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yeehaw4yoongi · 2 years

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Iced Americano | JJK

Pairing: jk x barista female reader

Rating: 18+ | minors dni | nsfw

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: drinking alcohol, kissing, some swearing, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, fingering, mentions of cum, titty play, mentions of food/eating, mentions of milk (but literally just milk nothing nasty is being done with the milk), shower sex, dom-ish jk

Genre: fluff, smut, non-idol au, strangers to lovers, some angst

Summary: You wake up thinking today would be like any other day but you were wrong.

A/N: Hi tumblr! This is my first stab at writing any kind of fanfic. I'm new to all the warnings, categories, and abbreviations so please bear with me. Thinking about doing a part 2 since I feel like there is so much build up in this half, so if you enjoyed it, please comment, reblog, and like!

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Today started like most of your days do. The alarm yanks you out of your slumber at 4:30AM and you drag yourself to the shower. You have about half an hour to get to the bus so you can make it to work at 6:00AM. You sprint to your stop and make it just as the bus pulls up. You won’t be late today.

As you ride down the dark city streets you make a list of everything that needs to be done to open the cafe by 7:00AM. You take inventory of everyone out and about already hard at work. Street sweepers and stall keepers mill around setting the scene for the world that has yet to wake. Despite the start time, you love the opening shift. It’s where humans on different paths cross as night transitions into the morning. Party people with pupils the size of the moon and 9 to 5’ers alike find themselves convening in the queue for coffee. The day goes by as usual. Taking orders, making light conversation, steaming milk, and cleaning up empty cups make the morning go by quickly, and before you know it’s nearly time for the shift change. By now the freshness of the morning ceases to exist. You’re covered in coffee grounds and sweat has taken its toll on your makeup. You switch out the till drawer and head to the office to count the morning’s takings. Once you finish, you collect your bag and head back into the bustling cafe. It’s a small space so you weave your way through the crowded shop. You stop by the counter on your way out to bid your workmate adieu and that’s when you notice him.

His tall slender frame leans against the counter as he orders an iced americano. He reaches for his wallet and you notice the tattoos on his hands. You don’t allow yourself to keep looking. Instead, you push passed him and the other people queuing and head for the door. One of your workmates shouts behind you “see you tomorrow!” and as you turn around to wave you meet eyes with Iced Americano. For a split second, your heart plummets into your stomach. He looks down at his phone and you’re released from his grip. He seems unfazed but the depth of his glance has shaken you. Walking down the street toward the bus you brush off the interaction. This city is full of attractive people. You serve them every day. What made him different?

“Never mind,” you tell yourself as you climb the steps to the top deck of the bus. You have errands to run and a friend’s birthday dinner to go to tonight. As the afternoon wanes you forget about Iced Americano and go about getting ready for the evening’s festivities. You make your best effort. The restaurant you’re going to for the party is one of the nicest Italian places in town and you want to look the part.

The city sparkles as you make your way through town in the cold. You see the restaurant down the road. The warmth practically flows out of the windows. As you enter, you’re met with a scene of beauty. Peach-colored light is defused through sheer fabric dressed around each of the fixtures that hang from the ceiling. They reflect off of the polished brass glass rack hanging above the marble-top bar and bathe the marble walls in a rose gold hue. Vintage mirrors hang above a row of pale blue booth seats that run parallel to the bar and give way to the dining room. You stand at the door and take it all in. Scanning the dining room you realize you’re the first of your group to arrive. The maitre d’ pulls out one of the plush mint green bar stools and motions for you to take a seat. You order yourself a glass of wine and pass the time looking through your phone. As you wait, the bar fills up around you. Your phone buzzes and it’s your friend saying they’re nearly there. You motion to the bartender to close out your tab. He places the bill on the bar. When you look down you see something familiar out of the corner of your eye- a tattoo and more importantly the hand it belongs to. How long had Iced Americano been there? Your eyes never leave the tray the receipt is on as you slide it towards you. That’s when you hear his voice. “What wine are you drinking?” You mess up your signature but decide there’s no way he was talking to you and so you push the tray back toward the bartender and place your card back in your wallet. It’s when you get up to tell the maitre d’ your group has almost arrived that you meet Iced Americano’s gaze. Turns out he was talking to you. He looks at you with an inquisitive brow as he awaits your response.

“I, I uh, it’s the Cabernet” you manage to blurt out through your shock. The bartender nods at Iced Americano and he orders the Cabernet. “Thank you,” he says with a wide smile. You stand there looking up at him for what was probably only 2 seconds but feels like much longer. Just then your friends swan in and swallow you up in their hugs and kisses of greeting. You look back at Iced Americano and smile and give him a small wave as you head to your table.

Your seat at the table faces one of the mirrors hung on the walls. You and your friends order two bottles of wine and some small plates to start. You’re wrapped up in the comfort of their company. Everyone is sharing the highlights of their day and listening as the birthday girl lists off all of the presents she’s gotten. As the server brings the wine and serves a sample to your friend you look up into the mirror. Sitting at the table directly behind you is Iced Americano with two others. His seat at the table gives you a clear view of his face in the mirror’s reflection. You try your best to stay engaged in the conversation happening at your table but the image in the mirror pulls your gaze back to it. His face is kind and his eyes are soft and doe-like. The curve of his jaw is sharp. Even through the vintage mirror, you can tell his bone structure resembles that of a statue. You’ve lost yourself in his image and he must have felt you staring because his eyes look up to meet yours. You’re rendered breathless but you don’t divert your eyes. The server pours your glass of wine and you refocus on the table.

Several food courses and drinks go by before the bill inevitably arrives. Your party wraps up and as you collect your things to leave you steal another glance at Iced Americano in the mirror hoping it won’t be the last. You make your way out with your group and wait with them as each of their cabs arrive. Standing alone on the sidewalk outside of the restaurant you watch your Uber get closer and closer to picking you up but you’re not ready to go home yet. You look behind you through the restaurant window and see Iced Americano sitting at the bar. You decide to throw caution to the wind and cancel the Uber.

The liquid courage running through your veins makes it easy, a little too easy, to take the seat directly next to the man that has captured your attention. You don’t say anything to him as the weight of your decision begins to hit you. It’s too late now, and when the bartender asks what you would like you say, “He and I will have an espresso martini,” and motion to Iced Americano sitting next to you. He looks at you with a surprised look and you grin. “Did you order that for me?” he asks with a chuckle. You nod. “What’s your name?” you ask. He responds, “My name is Jungkook. It’s nice to meet you.”

You sit at the bar nursing your drinks and talking. He’s in town working for a couple of days. You mention being a barista but don’t mention where. You talk about traveling and the places you’ve been, comparing notes on cities you’ve both visited. He is incredibly well-traveled and regales you with stories about his time spent on the road. As you chat the restaurant starts closing down. Eventually, the bartender makes the last call and Jungkook asks if you’d like to take a bottle of wine to go. The idea sends a tingle up your spine. You initially thought the espresso martini would be the nightcap but your shift doesn’t start until the afternoon the next day, and why wouldn’t you get a bottle of wine to go? You answer him, “I’d love to. I know a place we can go with it.”

When you step outside the cold air hits your lungs and the warm blur from inside the restaurant sharpens. You are greeted by the sounds of cabs passing by and people chatting and laughing as they make their way to the train station. The city lights shine and wrap you up. You feel safe under them. The libations from dinner and the impromptu nightcap make your mind feel light and optimistic like anything could happen. As though somehow this moment is the beginning of your life.

You start walking down the road and turn to see if Jungkook is following you. He’s still standing at the door holding the wine and thanking the staff for a wonderful meal and exquisite service. Waiting for him a few paces along the sidewalk you take the opportunity to admire his whole form. He’s tall with broad strong shoulders. His turtleneck hugs his arms and chest and his slacks are perfectly tailored - a statue. As he walks toward you he asks, “Where do we go next?”

The two of you make your way through town passing the theatre district down to the river. You find a bench along the bank and take a seat to watch boats pass while lights on the other side twinkle in the background. He had the forethought to ask the bartender to uncork the wine but you both forgot cups. He playfully pulls the cork and takes a swig straight from the bottle and then hands it to you. It’s cold out but you don’t feel it. Maybe it’s the wine? Maybe it’s him? Either way, you never feel uncomfortable. You talk with him about what brought you to the city and how you love being there. He listens intently and seems to hang on to your every word. Time flies as you take turns drinking the wine and before you know it, the bottle is empty. You sit there with him in the dark a bit longer looking out over the water. The silence between you is pleasant. You can feel his arm up against yours and you fight the urge to take his hand at that moment.

He looks at his phone and breaks the silence, “Let’s walk back to where I’m staying and I can get you a cab back home.” By now, you know that even if you didn’t desperately want to walk him home, you’ve had so much wine that there’s no way you can get into a vehicle without walking it off a bit. As you stroll up to the beautiful historic hotel, you see there’s a town car parked in the front. “This is for you,” Jungkook says with a smile and motions to the car. Going home is the last thing you want to do but you don’t want to force anything. You thank him for the ride and tell him you hope he has a great remainder of his stay in town. As you turn toward the car, Jungkook takes your hand in his and pulls you toward him into a hug. You breathe him in and he smells like clean fresh laundry. “Thank you for showing me around,” he says releasing you, “I had a great time.” You go to respond but don’t get the chance. He leans in and gives you a gentle kiss on the lips. “I’ll see you around,” he whispers in your ear with a sly smile and you stand there stunned. He notices that you’ve been caught off guard and walks to the side of the car and opens the door. That’s your cue. You get into the backseat and he closes the door behind you, giving a small wave as the car pulls away from the hotel.

Your whole body buzzes as you ride through the city. When you get home you realize you never exchanged numbers. As you sink into bed you replay the events of the evening in your mind. Every look, every word, every brush of his arm against yours. The kiss cycles over and over. Even if it was just tonight, it was worth it.

The next day you have a slow morning. By some miracle, you aren’t hungover but the booze has made you feel sluggish. You think about Jungkook as you get ready for work that afternoon and while heading to the bus stop. You think about him as you ride through town and as you walk to the cafe. You can’t shake him and you don’t want to. Deep down you tell yourself not to get your hopes up. What are the chances of you seeing him again? Despite you trying to manage your expectations, you watch the cafe door your entire shift hoping he’ll appear there. Patron after patron comes in. No Jungkook. Finally, you give up hope that he’ll come in but that doesn’t stop you from thinking about the night before. You spend the rest of the shift on autopilot, stuck in your endless daydream. You close up the shop and head back home. You have to open up the next day and can’t afford another late night. Riding the bus, your mind drifts to last night. It remembers the feeling of his arms wrapped around you. It remembers the feeling of his lips pushed against yours and the feeling of his breath on your ear.

Once again, your alarm startles you awake at 4:30AM. Another day, another shift. You’ve accepted the idea that your evening with Jungkook was only a brief encounter and one of the many perks of living in the city. You never know who you’ll meet and what will happen. The memory will live fondly in the back of your mind for a while until time inevitably reduces it to a blip on the timeline of your life. The shift goes by as normal and you greet and serve the first arrivals into the shop. The morning is peppered with the regular corporate types and rave stragglers. You spend your time chatting, catching up with them, and listening to what they have planned for the rest of their day. As the lunch rush starts to pick up, the queue for service extends to just outside of the door. You’re nearing the end of your shift but there’s still a lot to do, so you move from the till to behind the coffee machine to help your workmate with the influx of coffee orders flooding in.

As you steam the milk at the end of the counter, you grow tired and the awareness of what’s happening around you disappears. It’s just you and the milk pitcher. You watch the milk swirl around in the jug making sure not to burn it. With your focus on the upcoming orders you never see Jungkook enter the cafe, but now he is standing at the end of the counter and says, “Hi” breaking your focus. When you look up and see who the greeting comes from, you almost don’t believe your eyes. The chances of you meeting again seemed slim and yet here he is. You realize that you’re fully staring at him, mouth agape. You try to respond like someone who has spoken before but your “Hey! How are you?” comes out as more of an abrupt shout. He doesn't skip a beat and tells you that he was meant to leave town the day before but that he still had some things to wrap up and extended his trip a few days. You’re delighted by this news but you do your best to stay cool and nonchalant. His drink is a few places behind others in line but none of the other patrons matter anymore. You make each drink and just slide them to the end of the counter as you and Jungkook chat. He didn’t know you worked here and mentioned how he was in the cafe a few days ago. You pretend not to remember. Finally, his drink is up. Unlike the coffees before his, you take extra care and gently slide the drink directly toward him. He asks you for a lid and as you go to put it on, there is a brief fumble. He doesn’t anticipate you putting the lid on for him and reaches to secure it as you place it on top of his cup. His slender fingers and soft palm land directly on the top of your hand. You both look up at each other and giggle. He takes a sip of his drink and thanks you for making it just right. You swoon and he notices. He says that he’s been given tickets to a show later that night and asks if you’d like to go with him. You exchange a glance with your workmate standing to your left. She has completely stopped making espresso shots and is waiting for you to respond to him while nodding her head as though to say, “Say yes, fool!”. You quickly turn back to face Jungkook and tell him, “sounds great”. Noticing that the number of people waiting for their coffee has caused a crowd to form, he takes a pen from his bag and writes his number on a napkin, and hands it to you. “Send me your address. I’ll pick you up at 7.”

As soon as you finish work you text him your address. [See you soon.] he replies. You race home and start the process of getting ready. No task is spared as you prep for a night on the town with quite possibly the most beautiful man on the planet. You try on all of your clothes and then all of your roommate’s clothes before finally deciding on what you’ll wear. You put on the designer perfume your grandmother gave you for your birthday. Promptly at 7:00PM your phone buzzes. You give yourself a last look and take a deep breath. When you open the front door, there is Jungkook sitting on the street in an Aston Martin. He gets out of the car and goes around the other side to open the passenger door. He’s wearing black combat boots, fitted black trousers, and a knit charcoal grey crew neck sweater over a white collared shirt. You walk toward him and he takes your hand to help you into the car. He gets into the driver’s seat but before he puts the car back into gear, he looks over at you and says, “You look amazing.” You thank him and reciprocate the compliment even though “amazing” doesn’t even begin to describe how gorgeous he looks. He is fucking hot with his black hair combed in a way that exposes a bit of his forehead. You fight the urge to lick your lips as you watch him wrap his tattooed fingers around the steering wheel.

You arrive at an elite member’s only Burlesque club in Soho. The hostess shows you to a cozy private booth with soft cushioned upholstery and oversized pillows that line the back. As the two of you settle in, the manager stops by the table to drop off a complimentary bottle of champagne. Jungkook smiles when he sees her and stands up to greet her with a hug and cheek kiss, as though they’ve met before. He introduces you and she winks as she greets you. She says, “Any friend of JK is a friend of mine. If you need anything at all, just ask for me.” A server comes by and takes your drink and food order just as the lights in the club dim and the spotlight flicks onto the stage. Jungkook makes sure your glass never runs dry as one beautiful woman after another takes the stage. Each one of their performances is glamorous and sensual. As the show goes on, the two of you inch closer and closer to each other until he takes his arm and puts it over your shoulder. You allow yourself to let your guard down and lean your head to the side to rest it in the nook where his chest meets his shoulder. You stay there until the show is over.

The club isn’t far from his hotel and as you stroll down the street it dawns on you that that’s the direction you’re heading in. You brace yourself for another town car. When the hotel is just within eyeshot, Jungkook makes a random but smooth turn onto a narrow alley and points out some street art on the wall. As you follow behind him trying to see what he’s talking about he turns around and slowly walks back toward you until you’ve backed yourself onto the wall opposite of the one he was looking at. He walks right up to the point where you’re nearly touching and then stops. You turn your gaze upward to look him in the eyes and he says, “I’m just kidding. I wanted a private place to kiss you.” He leans in and lays a small kiss on your lips. And then another. You kiss him back as you slowly wrap your arms around his waist and draw him in closer. For a few moments, the two of you stand there entwined seemingly suspended in time. It feels like you’re levitating. He opens his mouth and slides his tongue into yours, triggering all the butterflies in your stomach to a frenzy. Pulling back, he lays a few more small kisses on your lips before bringing your arms up around his neck and wrapping his arms around your back to pull you into him again. You stand there in silence breathing in unison. As you stroke the hair that grazes the nape of his neck he leans into yours and kisses it softly. Kissing your neck he says, “Do you,” another kiss, “want,” another kiss, “to come up,” another kiss, “with me?” You reply into the night sky as your head rolls back, and his kisses drift further down your neck, “Absolutely”.

Your heart pounds as you walk through the hotel doors but you aren’t nervous. Facing the front of the mirrored elevator doors, Jungkook stands behind you. He admires your reflections for a moment and you watch him as he drapes his left arm over the front of you while using his right hand to caress the left side of your face and turn it up to the right to meet his for a kiss. The doors ding open and you walk into the elevator. He pushes a button near the top floor and the doors close.

You are standing on opposite sides of the elevator and with each floor that passes the tension between you grows. It takes everything you have not to throw yourself on him but you test the waters and ask, “Why are you all the way over there?”. His demeanor shifts and when his gaze meets yours, you see a fire burning in his eyes. He takes the two steps across the elevator, looks over at the buttons, and smashes the Emergency stop. The elevator halts. Facing you, Jungkook raises his hand and places his thumb on your lip, applying some pressure while moving it carefully and with purpose until your mouth is slightly open. He starts to lean in, slowly sliding his thumb and index finger down to the tip of your chin, and lifts your face until your mouths meet in a deep and passionate French kiss. Your face rests gently in the palms of his hands. The way he kisses you feels like he needs you to breathe. “Can I touch you?”, he asks, his voice nearly a whisper but not quite. As he waits for your response, once again you find yourself answering into the sky but this time you’re met with your reflection in the mirrored ceiling of the elevator. You look yourself in the eyes as they roll back into your head and you whisper, “Please”.

When the elevator doors open Jungkook slides his fingers out from your now-damp underwear and leads you into an immaculately decorated suite. He flicks on a lamp and then another and you stop at the end of the entryway to take in the space.

As you admire your surroundings, Jungkook asks if you’d like a glass of wine while he pulls back a heavy curtain to reveal a private terrace with a breathtaking view of the city. You walk over to where he’s standing by the window and look out. The city lights twinkle in a panorama. He asks you again if you’d like some wine but you are too distracted by flashbacks of the elevator ride up when he slid his middle and ring fingers inside of you as he rubbed your clit with the bottom of his palm to notice Jungkook waiting for your response whilst you look out over the city. He clears his throat and you are suddenly very aware of him waiting and see him looking at you out of the corner of your eye.

You turn toward him and say, “I think I want something stronger,” as you move your hand over the front of his trousers to find what you actually want. You land on the task at hand and you feel him twitch slightly under your palm, as he begins to harden at your touch. Looking up at his face, his eyes are closed and he lets out a soft moan as he exhales. You keep your hand where it is for a bit longer before moving it up toward his waist until your fingers are touching the bottom of his sweater giving it a light tug to signal that it’s time for him to take it off. He crosses his arms over his torso, reaching to where your hands are resting near his waist, and pulls the sweater up and over his head. While his arms are still mid-air, you reach up and start unbuttoning the white collared shirt. You lay a kiss on the skin that is exposed with each undone button. He is breathing heavier now. You only get halfway through unbuttoning his shirt before he takes you by the waist and turns you toward the window. He puts his hand on your back and presses you into it just enough to indicate that he’s the one in control. His hand moves down your back to your hips and guides them into place. His other hand is busy lifting your skirt and resting the fabric on your lower back to expose your ass. “If you want something stronger, that’s what you’ll get”. You hear his zipper coming down and his belt clink as he unbuckles. The glass is cold against your palms and arms. The city continues to glow in front of you as you feel him slide your panties down.

The anticipation begins to bubble over and every part of your body throbs and screams out for him. You let out a whine when he starts teasing you with his tip, before slowly and gently sliding every inch of him inside of you. You both moan softly and relish the first moment your bodies fully meet each other. Jungkook pulls out nearly leaving you but slides himself deep inside you again. He repeats this a few times and then proceeds to slowly and steadily fuck you from behind. Each thrust is deliberate and forces you to feel all of him as he strokes your g-spot. You can feel the pressure inside of you starting to build and he can too. He gradually quickens his pace remaining consistent with the depth and cadence of his strokes. Your head gets cloudy as your orgasm continues to mount. “Fuck!” you exclaim as Jungkook starts to hammer into you with a rhythm where you cease to see straight anymore. You try to regain your composure but all you can do is plead with him not to stop- never stop. “I won’t,” he barks through gritted teeth. You come so hard that your legs nearly give out and he’s quick to catch you with one arm around your torso to keep you from buckling. He never misses a beat and the waves of your orgasm keep crashing over you.

When he feels you reach the other side of pleasure, he pulls himself out of your warmth and gently rubs the head of his cock across your ass cheeks as he releases onto them. You feel the warm trickles of his cum roll down as he steps back to admire his work. Still bent over and facing the window you look back at him over your right shoulder and see him standing there with a naughty smile stretched across his face while he pulls up his trousers. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says. In an effort not to make a mess of your skirt, you unzip it and bring it up over your body and head. You drape it over one of the armchairs and hear the shower turn on in the other room. As you walk toward the sound you remove your top and drop it onto the floor.

Entering the bathroom you are met with a fully naked Jungkook. The form that you’ve admired through turtlenecks and fitted trousers is now on full display. He has a striking physique and you can tell that he takes time to maintain it. He is lean but still muscular. He’s strong but has made an effort not to overdo it so that it looks almost effortless. You can see all of his tattoos now and you’re surprised by how many there are.

Steam spills over the top of the walk-in shower and he opens the door and beckons for you to get in. He takes the sponge hanging on the wall and squeezes some soap onto it. The scent of gardenia wafts through the steam as he creates a lather and drags the sponge along the different parts of your body, paying particular attention to your ass making sure to remove whatever is still left of him. He wrings out the sponge and hangs it back on the wall. As the warm water continues to cascade down, you turn to face him and wrap your arms around his waist to pull his body close to yours. You rest your head on his chest and feel him breathe. Still captured in your embrace, Jungkook turns the two of you as a unit so that you are facing him as he slowly sits down on the banquette that is built into the shower. You continue to stand. You place your hands under his chin and tilt his head so that he’s looking straight up into your eyes. You lean down to kiss him. He kisses you back gently and when you move your head to change angles you catch a peek of his face through your partially closed eyes. His brow is furrowed as though he is savoring every second of this kiss. His expression is soft and sincere. It makes you feel like at that moment, you belong to each other. Like you want to take care of him. To protect his heart. To make sure he always feels cherished. You start to lose yourself in your head as you continue to caress him. The emotions rising into your throat border on heartbreaking. You know this is a fleeting moment. Nothing is promised after tonight.

You pull back from the kiss and start to straighten your stance, while he glides his mouth down your neck and chest until he has one of your breasts in his mouth. You feel his tongue circling your nipple as his hand takes your other breast into it. He rubs his thumb over your other nipple while using his free arm to keep you close to him. Gently, you comb your fingers through the wet hair on the back of his head and hold it as he transfers his mouth to your other breast. You reach down between his legs as he continues to suck on your tits and find that he is hard.

Jungkook adjusts so that he is sitting on the very edge of the banquette to make it easier for you to straddle him. As you lower yourself down onto him, he pulls you in so close that it’s hard to tell where he starts and you stop. Your arms are wrapped around his neck and your face is pressed against the side of his. Once you feel that he is completely inside of you, you start rocking your hips back and forth slowly. He moans when he feels your core grip around his cock. Breathing in unison, every slight movement becomes more gratifying than the last, transporting you to an alternate realm. Nothing else exists as you allow yourself to surrender to the intimacy of this moment. No one can see you. No one will ever know the energy exchanged here tonight. It belongs solely to the two of you. “Give it all to me, baby,” Jungkook coos in your ear, as though he’s cheering you to the finish. Your ears pop when you come and for a moment you are totally paralyzed as you let out a silent scream and throw your head back while palpable bliss courses between you. As you slowly grind on him you bring your face to his eye level and kiss him while he comes inside of you. Even after he’s finished you stay connected on the banquette while the water continues to run so you can stay in this moment as long as possible.

Dawn starts to shine over the city skyline as you climb into the big hotel bed. Jungkook pulls the heavy curtain across the window and the room descends into nearly pitch darkness. He crawls into bed next to you. You’re both still naked and your skin is warm and clean. The two of you lay in the darkness talking for a while. You talk about how beautiful the burlesque dancers were at the show and about how delicious the food was. Your conversation wanders aimlessly as you curl up into the nook of his neck and he reaches down to pull your leg over him. He holds on to the bottom of your thigh to keep it draped over him. His breathing starts to deepen and you are lulled to sleep by every inhale and exhale. You smell gardenias as you doze off.

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jeewrites · 4 months

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Hold Fast | Ch. 1 Will Squat for Dinner

Series Master List

Inspo: In an IG reel @ tashabraziliano asks a guy at the gym to play a game where if she squats him he has to buy her dinner at Nando’s.

Rating: M for this one shot, but this blog is 18+ MDNI

A/N: Thank you to @bloviating-vy for being my beta and my write or die! Grateful to everyone who voted in my poll and @katareyoudrilling for encouraging me to post. In the Hold Fast AU all the guys make it back from S. America, additional details TBD if this ends up being a series

Word Count: ~4.0k

Tags: no y/n, gymbff!Benny, alcohol, swearing, reader is a powerlifting girlie described as short, Tom is alive unfortunately (we hate Tom), alcohol, brief body insecurity and Frankie being down on himself, Tom owns a bar, Pope owns a gym, alternating POV with one brief Benny POV

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The first time you went to train at Pope's Gym, Benny wouldn’t stop talking your ear off during your workout. When you finally got a word in edgewise, you made a bet with him that if you could squat him, he would shut the fuck up and let you finish your workout in peace. To his amazement, not only did you squat him, you repped him 3 times before setting him down to raucous applause. You’d been gym besties ever since. It didn’t hurt that he was nice to look at with his dirty blonde hair and penchant to go sans shirt so he could flaunt his abs as frequently as possible. Plus, his big golden retriever energy never failed to brighten your day.

Benny liked to tease you about the gym you used to go to that had vanity lighting, a smoothie bar, and chilled eucalyptus-scented towels. While Pope's had the most lifting platforms of any gym in town, you were adjusting to the lack of central A/C and other amenities you were used to. Pope’s was housed in a large warehouse space, bare metallic bones, with multiple commercial rolling doors instead of a proper HVAC system. Besides the rows upon rows of platforms, a selection of assault bikes and ergs lined one wall of the gym, while a section of accessory machines collected dust in the corner.

You learned which platforms got the most airflow depending on which rolling door was open and which ones the massive fans covered best. You had made the switch because you had outgrown your old gym which catered to the general public. The bougie public, Benny liked to remind you. You had started lifting heavy and wanted to lift heavier, so you found yourself signing up at Pope's after Pope himself had given you the tour around the space. You learned that Pope had started the gym after coming back from Colombia wanting to promote health and strength in the community while getting into better shape himself. Looking at the peach shape of his ass you could bounce anything off of, you knew Pope had been putting the work in.

Benny worked the front desk at Pope's between training and fighting MMA. His older and blonder brother Will would come by to work out, but he was often leaving when you were arriving so you didn't know him well beyond a friendly wave. Plus, it seemed like Benny used the majority of the word quota between the Miller brothers. Pope's grew on you and you got to know the regulars who trained the same time you did; enough that you gave them cute identifying nicknames in your head (often without knowing their actual names) and worried about them when they missed more than a session or two.

Benny was surprised to see you walk into Pope's one night an hour before closing since you always trained in the mornings. You had given him a short head nod instead of your usual big smile before stalking to a platform and slamming your bag down.

"Yooooo, everything ok?" he asks as he walks over.

"Does it look like I'm okay," you huff, aggressively wrestling your knee sleeves on. Glancing at him, you immediately apologize when he hesitates and takes a step back.

"Sorry, Benny. I'll be a lot better after I pick up some heavy things and put them down."

"Might help if you want to talk about it?" he ventures leaning against the barbell.

You finish tying your squat shoes before looking at him again with dejected eyes and sighing.

"I just went on a crappy date with a guy from one of those dating apps," you sigh again. "He spent the whole time talking about himself and how much he works out. Then he had the fucking audacity to question me when he asked how much I could lift."

"Fucking asshole!" Benny feels himself getting steamed.

"He just stormed out of the restaurant and left me with the bill when I refused to change my answer," you shrug, but Benny sees your jaw tick. "Apparently, I squat and deadlift more than he does and he couldn't date someone who could do that." You roll your eyes and huff.

"WTF! What a total loser. You don't need a guy like that who doesn't appreciate you," Benny replies incensed. He sees your face fall for a moment, eyes downcast and tight.

"I just — I've been trying to put myself out there again and it sucks," you mumble, cheeks flush with embarrassment. "It's also been kinda lonely since I moved here, and I guess I could just use more friends, too."

"I'M YOUR FRIEND!"

"Yeah, my gym friend! We don't do anything outside of this hot, sweaty box Benny," you remind him with a small smile and playful shove to get him off your barbell.

Benny decides this is completely unacceptable and immediately remedies this by inviting you to the next hangout with him and his ex-Delta Force friends at Redfly's, a local bar nearby. "You know Pope and Will already," he reassures, "Tom's the owner of the bar and he's an asshole, but he's our asshole. And there's Catfish — we call him Fish for short. We've been trying to get him to come work out here, but he's been busy with his new pilot job for the hospital. And he shares custody of his 3-year-old daughter with his ex."

He could see your brain turning over all the information he was throwing at you. You don't seem to react either way to the news that Fish has an ex and a daughter. As you adjust the bar height you respond, "You sure? Don't want to crash a regular thing that you have with your guys."

"Nah, it'll be great! They'll love you!" Benny's determined to get you to come.

You hand him your phone. "Well... okay. Text me the details?"

With your phone in hand, Benny puts his number in to text himself and then convinces you to show him your dating profile. Between sets of squats you both take turns swiping on possible matches, Benny teasing you on your picks. Ever observant, Benny notices your preference for profiles with tall, brown-haired, brown-eyed candidates. As you work through your next set, Benny sneaks his phone out and immediately texts Fish.

Redfly's was what you expected for a bar run by an ex-delta force asshole. Dimly lit, buncha mismatched tables and chairs, lots of dark grain wood, and an air of neglect despite being quite clean. It was mostly empty except for a few grizzled guys who screamed regulars, nursing beers at the bar. Lots of beers on tap, but not so much for cocktail options. Not that you were a big drinker anyway. If anything, all the training made you an extremely cheap date. But damn, if you were going to drink, you wanted it to be a solid cocktail.

"THERE SHE IS!" Benny bounds over to you before grabbing your hand and dragging you over to the table in the corner. He introduces you to Tom who was standing by the table chatting with the guys. Tom gives a half-hearted greeting before stalking off back to the bar. Pope gives you a big smile and hug, "Good to see you hermosa, don't mind Tom. That was downright friendly for him." You snort as you settle into your seat next to Pope. Will also greets you with a small wave and an offer to pour you a beer from the pitcher.

"That's okay, I'm not much of a beer drinker." You wince, wrinkling your nose.

"I thought you said she was cool," Pope teases Benny who rolls his eyes and looks at you with faux betrayal.

"How about I buy shots for the table? Would that make me cool?" you smirk, getting up to go to the bar.

"Only if I get one too," says a warm, baritone voice from behind you. A tall, handsome man slides into the last vacant seat across from yours. Soft brown curls threaten to escape the Standard Oil cap nestled on his head. The warmest brown eyes smile at you as he holds your surprised gaze. "Hi, I'm Fish. Sorry, 'm late."

You want to trace the golden skin stretched deliciously along the column of his neck. Run your fingers through those curls that look so, so incredibly soft. And the strong curve of his nose... You snap out of your reverie before you respond with your name. "Better get those shots then," you say, trying not to trip over your unexpectedly shaky legs. Holy shit, why the fuck didn't Benny mention his friend Fish was gorgeous?

When Benny bugged him to come to the Friday night hangout at Redfly’s, Frankie hadn’t given it a second thought. The exuberant text from Benny, “You coming this week right? Got someone from Pope’s coming to meet you guys!!!” had two too many exclamation points for his taste. He figured Benny had a new lifting partner he wanted the guys to meet and his attendance had been pretty spotty between the new EMS pilot gig and balancing shared custody with Vanessa.

So when he walked into Redfly’s and overheard you say “… shots for the table?” He just assumed Tom had finally hired some help in the form of a very cute new waitress.

It wasn’t until he asked the guys when Tom hired you, eyes not leaving your form as you walked away, did he realize the absolute error in his assumption. “That’s my friend from the gym, Fish. SHE’s from Pope’s,” Benny rolled his eyes.

“C’mon hermano, you know Tom’s too cheap to hire help and too much of a pendejo for help to stick around,” Pope added.

Frankie pulled his cap low over his eyes and slid down his seat. He could feel himself flush. Fuck, he thought. Just made an ass out of myself demanding a shot from a total stranger.

You had frozen for a moment after he introduced himself before offering your name with a bit of a grimace. He thought you were gorgeous though and smelled incredible, fresh and citrusy with hints of something sweet and floral that lingered even after you had walked away.

“So, whaddya think, Fish?” Benny prods. "She’s smart, pretty, super strong, and a total sweetheart. Should ask her out."

Frankie flushes a deeper red. “S’outta my league Benny.”

“Aw, c’mon Fish, you gotta get back out there,” Benny persists. "Made it easy for you too. I happen to know you’re exactly her type."

“What, she into out of shape, 40-year-old, divorced, single dads with a toddler?” Fish grumbles. He hadn’t dressed particularly well tonight either, just his usual worn khakis and old faded navy t-shirt. Hadn’t suspected Benny was going to try to set him up tonight, although with Benny you never knew what you were getting yourself into.

“Might’ve mentioned summa that to her. She didn’t even blink, Fish. You got a shot and you should take it.”

Frankie finally tears his eyes away from you. You had just said something that made Tom smile ever so briefly and he wanted to know what you said. Frankie didn’t even realize Tom smiled anymore.

He sees Pope giving Benny that look that said Pope knew Frankie was indeed interested in you, but needed some extra encouragement and to get out of his head. How a single look conveyed all of that spoke to the years and shit they’d all been through together.

“Gonna help her bring over the drinks,” Benny says, popping out of his chair before Frankie could tell him to keep his big mouth shut.

He lifts his cap and runs his fingers through his hair. He hadn’t even tried to comb his fucking hair before coming out tonight. He slides the cap back on hoping it catches the more unruly curls.

“You’re a total catch, Fish,” Pope says, pouring him a beer. “Don’t count yourself out before even shooting your shot.”

“Could just be a coffee date. Don’t overthink it,” Will seconds.

Frankie takes a big pull of his beer. Easy for these two to say. Both Pope and Will worked out regularly at the gym and had the physiques to show for it. As much as Frankie had insisted everyone needed to get back on their game when they got back from Colombia, he was the only one out of the five of them who hadn't.

At least it didn’t feel like it with his achy back and bad knees. Sure, he had finally gotten his pilot’s license reinstated and now shared custody of his daughter. But he was self-conscious of his soft stomach, especially next to Benny whose abs were definitely the example given in the dictionary next to “rock-hard.” What did he have to offer you besides a mountain of baggage and PTSD? Maybe if he just kept his mouth shut everything would be fine and he’d survive tonight without embarrassing himself.

At this point, you are willing to brave Tom the asshole to collect yourself before sitting across from Frankie and his big brown eyes again. Tom raises an eyebrow when you order six shots ("One's for you asshole," you say to Tom with a teasing glare) and ask if he could make an Aviation. You swear he gives you the faintest smile before grumbling about ridiculous froufrou cocktails, but he wasn't born yesterday and yes he could make you one.

Benny sidles up to you at the bar as you wait for Tom to finish making your drink, offering to help you carry the drinks back to the table. "You doing ok? You seem nervous," Benny observes as you tap your fingers on the bar.

"Why didn't you warn me Fish is fucking hot?" you pointedly whisper back.

Benny grins at you as he leans back on his elbows against the bar, "Fucking knew it. Totally thought he'd be your type, girlie."

"You trying to set us up??" you glare at him.

Benny shrugs with exaggerated innocence. "Maaaaybe."

You huff, "Does he know that? Am I even his type?" You cringe inwardly at your insecurity.

"Well considering he hasn't taken his eyes off you since you left the table makes me think you are," Benny smirks. The smug look stays on his face.

For once you're glad you took more than five minutes to put yourself together before walking out the door. You picked a pair of jeans that hugged your curves and a fitted top with a very complementary neckline. Black-heeled booties gave you a few inches and made your legs look longer than they were. Worth the hassle of walking in at least for one night. The lightest dusting of make-up, mostly eyeliner and glossy lip balm, highlights your facial features.

"So maybe I should shoot my shot then, hmm?" you wink at Benny with a knowing smile.

"If you're thinking what I'm thinking…," Benny grins thinking back on the day you two met.

"That's very purple," Fish observes as you and Benny set down the drinks for the table.

"It's an Aviation. You might like it considering you're a pilot, mmh?" you respond with a smile. Okay, you've collected yourself. Sort of. Let's see if you remember how this flirting thing goes.

"What are we taking shots to celebrate?" Pope asks.

"How about to new, strong, friends?" you quip.

"I'll cheers to that!" Benny raises his glass.

Conversation is light and fun with the guys. You marvel at their connection and closeness as they teased and talked like people who have been through some shit together over the years. You convince Fish to try the Aviation to which he declares it a "very fancy purple" and keeps sneaking sips much to your amusement. They fold you into their conversation, asking about your training, and what competitions you might try this season. They praise Pope about how the gym has flourished and rib him about his ever-revolving door of beautiful women.

"What about you, Fish? You thinking about getting back out there and dating?" Benny asks before flicking his eyes over to you. You remind yourself to thank Benny profusely for being the best wingman ever.

"'Dunno. Not sure where to even start," Frankie mumbles into his beer, casting his eyes down.

"I have an idea," you give Frankie your best coy smile.

"Yeah?" he breathes looking up at you. Those damn brown eyes.

"I have a game for you," you offer before taking a breath. “If I squat you, you get to buy me dinner.” Your heart is thrumming in your chest and you feel your cheeks flush, but damnit, you were going to shoot your fucking shot. "But if I can rep you, I want the whole nine yards. Pick me up at my place, flowers, dinner and dessert."

"You — you think you can squat me?" Fish looks a bit surprised, "I— it's, it's not that I don't think you can. But 'm... A lot bigger than you... 'm out of shape." His ears pink at the last part as he cups one hand over the back of his neck.

"I know I can. Do we have a deal?" you smile at him with encouragement and extend your hand across the table. Fish hesitates, but you try not to assume why.

"Jesus, Fish, if you don't take her up on it, I will," Pope winks at you.

Fish glances between you and Pope for a brief moment.

He reaches out and shakes your hand. "Okay, deal." You try not to get distracted by the way his large hand engulfs yours.

"Let's go, brown eyes," you tell him as you stand up from your chair and whip your hair up into a high ponytail.

"You're going to do this in heels?" Fish asks as he gets up from his chair with a grunt. Christ, he's so tall. And broad. You shrug and look up at him through your lashes, “I mean, Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels.”

You move so you stand with your side towards his front.

“I'm going to put my hand here,” you gesture to his right inner thigh just above the knee. "Is that okay?"

"Yep."

"Alright, you ready?"

He nods.

You carefully slump him over your shoulders in a fireman's carry, gripping tightly to his upper arm and thigh. You can feel the warmth of his body pressed deliciously across your shoulders. He's so warm.

You brace.

Benny's out of his seat, whooping and hollering. Pope's leaning forward, elbows on his knees, clapping, "Let's go, let's go!" Will's grinning and shaking his head in amusement. The regulars at the bar sneak glances over in your direction.

Frankie catches himself remarking on the particular shade of purple out loud when you return to the table with Benny bearing shots and a suspiciously purple beverage. He realizes after you respond and the dazzling smile you give him that you’re flirting with him. He thinks?? He’s so out of practice. God, he’d do anything for you to smile at him like that again.

When you slide your drink over to him to try he surprises himself by taking a sip. He’s even more surprised that he likes it. Crisp juniper dances across his tongue followed by a delicate floral sweetness and a touch of citrus with a spiced cardamom and anise finish. This very purple drink tastes the way you smell. And the giggle you give him when he calls it a “very fancy purple” blooms warmth through him, settling low in his core. He can only think about how he can elicit that sound from you again.

Which is how he misses Benny asking him if he’s thinking about getting back out there and dating. Fucking Benny and his goddamn big mouth.

But then you’re smiling at him again, telling him, single-dad, divorcee Francisco Morales, you have an idea. He’s looking at you and he can barely breathe as your eyes sparkle with a mischievous glint and your plush, glossy lips propose a game.

For a moment he’s confused. Did you not want to go out to dinner with him? Because if he’s honest, he doesn’t think you could squat him. He’s so much bigger than you. And he’s pretty sure if he tried, he could put you in his pocket. But then you’re brimming with confidence and extending your hand out to strike a deal.

It’s when Pope — fucking Pope — threatens to play your game in his place that Frankie is engulfing your delicate hand in his large one. You surprise him with a firm handshake and it’s then that he can feel the callouses across your palm. Callouses from many, many reps with the barbell.

Frankie finds himself towering over you, realizing you’re about to try and squat him in heeled booties. He vaguely hears you ask for consent to touch his inner thigh just above his knee before he finds himself suspended horizontally in the air across a set of firm shoulders, anchored by two small hands. He can feel when you brace, feel your entire core expand. The muscles across your shoulders and back flex underneath your fitted top. And suddenly he’s moving up and down, steadily with control.

You end up squatting Fish five times before setting him back down gently with a breathless giggle. He's towering over you again and you just want to press yourself into his broad chest and envelope yourself in the smell of his body wash.

"Dinner?" you smirk up at him.

"Wow, yeah, dinner on me," Fish flushes, impressed and a little dazed.

"It's a date then," you quip, poking him in the rib before you sit back down at the table. You notice his brown eyes spark with realization at your comment.

Will, Benny, and Pope all high-five you. Cheeks still pink, Fish pulls his chair around to sit closer to you. Tom wanders back over to the table grumbling that Redfly's isn't that kind of establishment with theatrics like you just pulled. But he also sets down an Aviation along with another pitcher of beer before returning to the bar.

"He's just jealous you didn't try to squat him," Benny laughs. You giggle in response as the conversation around the table picks back up.

Feeling Fish's gaze on you, you slide your cocktail over to him. A frisson of electricity shoots up your entire arm when his fingers brush against yours as he takes your cocktail glass.

You tilt your head towards him, your eyes meeting his warm brown ones, and whisper, "By the way, my favorite flowers are dahlias."

Frankie lost count by the time you repped him the third time. Just awed by you having the strength to carry him like this. He decides to just enjoy the rest of the ride.

When you set him back upright he almost melts into a puddle at the breathless giggle you let out. He catalogs that sound in his mind. He wants to brush back the hairs that have escaped your ponytail and he already misses your touch, wants to close the space between your bodies somehow without being creepy.

He gets lost in your eyes when you gaze up at him, he’s definitely over a head taller than you, and ask, “Dinner?”

Frankie is pretty sure he responds in the affirmative, still a bit dazed and very impressed.

It’s when you confirm it’s a date that his brain fritzes, reboots, and takes a minute to come back online. He blinks several times at the realization. He has a date. With you.

next chapter>>

Notes: Dahlias symbolize elegance, creativity, positivity, and growth. It also represents inner strength, likely due to the plant's ability to tolerate harsh conditions.

"Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels.” — Ann Richards

🙏🏽 Thank you so much for reading my first fic! I'm bad at tumblr and new to tags/warnings/fan fics in general, so if I missed something please let me know.

I am open to constructive feedback but please be gentle with this baby powerlifting writer, yeah? I might be able to squat you, but I'm a big ol' softie.

Aaand I'm thinking about expanding on these characters and making Hold Fast into a series if anyone would want to read it. I may or may not already have a Frankie POV at Pope's Gym where he gets to see reader in her element. 👀

Taglist: @katareyoudrilling @christinamadsen @rebel-held

#frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales x reader #frankie x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal characters #triple frontier #pedro pascal cinematic universe #hold fast a frankie x powerlifting!reader fanfic #happy frankie friday #frankie friday

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sollsmith · 4 months

Text

Fire in the Flesh

Chapter Six

Daemon Targaryen x Original Female Character

Words: 2.7K

Warnings: mentions of abuse/injury

Summary:

After five years at war in the Stepstones and the death of his first wife, Daemon Targaryen returns to court embroiling himself, and his niece and heir to the throne Rhaenyra, in chaos and scandal. Daemon’s actions cause Viserys to give him the one thing he has always wanted. A Valyrian bride. Just not the one he had in mind.

Marra had been slowly spiralling for days, but it finally came to a head as the day progressed. She could tell Daella, that he asked about her father, that she confirmed it and then he left. Daella would understand. Letting her future husband know of the cruelty her father inflicted on her was surely the right thing to do. Daemon could stop it. However, once the prince had left and she had returned the book, the words Talya had said days before echoed in her head; “May the Gods look after her. His widowing was no mistake or accident. The Queen and I pray for Lady Daella every day.”

Marra had quickly learned the politics and workings of the court over the last half moon. Marra had been weaving herself into court, threading together whispers and rumours quicker than anyone had before. She had fed some of this information to Daella, mostly aimless gossip. The main source of her information was Talya. They had met in the kitchen, six days after they arrived, when Marra had come to ask if they had something other than pork for dinner. While Daella sat at pretty lunch tables and attended dress fittings, Marra spent her time either preparing for her return, or in Talya’s company.

At first everyone had kept tight lipped on the Prince. She was told he was rarely in the Keep, most of his time spent in brothels on the street of silk or in exile. Eventually when she met Talya, the lips were loosened and what Marra saw as truths began to unfold. She told Daella some of them, she thought Talya’s account of his known preference for women with silver hair and purple eyes was deemed appropriate, after Daella had convinced herself the Prince would not meet with her she was not pretty enough.

They both woke early, taking a carriage to the dragon pit to view the final preparations being made. A platform has been raised, several rows of seats laid out, and multiple florists were hard at work arranging beautiful displays of red, white and black flowers. Daella had to pull her away from a nervous young apprentice who was clearly on the first day of the job.

Once they had finished, they returned to the Keep for a late breakfast with the Princess. Daella taking at least one of her meals with Rhaenrya had become commonplace over the last week, where they would provide each other with gossip and reassurance that their marriages will be fruitful and happy, despite both their doubts.

Breakfast had been consumed, and they soon were walking around a buzzing throne room, also in the mist of preparations. Tables and chairs had been set on two sides from the room, spanning one end to another, the middle remaining empty for the night of festivities that were to take place. The head table had been placed just below the throne. Enough seats for the King, the Queen, the Princess, the Hand, Alios, Maelor, Daella and Daemon. Marra had nervously paced around while Daella inquired about where Marra would be sat, wanting her close to her; “You could place her at the end here? Just below me, on this side?”

“Are you well?” Daella had asked, linking her arm with Marras, they were on their way to meet with the seamstress who was fitting her ceremonial robes. “You have been awfully quiet.”

“Well, yes.” Marra smiles. “Just nervous for you, that’s all.”

“Don’t be. I will be fine.” Daella smiled, placing her other hand over Marra's arm and giving it a squeeze.

“You’ve come around? I thought you were going to throw yourself into the ocean when you came back from the small council meeting the other morning.” Daella had been inconsolable after the meeting, returning to her chambers in tears before Marra fixed her up and sent her off to tea with Rhaenyra.

“This time tomorrow I will be a married woman. There is nothing I can do. Daemon may have been sharp and rude, and it was a shock, that is true. Rhaenyra told me herself, he was being cruel to get a rise out of Viserys, not because he meant it-”

“And you believe that? Marra finally snaps, Daella casualness and airiness about her impending marriage beginning to grate on her. Daella stops walking, unlinking their arms.

“Yes, I do.” Daella stared at Marra, a slight hurt stained on her face. Marra had been nothing but assuring and supportive, the sudden change of stance the day before the wedding shocking Daella slightly, especially when she herself was finally somewhat at peace.

“You believe the girl that your betrothed was fraternising with not even two moons ago? His niece? The reason you're in this very situation?” Marra whispers.

“They’re Targaryens, Marra. Family relations are expected, if not encouraged most of the time. Why do you think they seeked me out after all these years? The Princess is young, like us, in want of rebellion before a life of servitude to her kingdom as Queen, and the Prince is rumoured to have a particular appetite. I’ve heard the rumours myself, you told me them, but all that is done now.”

“How do you know that?”

“Rhaenyra-”

“Rhaenyra has every reason to lie to you. What is to say she and the Prince are not still coupling behind your back.”

“Then let them!” Daella yelled, before lowering her voice again, “I do not care. If it makes them both happy and I’m left be, I can live the rest of my days in peaceful bliss, secure and in protection of the crown. Away from my father.”

“And if they want to marry someday? What of you then?” Marra seethed. How could her friend be so naive and blind?

“They would have to rid themselves of me and Sir Laenor. We are both aware of Laenors nature, but Rhaenyra loves him deeply. She would not cause any harm to him.” Daella said softly. She and Rhaenyra had spent countless hours in each other's company, and she knew it to be true. While they were due to be husband and wife, Laenor was firstly Rhaenyra's friend.

“While you may have every faith in the Princess’ nature, I suggest you rethink your future good husbands.”

“Daemon has committed crimes in war, Marra. I challenge you to find me a man that hasn’t.” Daella sighs. She wishes now she had never brought up Daemon’s time in the Stepstones, offended that Marra would now throw the once legitimate worries about his nature back in her face.

“Do you know what happened to his previous wife?”

“A hawking accident. She fell from her horse.” Daella started confused, shaking her head softly.

“Really? And how does one’s head cave in during a simple fall from a horse? Hmm?” Daella swears she sees a smirk lightly graze Marra’s face for a split second.

“That’s a very serious allegation, Marra.”

“Believe me, it’s not an allegation.”

“Where did you hear such things?” All animation had gone from Daella's voice and face. She was blank, unable to read.

“Talya. One of the Queen's ladies. The Queen herself told her. The Prince wanted to marry the Princess, he’s campaigned for the King to annul the marriage for years. When he didn’t get what he wanted he removed the problem himself.”

“You hear one piece of gossip from a serving girl and that’s it? You know the full story? The Prince wasn’t even on the mainland when she died, Marra, you sound insane.”

“He has a dragon, Daella.” Marra laughs in her face. Daella just blankly looks her back in the eyes, searching for her old friend. The one that would squash any worry she had, not amplify them. Typically Daella was in Marra’s shoes, mindlessly panicking about something she had no control over, while Marra talked her down. The role reversal had made Daella’s stomach turn. She reaches forward and places her hands in Marra’s, softly stroking them.

“Look. I understand you are worried about me. Especially with whatever gossip and scandal you have heard. But it is just scandal and gossip, yes? Daemon may be cold and cruel with his words, and violent at war. I cannot judge him based on the words of others.”

“How can you be so naive? You do not know him. He has no interest in you-”

“Neither do you, you’ve never even seen the man, let alone spoken to him-”

“I have, he came to your chambers after the small council meeting.” Marra spitted out before she could think. Daella's eyes widened, hands loosening their grip on Marra’s.

“What?”

“I had gone to get firewood, when I came back he was in your rooms, let himself in.”

“You did not think to tell me this? Is that what we are doing now Marra? Keeping secrets? For someone who has spent the last half moon complaining about the secrecy of this court, have you let it position you this quickly?” Daella felt the pang of guilt as the words left her mouth. Maybe if she had told Marra about that night in Mellos room, would she be more understanding of her position. If she just told her that she is positive that she saw a glimmer of kindness in his eyes. But she had made the accusation now, and there was no going back.

“No, he asked me not to tell you.” Marra’s voice was gentler now, more anxious than angry.

“Not to tell me? So you will keep your word to a man you're clearly not very fond of, but will not accept those of your friend?”

“We did not speak, he asked where you were, I told him, he left. That was all.”

“And now you expect me to believe that? Just a moment ago you told me he did not want me. Now he was seeking me out in my rooms?”

“I do not know, maybe he was the only one there to prematurely remove his next obstacle on his path to his niece?” Marra was panicking, firing words that she knew would hurt. Maybe the only way to get Daella to wake up was to hurt her.

“So now not only does he have no interest in me, he also wants me dead?” Daella laughs, almost cackling at the contradiction.

“He’s not above it. I dumped all the wine so we wil-”

“Wine?” Daella laughs out. “You think he is capable of the violence of caving his someone's head in, yet would use poison to get rid of me?” Daella lets go of Marra’s hands. “I know you are scared, perhaps my worries mixed with whatever gossip you have picked up has caused whatever this is. But I will hear no more of it.”

“You cannot marry him.”

“I do not have a choice, Marra! I’m not some lowly maid. I’m betrothed to a second son, the brother of a King. Choice is not something I am entitled to.”

“Well do not come to this lowly maid when he leaves you as your father does.” Marra regrets it as she leaves her lips. She watches as Daella slowly inhales then exhales. She does not speak. She just turns and walks forward. Unsure what to do, Marra moves with her.

“No.” She says and she swings back around to face her. Marra for the first time in two years, cannot read her face.

“But I know all your measurements?”

“I can manage. It’s only a robe.” Daella turns again, feet taking her as quickly as they could down the empty corridor.

She knocks on the dark wooden door. She can hear a muffled voice, asking her to wait, footsteps tittering closer before it is pulled open with a squealing creek, revealing Elinda’s tall frame. Elinda was an older woman from the Stormlands, the main seamstress to the Crown. Daella had spent many hours with Elinda over the last half moon, being poked and prodded with her sewing needs and squeezed to death by her corsets. Despite the slight discomfort she put her in, she was kind, and delighted in Daella's love for fabrics and colours.

“Daella, my dear. Could you wait a moment? I have-”

“Let her in.” Daella's eyes brighten at the sound of his voice, trying to get a glimpse of him over Elinda's shoulder. She had not expected him to be here. Logically he would have every reason, he also needed his clothes fitted, but it was not something she could imagine. The rogue prince standing on a pedestal while women held fabrics and pins up to his body.

“Are you sure, my prince?” Elinda turns back to ask him.

“Let her in.” Daemon says again. Elinda quickly steps to the side, making room for Daella to enter. Daella steps forward, reaching forwards to grab Elinda’s forearm, giving it a welcoming squeeze.

“Hello.” She whispers, turning to venture further into the room. Daemon is sitting on the small divan that dresses the room. The first thing she notices is that he is barefoot, a row of mens boots lying to his left. His white tunic is loose and untied from trying on various surcoats. She can see part of his bare chest, hard, burn marks and scars licking at the edges. Her cheeks blush at the sight of him. It was slightly indecent to see a man that was not your husband in this state. His eyes watch hers as she takes him in, smirk dancing on his face.

“My Prince.” She greets him, smiling softly, averting her eyes to the ceremonial robes that hung on a dressing rack. They were black, floor length with red stained along the bottom, shoulders and sleeves. She moves closer to the rack, drawn to the glimmering gold embroidery that adored the belt and lapels of the robes. Her hand reached to feel the fabric.

“Do you like them?” Daemon hums, watching as her fingers run along the belt.

“Gevie.” Daella says letting the fabric slip from her hand, turning to look at Elinda who had now shuffled back into the room. “You have done a beautiful job Elinda, on such late notice too.”

“Oh sweetling, I did not make these. They were sent from Dragonstone at the request of the Prince. I’m old, but not that old.” Elinda laughs. Daella looks to Daemon who is now raising to his feet. She realises this is the first time she has ever stood next to him, she had always been seated before. Has he always been this large?

Daemon stops behind her, so close she can feel the heat radiating from his chest. He reaches his arm around her, hand caressing the fabric of the robes they hang limp in front of them. She twists her head back to look at him, neck straining upwards to get a look at his face.

“Would you like to try it on?” He asks, tilting his head to look down at her. She nods and he reaches for the smaller robe, lifting it off the rack. “Elinda?”

“Yes.” Elinda smiles, grabbing the robe from him, pulling at the belt to undo it. “Daella, remove your overcoat, and we'll get this fitted on you.”

Daella pulls at the buttons of her coat, unlooping them one by one, before shrugging it off her shoulders. Underneath she is wearing a powder blue silk gown. It was simple and thin, Daella knew she would be trying on clothing, so she decided to wear a dress that was easy to slip on and off. Daemon has moved back to his seat, watching her. His eyes traced her thighs, hip before moving to her chest. She wore a gold necklace, and from the chain dangled large amethyst stone that sat perfectly in the space between her breasts.

His view is disrupted when Elinda moves behind Daella, instructing her to insert her arms into the sleeves. She does so, allowing the soft fabric to envelope her. They smelled of ash and iron. Elinda moved around her fussing with the belt until it was sitting perfectly against her body.

“There we go!” Elinda fusses once she has it right. “What do we think?”

Daella is not sure if she is asking her or Daemon. Daemon stands once again, grabbing a embroidered headdress of the table to the right of him that Daella had missed. He lifts it onto her head, fixing it there, rough fingers gently moving her hair into place, out of her face.

“Gevie.” He whispers.

Authors Note:

Another chapter to make up for my nearly two week absence! Cannot promise this will always be the case but I do what I can! I do hope the time jumping around is not to confusing.

Next up: Daemon and Daella get wedded and bedded ;)

For the masterlist to this series and all my other fics click here!

Tag List: @ajthefujoshi @hangmanscoming @papichulo120627

Add yourself to my taglist here!

#daemon targeryan #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen imagine #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon #hotd #matt smith #a fire in the flesh #daemon targaryen x original female character #fire in the flesh

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deuxcherise · 14 days

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Cats vs Dogs

C/w: Unhealthy behavior, probably OOC Ayato Kamisato, yandere Ayato Kamisato, fem reader, reader calls Ayato "Husband" A/n: So you know the YouTube videos where the lady pretends to nom on her kitten's ears and paws and face? Thought it would be cute~ And who better than–ahem–the Inazuman Blue-haired Dog Lover? Haven't played Genshin Impact in a long time, but I tried my best. Enjoy~

Masterlist

If anyone were to inquire about cats and dogs to Ayato Kamisato, he would have chosen dogs over cats. Dogs are such loyal and obedient creatures. Rarely do they bite the hand that feeds.

Like the sociable and responsible housekeeper, Thoma, who hails from Mondstadt yet found his calling here in Inazuma, working for the Kamisato clan.

It has been a long time opinion of his, and it would take a lot to change that.

“Stupid elders. Stupid omiai. Stupid Kamisato…”

A curious thing you were when he saw you for the first time. A woman from one of the branches of the “Holy Dogs”. You were picking apart a poor flower in his family’s estate’s garden, grumbling to yourself how much you hated being dressed up and paraded around like some doll. And especially how stupid he was. All the while not knowing he was standing right behind you.

When you finally realized his presence, you had quickly collected yourself and placed a mask in front of him.

“It is an honor to meet you, Mr. Kamisato. Forgive me for wondering without a chaperone. I simply could not resist the sight of such a beautiful garden,” you greet him, hiding the wilting flower behind your back, much to his amusement.

You reminded him of a cat who had just been caught waiting at the door meowing all day for its owner until the owner walked in and now was trying to play nonchalant.

You piqued his interest. So he decided to accept the proposal from your family and marry you, mostly because of pressure from the elders, but also to have at least a little bit of fun as a husband.

However, ever since you've gotten married, you've been the perfect wife. Ever meek. Ever obedient… too obedient.

Even during your honeymoon, which you had both agree not to consummate until you were comfortable (you still have to perform this duty), you were completely content with being secluded in your own room without a single visit from him, your husband. Not one complaint was delivered to him.

Ayato had thought he’d made a mistake.

“HA! HA! I WIN! SUCK ON THAT, COUSIN!” you screech, pointing at your opponent.

Ayato had spied on you from a distance as you participated in onikabuto battles with a male cousin of yours.

What a coincidence! It just so happened to be a hobby for Ayato as well. He became so excited to enjoy this hobby of his with you that he even let you choose from his collection of onikabuto to fight with.

“Oh, my apologies, Husband. I didn't mean to win…”

It irked him, how you put on your meek mask around him. That's not what he wanted. He wanted you who had shamelessly made fun of your cousin for losing multiple times in a row!

He felt he needed to up the antics.

Call your husband petty, but unbeknownst to you, he decided to ban all staff, except for Thoma and a select few female staff, from interacting with or be seen by you. He had also made sure that every breakfast, lunch, and dinner included something he was told you hated, just to see you react.

You wipe your mouth gracefully with your napkin, before you tell your husband, “Please deliver my gratitude to your staff, Husband, for providing such delicious meals every day and night.”

Besides the meals, the most you'd do was inquire where most of the staff were, since you remembered seeing many servants roaming around the first time you visited the Kamisato Estate.

Ah… it was starting to piss him off... It occurred to him how badly he wanted to be the only one to make you react, with vile thoughts such as… getting rid of everyone. Obviously, he couldn't do that, being the Kamisato heir and all, but it was most tempting…

It was by chance, during one of his strolls outside, he had encountered the sight of a woman holding a kitten and nipping at its paws and ears for a reaction. The kitten would cutely meow and push the woman away, but never hiss or scratch.

So he decided to try that on you. Multiple times.

Slap!

You gasp, hand reaching out to touch your husband's cheek, whom you had just slapped out of a fight-or-flight reaction.

Ayato holds his reddening cheek, a polite smile on his face that doesn't quite reach his gorgeous purple eyes. Which are burning with something… something that you think is vile.

Is he… is he going to kill me?

“Y-you– I must apologize, Husband! However, I had warned you! Multiple times!” you exclaim.

“Yes… I suppose you did,” he says in an even tone before placing his hands on the ground on either side of your body.

He leans over you and you lean back, putting a bit of strain on your knees since you are sitting with your legs folded between you. Your husband tilts his head. You find the discrepancy between the stormy eyes and the polite smile to be terrifying, making you quiver.

Seeing you tremble beneath him, he leans back and sits properly. “My dear wife. Please accept my sincerest apologies. I didn't mean to incur your wrath. I simply…”

Ayato trails off, covering his mouth with the sleeve of his yukata. Unbeknownst to you, he is holding himself back from laughing at how adorable you're angrily pouting at him.

Ah… finally. A reaction~

You, on the other hand, are stewing on the inside. Stupid Kamisato. Is this how the dignified heir to the Kamisato clan is supposed to act? I am the daughter of the Holy Dogs! If it wasn't for my family, I would've rejected your proposal before the elders suggested it! Ugh, you’re so weird! No wonder you barely have any staff around!

After he's collected himself, he gently places his hands on top of yours, folded properly on your lap. You want to so badly slap his hands away, indignant, but you must play the meek and obedient wife the elders said he desired. For the sake of your family.

“Is there any way I can make it up to you?” he asks.

Yeah! Lemme divorce you, you son of a– You put on a polite smile and say, “No, it's alright. You've already apologized.”

The corner of Ayato's mouth twitches slightly, almost unnoticeable. “My dear wife,” he says, ”I assure you that you can share anything with me. Your happiness, your anger, your sadness, even your bitterness. Anything. And please, feel free call me Ayato.”

You nod. “Alright. Thank you, Husband.”

Husband… It occurs to him at this moment that not once has he ever heard you call him by his name. Being your husband for about a month now, he thinks its time become a little more intimate, don't you think?

“... On second thought… Do call me Ayato from now on. I forbid you from calling me Husband ever again, unless you are referring to me while speaking to someone else.”

“Eh? Oh alright.”

“(Y/n).”

Your heart skips a beat, hearing your name fall from his lips. “Y-yes, Hu– Yes?”

Oh? What is this? Is something the matter? Ayato begins to get curious.

“(Y/n)~”

“Yes, Hu– Yes?”

Such a cute response from you, but you aren't call him by his name, for some reason. “If I asked for you to call for me, would you?”

You nod. “Yes. Of course.”

“Alright. Call for me.”

Your eyebrows pinch together in confusion. “I… may I ask why?”

He blinks, his smile widening into what looks like a mischievous grin. “Because I have never heard you call me by my name. Now call for me. Say my name.”

You think it's ridiculous. “Okay, Hu… Ay… to,” you whisper the last syllable.

He leans forward. “Hm? What was that?”

“AY… o… This is ridiculous, Husband. Husband is proper. Calling each other by names directly is improper and…” You meant to add perverse, but at this point your face was burning with embarrassment.

“It's just once~ Come now, (Y/n). Don't tell me you're unable to call me by name now, hm?”

His teasing words jab at your ego. “F-Fine! Ay… Ay… Ayato.”

Ayato chuckles, satisfied with your reaction. For now. He pats you on the head and praises you for doing such a good job.

Between cats and dogs, Ayato Kamisato would no doubt still choose dogs. But nothing can beat the cuteness of his cat-like wife.

He can't wait to see what kind of other reactions only he can make you do…

#random writes #genshin #genshin impact #genshin ayato #genshin impact ayato kamisato #yandere ayato #yandere ayato kamisato #yandere #yandere male #yandere x readere #reader insert #fem reader #deuxcherise writes

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doctorgerth · 1 year

Text

a/n: So when I tell you this piece went on a JOURNEY! I think I ended up with 3 different versions of this? I started 1…immediately didn’t like it and started 2, sat on it for dayssss, and then literally started all over with 3 (this version) last night? Hopefully it turned out okay agshdbd I had fun with it regardless!! Wanna see if Killer gets smooched? Read to find out!

pairing: Killer x GN!Reader

word count: 1.8k

candy heart prompt: Ur Cute - A moment alone

KILLER + UR CUTE

You were approaching upon the third week in a row that you’ve stayed and helped Killer clean up the mess hall after dinner. If he hadn’t known any better, he would have assumed you enjoyed spending time with him as much as he enjoyed having your company around.

Cleaning was a way to destress for the Massacre Soldier; a time when all was quiet as the rest of the crew went to bed with full bellies or to finish off their own various duties for the night. The only sounds were the waves against the boat and the gentle creaking of wood as he wiped the tables and mopped the floors. A moment of peace in an otherwise chaotic lifestyle.

When you had first offered to help Killer with cleaning up, he almost wanted to reject it simply out of habit. Clean up duty was and always has been Killer’s thing, completely voluntary. But when he realized this meant he’d get to have you all to himself for an hour or two, he quickly found himself agreeing to your assistance.

Now, as silly as it may sound, he couldn’t imagine tidying up the mess hall without you. Talking or not, Killer simply enjoyed having you around. Not once has he felt as if you were encroaching on his peace as he has on multiple occasions with his rowdy friends. Rather, you were a part of it; you were equivalent to peace as you had a miraculous way of making him feel relaxed whenever you were around.

He joined you at the sink, grabbing a spare rag to dry off the dishes you had washed and discarding them in their various places. He couldn’t deny that there was something incredibly domestic about the whole scenario, nor the way it made his heart drum loudly in his chest when you smiled at him sweetly as you two helped one another. Did you feel it too?

When you turned off the sink and dried your hands, a low rumbling sound emitted from your stomach, making you cough awkwardly.

“Are you hungry?” he asked simply. The instinct to feed you kicked in, full force, “Want me to whip something up for you?”

“No, we just worked so hard to clean. I’d hate to mess that up.” Dinner was a few hours ago, but clearly your body was craving a late night snack. You blamed it on the loss of energy from cleaning, and that Killer’s cooking was too tasty for his own good.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, “Well, how about for the both of us then?”

You raised a brow at him, “You didn’t eat again, huh?”

He shook his head. He had a bad habit of not eating until after everyone else. It took a moment for his body to cool down and prepare for food after working so hard in the kitchen. He adored that you knew that about him, though you often scolded him for it. Even still, you cared for him, and that was enough.

“You sure you don’t mind?” you asked.

“Wouldn’t offer it if I did.”

You had a way of knowing when Killer smiled behind the mask. There was always a distinct upwards tug at his neck, just under the bottom line of his mask, when doing so. Your heart fluttered in your chest when you noticed that signature pull, imagining a handsome smirk on those purple lips of his.

Killer knew by now. He had to. Everyone else quickly picked up on and teased you endlessly about your little crush on the Massacre Soldier and how often you were helping him clean alone, just the two of you. Was he aware and just taking pity on you? He’s always been friendly with you, which certainly didn’t help in staving off your infatuation, but he hadn’t done anything to show he was interested. Not that you could tell, anyway. You were probably just another crewmate to him, and you’d have to come to terms with that.

You helped Killer rummage through the pantry and fridge to retrieve spaghetti pasta, oil, garlic, parmesan, parsley, and pepper, knowing pasta would be his meal of choice. His favorite recipe was easy to whip up, but you always liked to ask, “Can you show me how to make it again?” just because you adored his patience and how happy he was to teach you. You wanted to show that you were interested in his hobbies and habits. To subtly reveal that you were interested in him.

You listened intently as he explained the directions to you for the seventh time now and by this point, you knew the recipe like the back of your hand. How would he feel if you were to try to cook it for him some day? The thought of cooking for him made you giddier than you’d like to admit.

When the pasta was ready, he grabbed a single plate, a sly excuse in order to avoid dirtying up another dish, and two forks. He scooped it on the plate for the two of you to share and you didn’t waste any time in digging in — Killer’s pasta was always to die for. You hummed appreciatively when the flavors hit your tongue and he grinned once more, unable to handle how cute you were.

Soft conversations were exchanged as you shared the plate. After some time, fullness was beginning to settle comfortably in your bellies, but when you looked down, a single spaghetti strand remained on the plate. He caught you eyeballing it.

“You can have the last bite. I don’t mind,” he offered.

You shook your head, “No, you should have it. Last bite should always be for the chef.”

“But you’re my sous chef?” That thought hadn’t meant to convert to words passing through his lips, but he was glad they did as your flustered reaction was a sight to behold. He rather enjoyed making you stammer and flush as you did him so often.

“Well, how about we share it then?”

And there he stood, stammering and flushed, “Are you sure?”

What was so embarrassing about cutting a strand of pasta in half to share? You nodded, and as you were about to reach towards the plate with your fork, Killer took the strand between the tines of his own fork, and brought the pasta to his mask. You were about to tease him for stealing the last bite, until you noticed he only took a little bit of it into his mask, leaving the rest to dangle from the hole closest to his mouth.

Oh.

You were entirely embarrassed now, skin undoubtedly hot to the touch. It was normal for crewmates to share spaghetti like this, right? With a shaky fork, you gathered the other end of the spaghetti and brought it to your lips, leaning in closer so as to not break the noodle. Neither of you moved for some time as you stood inches from one another, connected by a single strand of spaghetti.

You felt a small tug as he audibly slurped the noodle, shortening the pasta as well as the distance between the two of you. You followed suit with nervousness, feeling on the verge of combustion now that you could feel the heat radiating off him and caressing your already burning skin. His close proximity was making you lightheaded. He slurped again, and suddenly, your nose was brushing against the cool plastic of his mask. It was hardly enough to cool you down.

The final slurp would be the last bite, the last pull towards one another, and Killer waited patiently, begging for you to take the chance. He was sure his heart was going to beat right out of his chest, wondering if maybe this was a mistake, if maybe you were uncomfortable, until you closed your eyes and took the rest of the noodle into your mouth, planting a kiss so quick against his mask it nearly gave him whiplash. For that brief second, he could feel the heat of your lips through the mask hole and though it was more than he could’ve ever dreamed, he selfishly wanted more.

“I’m sorry, maybe I…” you quickly backed away into an apology, wiping at the oil that stained the corner of your lips. The click of his mask caught you by surprise, cutting your sentence short as his mask hit the floor and his blue eyes stared into yours. You’d seen Killer without his mask multiple times now, each time more stunned by his attractiveness, but never had his blue eyes stared at you so intensely. It made your heart beat uncontrollably; a deafening thrumming in your ears. On a ship full of hundreds of crewmates, sailing across an ocean full of thousands of ships, in a world full of millions of people, in this kitchen, it felt like it was just the two of you.

His hands reached up to caress your face, and you were too captivated to even blink, not wanting this moment to end any time soon. Or ever.

“Can I have another?” he whispered breathlessly.

The nod you gave was a little more eager than intended, but you’d wanted to kiss those lips of his for so long now, even if this were all just another dream, nothing could stop you from saying yes, yes, yes.

His lips were on yours instantaneously. As long as you had waited for this, he was sure his wait was ten times longer, ten times more agonizing, but now he had you and it would be damn near impossible for anything to take you away from him. Not if he had anything to say about it. You felt safe pushed up against him, held firmly by his hands now gripping at your waist as he pulled you into him, desperate to be even closer. You felt elated beyond comprehension to have his warmth fully wrapped around you. His lips felt like heaven moving against yours, kissing you with slow precision, tasting you with intent, staining your lips the same shade of purple that adorned his lips. You’d wear the color with pride.

“It’s about damn time,” a bellowing voice echoed through the mess hall, pulling you two apart for a brief moment. Kid leaned against the doorway with a shit-eating grin, “Placed a lot of money on you two. Thanks for securing my win.” He closed the door as quickly as he’d opened it.

Killer shook his head with a groan and rested his forehead against yours, “Dumbass.”

You laughed, “Guess everybody’s been waiting on this, huh?”

He pecked your lips, convinced he was addicted to them by now. He was far from done with kissing you yet, “Not nearly as long as me.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you waiting,” you smiled against his lips, melting into him as he closed the distance between you two and deepened the kiss once more.

The two of you would become a little less productive at cleaning up the mess hall together now that kissing was on the table.

a/n: Our first "loser"!! 🫣 At least Killer leaves the event with a full heart knowing he got a smooch (or two, or three, or...). We won't see him in Round Two unfortunately, but we'll definitely see him again someday! Thanks for reading. 💕

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hazza-bear-care · 5 months

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Happy Birthday

It's your birthday, but everyone seems to be too busy to care.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x FemAvenger!Reader (Established relationship), Age gap if you squint, pet names (honey, baby, sweetheart), allusions to smut but still 18+

A/N: My birthday was on the 18 and I didn't really feel like celebrating, so this was inspired by how i felt. Let me know what you think!

~~~~~~~~

As you woke the morning of your birthday, a heavy, hollow feeling settled in your chest. After you turned 21, celebrating your birthdays began to feel trivial, like a chore. You always seemed to get a little depressed as your birthday drew nearer, never quite being able to pin the reason down. For the third year in a row, you had to plaster a sickeningly sweet smile to your face and deal with the near constant chorus of "Happy Birthday's" spilling from your friends as you passed them in the halls of the compound. You didn't doubt that Tony would bug you about throwing a lavish gala in your honor, something you'd decline relentlessly in exchange for a quiet night in with your friends.

However, when you'd made your way to the kitchen to join the others for breakfast, no one looked up from their plates. Brushing aside the feeling burying deeper into your chest, you sat in your spot across from Bucky, the handsome super-soldier hunched over a steaming bowl of oatmeal. The conversation flowing between Natasha and Thor continued, other members of the team chiming in with their own opinions, but no one seemed to notice that you had sat at the table. You silently poured yourself a cup of coffee, Bucky sending you a quick smile as he caught your movement, almost like he was happy to see that you had graced him with your presence. You returned his smile, gently placing the coffee pot back on the table. Just as you were reaching for the cream, a hand came out from behind you, snatching it up before you could grab it. Looking up, you saw Bruce Banner pouring an obscene amount of cream into his already full mug, nearly draining the carton before he put it back on the table.

You grabbed the remainder, barely having enough to cool your coffee before you stirred in your sugar, mentally swearing at Banner for being so inconsiderate. Finally turning your attention to the food laid out on the table, you notice that there's not a lot left for you to eat. That wasn't unusual for the Avenger's compound, the general consensus being "you snooze, you lose" when it comes to meals, yet you couldn't help but feel as if this was deliberate. As if he read your mind, Bucky cleared his throat, sliding his bowl of oatmeal across the table to you. The aroma of brown sugar, cinnamon, and maple syrup caused your mouth to water, mumbling a quick thank you to Bucky as you took a bite.

"Okay, well, nothing really going on today! Feel free to go about your day as you see fit, leave dinner ideas with FRIDAY." Tony said, sending your heart straight to your feet. You heard sighs of relief as the team mumbled about how awesome it was to not have any missions for once, which you were also relieved about, but as everyone shuffled out of the dining room, some waving their goodbyes as they noticed you, a wave of loneliness washed over you. The oatmeal in your mouth tasted like cinnamon glue, but you forced it down before also leaving the table, wandering aimlessly around the compound.

Your feet seemed to move on their own, leading you towards the lab to bug Tony. He was like the fun uncle you never had, so bothering him while he was trying to work was sure to lift your spirits.

The doors slid open and you immediately heard Metallica blasting through the speakers, Tony subtly nodding his head to the beat as he fluttered between multiple screens. You shook your head, walking up to his work bench and sitting down, your fingers itching to play with the hologram in Tony's hands in order to get his attention.

"What's up, Squirt?" Tony called over the music, the song now changed to Guns N Roses. You gnawed on your lip anxiously, popping your fingers as you focused on whatever he was fiddling with.

"Just wanted to see if there was anything planned for today. Anything you might have forgotten to mention to the group or to me." You responded, praying you sounded casual about it. Apparently, you didn't as Tony flicked away his hologram and turned down his music, planting both of his hands on his hips as he stared you down.

"The holidays are over, I didn't forget Valentine's Day, which reminds me I have to buy something for Pepper. Hey, FRIDAY, remind me to buy Ms. Potts a Valentine's gift." Tony rambled, the AI taking the note. "I'm fairly certain there's nothing to celebrate today. Why do you ask?"

You sucked in a breath and blinked away the tears building up, as you shook your head. "No reason. Sometimes you're forgetful. Sorry for bothering you."

"No problem. See you later, kiddo." Tony answered, turning his music back up as you made your way back upstairs to the living room. You stumbled through blurry vision and into an argument going on between Natasha and Sam. They were sitting with Clint, Thor, Peter, Wanda and Vision, everyone gathered to watch a movie, but they couldn't decide which one to start with.

"I think Back to the Future is an AWESOME choice, Nat!" Sam yelled from his horizontal position on one of the couches.

"Half the people in this room won't understand the references, Sam! Let's watch Indiana Jones instead!" Natasha yelled back, sending a pillow straight into Sam's face. You thankfully slipped past them without being pulled in as a tiebreaker, flitting up to your room to change into some workout gear. Maybe punching something would shrivel the dark feeling still threatening to swallow you whole.

You quickly changed into a pair of leggings and a sport's bra, tying your hair up with a black scrunchie and shoving a pair of headphones into your ears, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge as you once again avoided the movie argument that had now escalated to a pillow fight.

Stepping into the cool air of the basement gym, you were alone to do cardio while Steve and Bucky sparred on mats across the way. You blasted your favorite playlist as you settled into a decent pace on the treadmill, a sheen of sweat building across your chest and face. After your run, you did some lunges before cooling down with some water, someone tapping your shoulder during your break.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you! I was just wondering if you'd like to spar for a bit?" Steve had been down in the basement for at least an hour, yet it looked as if he'd just begun, a light layer of sweat dusting his cheekbones.

"Oh, sure." You responded, removing your headphones and walking over to where Bucky was still panting. You chuckled slightly at Bucky as you placed your belongings on a bench nearby before stepping in to face Steve on the mat.

"Bring it on, honey." Steve taunted, a small smirk on his face. You steeled yourself before throwing a punch which Steve caught, giving you enough time to sweep his legs out from under him, a thud echoing around the room as the super soldier fell to the floor. While he was down, he threw out his legs to trip you sending you sprawling on your back, the wind being sucked out of your lungs instantly. Steve kept his legs tangled with yours as he rolled you over and pinned your arms to your back all while you struggled to catch your breath.

"Okay, I give!" You cried from under Steve, the pressure on your shoulders beginning to get uncomfortable. Steve let go of you in a flash, standing up before offering you a hand and steadying you on your feet. You felt you didn't do as well as you should have, and as you caught your breath you pondered ways to try taking Steve down with the next time you sparred. The look on your face said enough because Bucky was suddenly snapping in your face to get your attention.

"Are you alright? You've been weird since breakfast." Bucky asked, commenting on when he'd seen you last. Anger poured through your veins like thick, hot lava as you glared at Bucky.

"I'M FINE!" You scream at the top of your lungs, running out of the gym and taking the elevator to your floor of the compound. You sprinted to your room, demanding that FRIDAY lock your door as you buried your face into your pillow, screaming once again as anger, frustration, and heartbreak burned you from inside out. You withdrew your face from your pillow and instead chose to punch it, picking it up and pounding it against your headboard, trying anything that would help transfer the emotions you were feeling away from your body.

After one more particularly intense scream, you wiped your eyes and decided to take a shower in hopes to try and refresh your day. You turned the water up as high as it could go and scrubbed every inch of your skin until you were bright red, leaving the scalding sanctuary in two plush towels. You then proceeded with your skin care routine, combing through your wet hair before putting it up in a bun, donning your most comfortable pair of sweatpants and a tank top. You shoved your feet into some fuzzy yet sturdy slippers and grabbed a book and a hoodie before making your way back to the elevator.

Instead of going downstairs for dinner, something someone else picked out on your birthday, you went upstairs to the roof. Over the years the roof had become a quiet place to read and get away from the business of your life. Saving the world doesn't have a schedule, yet somehow there's always time for you to sneak up to the roof. There was a little sitting area next to a rooftop garden filled with roses, and the sunset so beautifully over the city that it held your attention more than the book you brought.

As the sky grew darker and it got harder to read, you chose to watch the sun sink lower in the distance, the constellations coming out to dance above your head. The wind picked up a bit, but as you went to move you heard someone walk up behind you.

"It's me, don't be afraid." Bucky announced gruffly as he came to sit beside you,

"What do you want?" You asked quietly, turning your attention back to the glittering skyline of the city.

"You missed dinner. I figured you'd be up here though." He answered, He'd guessed correctly and found you in the one moment you had to be alone. "What's wrong?"

"What?"

"What's wrong? You've been weird today, not like yourself, so something's wrong. Tell me." Bucky explained, demanding an answer. He towered over you, instantly making you feel small as his stare pinned you to your seat. His baby blue eyes were full of desperation and care, causing you to tear up again.

"It's my birthday." You whimpered, burying your face in your hands as you tried to hold back your tears. Bucky's heart dropped as he watched you crumble into a bawling mess behind your hands. He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you in for a hug which you immediately returned, burying your face into his neck as you continued to cry.

"Oh honey. Sweetheart, I am so sorry! Why didn't you say something sooner?" Bucky apologized, his voice soft and comforting as you cried.

"I trusted my team to know. I know all of your birthdays." The explanation was a good start, but Bucky knew something else was bothering you.

"But everyone forgot, didn't they?" Bucky asked softly, rubbing your back as you wailed harder. Hearing it out loud was worse than you could have ever imagined, and you never wanted to hear it again. You simply nodded, clutching Bucky's shirt even tighter in your fists as he held you impossibly closer to him, helping you calm down with every breath he took. Once your crying had slowed, Bucky prompted you to look at him, letting him wipe away the stray tears that had fallen.

"I'm so sorry we forgot your birthday. I'm sorry I forgot. You mean so much to me, the least I can do is remember your damn birthday." You giggled a bit in Bucky's grasp.

"I even asked Tony if he was positive there was nothing going on today. He said he was certain there was nothing to celebrate." You commented bitterly, crossing your arms as you pulled yourself from Bucky's lap.

"I'm gonna beat the shit out of him, I promise. But for now, your birthday isn't over yet. What would you like to do?" Bucky asked, distracting you from the anger the was building inside you again. He grabbed your hand and swiped his thumb over your knuckles as you pondered his question.

"I don't know, Buck. I kind of stopped caring about my birthday when I was a teenager. It wasn't until I joined the team that I even got something I could call a birthday party. Hell, Natasha took me to Las Vegas when I turned 21, but now three years later they just stopped trying." Your voice cracked and your chin wobbled, but you were done crying. Bucky rubbed your knuckles again as you chewed on your bottom lip.

"Do you want to go back to Vegas? I'm sure Tony could arrange something in a heartbeat." Bucky offered, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

"No. I... I don't feel like doing anything, actually." You answered through gritted teeth.

"Oh, a lazy day can be great! You can watch movies or tv shows, listen to music. Does any of that sound good?" Bucky's eyes were full of hope as he offered up suggestions on how to spend the rest of your birthday, but he wasn't understanding what you meant.

"No, like I don't feel like doing anything. I just want the day to be over with and continue on with my life." You explained, bringing your fingers up to your mouth to chew at a rouge cuticle. Bucky seemed to understand as he froze in his seat, and he swore he could feel his heart break.

"Sweetheart, whether you believe it or not, today is special. Today is not just another day to mark off on the calendar. You graced the Earth on this day, and the world was forever changed because of it. If you weren't born today, I never would have fallen in love with you." Your heart melted and your eyes watered once again as Bucky pulled your hand away from your mouth. "I am so, so very sorry I forgot your birthday, honey. I promise I will make it up to you, alright?"

"Okay. I believe you, Bucky. Thank you." You said running your thumb over his as you sat in silence for a brief moment.

"Are you sure there's nothing you want to do?" Bucky asked, running his fingers through your hair.

"Yeah. Tell everyone they forgot my birthday and lock myself in my room for the rest of the night to watch them scramble." You replied, causing Bucky to throw his head back and laugh loudly.

"Anything else?" Bucky asked, wiping away a tear of his own.

"A movie and junk food night. Pizza, tacos, burgers and a list of movies you haven't seen yet." Bucky's smile grew wider as he agreed to the plan, escorting you back inside the compound and to your room.

As he went to retrieve his phone and wallet from his room, Bucky ran into Natasha. The red head looked bored with her day, but refreshed from the workout she was doing prior.

"Hey, where are you going?" Natasha called as Bucky passed.

"My girl and I are having a movie night and we're ordering food. No one is allowed to talk to her right now, she's a little upset." Bucky explained, tapping on his phone as he walked back to your room to get your food orders correct.

"Why is she upset?" Natasha asked, following him to your door.

"You forgot her birthday. It was today." Bucky said casually, turning away from Natasha who was busy trying to pick up her jaw from the floor as he entered your room once more. He confirmed the food and ordered whatever you wanted, throwing in as many birthday treats as he could find with every order. As he gathered whatever was in the kitchen for appetizers, Bucky couldn't help but laugh at the flurry of the Avengers as they scrambled to throw together a decent celebration.

"Barnes, why didn't you tell anyone it was her birthday?!" Sam yelled, his hands suddenly full of balloons, cornering Bucky against the kitchen counter.

"You guys were supposed to know." Bucky shrugged, burying his own guilt as he grabbed two cartons of ice cream and spoons before he shoved past Sam. The food he had ordered arrived, so he gathered that as well before he made his way back upstairs.

"Your birthday feast has arrived, my sweet!" He announced, piling the food onto your bed before turning and locking your door.

"You're forgetting something." You answered. Bucky frowned and scanned the bags laid out in front of him. He had your favorite barbacoa tacos and bacon cheeseburger balanced perfectly on top of the New York style pepperoni pizza he'd gotten to share. Along with the entree's, cheesecake and cookies and cinnamon bread doused the room in a sugary smell, your mouth watering in anticipation.

"I did? But I got the tacos, the pizza, and the burgers. I made sure there were extra French fries, and got you extra of everything. Are you sure I forgot something?" Bucky asked, disappointment lacing his voice as he continued to stare at the mountain of food on your bed.

"The movie list." You reminded him, smiling brightly when his face changed from confusion to relief, then to realization.

"Oh! I have it on my phone. Sam taught me how to do that. Apparently there's an app for that." Bucky answered, crawling into bed beside you and handing you his phone. You swiped it open, slightly shocked that he didn't have a password, and found his movie app. You scrolled for a bit, the list of titles expansive and riddled with multiple genres.

"Where do you want to start? A franchise, a romantic comedy, a classic?" You offered, ignoring the perpetual buzzing of your phone as it laid between you and your boyfriend. Bucky picked it up and turned it off, tossing in onto your bedside table as he pondered your question.

"It's your birthday, honey. What do you want to watch?" Bucky answered, unpacking the buffet of junk food and laying it out on the bed.

"Have you already seen Harry Potter?" You asked, fiddling with the ends of your hair.

"Not all of it. I think I've seen the first three?"

"If you don't remember, then we're watching Harry Potter. Fair warning though, I have most of them memorized. They're some of my favorite movies." You grabbed your remote and found where all eight of the wizarding movies were streaming, settling in for a long night of eating and binge-watching Harry Potter.

When you were stuffed with food and halfway through the fourth movie, someone knocked on your door.

"FRIDAY, who's at my door?" You ask, not tearing your eyes away from the tv.

"It's Mister Stark. Should I let him in?"

"No. Tell him and the others that I will not be talking to them." You answer quickly, smiling slightly as you heard Tony swear before he stomped away.

"I'm sorry again, honey." Bucky said, guilt filling his voice as he rubbed your arm, finally breaking your attention away from the movie still playing in the background. His brows were furrowed together as he stared down at you, confusion on his face as your calm gaze steadied on his.

"I forgive you. Thank you for this. It's exactly what I wanted." You commented, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles as a soft smile spread over your face.

"You're welcome. Happy Birthday, sweetheart." Bucky cooed, leaning in to capture your lips with his, pouring every ounce of love into you with each languid movement. You lost yourself in his touch, melting at how beautifully your lips fit with Bucky's, like two pieces of the same puzzle finally locking into place. The two of you pulled away breathless and panting, staring deeply into each other's eyes for a few moments more before Bucky cleared his throat and turned his attention back to the tv.

"Are you okay?" You asked, suddenly shy and a little angry. Why would he pull away like that? In the year that you had been dating he'd never pulled away from an intimate moment, so what changed?

"Yeah, I'm good. You're just... a really good kisser. I needed a second to compose myself." Bucky answered, his attention fully on the movie that was almost over yet sending quick glances your way every so often.

"Thank you. You're a good kisser too, Bucky. My birthday wish is to kiss you for the rest of the night." You admitted, turning his head to meet his eyeline. Bucky's eyes darkened and in a flash the food was quickly discarded, his lips meeting yours again. This kiss was heated as he pushed you to lay down against the pillows. You sighed under his touch and settled in for a long night as his tongue swiped through your mouth.

Yes, this is what you wanted, but you still couldn't wait to see what everyone else would pull off to make up for forgetting your birthday. They didn't matter though. All that mattered is that Bucky kept touching you, kissing you, and celebrating the day you chose to grace the planet; the best day of his life. He loved celebrating this day with you, and he couldn't wait for more in the future.

#blurb #birthday #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fluff #avengers imagine #steve rogers imagine

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bruh--wtf · 1 year

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Comfort Zone

Remus Lupin x Reader

Main Masterlist

Summary: Remus likes the quiet girl in his class and helps her out of her comfort zone.

Remus Lupin Masterlist

You sat next to Remus as silently as you could, praying Mcgonagal wouldn’t notice you slipping into the back row.

You’d accidentally slept in, which you never do, but today you did. And none of your dorm mates are particularly nice. Or friends of yours. So none of them bothered to wake you.

You saw two of them a few rows ahead of you and one, Jess, looked back at you before notifying the other, Donna, of your presence. You saw them giggling behind their hands before you decided maybe coming to class late was somehow worse. You just avoided looking at anyone.

“Ignore them,” you hear whispered next to you. You jump a little at the sound of Remus Lupin’s voice. He rarely spoke to you. He was Remus Lupin, he didn’t have to. He was smart, witty, attractive, popular, and had practically every girl, and some boys too, at Hogwarts at his feet.

“What?” You whisper after a second of processing. He glances at your roommates and nods in their direction. He rolls his eyes and gives you a pointed look.

“They’re ridiculous. Ignore them,” he says. You press your lips together and look at Mcgonagal again.

“That’s pretty difficult when you live with them,” you mumble. He watches you for a second then he shakes his head.

“They’re just jealous,” he says. You almost laugh outright, and cover your mouth with your hand, thankfully not drawing any attention to yourself. You look at Remus who raises an eyebrow at you, clearly confused.

Why would Jess and Donna be jealous of you? They were gorgeous girls with plenty of friends. You… were not that.

“They have nothing to be jealous of, trust me,” you say quietly. Remus scoffs and you stare at him for a second, extremely confused.

“I know for a fact those girls woke up well over an hour before breakfast to get ready for school just to get attention. Jess hasn’t gotten new robes since third year because she thinks the smaller ones make her look better,” he rolls his eyes. “There are those girls and then there are girls that don’t care what others think and wake up for themselves. You strolled into class late, and I’m guessing you slept in, right?” He asks. You hesitate before nodding a little. He smiles a little and nods at you, glancing over you quickly.

That look that he just gave you has made multiple people blush in the past and you heard a rumor he once made someone faint. You think that rumor might be right.

“They’re jealous because you don’t even try and you look ten times better than them,” he says. You stare at him for a moment, and you can feel the heat on your cheeks. He smiles a little at you before refocusing on Mcgonagal.

When class was over you stood up, but Remus stopped you. “Uh, Y/N,” he says. You look at him as you sling your bag over your shoulder. He stands up and you hate how short you feel. “My friends are having a bit of a get together tonight. Do you want to go?” He asks. Your eyes widen a fraction.

“Me?” You ask. He smiles a little wider and nods.

“You,” he says.

“Um…”

“Please? Dorcas and Marlene backed out last minute and Lily would rather die than let the guys outnumber the girls,” he says. You smile a little. You were friendly with the girls from that dorm, you’ve just never really talked much.

“Um… sure,” you finally say. He smiles and nods.

“Great. Meet us in the common room after dinner, alright?” He says. You nod and walk out of the classroom.

That night, you walked into the common room and Mary ran up to you. “Yes! Thank God you’re here. Lily’s about to completely blow,” she says, grabbing your hand and pulling you up the stairs towards the boy’s dormitories.

“Um, are we allowed up here?” You ask. Mary laughs a little and shrugs.

“Not technically, but we come up here all the time. The boys come to ours sometimes too. Minnie doesn’t really care,” she says. She pulls you into a dorm without knocking. Inside you see Lily, Alice Fortescue, and the marauders.

“You’re so arrogant, it’s ridiculous!” Lily exclaims, looking at Sirius.

“Why am I arrogant this time?” He asks. Then notices that Mary had dragged you in here and throws his arms out. “Hallelujah!” He says. Everyone else notices the two of you now and Mary pulls you over to sit next to her, so she was also next to Lily. You noticed that you ended up next to where Remus was sitting on what you assumed was his bed. His legs dangled off the side next to you. He smiles at you when you look at him quickly. You smile back quickly and then look away.

“Sirius was just explaining why he should pick the movie for the third time in a row,” Lily says, pointedly. Sirius sighs and puts his hands on his hips looking at Lily.

“Because, Evans, I have the best taste here, clearly,” he says. Mary gasps next to you and puts her hand over her heart. Sirius puts one hand up and gestures to her. “Okay, Mary and I are tied for fabulousness,” he says. You smile a little at whatever this could be called.

“I’ll accept that for now,” Mary says.

“But, fine. If someone else wants to pick, someone else pick. But no sappy depressing chick-flick, I swear to God!”

This starts a whole new argument over what movie to watch. Eventually Remus moved off the bed and sat on the floor next to you.

“Sorry about them,” he says quietly. You turn to look at him, a small smile on your face.

“Don’t be. This is much better than watching Jess and Donna debate over who their next victims should be,” you say. Remus laughs a little and you smile a little more. You did that. You made Remus Lupin laugh. It’s hard not to feel at least a little proud.

“That’s fair,” he says. You smile at him and he nods at the group. “Anything you want to watch?” He asks. You shake your head and shrug.

“I’ve never watched much TV,” you admit. He raises an eyebrow. “I prefer to read about different worlds and picture them myself than have an image thrown at me,” you say. He smiles a little and nods at your words.

“I definitely understand that,” he says. You smile and finally you notice James turning on the TV and was turning on a movie. You shifted a little and got more comfortable, leaning back against Remus’ bed.

A few times throughout the movie random conversations would break out and it was mostly Mary and Sirius trying to get you involved in them.

By the end of the night you were more comfortable with the group and speaking but not entirely.

You noticed how Alice and Lily had fallen asleep on each others shoulders. It was well past lights out, but for once you didn’t mind all that much.

You felt yourself dozing off by the time the movie ended and decided to force yourself to go back to your dorm. Mary looked over at you and raised an eyebrow. “You’re leaving?”

“Um, yeah. I’m tired so I’m gonna head back to the dorm,” you say. Mary nods and moves to stand up.

“I’ll go with you. Traveling alone is spooky,” she says. You smile a little and nod. She shakes awake the other two girls who get up a minute later. Sirius and James had already collapsed on their beds and Peter had fallen asleep on the floor. You were following Mary out when Remus stopped you again.

“Y/N,” he says. You turn back to him and smile. He hands you your cardigan that you must’ve left on the ground.

“Thanks,” you say. He smiles at you and glances out in the hall.

“Uh, do you wanna do this again some time?” He asks. You smile and nod.

“Sure, I’d like that,” you say. He scratches his neck and smiles at you.

“You think maybe we could? Just you and me? Maybe Hogsmeade on Saturday?” He asks. You blink at him.

“Um… like…” he nods, making you finish the question.

“A date,” he says. “It doesn’t have to be if you don’t want it to be, though,” he adds. You press your lips together, a smile spreading on your face quickly.

“I’d like that, actually,” you say. Remus raises an eyebrow, smiling at you.

“Great. So… Saturday?” He asks and you nod, smiling.

“Saturday. Goodnight, Remus,” you say and give him one last smile before you join the grinning girl in the hall. After the door’s closed and you’re down a bit of the stairs the girls erupt into giggles and squeals and you find yourself doing the same.

#young remus x reader #remus lupin x you #young remus imagine #remus lupin x reader #young remus x y/n #marauders era

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creative-frequency · 3 months

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Raphael x Reader: Act II: The Dinner, pt.2

Summary: Your patron Raphael invites you for a dinner with multiple ulterior motives. Part 2 of 2. Word count: 3853 Notes: Dinner date with Raphael at House of Hope. Some romantic tension finally relieved, making out with the devil.

Previous part

“I’ve been looking forward to spending an evening with you,” Raphael mused just as you pulled your hand back from his. His warmth lingered, burning your fingertips.

He had brought you into a grand foyer. Nervous about the new situation and Raphael’s company – and not really knowing what to reply – you gaped around at the decorative hall. Massive pillars stood in rows at each side and the ceiling was impossibly high. There were no paintings on the walls unlike in the rooms you had previously visited, but devilish sculptures stood amidst the pillars. No doubt sculpted after Raphael’s own visage. Deep red drapes softened the masonry.

Raphael lingered in the middle of the foyer while you paced around a bit, marvelling at the interior.

“Before we dine…”

You turned to look at him.

Raphael snapped his fingers. A sweet wave of nothingness washed and settled through you – silence.

“There. A little privacy from our tentacled friend,” he said with a complacent tone.

The Emperor was going to be extremely upset about you dining with the devil and denying it the chance for eavesdropping. It already had opinions and dire concerns of you lending your ear to Raphael. Even more so about sleeping in the devil’s bed, but that was a conversation you rather wanted to forget.

“Oh. It’s… quiet,” you said, bemused.

The whispering and humming of the Artefact in the back of your mind was gone. Not once had it occurred to you that Raphael might have the power to do such a thing. At the same time, it warranted slight worry about his motives for silencing your astral guide. What had he planned for the night that he didn’t want anyone else to hear?

“This way, my raven.” Raphael motioned towards the hallway and you stepped into pace at his side.

Your mind truly was wondrously silent, thanks to the devil. While it felt weird, a sense of bitter longing filled you. What a luxury it was to remain the only inhabitant of one’s skull. You couldn’t get rid of the tadpole soon enough.

The earlier times you had visited the dining hall of House of Hope, you had not exactly been keen on examining the interior design. Raphael didn’t seem to mind that you were taking in every detail of your surroundings now. Hells, he even seemed pleased at your silent awe as your gaze moved around from the massive painting of the devil himself above the fireplace.

There was a simple brass bell on a chain that was mounted into the wall. The bell was almost invisible in the middle of all the elaborate decoration, but something in it drew your attention.

Raphael followed your gaze and hummed in thought. “Go on, give it a ring,” he urged.

You moved closer to inspect the item.

“What is its purpose?” you asked but didn’t dare to touch it despite his encouragement.

“It is merely a simple dinner bell. Ring it and I will know the table has been set.”

You reached for the short chain and gave it a light tug. The bright jingle sound reverberated in your skull and made your teeth ache momentarily. If that sound couldn’t travel through different planes, nothing could.

“Satisfied?” Raphael spoke while you held your cheek to stop your head from spinning.

“And regretting it,” you asserted with a pointed glance and moved in for the seat he was offering. Raphael let out a low and soft laugh while ensuring you were seated comfortably, then took his own seat opposite.

The hexagonal table was once more laden with dishes that you had never seen or tasted before. It seemed that Raphael currently held a taste for the more exotic Southern flair as many of the foods originated from Calimshan. There was roasted goose and stuffed portobello mushrooms with cherry port wine reduction and foie gras stuffing, aqua-tinted Green Calishite cheese, pork sausages and honey-sauteed vegetables – the same dish you had eaten on your first meeting. He also served you a glass of trike, a sweet and strong wine made from palintrike. Oranges, apples, sunmelons and other fruits were plentiful on the table, cut into bite-sized pieces and served with a sweet paste made of dates.

Raphael took care of most of the conversation on his own while you ate. He told you about the ingredients and spices in the dishes, their preparation methods and the history of the area they originated from. While it was certainly interesting, you couldn’t figure out a natural way to bring up Astarion’s dilemma.

After five courses and three different wines to match, you couldn’t possibly eat anything more. When Raphael paused to sip his drink, you braced and went for the direct route.

“Can I bring my companions here for dinner?” you asked.

Raphael arched a brow at you.

“They’re not my clients,” he replied, unsurprisingly, and leaned forward. “You are. My most precious one, in fact.”

The weight of his words made you shiver and a wave of apprehension coursed down your spine. It had been evident that he really didn’t care for your companions, but when he accentuated it like that… You had to avert your eyes in a flush and focus on the empty plate in front of you.

Raphael placed his glass on the table and fixed a curious gaze to you.

“What is on your mind, little raven?”

You inhaled quickly, remembering why you had brought up the topic in the first place: “So, about Astarion…”

Raphael made a calming gesture and smiled knowingly. “Don’t worry, my dear. I’m motivated to help him.”

Your loyalties were already stretched between your companions and your devil patron. To both of them, you essentially owed your life. Raphael could stand to be pressured a bit more. You straightened up on your seat.

“How soon?” you questioned.

“As I’ve previously stated, I’ll think about it and get back to you. Don’t fret,” Raphael replied and, to your astonishment, added: “Until I offer the little vampling a mutually beneficial solution, take care not to tread into any perilous dens on your adventures.”

He was talking in riddles again and looked impossibly complacent.

“I don’t need your approval,” you replied coolly and sipped your wine.

Raphael hummed with mirth and spread his arms theatrically. “Certainly you don’t.” The balmy timbre of his voice sent another wave of shivers through you, but this time the sensation made you feel warm.

You swirled the wine in your glass, examining the deep red colour against the light of the fireplace. Raphael leaned back in his seat, gazing at you contemplatively.

“I was surprised to see you at Last Light today,” you said to change the subject. “A mere coincidence, I take it?”

Hells, you were apparently starting to imitate his way of speech now. That was too much wine.

Raphael chuckled, as though pleased with your question. “There are so many people ripe for temptation,” he replied. A non-answer.

Your brows furrowed as you remembered Mol. Had she already made a deal with the devil? You had half a mind to ask Raphael, but he probably wouldn’t provide an answer other than citing whatever patron-client confidentiality rules devils lived by. You sipped from the glass again, flushing down the thought.

“Does it ever bother you to make a living out of mortals’ suffering?” you questioned and watched Raphael’s reaction over the rim of your glass. He snapped his fingers and the glass filled up right in front of your eyes.

“Life is not a fairy tale, my dear,” he replied in a low tone, posture relaxed and not at all bothered by your questioning.

You paused to huff in thought before answering: “Yet mine already has the main antagonist on stage.”

“Oh?” Raphael raised a brow. “I didn’t realise I was the villain in your narrative,” he said, clearly amused. If the line was meant to taunt you, you held back any further retorts and sipped the wine.

Raphael didn’t let the silence sit for long, eager as he was to continue painting the analogy. He leaned forward over the table. “And what does that make you, little raven? The hero? The sage? The victim?”

You leaned back on the chair. “Isn’t it a bit too late to choose a role?” you mused. “I am clearly the underdog.”

Raphael laughed. “Everybody loves an underdog, don’t they?”

You hated the blush that crept over your cheeks. “I should hope so,” you murmured nonetheless.

Raphael’s eyes narrowed at the sight as a self satisfied smirk crept across his lips.

“The journey has changed you already,” he noted.

Despite having a whole table between you, the moment felt as intimate as him buttoning up the borrowed shirt on you that morning in his boudoir. Heady and tender feelings coiled inside you, and it didn’t exactly help cooling down your flushed skin.

“How so?” you asked.

Raphael brushed any doubts aside with a burgeon motion of his hands. “You’re no longer the tender bud I encountered at the site of calamity. You’ve grown, little raven. Flourished.”

“Right…” You didn’t really know how to react when he was suddenly showering you with compliments. “I hope it hasn’t been a complete waste of time for you to watch me grow.”

“At least I can’t say I’m not entertained,” Raphael said with a warm chuckle.

“Enjoying the show, then? I’m glad.” It was the wine talking, but damn if flirting with him didn’t make you exhilarated and hot all over.

“Very much so, my dear.”

You placed your elbows on the table and locked your fingers under your chin, never breaking eye contact with the devil. Raphael’s eyes glinted at the sliver of gold on your finger. His lips curved upwards. He too leaned over the dinner table, fingers intertwined, and immobilised you with a heated stare. The honey-tinted brown eyes had gained molten swirls. Your heart started drumming faster.

“How your features and string of tragic misfortune have entranced me,” Raphael said, surely in jest, but the voice. It was a lover’s voice, sensual and suggestive. A sharp pulse of desire shot through you. His attention was intoxicating. You wanted more. A flutter sprang to life in your chest.

You blinked and focused on trying to stay calm even though your head was spinning.

“Shall we enjoy the rest of the evening in a more comfortable setting?” Raphael asked carefully. The rumble of his voice set your very soul alight. Gods help you, you were hanging on his every word. A pulse of desire was pooling into a warm liquid that spread through your body.

“You’re the Master of the House, so I’ll follow your lead,” you managed to reply.

Raphael arched a brow in surprise and chuckled. He stood up.

“Undoubtedly I am. Come.”

He offered his arm to you like the perfect gentleman and walked you down to the next room. Just holding his arm threatened to turn your legs into jelly, but you steeled yourself, determined, though nervous to see the evening through.

The room was a small parlour with plush sofas and small tea tables littered with delicacies and confectioneries. You made a little gasp. Calimshan Knots, Mraed and different kinds of chocolate were on display on a luxurious silver tray with three layers. It looked almost too beautiful to break a piece from the work of art for a taste.

Raphael guided you to sit down on one of the red loveseats and sat down next to you. Exhilarated at the proximity, you had to force yourself to breathe, only to inhale his sweet scent of cherries concentrated in the air.

“Please. Indulge.” He motioned towards the sweets, but you felt the words had another underlying meaning. Your blood started running hotter in your veins.

Raphael examined your features with great interest.

“You said there was something you wanted to discuss with me…” you suddenly remembered.

“Ah, yes. There is a matter of great importance that your little group will soon have to resolve,” Raphael stated and his head tilted slightly in thought. “One way or the other.”

“Oh? What kind of matter?” you asked unsure if you really wanted to hear this. “I assume it has something to do with the Artefact?”

“Technically, yes,” he said, a hand to his chin, “I happen to possess an item of great interest to aid you in this predicament. I could be persuaded to part with it.”

You blinked. “And what would I have to offer in return for this item?”

Raphael chuckled mirthfully. “Very good, little raven. Your skills in the art of infernal negotiation are improving. But, for this particular instance, I’m willing to take a loss.”

Simultaneous feelings of unease and pride clouded your mind. “That’s… unexpected. You would lose hold of such an item for me?”

“If it means you win, my dear,” Raphael purred and leaned closer. “However, it still comes with its conjectures.”

“I’m not sure I like the sound of that,” you said quietly, “What would those conjectures be?”

“I’m willing to loan you this item, if” – Raphael lifted exactly one finger in the air – ”you promise to return it along with another trinket of my choosing.”

He could very well ask something impossible of you and do whatever he wanted with your soul in the end when you inevitably failed to deliver. So far Raphael had been fair in his dealings, but you had to be careful. Cryptic and unhelpful hints aside, you didn’t want to think about the Artefact, the tadpole or the Absolute right now.

“I’ll think about it and get back to you,” you murmured.

Raphael barked a laugh. “Indeed. Imitation is the highest form of flattery, my dear.”

The laugh left the remnants of a smirk over his lips. You swallowed. His scent of fire and cherries was making you go mad as it addled your poor, tadpoled brain. He lifted his arm over the sofa back and angled his body properly to you.

“You, my most troubled protege, will surely make the right decision,” his lover’s voice whispered with a rumble you could almost feel over your body.

Raphael’s hand dipped to caress your shoulder. The touch ignited a trail of fire in its path. He leaned closer and instinctively you leaned away. A proper smirk now curved his lips. So it became a chase; the fox hunted the raven. Your breaths grew shorter by the second.

He placed his other hand on your knee, a gesture to keep you still. The touch shot a wave of heat through you and you barely held back a wince. Thanks to the wine and your general ludacrity, you were already feeling wanton enough in his company, so you wouldn’t be able to take much of his enabling to finally snap and throw all noble notions into the fires of Hell.

That was presumably his goal.

“I’ve grown fond of you, little raven,” Raphael purred, “I’d hate to see you make the wrong choice.”

His every word caressed your skin, adding fuel to the liquid fire raging in your body. You swallowed to gather the last bits of your prudence and said: “I’m sure my companions and I will make the best decision we can under the circumstances.”

Raphael’s smile widened, his head leaned to the side. “That is most gratifying to hear, my dear.”

His hand still lay on your knee and you believed you felt it inch up your thigh while the other one continued caressing your shoulder, trekking up to the back of your neck. You couldn’t take your eyes off Raphael’s face. His gaze lowered to your lips. You placed your hand over his on your thigh and saw the delight spill into his expression. His skin was hot and you were already dreaming how it would feel wandering around your body; caressing, circling, fondling…

Did he do this with all his clients? Somehow you knew the answer. You could read it in the curve on his lips and the spark in his eyes. Mortals often held no such interest to him.

You were special.

In the back of all the lust-ridden thoughts, you wondered how it might feel to be loved by him, to wake up next to those molten saffron or darkened honey-tinted eyes.

You swallowed as Raphael’s fingers moved to the inner side of your thigh.

“Though I could use some motivation…” you heard yourself saying loud and clear.

The devil’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before they were lit with plain and clear desire.

“What a brave and naughty little thing you are. You never cease to surprise me,” Raphael husked. The words were latent with seduction and promise.

He leaned closer and you felt his shallow and waiting breaths fanning over your cheek. Only the warmth radiating from his body and his scent of sweet cherries, deep musk and smoky brimstone was registering at this point. You felt almost woozy, aching in the trepidation that he might pull away and not give you what you craved more and more with each passing second.

Raphael’s eyes were the colour of dark honey, his eyelashes so dark and beautiful, and the thought of his lips on you… The consuming craving to taste him was overwhelming.

“It’s the company I keep,” you intended to say, but in the end were unsure if the words actually left your mouth or were blocked.

Raphael kissed you with overwhelming heat and hunger.

He cupped the back of your head and pulled you right into him.

The kiss was searing, passionate and would’ve swooped you right off your feet had you been standing. His hand instantly made headway up your leg, fingers already tracing your inner thigh and unceremoniously delving closer to your aroused, aching sex.

You gripped Raphael’s shirt, pulling him even closer. You wanted him closer. You wanted him so much. How you wished the clothes on your back would just burn away.

He pushed you against the sofa back with his body. His mouth moved from your reddened and swollen lips to plant hot kisses on your cheek, jaw and down to your neck. You mewled with pleasure and offered yourself to him, indulging his every motion and brush of his lips.

Two thoughts fought for purchase in your head, but neither gained any foothold: were you really doing this with your patron and what consequences there would be. Your soul was already damned. He had been tempting you for weeks so it was about time for things to progress this way. Tangling your body with his surely didn’t actually mean anything.

“Give yourself to me,” Raphael whispered into your ear, his breathing tickling. His hand reached its aim between your legs and you gasped as he resolutely stroked your clothed sex.

Your whole body quivered from the delicious friction of the contact and you bit your lip. A tight sensation coiled in your lower abdomen, ready to burst at the next hint of touch.

You wanted more of him.

“So eager…” Raphael whispered. He kept your head still and close, turning it as he pleased to reach the sweetest spots of your skin. You acquiesced to all of it, too stunned, too ravenous for more to move. The grip of your fist tightened on his arm and at the hem of his shirt.

He claimed your lips again. You spread your legs and his nimble fingers stroked you through your clothes with the most perfect pressure, all the while his heavy breaths tickled your neck and the shell of your ear between demanding kisses. The more you gasped and moaned, the more laborious his breaths also became.

“R-Raphael…” Your throat was dry and your voice already hoarse.

Your hand wandered south with the goal of reciprocating the pleasure he was giving you, but the brushing motions of his fingers sped up and you waivered, abandoning mission. It was extremely hard to focus on anything else besides the pleasure Raphael was so expertly giving to you.

Amidst the kisses and hot breaths on burning your skin, your release was hell-bent on building fast and hard, and, frankly, it surprised you both.

It hit you like a pit fiend running into a wall at full speed.

You gasped for air, clutching Raphael’s forearm and felt the ravaging pulsing against his fingers through your clothes.

“Fuck…” you huffed, voice hoarse.

Raphael’s motions stopped as it dawned on him: You had reached an orgasm in a shamefully short time. It was certainly… surprising.

“Uh, guess I was more motivation-starved than I thought,” you managed to mumble in what you aimed to be an apologising tone. Your head was spinning from the sharp and intense orgasm, and it was extremely hard to think in complete sentences.

Raphael slowly drew back from you with a muted expression. No tender kisses, no praises, he was just staring at you in mild disbelief.

“I, uhm. Do you want to…?” you mumbled ambiguously, but couldn’t quite reach the shame waiting somewhere in the back of your mind. It had felt way too good to be ashamed.

You took a deep breath to clear your head and Raphael straightened his back.

Then he laughed, low and rough and assumed back his role. “Like I said, you never fail to surprise me, little raven.”

You blinked. He was acting as if he had not just kissed you silly and made you come with his fingers while both of you were still fully clothed.

“Hopefully the evening was as enjoyable to you as it was for me,” he continued in a cultured tone.

Heat rushed to your cheeks. So that’s how it was going to be. You hurried to settle your clothes into a more presentable state and hopped to your feet. Your legs were shaking and you felt lightheaded. There was no way your companions would not realise what had happened. Astarion would take one look at you and start either yapping or giggling.

“Yes, uh. Would you be so kind and send me back now?” you inquired, trying to reach an impassive tone but failing spectacularly.

Raphael paused, clearly deciding whether to abide by your request or not. Not a hint of the earlier lust was visible on his face. Either he hid it extremely well or your little display had not affected him at all. How frustrating. So he could make you come with a single finger, but you had no effect on him.

“Of course. Far be it from me to keep you here against your will,” Raphael said with an incline of his head. Not even a hair was out of place on him.

With a quick snap, he sent you back to camp right then and there. A swift look around told you that no one was awake. Good.

Only a moment later you realised that by ‘motivation’ Raphael probably had not meant to allow you to come. Oh well, what was done was done. You could only hope the consequences of your own actions wouldn’t come back to haunt you.

My writing masterlist

#bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael x you #raphael x reader #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #fanfiction #the devil wears house slippers

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sketches4mysw33theart · 20 days

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To Indeed Be A God

The title has almost no bearing whatsoever on the writing, I'm just obsessed with the Dead Poets Society right now.

Pairing: Henry Winter (The Secret History)

Summary: A drowsy morning at the country house with Henry Winter involves a row around the lake, a breakfast picnic, and falling asleep in the boat.

Warnings: Google translated phrases, please let me know if these are wrong!

I awoke to a throbbing in my head, a contrasting harmony to the soft twittering of birds floating in through the open window. I couldn’t resist the groan that forced its way from my mouth. It felt as though my head was being split open repeatedly, like a misguided executioner was standing at the head of my bed and swinging an unsharpened axe.

It was several moments before I moved at all after I had rolled over, my body feeling scarily heavy yet weightless at the same time. I had little desire to so much as breathe manually, let alone open my eyes and face the merciless joy of the sunlight.

As I lay there, eyes closed firmly, hands grasping the thin silk duvet, flashes of the previous night came to me as though through a camera’s lens.

The dinner, a large affair to mourn the passing of the twin’s beloved dog. The wine sloshing in the Abernathy’s prized crystal wine glasses. Those same glasses raised in multiple toasts and clinking together like blood-soaked moths in the candlelight. Charles at the piano playing melodies of sweet summers past. The bottle of Bourbon passed between us without a care for tumblers. Francis plucking Camilla from the armchair she had curled herself up in to stumble around the library in a clunky dance. Bunny’s face, lined with confusion and acidity, watching us all through rolling eyes. Richard’s reflection, gaping at the chandelier-lit room through dazed eyes, as I stared out of the window, looking for stars but finding only my own distorted face.

And Henry, tall and proud and stoic and quiet. Him I could picture clearly, as sharp and focused as a still life portrait. He’d drank as much as us, more, yet he’d never fizzed over like we did. Only watched from the sofa as we exploded like fireworks, flashing reds and yellows reflected twofold in the whites of his eyes through his glasses.

Then, me falling into place beside him, head spinning in dizzying circles even as I laid it back on the plush sofa cushions with my eyes shut, light popping behind my eyelids.

Then, him whispering to me, the soft, cold anchoring of his deep voice, but either I couldn’t tell what he was saying, or I was not in tune enough to listen.

Then, I was there, waking up in bed.

I opened my eyes when the pounding in my head began to lessen, allowing the bird song to wash over me rather than suffocate me. The thick curtains were open, weak sunlight creeping across the oak floor and furnishings, lighting them up like whisky. It was cool, that early morning chill before the last of the lingering summer heat could settle in again.

I watched the floor for several minutes, praying for my headache to cease. Of course, praying never did anyone much good. Henry would be disappointed.

I didn’t have a clock in the room I stayed in during nights at the country house. Francis’s great aunt, whose room that used to be, couldn’t stand them. She felt they made her rush.

Still, I could guess it was early. There was no noise. Francis wasn’t singing in the kitchen as he made breakfast, Charles and Camilla weren’t bickering meaninglessly in the depths of the house, Bunny wasn’t honking his laugh at some ridiculous jibe. There was nothing except pure tranquillity.

I knew of one other person, for certain, who would be up so early. That was motivation enough to get out of bed. Still, it was a struggle. My body fought it as I sat up, pushed myself to my feet, scrabbled through my bag for clothes, and checked myself over in the mirror to make sure I looked presentable.

Finally, I exited the room, closing the door with a soft click behind me. The hallway was quiet, eerily so, and I paced down it, focusing on the soft, luxurious carpet against my bare feet over the pounding of my head.

On the stairs at the end of the hallway, Francis was curled up, still fully dressed, like a small child unable to stay conscious on a drive back from the beach, snoring obnoxiously and fiercely cuddling a near-empty bottle of whiskey. His overcoat tails were tangled between his bent legs, pale, slender ankles poking out conspicuously from his half pulled-off socks. In the country house, this was not an uncommon occurrence.

I clambered over him, trying not to catch his limbs or face with my foot. As though sensing my presence as he slumbered, Francis uncurled his body, spreading himself out across several steps and out of the way of my bare feet. Smiling, I leant down to pat him gently on the cheek, careful not to disturb him. He looked incredibly peaceful, for once.

I left Francis on the stairs, snoring in the shadows of the half-shuttered windows, and headed towards the library. There was a fair chance Henry would be there and, if not, I would likely spot him on my way over.

As expected, it did not take me long. Henry valued the morning hours, the weak light illuminating the thick pages of his books, the quietness of a dawn tainted only by the songs of the birds.

He was sat outside, of course, fully dressed, a suited silhouette through the ornate glass doors, a splatter of ink against the canvas of autumn. Although I pushed open the doors as softly as I could, his head shot up as soon as it began to squeak.

“Good morning,” he said, with a smile. “Drink up.” A slight gesture of his hand brought to my attention a full glass of water and a sleeve of ibuprofen sparkling in the cool, creeping light.

“Good morning,” I mumbled, fumbling with the package in my desperation to push out two of the pills. When I managed to do so, I swallowed them quickly with a large gulp of water, which I drained gladly straight after.

Once I’d swiped at my lips, I took the few steps to his seat. Standing behind him, I rested my hands on his broad shoulders and bent down to press a kiss to his cheek. I caught the smile on his face, which did little to lessen the furrow of his brow.

“How’s the translation going?”

This question elicited a heavy sigh from him. “It’s all wrong, unfortunately. The verbs won’t translate well, and these sentence structures are ridiculously tricky.”

“Boreís na to káneis éfkola agápi mou,” I breathed into his ear, bringing my fingertips to his sharp shoulder blades. You can do it easily, my love.

He laughed. “Óchi ótan eísai étsi, den boró.” Not when you’re like this, I can’t.

I hummed humorously, spreading my massaging fingertips along his taut shoulders. Spread out before us was the house’s garden, as pure and fierce as Eden, coming swiftly to life in front of my eyes. The sun was just emerging, lingering in the far east like God, watching His creations come to life as on the seventh day. Henry was watching it too, finally relieving himself of his books in favour of the glitter of the autumnal flowers, Gomphrena and Didiscus and Goldenrod.

It wasn’t often I was up early enough to catch Henry on mornings like this. Despite our circumstances, we never shared a bed during our stays at the country house, primarily because Henry didn’t want to disturb me during our short vacations, or so he said. But also, because, I believe, he was rather shy about our activities around the rest of the Greek class. They knew, of course – we were never as subtle as we thought - but, still, there was something prudish lying within Henry. Or perhaps it was possessive. Not that it matters now, I suppose.

“Let’s go to the lake,” he said, suddenly, startling me from my observance of a large bee bumbling its way drunkenly through a flowerbed.

“Now?” I questioned, surprised. Henry enjoyed the mornings because of the quiet solitude they offered him, the time to be alone with his books and his papers. Things he valued even more, I think, than me.

“Would you like to?”

I was still sleepy, even more so after taking the ibuprofen Henry had laid out. Still, I could picture how lovely it would be: the drowsy, sun-laced walk through the dandelions and uncut grasses, the heady smell of nature flourishing around us, the somniferous sound of waves lapping at the gently rocking boat, the mesmerizing feeling of floating on air.

“Yes,” I said, “I would, actually.” Henry was always confidently persuasive. Eerily so. Not that I would have needed much persuading, really. I just liked to think there was something magic about him.

He sighed, stretching out his aching limbs as he got to his feet. Pre-emptively, he removed his jacket and folded it meticulously, leaving it on the seat of his chair. “Good. Perhaps we should take breakfast with us?”

It was a wonderful idea, and we slipped back inside to prepare a breakfast picnic: a full bottle of orange juice, a half-full stoppered bottle of champagne left over from the previous night, a package of strawberries, a selection of pastries bought from Camilla’s favourite bakery on our way to the country house the previous morning, and a packet of large blueberry muffins.

With our breakfast packed in an old wicker basket, we set off into the morning sun, meandering through the budding flowers and tall grasses, clasped arm in arm. It wasn’t a particularly long walk to the lake, but we lingered meaninglessly on the way, I to admire the nature and wildlife, and Henry to momentarily relieve his arm of the picnic basket and watch me with a smile when he thought I couldn’t see him.

Eventually, we made it, and eagerly hopped into the lonesome boat oared at the makeshift jetty, picnic basket still in hand. Considering it was so early, Henry was alive with vigour, and rowed eagerly, pushing us quickly to the centre of the lake. He had been somewhat withdrawn over the last few weeks, particularly during our days at the country house, so seeing him come to life among the falling birch leaves was a gift.

We covered one lap of the lake at a fairly quick pace, talking about our latest classes, Julian’s theory of Dionysiac architects (which was, essentially, that the secret language they spoke was more akin to modern day English than any other language throughout history), and the startling resemblance that morning of the pond and surrounding countryside to Jan Brueghel the Elder’s ‘Odysseus and Calypso’ - one of my favourite paintings.

Henry slowed as we began our second lap of the lake, and I watched his concentrated expression in the water’s reflection.

“Aren’t you tired?” I was feeling a little peppier now, despite the rhythmic sound of the waves lapping gently at the boat, and I knew Henry had been up significantly longer than I had. “Can I take over?”

“No, you don’t have to do anything.” I was still watching him in the warped shine of the water, and he caught my eye through the fairy-dust covering of birch leaves. “Just sit right there and look like you do.” A smile flittered across his face briefly, and I shook my head, laughing.

“If you say so,” I said, still laughing. Henry rowed on and began to fill the silence with his stream of thoughts on Heraclitus’ ideas of opposites, and how the philosopher decreed Hades and Dionysus as the same God, a belief Henry was strongly against. Occasionally he’d break his speech to mumble a suggestion for his translation, which he no doubt tucked away into another corner of his mind for later.

At some point, I lay back across the seat of the boat, head coming to rest on the lip, one hand stretching over to trail in the lukewarm water. Francis had said once that one of the neighbours had seen leeches in the lake, and Bunny always swore blind that there were water snakes in there. Yet, still, we all went out on it as often as we could, swimming and fighting and trailing our hands through the ripples.

Listening to Henry speak tantrically and feeling the warm water kiss my fingertips was as delicious and satisfying as being carried in Charon’s boat across the rivers separating the worlds of the living and the dead. I wanted it to last forever. The best kind of purgatory. Psuche.

But eventually, we did come to a stop, once Henry, with some difficulty, had managed to turn the boat and situate it towards the centre of the lake. I sat up and stretched, groaning at the creak of my bones.

As I heaved the picnic basket up on to the seat, Henry balanced the oars properly, wiped at his brow, and rolled up his sleeves, eying the cutlery and plates I was laying out. He must have been starving.

I looked to him to ask if he had any preference for pastries as I began doling out them onto our plates, but the question died on my lips when I saw a constellation of bruises flowering in a strange pattern along his freshly revealed arm. They were fresh, a shocking purple tinted with red.

“Henry,” I exclaimed, croissant held in one frozen hand. “What in God’s name have you been doing?”

He furrowed his brows at me, following my eye line quickly. I saw him flounder for a moment, but in a flash, he was as composed as the Queen’s Guard.

“Don’t fuss, it’s nothing. I fell in the garden yesterday morning, those damn dogs left more garbage on my front path. Is that for me?”

I believed him, of course. It was a perfectly sensible answer, and certainly not the first time something like that had happened. If only I’d known...

I gave him the croissant, and finished plating up the food as he poured two Mimosas into the old teacups we’d packed, using far more champagne than orange juice. We ate in a comfortable silence, broken sporadically by random thoughts and anecdotes; we were both slipping into fatigue once more now the sun was fully risen, not too warm against our skin, and the inebriating smells of flowers and the birch trees were reaching out to us, woody and smoky like winter night’s gone by.

Four Mimosa’s later (between us), we had finished our breakfast, and were lying, nearly unconscious, in the boat, which was very slowly bobbing its own way around the lake once more. Henry was stretched out completely, arms acting as a pillow, and I was tucked in on my side next to him, resting my head on the broad stretch between his shoulder and chest.

God knows how long we stayed there in the boat, moving listlessly without direction or need, bumping lightly against the bank until one of us made the effort to lift a foot and push us away, listening to the birds' tweet and fly above us, feeling the gentle caress of the birch leaves across her skin, hearing the soft intermingling of our breaths just over the gently lapping water as it granted us passage, seeing the shades of light and dark through the shield of our eyelids. Zoe. The divine life of God.

When we were roused, the air, the very nature around us felt different, alive, charged. The sun was crawling towards the centre of the sky, but several dark clouds were on its heels. Hours must have passed.

I came back to life first, awaking as though from death’s sleep, drowsy and confused. What came to me, however, was the distant call of my name, the familiar cadence of the voice. Francis. It was Francis.

As his shouting got closer and slightly more frantic, I pushed myself up with one hand braced against the smooth wood of the boat’s sole, using the other to first wipe the sleep from my eyes and then shield them from the sun.

Francis was on the far bank, heading towards the small jetty, and waving his arms as though welcoming in a plane. He was, I noticed with some amusement, still wearing the same clothes he was in when I’d stepped over him that morning. I waved my free hand at him, and he shouted my name again. “Are you insane? We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Is Henry with you? It’s gone 12, you know.”

I couldn’t muster up the energy to respond to him, but I did lay a hand on Henry’s shoulder to shake him awake. With a bit of resistance, he came to, and sat up in the same sluggish manner as me, stretching out his arms, back, and neck.

Francis called to him now. “Henry? Henry! Bring the damn boat in, will you? Julian’s coming to dinner tonight, and I need everything to be ready.”

Henry waved his fingers at him, a dismissive acknowledgement, a king sending away a disobedient courtier. Finally, he opened his eyes, landing his gaze directly on me. He smiled, pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth so quickly I did not have time to respond. “Piso ston politismó,” he said lowly, a melancholy look setting in his features. Back to civilization.

He situated himself carefully on the seat while I stayed where I was watching him like I was at the feet of one the post-Socratics. He picked up the oars once more and started rowing us back to bios. Back to life.

#dead poets society #the secret history #tsh donna tartt #henry winter #camilla macaulay #bunny corcoran #richard papen #francis abernathy #charles macaulay #donna tartt #imagine #the secret history imagine #henry winter x reader #julian morrow #dark academia #charles and camilla #dark academia books #odysseus

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f1goat · 2 years

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The sister + Lando Norris - part five

In which your the little sister of Max Verstappen and you meet Lando Norris, who quickly turns in to one of your best friends. But there's a thin line between friends & lovers.

part one part two part three part four

Kelly was right. Lando had still not told you his reason for his weird behavior in the restaurant. It annoys you. To be fair, a lot of things around Lando are annoying you. Mainly your own confusing feelings for the friend of your brother. Last Sunday after the race it hit you. Lando was standing on the podium, celebrating his first win. You couldn’t stop looking at him, it didn’t even care to you if he noticed or not. And then he send you that god awful wink. You don’t know for sure, but you’d like to think the wink was meant for you. And that wink made everything clear for you. You have a crush on him.

Why else would you be so concerned about his behavior towards a server which you don’t even know? You love spending time around Lando. The two of you have met multiple times. Last Sunday you went clubbing together after his first win. Dancing the night away with each other. You didn’t even realize that you had been dancing that long until the lights in the club went on. The Monday after the two of you had lunch together once again. It’s nice to spend time with Lando, but it’s still confusing.

Now that you’re sure of your crush on the McLaren driver, you can’t help to notice even more of his weird behavior. He’s pretty awkward and his mood can switch rather quickly. Every time the two of you say goodbye he’s getting all shy and awkward, while when you two are talking during lunch for example he tells you everything about his life and himself. You feel like you know Lando pretty well already, but some things are vague for you. Sometimes you have the feeling he’s going to say something but he’s holding it in.

After spending a few days in a row with him, you didn’t see Lando today. He’s out with Carlos, but he’s sending you a lot of texts in the mean time. He asked you all about your day and even asked for a picture of the new dress you told him about. Something you send him quickly, since you were already wearing the dress.

you look stunning babygirl Lando texted you back quickly.

You smile at your phone. Compliments like this give you hope. Maybe your not so little crush on Lando isn’t hopeless. Why would he otherwise compliment you all the time?

I thought it was about the dress, not about me?

Lando is quick to reply to you once again, you smile when you read his response: The dress is also beautiful

You quickly type back a ‘thank you’, not engaging in a new conversation. Lando is with Carlos after all, it’d be stupid of you to keep texting him. You don’t want to distract him from his evening with Carlos.

Lando is drinking the night away with Carlos. He tries to keep you out of his thoughts, but isn’t really succeeding. To be completely fair, the more he’s drinking the more he’s thinking about you. Would it be a bad idea for him to come clean to you about his feelings? His crush isn’t as innocent anymore as what he thought.

The last days he kept trying to spend time with you, wanting you at his side as much as possible. It’s kinda pathetic now he thinks of it. He is always texting you, seeing what you’re doing and asking you to do something with him. He hasn’t been out this much in such a long time. Consistently being at restaurants for dinner or lunch or even breakfast.

He expected that his first win from last Sunday would be the main thing on his mind. The proud feeling and all. But here he is, still thinking about you for the most parts of his days. Even if he thinks about his win, he thinks about you. Was it stupid of him to send you a wink from the podium? He was so caught up in the moment, it seemed like the right thing to do.

“Lando?”

Carlos his voice shakes him out of his thoughts. Lando quickly looks at his friend who’s sitting in front of him. If Carlos didn’t remind him earlier today about their meet for tonight, he’d probably have forgotten. It’s not like he’s being this stupid on purpose, he just can’t seem to help himself.

“Yeah?”

“You’re no fun tonight,” Carlos sighs, “if we talk about her for a few minutes, can we then go back to getting drunk without you drifting of all the time?”

“Sorry mate,” Lando apologies quickly, to put some strength behind his words he quickly shots away the rest of his beer. Ordering a new drink right after that. Carlos smiles at him.

“I get it,” Carlos tells Lando understandingly, “Isa did this to me too. I couldn’t even think straight until I knew she was mine.”

“How did you fix it?” Lando asks, maybe Carlos has some kind of solution?

“I asked her to be my girlfriend.”

Lando takes a few sips of the new drink in front of him before answering Carlos, “That’s not happening any time soon. I don’t even know how she feels about me. I’ve been pretty vague..”

Time is quickly passing, Lando and Carlos are standing outside the club already. It’s around two in the morning. Both of the boys had a lot of drinks. Carlos is still feeling okay, Lando on the other hand is pretty drunk.

“Let me call a cab for us,” Carlos says to Lando.

“No, you need to call Y/N,” Lando quickly reacts.

“Why do I need to call her?” Carlos asks a bit confused.

“I want her to pick me up.”

“You’re drunk Lando,” Carlos sighs.

“I’m not leaving until she is here to pick me up,” Lando whines.

“Are you serious mate? She’s asleep in a hotel room close to yours. Let’s go back and then you can go bother her.”

“No,” Lando whines further, “she needs to come here. I want her with me now. If I need to go to her hotel room I don’t dare anymore.”

Why’s Lando calling you this late? Or better said, this early in the morning? You look confused at your phone, but decide to pick up anyway.

“Lando, why are you calling me this late?” You ask after picking up.

“Hi Y/N, it’s Carlos.”

Now you’re even more confused. You quickly remember that Lando had plans with Carlos this evening. Maybe they’re still together?

“Oh, hi Carlos! What’s up?” You respond.

“Uh to be honest, Lando is drunk and wants you to pick us up. I can’t get him in a cab, he keeps asking for you,” Carlos explains quickly.

“Oh, uhm.. Let me get the car keys from Max and then I’ll come,” you tell Carlos while throwing your blankets off. You quickly put on a legging and a hoodie, not even noticing it’s one of Lando his hoodies until you’re already wearing it.

“Can you text me the address?” You ask Carlos, “Yes, I’ll do that! See you in a bit,” Carlos responds.

Before you realize what you’re doing you’re already driving in the rental car from your brother. You’re glad the club where Lando and Carlos are isn’t that far away. It should take you no more than ten minutes to get to them. You speed up a little, since it’s late there’s no harm in being a bit faster than allowed. You turn on the heated seat. It’s cold in the car.

You arrive pretty quick. Carlos spots you directly and walks over to the car with Lando. He opens the passenger door, telling Lando to take place next to you. When Lando is sitting next to you, Carlos takes a seat on the backseat.

“I’m so sorry about this Y/N,” Carlos tells you.

“Oh it’s alright,” you quickly reply.

Lando is sitting in silence next to you. You feel a bit uncomfortable, he keeps staring at you without saying anything. What’s the matter with him?

“Are you in the same hotel as me and Lando?” You ask Carlos. He quickly tells you yes. You start to drive back to the hotel. The ride back is silent. You want to ask Carlos multiple questions, but they’re all about Lando. The same boy who’s still looking at you. It’s making you really uncomfortable now.

“Sooo, how was your evening?” You ask after another awkward silence. Lando doesn’t say anything, he just keeps looking at you. Carlos tells you a bit about what he and Lando did. You’re glad when you arrive at the hotel parking lot.

You and Carlos quickly step out of the car, you look at the Spanish driver next to you. This might be your only chance to get some information about tonight.

“Why is he not saying anything?” You ask Carlos.

“I don’t know, he’s fucking wasted,” Carlos tells you.

“He stared at me for the whole ride,” you say.

“That’s nothing new, he’s just not as good at hiding it drunk.”

You and Carlos are both walking with Lando towards his room. The boy is still quiet. You thank Carlos for his help when you’re standing in front of Lando’s room. Carlos says a quick goodbye before leaving to get to his own floor.

Lando opens his room door, he takes a step inside before looking at you once again. This time you look back, making eye contact with Lando. It’s time to say goodbye, right? You keep looking at Lando for a while before saying anything.

“I guess I’ll go back to my own room so you can get some sleep,” you tell Lando. You don’t even know if you expect a response. He has been quiet since you saw him. Lando makes eye contact with you, grabbing your arm quickly before you can turn away from him.

“Please stay.”

Lando his words surprise you. He wants you to stay?

You don’t even know why but you’re laying in Lando his bed. Next to himself. You wearing one of Lando his shirts. You are still doubting what you’re doing right now. Mainly because of tomorrow morning. Lando won’t remember this probably. This is going to be such an awkward morning.

“I can’t believe you came to pick me up,” Lando whispers softly to you.

You look at him.

“Of course Lando, we’re friends right? Friends do things like that for each other.”

Lando ignores your words, “You’re beautiful,” he says even soft as earlier.

“You won’t remember a thing of this tomorrow morning,” you sigh softly.

“Believe me, this is something I can’t forget.”

Lando pulls you closer towards himself. Hugging you closely before falling in sleep.

next part

#lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris imagines #lando norris #ln4 #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fanfiction #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 fic #formula one

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adrienneleclerc · 1 year

Text

Once Upon A Dream

Masterlist

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x Hispanic!Reader

Summary: Xavier has been having dreams about a certain girl for days and he finally got to meet her in person

Warning: the reader is a seer, they have visions whenever they touch something with supernatural energy, not like Wednesday

A/N: based off the Disney song from Sleeping Beauty because I LOVE that song.

Another night, another dream about the same girl. Her flowing hair and kind eyes plagued his thoughts. His latest paintings were about the girl. He has no idea who she is, he has never seen her in Nevermore or in Jericho in passing. Maybe it was a figment of his imagination, that he is tired of being single after breaking up with Bianca and striking out with Wednesday. Whatever the reason is, he wants these dreams to stop.

The next morning, Xavier was talking with Ajax at breakfast. “Dude, you’ll never guess what I learned in history class.” Ajax started, Xavier just started at him.

“What could you have possibly learned that Can make you so excited?” Xavier asked him, taking a bite of his food.

“Well for starters, it could help you! So we were talking about the history of psychics and there was a section about the ones who have visions through their dreams, that’s you. Apparently, if you have a dream about the same person multiple nights in a row, it is a possibility that you two are bonded, making them your soulmate, and that you will meet them soon.” Ajax explained. Xavier was moving his mouth without saying anything, looking like a fish out of water.

“How the hell am I getting a soulmate at 16? Why does the world work like this?” Xavier asked exasperated.

“The thing is, everyone gets those dreams at different times, this women had a dream about her soulmate at age 25. It’s not like they got married right then and there. For all we know, the soulmate bond thing could be platonic and the person you’ve been dreaming about could just be your best friend until death. The other person would have dreams about you too, there’s no way to know if the soulmate bond is romantic or platonic unless you guys have spent enough time with each other because YOU get to choose whether you stay platonic or not. Like how cool is that? It’s still your choice!” Ajax exclaimed, trying to make his best friend feel better about the dreams he has been having.

“So you’re telling me that the person I’ve been dreaming about could either be my best friend or my lover, and only we could choose whether or not we stay friends or become something else?” Xavier asked Ajax for clarification.

“That is exactly what I’m saying. But since you keep having these dreams, maybe you will meet them sooner than you think.” Ajax said, patting Xavier’s back comfortingly.

Maybe Ajax was right, maybe there’s no “written in the stars” bullshit that romance novels will have you believe, Xavier was still in control and that made him feel so much better about these dreams. As breakfast came to an end, they went botany class that’s being taught by a new teacher after the whole…Crackstone thing. Classes went on, then lunch, then the rest of classes. Maybe his soulmate isn’t going to meet him today, there is always tomorrow.

Meanwhile Y/N was taking a nap after she finished packing her things to go to Nevermore Academy tomorrow. She kept dreaming of a tall brunette with shoulder length hair and hazel eyes. This is the fifth time she has dreamt of the boy. Y/N woke up after hearing her mother yelling.

“Amor, ya está la cena, ven a comer antes que se te enfríe (Dinner is ready, come eat before your food gets cold).” Y/N got out of bed to go eat her dinner

Now it was nighttime, both Xavier and Y/N went to sleep, thinking about each other. The dream was different than before. In both their dreams, it was only glimpses of the other person, however in this dream, they were both on a date. Xavier and Y/N were walking together hand in hand through the woods. To Y/N is was a random place, to Xavier it was the woods in his way to the art shed. When they made it to a lake, they sat on the deck and began having a picnic, everything was going well and…The alarm sounded in both Xavier’s and Y/N’s room.

Xavier woke up, got dressed, and went to his art shed. What does this new development in his dreams? What does this mean? Was he going to meet her today? Why was this dream so different from the others? Xavier started painting what he remembered from his dream, the two of them in front of the lake.

Y/N got into her parents car to go to Nevermore. She was very nervous and couldn’t get that dream out of her head, who was he? The car ride was short and said goodbye to her parents since they already talked to the new principal yesterday while Y/N packed. The principal showed Y/N around and gave her a uniform so she can change in the dorm she will be sharing with Yoko. Once she changed, Yoko showed her around and they went to the quad to get breakfast together. When they shook hands, Y/N had a vision of Yoko drinking blood from a human and showing her fangs, Y/N took her hand back as she shuddered.

“Did you have a vision? What did you see? Like did you see the future? Are you psychic?” Yoko was asking Y/N question after question.

“Um, I had a vision, I saw you drinking a human’s blood, I don’t see the future, I see the supernatural, and I’m a seer, not psychic.” Y/N answered her questions in order.

“Oh, yeah, I’m a vampire but I don’t drink straight from the vein, I use blood bags. So how do your seer powers work?” Yoko clarified.

“That’s good. It works by touch, sort of. If I touch something of supernatural energy, like yourself, I get like a quick rundown of what you are, basically the backstory. It’s pretty useful actually.” Y/N said, explaining her power as they were eating.

“That’s so cool, Wednesday is kinda has that ability. If she touches something or someone, she can see the past or future. But it comes to her at random, like sometimes it’s things that you would never believe.” Yoko explained.

“That’s interesting. She’s classified as a psychic because she sees the future, right?” Y/N asked.

“Yep.” Yoko said. Their breakfast continued and Y/N saw a boy walk into the quad, he looked so familiar and when she got a closer look at him, it was the boy from her dreams, no manches. “Who are you staring at?” Yoko asked before she turned to see who caught Y/N’s eyes. “Oh, that’s Xavier, he’s psychic and he’s an artist. He’s single, in case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t wondering that, he just looks familiar, that’s all.” Y/N said.

Xavier noticed someone staring at him so he looked at the tables and he saw her, the girl that he’s been dreaming about. He quickly got breakfast and sat next to Ajax.

“Ajax, do you know who’s sitting with Yoko?” Xavier asked the gorgon.

“You scared me, by the way, thank you for seeing if I’m okay. And I don’t know much, I think her name is Y/N though, why?” Ajax asked and then he realizes why Xavier asked and gasped, “That’s the girl you’ve been dreaming about!” Ajax shouted excitedly and Xavier covered his mouth.

“Oh yeah, say it louder, I don’t think Enid heard you!” Xavier whisper shouted before taking his hand away from Ajax’s mouth. Breakfast went by quickly and they and to go to their first class they shared.

“Good morning, class. We have a new student, her name is Y/N, and she’s a seer, sit next to Mr. Thorpe. Xavier, raise your hand.” Xavier did and Y/N smiled shyly before sitting next to him.

“I know you.” Y/N whispered to Xavier.

“Oh really?” Xavier asked.

“I’ve walked with you once upon a dream. I’m glad I get to put a name to that face I’ve been dreaming about.” Y/N commented.

“Tell me about it, you’ve been driving me crazy since I dreamt about you.” Xavier said.

“Same here. I don’t really know what these dreams mean though, after all, I’m just a seer, not a full blown psychic.” Y/N said playing with the bracelet on her left wrist.

“Let’s just say we are connected, we have a bond.” Xavier said. Y/N nodded her head. “Would you like to go to the Weathervane after school? We could get to know each other better. It’s the least you can do after haunting my dreams.” Xavier whispered laughing.

“I’d love to, it’s a date then.” Y/N whispered before paying attention to their teacher. Both Y/N and Xavier smiling, maybe they’ll be more than platonic soulmates, only time will tell.

#xavier thrope imagine #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe #wednesday #percy hynes white #hispanic #hispanic reader #romance #latina #latinx

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