normal compared to the others as well if you see me like that.”

“Thank god for that.” You sighed.

The prince chuckled “Well, I’m glad to have met a somewhat kindred spirit then. I’m curious though. Can you tell me your name?”

“Y/N” you answered. Why did you say that? A blush spread on your face. Oh god, you are so screwed, oh no. Any name would have been fine but why did you blurt your real name out?

Eret took off his mask. Now you could see his genuine smile even more clearly “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Ye- Yeah.” You stammered as you tried to mirror his smile. You needed to get out of there, now.

This went downhill way too fast.

Your heart hammered against your chest, you felt rigid while also shaking out of nervousness, your cheeks were red and warm. Honestly you would love to just push your face into the fountain to get out of this shocked state.

The prince looked so genuine under the moonlight. You mentally slapped yourself as you noticed that he was looking pretty handsome under this light.

“Want to sit here with me a bit? From what you described you didn’t seem to be the biggest fan of the ball as well.”

You nodded as you inched towards him and sat down. He returned to look back up at the stars. There were no words exchanged, yet it felt somewhat intimate. At least to you.

Gripping the dagger, still hidden behind your back, you waged your options. Just a stab. Right now. It would be easy. Just stab him!

But your body refused to move. What was all that grueling training for if you couldn’t kill your target? Hell, you have killed people before so why were you now having your troubles? Was it because this time your mentor wasn’t with you? Were you really so incompetent alone?

Then the music changed. You could still hear the music from the garden. It was quiet but still audible. The change of music pulled you back out of your thoughts. Taking a deep breath you finally made your decision.

You slowly opened your hand, letting the dagger fall slowly with almost no sound into the water behind you. Something in you stopped you from doing the job, no sense in jeopardizing the whole operation by making a mistake. All you had to do was get out and deal with the consequences then.

Just as you wanted to get up Eret turned to you. A blush on his face as well “I’m not good with this but would you care for a dance?”

He was cute you thought in horror.

“A dance? Out here?”

Eret let out a nervous laugh that send the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy “I mean, would you prefer dancing between the others? Of course if you don’t want to dance I understand. It’s not really something a lot of people like.”

Biting your lip you stood up “One dance. Then I have to go. It is getting late and my family is waiting for me.” Somewhat of a lie. You considered the Syndicate as your family but you weren’t blood related.

Eret’s nervous expression turned into a happy smile. He stood up and took your hand in his. Giving you a little wink as he led you away from the fountain so you both had more room to move in. Your heart couldn’t handle this.

Together the two moved in tandem to the music. Giggling every time both of you made mistakes. Stepping on each other’s toes, almost crashing into one of the hedges or just making up your own dance moves that didn’t fit to the music that was softly playing in the background.

“Would it be rude of me to wish this dance never ended?” Eret asked. His voice soft with an emotion you didn’t dare to accept to be there.

You laughed “No, I too wish this would never end.” It was the truth.

“So tell me your full name or a way to get into contact with you if that is alright with you. I would love to stay in contact.”

That blush would never leave your face, huh.

It took a moment before you answered “I will get into contact with you, that is a promise alright?”

You then moved towards him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and as he sucked in a breath you let go of him. Moving away back inside, leaving the place in a relative hurry, all while Eret was still scrambling and trying to understand what just happened.

He tried to follow but you gave him a warning glare, stopping him in his tracks.

As you moved away from him he softly touched his check, returning back to the fountain. He couldn’t help giggling to himself. Whatever just happened it was the first time in a long while that he truly felt happy. His heart beating rapidly as he put his hands on the side of the fountain. Staring down into the water, as his rush of emotions slowly calmed down again.

It was then as he saw something glinting in the water. Curious what it was he moved closer. Surprised he pushed his hand inside the water to get a dagger out. A small dagger, sharp as can be with a few intricate designs at the hilt.

#mcyt x Y/N #mcyt x reader #mcyt reader insert #mcyt fanfiction #reader insert #dream smp fanfiction #dream smp reader insert #dream smp x Y/N #dsmp reader insert #dsmp fanfiction #dsmp x reader #The Eret #The eret smp #the eret dsmp #eret smp #eret dsmp #ramza writes

126 notes · View notes

itsnothingofinterest · 3 years

Text

I think this fandom needs more villainous Christmas content, and also we really need some light Villain content right now; so since the PLF were formed and Shigaraki was still with them for last Christmas, here’s what I headcanon Shigaraki & the lieutenants got each other during their tense first few days after the merger.

Shigaraki

He get everyone video games. And also personal consoles for each and every one of them. Now Hero Aca is 200 years in the future, but I’m gonna list specific games & series anyway and just say if it still exists, it’s the latest game from that series, if not, it’s something similar to that series. With that said, here’s what he got everyone.

Dabi: Doom

Toga: Assassins’ Creed

Spinner: Grand Theft Auto

Twice: Animal Crossing

Mr. Compress: Mario

Geten: Dark Souls

Skeptic: Professor Layton

Trumpet: Command & Conquer

Redestro: X-COM

Attitude after merger review: Good marks; no noticeable signs of favoring old friends over enemies turned allies. Good job hiding that animosity Tomura!

Dabi

He went to a book store and got everyone books; because they’re good gifts that still allow him the opportunity to knock everyone’s literacy skills by saying they should read more. It’s an important balance for him to strike, getting good gifts without appearing friendly in the slightest. Anyway, here’s the genres he got everyone

Shigaraki Edge action adventure

Toga: Romance

Spinner: Action adventure YA novel

Twice: Slice-of-life comedy

Mr. Compress: murder mystery

Geten: University-level math textbook

Skeptic: Sci-fi navel gazing

Trumpet: Political theory

Redestro: Suspenceful Thriller

Attitude after merger review: Would’ve been fine if not for that dig at Geten’s uneducated status. Try harder next year, please.

Toga

Reminiscent of her pre-quirk Christmases, she decided to make homemade gifts for everyone using whatever she had available. Which was a lot, actually, since she was not afraid to spend Redestro’s money on supplies. In fact she went out of her way to get the most expensive supplies available at every opportunity.

Shigaraki: A grim miniature carnival ground where action figures of All Might & other pros are tortured and mutilated.

Dabi: a miniature statue of him made out of platinum and then crudely painted.

Spinner: An origami model of Stain with a vast arsenal of origami swords.

Twice: a Hand-knitted toque just a bit to big for his head.

Mr. Compress: A collection of new masks in fancy paints.

Geten: A mountaineering pick-ax with a handle in his color scheme.

Skeptic: Just a piece of paper saying “I know about the neck snapping. I look forward to working with you.”

Trumpet: A Trumpet.

Redestro: A bust of his head made of solid gold and smiling his to-wide fake-y smile.

Attitude after merger review: Also docking points for a dig at a former adversary, and what’s worse is it wasn’t even in the form of a proper present. Also losing points for going out or your way to spend Redestro’s money, which granted, everyone else was doing too, but you were a bit upfront with it. Employ more subtlety next time!

Spinner

Spinner also got everyone video games like Shigaraki did; however he looked into indie games. Gotta support the little guys, y’know? That said, indie games 200 years in the future are nearly equivalent to AAA games now in all the ways that matter, so there’s not too much of a difference except it’s all spiritual successors, no franchises. Huge selection though, and there’s successors to everything so Spinner’s set.

Shigaraki: Metroid

Dabi: Mario Kart

Toga: Danganronpa

Twice: Rayman

Mr. Compress: Clunhouse Games: 51 Classics

Geten: Celeste

Skeptic: Keep Talking and Nobody Explodes.

Trumpet: Call of Duty

Redestro: Roller Coater Tycoon

Attitude after merger review: Full marks just like Tomura, as expected of his closest lieutenant. Excellent gifting Spinner!

Twice

Now that he has money, he just went on some Amazon-esque website and got the first thing he saw the reminded him of everyone. As such, his gifts are the most sporadic & random.

Shigaraki: A bottle of Kurogiri’s favorite wine.

Dabi: A quality pack of cigarettes.

Toga: Hairclips with characters from an anime she liked growing up.

Spinner: One of the spinning whetstone things for sharpening blades.

Mr. Compress: A new hat.

Geten: a pair of mittens.

Skeptic: Several Spools or wire + a pair of wire cutters.

Trumpet: A maintenance kit for trumpets.

Redestro: A $1000 donation to a quirkless rights movement in his name. (Can you tell he’s still mad about Giran?)

Attitude after merger review: Once more, major marks docked for taking a dig at an enemy-turned-ally that you can hardly even pretend is a proper gift. Once again; if you can’t do anything nice, be more sublet when acting mean.

Mr. Compress

He frankly wanted to see if he could get anyone into his hobbies, or at least get them something to remind them of him, so he robbed a magic store for magic trick-based toys & performance tools.

Shigaraki: One of those things where you saw your assistant in half (complete with saw).

Dabi: Those weird orb things that slid around your hand.

Toga: One of those boxes you have your assistant stand in and then stab them (complete with knives).

Spinner: Fancy deck of cards

Twice: Yo-yo collection.

Geten: Hula hoop

Skeptic: Semi-transparent Mirror

Trumpet: Bracelet things where you put one inside the other.

Redestro: Fog Machine

Attitude after merger review: Nearly full marks, but it is rather noticeable how League members got, on average, much larger presents than the MLA alumni. Still, the plausible deniability is worth something here.

Geten

He just went to a store to get whatever he could find. He did not try very hard for the League. Or Skeptic & Trumpet for that matter.

Shigaraki: Santa hat

Dabi: Snow globe

Toga: Chocolate Bar

Spinner: Elf hat.

Twice: Bag of candy

Mr. Compress: a $20 gift card.

Skeptic: New tie.

Trumpet: A wallet.

Redestro: A Blue-Ray collection of a movie series he’d been meaning to see.

Attitude after merger review: Absolute lowest marks; the fact that he got bad gifts for fellow MLA members does not hide this fact as well as he may think it does.

Skeptic

Not really knowing enough about any of these guys enough to really think about what they want, but still wanting to show off; he hacked into the personal bank accounts of several heroes & famous figures and, using each one, got a ¥ 1 million gift card from this store franchise that doesn’t allow any kind of refunds. Here are the corresponding accounts used to make each person’s gift (he did at least put thought into who each recipient might like to rob).

Shigaraki: All Might

Dabi: Endeavor

Toga: Best Jeanist

Spinner: Wash

Twice: Yoroi Musha

Mr. Compress: Edgeshot

Geten: Mirko

Trumpet: Some political opponent

Redestro: The HPSC president

Attitude after merger review: Both thoughtful and balanced between old & new partners, full marks for one of the last people you might’ve expected. Way to use that pride, Skeptic!

Trumpet

A rather materialistic fellow, he got everyone some new tech or item of convenience.

Shigaraki: An expensive watch.

Dabi: A temperature-controlled water bottle

Toga: A big make-up kit

Spinner: A nice suit

Twice: An Ipod.

Mr. Compress: A nice suitcase.

Geten: A mini-fridge.

Skeptic: A new laptop.

Redestro: A new phone.

Attitude after merger review: Full marks, I suppose, if only because he equally half-arsed it for everyone. Not even out of malice either, he just didn’t try all that hard for anyone.

Redestro

The richest of the lot: he also just got everyone some piece of technology/luxury rich person thing, with the difference that his presents were really big & expensive. He was rather invested in endearing himself to the new team.

Shigaraki: A kind of really big yacht, one with windows around the deck to keep people from seeing him. Imagine a cross between a yacht & a limo, actually.

Dabi: A stupidly big TV with like 10 different streaming services pre-paid on it.

Toga: A self-driving car.

Spinner: One of those 4-wheeled dirt bikes

Twice: His very own mountain lodge.

Mr. Compress: His very own hot tub.

Geten: His own private jet, complete with a walk-in freezer installed in the back.

Skeptic: A warehouse & collection of those big data storage units; enough to back-up all the data his company had ever collected.

Trumpet: A new van

Attitude after merger review: Full marks and well earned; because even if they weren’t always the most personalized, they were too high quality for it to matter. And for once the expense wasn’t a mark against him because he was spending his own money!

Final review: Toga got everyone the best gifts, with Twice taking 2nd place, because theirs were both thoughtful and unique. Even the non-gift to Skeptic & Redestro couldn't bring them below anyone else’s score. Everyone else sucks at this. 3rd place goes to Redestro though, because “money can’t by happiness” is a phrase that doesn’t apply to poor people.

#bnha #paranormal liberation front #PLF #shigaraki tomura #dabi #toga himiko #spinner #jin bubaigawara #twice #mr. compress #geten #bnha skeptic #bnha trumpet #redestro #league of villains #lov #meta liberation army #mla #christmas

177 notes · View notes

chronicbatfictioner · 3 years

Text

Exchanges and Compromises - Chapter 19

The third time Dick sneezed as he went by the kitchen, he decided to take action. Enough is enough. But he definitely was not prepared for what he would get a faceful of when he opened the kitchen door.

"Too much chili! Abort, abort! This is not a drill!" he choked as he closed the inner door and darted to the back door, opened it, and inhaled fresh air. "Good god, it's lethal in there!" he exclaimed.

"What even..." Damian muttered. "Grayson, there are only two ounces of chili in that Baiwang!"

"Is that why Alfred and Jason are wearing gas masks?" Dick demanded.

"This is to prevent our breath to get into the food, Richard. And they're just masks - paper masks. I can still smell the chili and all."

"What's a baiwang?" Dick asked curiously.

"Blood pudding," Alfred replied. "I must say, it is a... rather unique dish."

"Is it too late to be vegan, now?" Dick knew his face must have turned green. But Jason rolled his eyes.

"It's technically a kind of vegetarian, except for the goat blood. Do you know how hard it is to get blood around here? We had to go to a slaughterhouse, 'fer cryin' out loud. And now you're gonna insult my cooking??"

"'Technically', 'a kind of' bloody," Dick observed the pot that Jason was stirring from a respectable distance. "...those aren't likely things a TV chef would use to describe their creation..."

"It shall be a sort of soup, and the red didn't come from the blood. In fact, cooked blood would look like meat, dark colored," Damian explained. "Mother loved this..." he continued and stopped abruptly.

Dick immediately regretted all the nasty words he has said, and swallowed the rest that he hasn't said. "I'm..."

Damian, however, shook himself out of his melancholy quickly and added. "I requested Todd to make it, and it appeared that father is aware of it being my mother's favorite as well. And its cooking method. He promised he shall take grandfather and grandmother - as well as the brute - out of the house until we are done."

The sneezing from outside the kitchen broke their reverie. "Goodness gracious! How much chili is in progress here?" Tim squawked indignantly. "Now I know what you mean by lethal, Damian..."

"Imagine waking up from a night shift to that..." Dick grumbled, still.

"Seriously, you two are the whitest people to ever white." Jason scowled at them, paused, and glared at Dick pointedly. "...and you're not even white to begin with!"

"Hey, I might have Romani blood, but I was raised in the Owl's nest and they're full of white people!" Dick protested.

"Seriously, though, don't forget to leave some for my aunt Dinah. She loves spicy food." Tim hinted. "I reminded you of that already, haven't I?"

"You did, and will do, you hear that, brat? I'm gonna set aside a portion for a Ms Dinah Drake, the nice lady who likes spicy food." Jason told Damian. The latter scowled.

"You are trying to bribe her, are you not, Todd?" Damian retorted.

"Bribe her over what--" Jason started, but Dick leaped over the kitchen counter and turned Tim around and dragged him outside.

"How about you accompany me for some fresh air here, Timbers? Feels like my lungs are on fire!" he chirped. Kind of. He was thankful, though, that he'd turned Tim just in time for the kid to spin-sneezed and missed the pot by several inches. "See? I'm not the only one..." he added, waving to Jason's grumbled 'thanks for not sneezing into my baiwang, derp!'

Outside, once he was sure he was out of hearing range of those in the kitchen, Tim groaned out loud and slumped to the ground. "Oh I'm so screwed..."

Could be incongruous, could be case-related; but Dick's gut feelings said something else. "Well, I dunno, try scrubbing up nice and you could still get..." he wiggled his eyebrows and grinned mischievously.

Tim threw him a dirty look, and Dick mentally patted himself on the back. "What-ever." he snarled at Dick.

"Oh come on, Timmy! It's not like anyone would be mad if you're mad crushin' on him!" Dick finally started to laugh. "Your denial is... cute. But I think someone like him would want a direct proposal."

"Annnd... I'm officially lost. I don't know what you're talking about." Tim replied, straight-faced. But Dick has read enough people in his life to know a tell when he saw one.

"About six-two, two hundred pounds give or take, a whole load of muscle enough to bring down a pair of oak doors if necessary, black hair, blue-green eyes-- need I go on?" Dick hinted.

"What about that-- that sounds like Bruce, you know."

"Bruce Wayne has blue eyes. Not blue-green. Oh, wait, lemme make it exotic-like, teal-colored eyes..."

"I'm seriously thinking about murdering you and dump your body to the Gotham harbor, but then I worry for the other mutated harbor residents if they have to face your ghost."

Dick laughed out loud. "Oooh... kitten is crushin' hard! Look, lethal gas notwithstanding, we're doing alright. Come back by like, seven tonight, bring a bottle of good red or white wine, and dress up a little, but no suit. Just like it said in Alfred's pretty invitation. If it'll make you feel better, we all get the same invitation - in spite of us living here and all. So..."

"Remind me why we're doing this again?"

"So you can eventually have a real date with--" Dick chortled as he dodged a handful of compost Tim threw at him.

#Batless!AU #JayTim #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Dick Grayson #Damian Wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #stray!tim #Talon!Dick #RedGhost!Jason #Birds of Prey

21 notes · View notes

boop-le-snoot · 4 years

Text

skin starving

tony stark x f!reader fluff. no warnings, just a few f-bombs. touch starved tony’s third person pov. words: 2,5k. no beta because i just really needed to get this off my chest.

recommended music to go with the story: two feet - 'love is a bitch' & 'quick musical doodles'. Or any lo-fi hip-hop radio really.

It started as an itch. At first, a small but bothersome thing, that kept him up at night, steering the already unreasonable hours of wakefulness into dangerous territory. The cold of his bed was unappealing and more often than not, he’d started passing out on the flat surfaces nearest to him: workshop, lab, common room couch, the lazy boy in Bruce’s apartment.

The team noticed, of course, they weren’t blind. They all had been on edge the first few months after Pepper left him. They expected him to act out, lock himself up in his lab or go back to his old habits of boozing and bringing home a different girl every night. And he had tried that, once or twice, but airheaded twenty-somethings weren’t appealing anymore. Most of the time their ass kissing and blatantly flattery annoyed him further into self-loathing abyss. He simply couldn’t step up to be the kind of man they described him to be - it seemed as if every woman on planet Earth had a whole list of expectations he specifically could not meet.

With Thor off planet, not one remaining person on the team was particularly touchy-feely. And that was the thing with Tony Stark: as an engineer, as a mechanic, he made his way through the world hands-first, every approach he had was hands-on. During late nights and early mornings, he laid in bed, sleepless and dreamless, desperately refusing to admit his own touch starvation.

Whenever Rogers threw an arm around his shoulders during a particularly successful team bonding activity, it took every ounce of willpower Tony had to not lean into it and purr like a cat. He hadn’t truly forgiven Steve for his cold, cruel words of criticism shortly after Pepper’s departing. He wasn’t going to chummy up to a man who thought him selfish, opportunistic and self-absorbed.

Tony became irritable and withdrawn. He simultaneously craved and avoided even the casual, friendlier attention his teammates gave him on a daily basis. His usual snark became that much more biting, having caused several people to storm out of team meetings.

On a cold autumn morning, Tony had found his way at the tower’s Starbucks on the employee floor. He had squeezed a generous five hours of restless sleep and he was sick of the plain black coffee in his kitchen. A spontaneous desire for something sweet and creamy and caffeinated led him to the place in line at the cafeteria, only a few early birds ahead of him.

Tony’s brain was hazy as it had been past few weeks, dull from the lack of rest and the hyperfixation of his own skin feeling alien to him. For once, he wasn’t typing away on his StarkPhone as he usually did to avoid being bothered; Tony stared straight ahead, unseeing, nothing but white noise in his usually racing brain.

Two women stood in front of him and he couldn’t help but overhear a part of their conversation.

“… Are you really horny or just lonely or touch-starved, though? I mean, Tinder? It’s not really your style.”

“Eh, I dunno. Probably the second but it’s not like men go on Tinder to find a cuddle buddy.”

“Well, maybe? I’ve heard about arrangements like that.”

“No offense, babe, but it’s probably kids in their early twenties. Those gen-z’s, babe, are weird. I’m not really up to date on all of that.”

The topic of the conversation was what piqued Tony’s interest; the world liked rubbing salt into his wounds and hysterically laugh at his misfortune. Bleary-eyed, he briefly scanned the two women: both appeared to be interns or junior techs in his company, evident by the purple employee badges hanging from their bags.

“So what are you going to do?” One woman asked the other as their turn to order took Tony one step closer to obtaining his desired caffeine.

“Unless someone normal magically appears with an offer of no-strings-attached, good ole’ snuggle fest, I guess I’m getting dicked down on Saturday,” The other replied with a teasing tone. The lack of excitement in the last part of the sentence was obvious.

“Gross,” The first one shook her head and hurriedly rattled off her order to the barista who looked about as disgruntled as Tony felt.

Hours and three coffees later, Tony’s overactive brain was still stuck on that woman from the cafeteria. Her back, her purse stuffed full of colorful manila folders, her neatly gathered hair - Tony Stark had nearly perfect memory and he remembered every single detail despite his brain fog. Objectively, she was attractive, no more no less than a different dozen of women he’d seen at any point in his life before. So why was he hung up on her?

It didn’t take him a long time to find her file, faster than he’d liked to admit. Manually sorting through hundreds of interns, lab technicians and various second-tier employees wasn’t exactly considered productive but with Pepper and her nagging out of the picture, Tony could afford to slack off a little bit.

So he found her name and her e-mail address, skimmed over her performance report with satisfaction, finding her to be a busy bee in the 90-th percentile. Her superiors considered her trustworthy, hard-working and communicative, all good traits.

Pepper’s absence meant he’d have no one to cover his ass should he get slapped with a harassment suit; however, he was the Tony Stark after all. He had more money that he’d cared to count and an army of lawyers at his disposal 24/7.

Amidst the jumbled mess of wires, circuit boards, tablets, empty coffee cups and the occasional piece of paper, Tony typed up an e-mail to the woman sharing his… Condition.

“I heard you and your friend talking at Starbucks. I could use a cuddle buddy. Wine and Netflix at my place? What’s your takeout preference?”

No. That came off way too creepy, like he was some kind of a dirty eavesdropper.

He contemplated some more, typing up and erasing multiple e-mails with various proposals: his penthouse, her place, a three Michelin star restaurant, a walk in the park. Almost all of it screamed ‘date’, like he’d drag her off to bed the very moment an opportunity wouldn’t present itself. It wasn’t so: Tony Stark, the playboy genius, had his dick firmly tucked into his pants. The thought of fucking her crossed his mind only briefly, quickly being chased away by the thought of her fingers running through his hair. Her warm, soft body in his arms. Just laying on his couch, eyes closed, reveling in each other’s arms.

Tony hit send on the least obnoxious option. He baited his breath, clicking his fingers in anticipation as the message showed itself to having been delivered.

“Mary, is this you trying to be funny? Stark is going to fire you if he finds out you’re impersonating him to stop your friend from going on a questionable date. Grow up.” Came the very prompt reply, ending with a short string of angry emojis. Tony could totally trust a person who used emojis unironically and generously.

“For the record, I wouldn’t be mad if somebody pretended to be me for the sake of saving their cute friend from a creep. The problem would be making it look credible.” Tony typed up the answer without thinking, quickly snapping a picture of himself holding the Starbucks cup with his name written on it, throwing his usual sloppy peace sign. He attached it to the email and hit send.

“WTF” Came the reply not a minute afterwards. He let it sink in, giving the woman some time to gather her wits. She did not disappoint. “Okay, even if we pretend this is real - which I doubt - what’s in it for you? If you heard our conversation, you surely know my stance on the matter.”

“I’m always glad to prove you wrong. I’m a genius - comes with the territory.” Tony simply couldn’t resist adding a generous dose of snark. “You’re welcome to meet me after clocking out. Use the private elevator, my AI will beam you up.”

The reply took a considerably long amount of time, seeing as previously, she typed back rather quickly. “Please don’t be a creepy rapist, Scotty. Fingers crossed.” Tony managed to almost break his stylus twice. His hands shook, and he had to tell himself to breathe - still, he laughed at the clever way she replied.

Several more hours later, during which Tony had nearly paced a hole through various floors on the residential side of the tower, he took a quick shower, dressed in a flattering but comfortable designer sweatpants and polo combo and made himself at home on the obscenely large living room sofa on his own, private penthouse floor.

He was up and running towards the elevator when Friday’s voice notified him of the woman entering the elevator on the employee floor. Tony tousled his hair, adjusted his glasses, fiddled with the drawstring of his pants.

The woman was wearing casual office wear, pants and a loose blouse, a lab coat loosely draped over her arm and her purse hanging off the shoulder on a thin strap. Her hair was loose now, a little frizzy as if she continuously ran her hands through it. Tony quietly rejoiced at not being the only nervous one.

Clever eyes scanned the room with unhurried interest before finally landing on him. “Not too shabby, if I say so myself,” The corners of her mouth tilted in an attempt at a smile, it was obvious she was studying him.

“Thanks, I try my best,” Tony smirked. Humble he was not. “So, how do you want to do this?”

“I see a comfortable couch,” She looked to be grateful for being given the opportunity to lead this interaction. “Let’s park our behinds on it, bicker for ten minutes about a movie choice and settle on one none of us really like. Then we can tell each other our no-no zones and, well, yeah,” She started out confidently. Probably practiced in the elevator. But towards the end, her shyness took over.

For Tony, it was kind of cute. A nice change from suck-ups that flocked him at every social gathering in hopes of getting something out of him. The woman that had tossed her bag carelessly on the far end of the couch and untucked her blouse looked and felt like the exact opposite of those people. She looked willing to give.

Tony sat next to her, keeping a couple of inches of free space between them. “Food preferences? Food allergies?” He asked, tapping the food delivery application.

“Nope, and I will eat just about anything.” He felt more than saw her side-eyeing him. Both of them were jittery. So uncharacteristic for Tony, to be blushing and stammering like a high school boy. Sex was easy, but intimacy? Complex. It was addictive and eventually, painful.

Movie decisions were surprisingly easy and she said so. They settled on a Tarantino classic, an old flick neither of them had watched in a long time. As the discussion progressed, Tony used his wits to find out more about her without making it seem like an interrogation. He had run a background check on the woman and her family but those only went that far, besides, it was a great opportunity to practice the tips Natasha had shared with him at one point or another. Being friends with spies had it’s perks.

They ate their food until their bellies were full. A comfortable, relaxing stupor, being warm from the inside out.

Tony noticed when the woman spoke, she spoke with her hands. She had caught herself grasping his forearm multiple times when they’d got more passionate about their discussion. And what Tony loved the most was that she refused to apologize. He saw a kindred soul in the woman; quiet until something struck her fancy. Then, she became a whirlwind of ideas and opinions.

In no time, it became a natural action to extend his arm and wrap it around her shoulders, reclining backwards. There was little grace in laying belly-up like a dead fish but the woman didn’t seem to mind. Watching him out of the corner of her eye, she laid down sideways, throwing a leg over one of his own.

Her palm traced the outline of his arc reactor when something on the screen caught her in a moment of intense interest. Tony preferred to avoid the cursed thing - scars around it definitely did not do any favour to his aging, marked body - but he found himself exhaling the tension when it was obvious the woman really did not care. An occasional quiet hum of satisfaction was the only noise that came from her: he noticed the sound escaped her lips every time his thumb began fiddling with the sleeve of her blouse and rubbed against her arm.

He was quite content. It was warm, he was surrounded by so much warmth.

The hug was mutual when she left home, both of them comfortable with the gesture for people who had met in a rather unconventional way.

She started coming over a couple of times a week, a quiet evening of the best takeout in NYC and (mostly) interesting movies. A solace, always a single e-mail away.

Tony saw her in the cafeteria once or twice; he appreciated the brief, tiny secretive grin she gave him out of her friend’s eyesight. She never approached him. He was grateful for that. He didn’t want to deal with all the drama and all the fuss surrounding incidents between him and his employees. It was nobody’s business what any of them did after clocking out - and him and his cuddle buddy, they weren’t even fucking, for Thor’s sake.

Maybe they would get there someday. Or maybe they won’t. It was only now for Tony. The rare free Saturday night he had, he truly took a vacation from all the bullshit and lured her in with promises of very expensive wine, her favourite New York style pizza and the willingness to entertain watching a few of those funny YouTube videos she liked.

They did watch them and Tony didn’t mind. He stepped over the irrational fear and the initial discomfort and curled up around her, hiding his face in the soft cotton of her worn hoodie, his own breath tickling his face in warm puffs. The hand running through his hair was tender like it never was with Pepper - his ex was far too preoccupied to baby her grown-up boyfriend. But the woman moulded to his body like an extension of himself was happy to do so. Tony’s hair was longer now and it glided perfectly along the woman’s palms.

His heart was steady, thumping in his ears, overshadowing the noises coming from the TV. He exhaled and felt her other hand begin tracing circles on his back, as if she saw the stress and the bitterness leave his body with every caress, every brush of their bodies. Maybe she did?

He held onto her, held her back like she’d held him. Safekeeping the warmth inside of him. Guarding his peace.

#tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark fluff #tony stark feels #bun writes #bun writes: drabbles

362 notes · View notes