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aclowntiny · 1 year

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✧･ﾟ: *✧Spa Days With Seventeen!✧*:･ﾟ✧

I did this for Ateez quite some time ago, but after a day of working outside in 43 C/110 F weather for 8 hours spa hours have returned to my head 😅 anyhoo Warnings: just 🤏🏻 suggestive in a couple places

S.Coups

♡ All Seungcheol can do is giggle as you ‘aggressively’ insist on taking care of him, resembling a miffed kitten in his mind more than the lion you thought you were as you shuffled him off to change into cozy pajamas for the day.

♡ Enjoy basically wrestling with him over who gets to pamper who, because nearly as hard as you tell him he needs to relax he wants to be the one to fetch all your relaxation supplies for you and peel your sheet mask for you as you sit against his chest.

♡ You guys get ✨jacuzzi access✨ for the occasion and Seungcheol literally physically carries you into the water because he can and very much wants to. Pretends to drop you at first, smiles at the way you hold his neck tighter and squeal, then lowers you in gently.

♡ A purchase you made for the occasion was floating light-up speakers you were so excited to burst out, coordinating the lights to bob in cool colors to the calm beat of the playlist you chose to lay back together to.

♡ You go back to miffed kitten mode when Seungcheol pulls you into him to rub your back, insisting that's your job and only letting him when he says you can reciprocate, smiling at you with loving eyes and shaking his head as you practically dart behind and in front of each other like Looney Tunes at your request to alternate, feeling like he'd done plenty over your time together to make you feel like royalty, now it was your turn.

Jeonghan

♡ In all honesty, Jeonghan was a bit concerned when you suddenly approached him with an idea for the so-called best date, wondering what was up your sleeve, but the moment you said the words spa day at home it was like a spell came over him, pulling him all in on the introvert dream day. “Can we get these too?” “What are those, headbands? Don’t you think we have enou-” “But (y/n), they’re so cute and we can use them when we do the face masks!” “Oh, alright.”

♡ So there you are, rolling back your hair or simply accessorizing with fluffy headbands- Jeonghan’s being pink with bunny ears on it and yours being black with equally plush kitty ears- as you stick sheet masks on each other. His of course has a bunny print and yours matches your headband too!

♡ Another relaxation method you wanted to try is meditation, so you two sit, legs crossed, adjacent to each other and practice some deep breaths beneath lavender-scented air.

♡ Your significant other being Yoon Jeonghan, though, it’s not long before you feel a poke at your side, barely suppressing a giggle and trying to ignore it. Then another, and another, and you fold completely or rather unfold, collapsing from your perfect posture and falling onto his side, looking up into his smiling face.

♡ Your day ends in a tangle of pajama-clad limbs, Jeonghan holding you close and running his fingers through your hair and up your loose, fluffy sleeves to ghost along your arm as the both of you lull to sleep.

Joshua

♡ It's his idea. He wants to pamper you and thinks it seems really romantic ever since he saw another couple have one and wants to recreate it for you, but even better if he can.

♡ He starts by giving you a foot rub with this really high-end moisturizer they recommended in the video. Somehow he seems to know the exact amount of pressure you like without you even asking him to apply it!

♡ "I got you flowers today, just, you know, not like usual," Joshua jokes as he produces a glass jar with cute lace around its neck. Knowing you like to exfoliate, he had a scrub made with your favorite flowers in it for you to use, too!

♡ The pièce de résistance? Joshua opening the doors to reveal he'd prepared the classic candlelit bath, rose petals drifting lazily across the surface and a whole host of fine things to add to the otherwise-undisturbed water at your discretion. "Do you like it?" The way you fly into his arms hastily pulling his head down answers his question well enough, and you feel him smile against your lips.

♡ "What did I do to deserve this, hm?" You hum as you glance up with fluttering eyes from your legs resting atop his under the water to meet Joshua's across the tub. "All you had to do," Joshua replies, eyes radiant in the face of yours, "was be you."

Jun

♡ Two words: matching pajamas. That’s step one of spa day, just getting all changed into the coziest cutest couple set Jun could find for you two.

♡ "Let's try this massage gun I got that looks like a piece of exercise equipment!" Leave it to Wen Junhui to find the oddest yet most practical contribution he could make, you thought as he held up the strangely triangular device. Before you could protest that it was overkill, he held it up to you and pressed the button really quickly, giving you a little buzz that had you laughing, shaking your head as you accepted it from him.

♡ The thing was powerful, but you had to give it to him: it felt good. Yours and Jun's muscles were practically jelly by the time you slowly ooze up from the couch to brew a pot of chamomile for your afternoon tea, for which Jun had also bought your favorite biscuits. The man never failed to bring a smile to your face.

♡ This time standing up was easier, not least of all because of the large, secure hands that wrapped around yours, practically sending you leaping out of your chair and into Jun's arms as he slow danced you across the hard floors in your animal slippers. At least it didn't hurt if you stepped on his feet!

♡ Your day of self-care ends in the shower, where you get the full Wen Junhui hair was experience aka the 'if I get shampoo in your eye, hit me'. It never runs even close, though, to either of you as you massage each other's scalps, smiling contentedly as warm water cascaded over you both, encapsulating you in more than one steamy embrace.

Hoshi

♡ Hears ‘spa day’ and thinks only of two things: either laying around in robes with cucumbers over your eyes or you guys giving each other massages.

♡ Wants to do both frankly. Takes your idea as an excuse to buy cute robes for you both and also to play around with you, getting DIY kits to mix your own face masks and deciding to try a mixture of both on because it can’t be bad for him, right? “I’ll just by cleansed and moisturized this way!” He exclaims with a grin as he smears the odd green and pink swirled mixture on his eager face.

♡ Of course he has to remark that the odd mixture gives his face the stripes he needs as he bought himself an orange tiger patterned robe, completely uncaring of the clash between the colors on his cheeks and the rest of him.

♡ It’s a massive 180 from him giggling over tiger stripes, horanghae-ing, and eating the cucumbers off his eyes when he’s suddenly sliding your robe off your shoulders, each brush and motion deliberate.

♡ The robes and masks are fun and all, but Soonyoung can’t let that massage oil go to waste. He always starts either a little too tough or a little too gentle, always feeling a bit cautious or a tad too excited, but your guiding words have him turning you to putty in his hands and feeling all the more ready to return the favor.

Wonwoo

♡ So surprised when you suggest having a spa day, he just looks at you with shining eyes and a smile of endearment. “You want to have a spa day?” He repeats back to you, thinking you’re the cutest thing ever.

♡ You end up researching how to make things together, going to the market the day before to seek supplies. “So this is really going on our faces?” Wonwoo chuckles as you mash avocados in a bowl. “Yep,” you joke back, “and the baking soda and sugar aren’t for baking, either, remember?” “Well, I guess that makes sense. Sugar would exfoliate and avocados are rich in oil. As long as it’s good oil! I’m more surprised about the vinegar honestly.” Oh, how you loved having a smart boyfriend.

♡ Removing his glasses, he can’t help but smile as you gingerly dip your hand into the avocado-honey-apple cider vinegar mixture you'd insisted on adding lemon juice to "so it doesn't smell so bad for you", holding his head still by the chin with the clean hand before beginning to smear. Your fingers tightened just so beneath him as he jumped from the cold, nose crinkling slightly at the sensation, and you both giggled. Soon Wonwoo had your face in his hand as you took your turn to turn green, making Kermit jokes all the way.

♡ You’re most interested to see how the bath bomb you guys made turns out, unmolding it into your hand with great focus and nudging Wonwoo with your leg beneath the bathwater when it comes out nearly perfect. A little powder drifts into the water, making little purple swirls between you before you drop in the whole thing, accidentally making a splash that has Wonwoo teasing you for being irresponsible with your creation.

♡ In response, you push the fizzing heart shape his way and he sends it back toward you, creating an impromptu little ball game between you two as you sent the floral-scented bomb zipping along the water’s surface. Finally it dissolves, giving you less reason to slosh violet-tinted water out of your tub and more reason to lean forward, hands on the smooth surface, face almost touching Wonwoo’s. “Having fun?” “M-hm,” he hums in response, hand instinctively reaching up to rub your back. “Good,” you reply, closing the gap between you two as you teased, “I liked our little chemistry experiments almost as much as this chemistry.” That earned you a light swat, but also more kisses.

Woozi

♡ “This seems a bit silly now, doesn’t it (y/n)?” This in question being one of those little foot spas you picked up at the store and insisted on starting your day of relaxation with. “The warm water is supposed to feel good,” you reply with your best puppy dog eyes, “is it not working?” The moment you give Jihoon that look, he caves, shaking his head as his own expression falls into a smile and starts rolling up the legs of his pants.

♡ Honestly it does feel good and he has to admit it as you sit there each in your own bubbling soak, you scooting closer and closer until he notices and teases you about it, casually slinging an arm around your shoulders as he laughs.

♡ Once you’re all dried off from the little spas, you reach into your bag of tricks supplies, producing a little bottle. “What’s that?” Jihoon asks. “Massage oil,” you reply, motioning to the couch, “come lay down.” He obliges, laying flat on his stomach along the cushions as you coat your hands, but you can't help raising a brow at him when he turns to look at you, causing him to do a double take. "What?" "Take your shirt off," you tell him. If you were any closer, surely you would see his cheeks flushing. "Why?" You keep your eyebrow raised, lifting also your now-glistening hands. "I'm not about to ruin that nice shirt with this stuff."

♡ Shy as he seemed, Jihoon melts under your touch, relaxing the moment your palms meet his skin, brushing lightly over it with the cooling oil you’d chosen. Pride washes over you as you knead out several knots he surely gave himself from sitting in the wrong posture, but today isn’t the day to nag him over it, it’s all about relaxation.

♡ Jihoon insists on repaying your favors even if you wanted to give him the luxury day, and would you really deny a massage from him? Instead of the cooling oil, though, you choose your favorite fragrance and insist on sitting close to him, your back almost to his chest as he holds you gently between his folded legs. Some tension leaves your body, too, and you can tell by the smile you see on Jihoon’s face that venture peeking at that the day has been a success, let alone the time together that is yet to come.

♡ The spa day shopping is this 🤏🏻 close to being his favorite part- surely you were already expecting a full basket? He actually picks out really cute stuff- you'll discover he has great taste in candles, choosing the perfect soft scents to relax to.

♡ Draws you a bath, also puts a rubber duck in it. Squeezing it is very relaxing, thank you! It’s enough to fill your heart just seeing Seokmin smiling in anticipation as he pours in a bunch of the bubble bath you picked out, stirring up the water until it’s covered with a fluffy film.

♡ Puts said fluffy film on his head to make you laugh. “What do you think, does this style suit me?” He asks, grinning and patting his new ‘hairstyle’ as you just sit in front of him bursting into giggles.

♡ Seokmin takes such good care of you in the tub, making sure if you sit in the half with the faucet that you never hit it even if he has to tug you away from it and devotedly taking the time to wash your hair with all the products you need and one special scented oil you found just for the occasion.

♡ He gently towel dries your hair off too and once you are both dried and be-robed it’s time for bed! Well, getting into bed anyway. Lighting all the little blue candles with their luxurious natural scents you guys had purchased for the occasion, Seokmin slides into the covers with you, pulling you into his arms as he puts on your favorite movie. There was no other option, sorry. Until, that is, you go back and forth about it and it devolves into a tickle fight, Seokmin conceding to watching his favorite next time when you win.

Mingyu

♡ Taking a bunch of silly photos of you two with pink mud masks on wasn't what you were initially expecting from the day, but in the end you feel gratitude for Mingyu's innocent spirit as you look back on the adorable shoot.

♡ He also insists on feeding you your choice of snack for the day because your mask is set and you can't do it yourself, no siree. You have to accept it by hand, no take backs.

♡ Wipes off said mud mask so gently you barely feel it…but when the washcloth is discarded, you do feel the way Mingyu’s thumb affectionately, feather-lightly caresses your cheek as he stares into those lovely eyes of yours he loves so much.

♡ And there you end up, cheeks sticking together just a little from the residue as your lips meet again and again, hands joined first in at your laps, then sliding up to wrap around each other.

♡ As you finally rise to your feet, Mingyu’s hands returning to yours to help lift you up, he suggests drawing you guys a bath with an intensity in his eyes you can’t deny, and you are glad to oblige when you see the way he’s decked the room all out with candles, a huge, proud, eager smile on his face.

The8

♡ Spa day with him almost turns into a full-blown resort day, not because Minghao insists on being extra but because you get a little salon experience when he decides to paint your nails- but only if you paint his, too.

♡ The first thing you do is just get yourselves relaxed, you two wearing comfortable clothes, lighting some incense, and sharing cups of Minghao’s favorite relaxing tea blend that he knows just how many times to steep.

♡ Next up is getting ready for the salon experience! You two take turns filing each other’s nails to get ready. Minghao’s grip on your hand is so soft even as he runs the gritty file along your nails, and if you aren’t fond of the feeling he keeps you distracted looking at him and listening to what he tells you, probably some new Chinese phrases if you haven’t heard them already.

♡ The hand masks feel like wet gloves, leaving the two of you laughing at the odd feeling. Venturing a high-five is a must, and the wet slap sound has you giggling more and crinkling your nose as you peel the masks off.

♡ When your moisturizer is all rubbed in, you two pick each other’s nail polish color and make it a surprise, once again keeping your eyes on each other as you sit hand in hand. For Minghao, you chose a dark, almost maroon, shade of purple, and for you he chose forest green. Your accent nail was some gold glitter on your ring fingers, which Minghao jokes is what bling you’ll get on your left side…for now 👀

Seungkwan

♡ So serious about it all!!! It starts with an elaborate skincare routine that Seungkwan probably would have made you do anyway and evolves into him showing you every restorative stretch he knows how to do so you're loosened up for your massage.

♡ “Stay still!” He whines as you roll your shoulders beneath his hands, but the only punishment you receive from Seungkwan is his hands lightly tapping against your shoulder as he shakes his head, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. “What are we going to do with you?”

♡ You quickly begin taking advantage of that, moving a little bit more so he’s forced to hold you tighter, practically nuzzling into you as he weakly chastises you, a small smile on his face when he sees you leaning in expectantly. “All right, you’re allowed to move if that’s what you want,” he gives in, grinning.

♡ Still remains stock still when you return the favor, practically entering a liquid state beneath your touch, his only movement waves that follow the flow of your hands. The only sounds he makes are sighs of contentment and the occasional request of a shift in pressure.

♡ Sings you your favorite lullabies and love songs alike as if he were your little radio when you guys sink into the tub at the end of the night. Well, almost the end that is. You still have the nighttime skincare routine and mandatory cuddles awaiting you!

Vernon

♡ Your spa day is sort of impromptu, opening up your new skin care purchase turning into a whole day off spent in self care. "Does that thing really work?" Vernon had asked you, pointing to the shining gua sha in your hand with raised eyebrows. "Only one way to find out!" You shrugged with a grin, holding it up higher, and well, curiosity got the better of him.

♡ He wanted to try the steamer you got for your face too. "This opens up your pores, right?" You nodded as you plugged it in, head turned back to look upon him brightly. "Look at you being all smart! All right, here we go!" You turn it on, steam curling out towards your heads where they lightly pressed together. Vernon squeezed his eyes shut immediately and you couldn't help but laugh, even into the steam, at the face he made.

♡ You practically pull Vernon by the hand into the kitchen to make ‘fancy snacks’, which just ends up being wee little finger sandwiches. There are normal ones like microcosm peanut butter and jellies or cucumber sandwiches, then there are a few weird ones because hey, what else was to be done with that leftover sausage?

♡ Eating outside in the sun is much more relaxing, so you take your finger sandwiches in yours and Vernon’s version of al fresco, out in the yard where you trail off to pick flowers and he thinks you’re so beautiful he can’t resist a few snapshots of you. Even if you’re embarrassed about not having any makeup on, Vernon is completely caught up in the ethereal vision of you with your robe falling off your shoulders caught in a sunbeam, a few flowers in hand. Oops, might become his wallpaper, sorry 🤷🏻‍♀️

♡ Back inside, you press a few flowers in the pages of a book, pulling another off the shelf to read from as you soak all the dirt and wear off your feet in a pair of tiny spas, your eyes darting across the page and his following along, brightening as yours widen.

Dino

♡ “Can we do the thing with the hot rocks?” “Why would you pick the most dangerous spa activity you could?” “I dunno,” Chan chuckles in response, “it just seems cool!”

♡ Cue a quick google search on if doing that is even possible at home. Apparently the rocks are only heated to the equivalent of about 38-55 degrees Celsius (100-130 degrees Fahrenheit), AKA oven temperature, so that’s how you found yourself and Chan peeking into an oven full of volcanic stones that were probably intended to go in a garden.

♡ It’s worth it, though, to watch the focus on Chan’s face as he carefully presses the stones between his hands, checking the temperature and tempering the heat ever so slightly before resting them on your bare back. The warmth is startling at first, sending a shudder down your newly-decorated spine, but soon you’re melting beneath its sensation, eyes fluttering shut at the combined feeling of the stones and Chan’s hands over you.

♡ You do the same for him, pressing the stone and giving a satisfied little nod at the adequate temperance. “You look like a professional,” Chan comments, head propped up on his fist from where he lays, chest bare. You can’t help but flush at the sight, bidding him lay down so you can work all the knots and kinks out.

♡ Once massaged, you two stretch, having a little competition to see who can do the funniest pose. You win by a longshot, stealing and modifying that one weird stretch of Seungkwan’s and sending Chan into stitches. When you’re done laughing, he moves over to the speaker you had set up for relaxing music and turns it to something more romantic, pulling you into his chest and swaying lightly back and forth as he thanks you for a day that was both relaxing and fun.

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nescaveckwriter · 10 months

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Paintbrushes and Romance

Part One 🥰

Dean x reader

A/N: this is my first ever written piece on here, so let me know what y'all think, much love my little twinkies💞

Warnings: Talking of killing, swearing, police case, not sure what else.

,..............

The smell of freshly grounded coffee beans fills the cozy little coffee shop. There's about six or seven tables in the middle, but you always choose the little corner seat, mostly everyday you sit there, watching people, listening conversations, finding inspiration.

No one except the waitress ever notices you, though that's the way you like it, sitting there admiring the way autumn takes over the leaves, its always been your favourite season ever since you were that little girl, running around, playing with the leaves, your parents would get so mad at you, for messing up the garden, a smile tugs at the corner of your lips, your thoughts get inturupted by the waitress, need a fill up? Ah! Yes please Julie, I'd appreciate that, not getting much work done today, saying with a smile. Sure, Julie said, you'll get there, one day I'll know what you do for a living I guess... You laugh a little, yeah one day.

It's not that your in the secret service or something, its just, you are a very private person, despite the fact that you're a social media influencer, and an author of three best selling books. You're actually busy working on a new book right now, but its going slow, you need inspiration of the male character, but just can't seem to find one, hell you can't even think of one, and since its one of those spicy romance books, you can't exactly base the character loosely on your brother, that'll be damn weird. Deep in thought, you hear the bell of the door, chime, welcoming a new customer. You look up from your laptop and see its two men , one man looks like a freaking giant, brownish hair, kinda messy looking, hanging over his ears, the other one a bit shorter but still tall, with his dark blondish hair, neatly spiking in the air, with a little stubble beard enhancing the already amazing, sharp jaw line, pink rose plump lips forming a smile when he excitedly said, with a kinda gruffy voice, look Sammy, they've got pecan pie. Yeah okay! Let's take a seat, and try to behave said the taller one.

You can't help it, you are drawn too him, like a moth to a flame, you quickly look in your flower tote bag, grabbing your sketch book and favourite pencil, and with out waisting anymore time , you pick up the pencil and start sketching the outline, of his nearly perfect face, getting swept away in the aroma of the coffee, the outline of his face, the way his savouring every single bite of the pie, you just have to sketch this man, maybe you can loosely base your books character on him, damn he sure is good-looking you think sketching away.

.............

Damn Sammy, this pie is just what I needed, Dean said. How is it possible that we never came to this coffee shop, Dean said, looking over at Sam eating his salad, dude he said, live a little, try some pie! I'm fine, thanks man, you know I prefer healthy choices Sam said with a not amused look on his face. Yeah well, whatever, I prefer living a little, we can die at anytime with our line of work Dean said.

Dean can hear a sort of muddled sound of his brother's telling him something, but can't really focus, in the corner, is a woman sitting with black jeans and a black top with a long mustard yellow jersey, with flat shoes matching the black, the light coming through, shining on one side, making her appear like an angel, with a messy hair bun and loose pieces of hair framing hair face, she's wearing glasses with a purplish frame, complimenting her pale, white skin, she's biting her lip, while focussing on something, not quite sure what it is. She is medium built, definitely not the type of women he goes for with their sleek long legs and high heels, but damn she was beautiful, a kind of beautiful Dean had rarely seen!

Dean! Hey! Dude! Snap out of it, Sam said while hitting Dean on the shoulder! What! Is your problem Sam, Dean said frustration clearly in his voice. What the hell man, I've been talking for the past few minutes, and then I just lost you. Bite me, Dean said. Clearly confused Sam taking a bite of his salad, you okay Dean, is it this case that has you all worked up? Yeah maybe! We need to get this guy before he kills anyone else, Dean said frown visible taking another bite of pie, keeping an eye on you in the distance, thinking you take his breath away without even saying a single word...

#winchester brothers #spn fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #bobby singer #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #Spotify

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violettduchess · 2 years

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Comte + 11 + angst

A/N: For the Fall Fluff Autumn Angst Content Creator Challenge and one of my best friends @aquagirl1978 🍂 Thanks for the request

Comte x f!reader, angst

Word Count: 1582

There is nothing quite like the Autumn Harvest Festival. A sleepy little town just a few kilometers outside of Paris transforms from rows of tiny white cottages and rolling fields to a bustling marketplace full of bright colors and smells and sounds: the red, gold and orange garlands of fall leaves and wreaths, the smell of cider and pies and warm soup, the voices calling out for visitors to stop by their booths, inspect their wares, buy their vegetables and berries and baked goods.

You squeeze Comte’s hand as you try to take it all in, to allow all the glory of fall on full display to sink into your bones and wrap itself around you. You could live in this tiny bubble, this moment of time, forever, surrounded by incredible color and liveliness, with the love of your life by your side.

You are so enraptured by all that you see that you don’t notice the softness in his golden gaze, the smile that never quite leaves his lips as he watches you. Seeing you so joyful, cheeks slightly pink from the cool breeze and your own excitement, fills him with a warmth that rivals any flame.

“Ohh look at these!” Pulling him by the hand, you stop in front of a booth laid out with ribbons of all sizes and colors. The merchant, a portly woman with eyes as green as shamrocks, offers you a bright smile.

“Welcome, welcome. Feel free to inspect any of them up close. No finer silks, satins, velvets and linens in all of France!”

Her hyperbole makes you smile as you take in the medley of colors and textures laid out before you. They are all so beautiful. You glance over your shoulder at Comte and he offers you an encouraging smile.

“We have plenty of time, ma chérie. Look as long as you like.”

Affection widens your smile as you turn back to the lengths of ribbon, your gaze running over them with an appreciative gleam. And then you spot it. A sumptuous velvet ribbon of deep ochre, trimmed with black lace. The merchant sees where you have stopped and reaches for it, lifting it and offers it to you, eyes twinkling at the anticipation of a sale.

“A beautiful choice indeed, mademoiselle. A fine match for your lovely hair.”

You take it from her, holding it in your palm as if holding a rare gem. Carefully, you run a finger down its length, marveling at how soft it is. How luxurious it feels to your skin. And the touch of black lace feels like an almost scandalous edition. You touch that too, imagining Comte’s elegant fingers pulling the ribbon free from your hair by touching that provocative trim.

You clear your throat, scattering the sensual thoughts.

"I'll take it!"

After a warm glass of apple cider and fresh apple tart, you stroll with Comte, arm in arm, until you come to the edge of a park you have visited many times when making the trip to this particular village. There is no need for words as you walk in-step together down a smaller dirt path, one that winds a bit away from the main promenade.

Your boots begin crunching over fallen leaves, beautiful bursts of red and orange and brown crumbling underfoot as you both walk towards the wooden bench you know and love. It isn’t the shiny white of the newer benches along the main, paved paths of the park. This one is old, brittle, just barely seating the two of you. It’s rough wood scratches and pulls at your clothing every time you sit and you’ve been given a souvenir splinter once or twice, but it is your favorite place in the whole park. Something about it feels like it has always been there, as if the surrounding trees themselves are offering it up as a prize to adventurous travelers who dare explore the path less taken.

Settling down next to Comte, you snuggle against his side, reaching into your beaded reticule, your fingers exploring until they feel the soft velvet of the ribbon and you pull it out with a satisfied smile.

He glances down at you, at the way you touch the soft, deep orange length of it, your fingertips skimming over the black lace once again.

“Shall I put it in your hair, chérie?”

Immediately you straighten up, excitement buoying your spirits like a burst of wind to a kite. You turn your back to him, anticipation walking along the tight line of your shoulders, painting the pale pink flush of your cheek. Comte finds the silver combs currently tucked into your tresses and gently pulls them out, one side then the other. A sigh escapes you, soft as a rustle of silk, when he pushes his gentle fingers into your hair, helping it shake itself free and flow naturally down past your shoulders. It feels familiar and comforting, something he has done for you hundreds of times and yet you never tire of it. You close your eyes, indulging in the finesse of his touch, when it suddenly stops.

Comte leans forward, murmuring to himself in French, his fingers parting strands of your hair until he says with triumph swelling his voice, “Ah ha! I have it.”

You feel a tiny tugging at your scalp and then he is holding the end of a single, soft hair, still attached. He pulls it carefully around, reaching for your hand so you can take it yourself and see what he has discovered.

“White as snow,” he says with a small smile, his eyes warm with amusement.

“A gray hair?” You turn your head to try and get a better look at the offending strand. There it is, a single hair, a thin sliver of moonlight between your fingertips.

“Perhaps I should start calling you ‘Mémé’,” he says with a grin that is full of warm-hearted affection.

Words become stuck in the desert of your throat. Your eyes are unable to look away from the thing caught in your grasp. It is only when it disappears, vanishes behind a wall of blurred autumn colors that you realize you are crying. Angrily, you pull, violently yanking the pale hair from your head. Part of you imagines that you could pull and pull and pull and it would never end, an endless spool of white inside of you, waiting for the right moment to blossom, to grow over your head like some kind of oppressive, blanched ivy climbing a wall, burying whatever is underneath until all you see is white.

Comte’s arm around your waist tightens as he reaches for you with his other hand, turning your face toward him. Even though his face is half in shadow and swimming behind your tears, the concern there is bright as a journeyman’s flare.

“Chérie?”

You turn, throwing yourself into the safety of his arms, burying your face in the soft folds of his beige coat.

You want nothing more than to stop the march of time, to stay right here on this uncomfortable wooden bench, under the protection of arboreal guards in their jackets of red and yellow, within the circle of Comte’s embrace. To pretend that time can be ignored, that age isn’t stalking you slowly from the shadows of every passing day and every dream-filled night.

His hand runs down your back, methodical, rhythmic, and you shudder. It reminds you of the steady ticking of clocks. Minutes that are born and die and with each breath push you closer to separation. A single white hair becomes two. Then ten. One wrinkle births many. These first few decades of your life were a river, flowing over rocks and curving around many unforeseen bends. But each year the water moves faster and faster. A river forms rapids and leaves you breathless, holding on for dear life. Life that for him will never end. And for you, has but one inevitable conclusion.

You don’t know how long you sit there, clinging to his strong frame as your body wrings itself of tears. He never forces you to explain. He never stops holding you. He allows you to feel what you are feeling and offers you an unwavering bastion of comfort and support. Eventually the waters calm and the wind inside your aching heart stops roaring. When you finally pull away, the last drops of sunlight are dappling his face. You reach up, cupping that beloved face in your hands, your eyes finding his.

What you find there is a love as luminous as the harvest moon, forcible enough to withstand even the most destructive of storms. A love that transcends something as trivial as seconds and years and centuries. A forever that belongs to you both, no matter if its form is a tender embrace right now under a darkening forest canopy or the warmth of this memory on a cold, autumn night somewhere around the riverbend.

“Let’s go home,” you whisper, your thumbs running over the sharp lines of his cheekbones.

He reaches out with one hand, running it over the softness of your hair.

“Of course, chérie.” He leans forward, placing a gentle kiss to the corner of one eye, then the other, and then another on your lips, love sinking into your skin at every point of contact. Standing, he reaches down for your hand and says in a voice steeped in the honeyed tenderness of loving devotion, “Let’s go home.”

🍂

Tagging: @atelieredux @alixennial @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesroseforclavis @somekidnamedkai @alexxavicry @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing @dear-fall-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny

#ikemen series #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen comte #ikevamp comte #comte de saint germain #fall fluff autumn angst ccc #angst #tw aging #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #violettwrites

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infernalrevenge · 3 years

Text

All Dolled Up

Fandom: Resident Evil 8: Village

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Rating: G

Summary: Donna decides to practice talking to Reader, using a mini Reader!

Notes: Resident Evil 8 owns my ass and so do the lords. This is just some bashful Donna, inspired by headcanons by @wallflowerimagines! Check out their stuff, I love how they've characterized the lords and their reactions to crushes and relationships and the like. Here's the original post!

------------

And... done!

Donna closed the slot at the back of the doll's head and turned it to face her, noting all the details of her latest creation.

It had a simple uniform on: A white button down under a black vest with coattails, on its left breast was a patch of the Beneviento family crest. It was fitted with matching dark grey pants and even a pair of leather shoes for its porcelain feet.

It looked just like Y/N -- their face, their skin, their hair. It was perfect.

"Looks just like 'em, Donna!" Angie chirped, bounding up from her lap and hanging onto the side of the desk to get a better look.

Everything had to be perfect if she was going to get this plan to work, but this was just part one of... who knows how many steps. She wasn't sure exactly how long this would take, but this first step forward was better than nothing.

She set the doll gently on the desk slumped against a glass, letting out a breath as she willed the implanted Cadou to bring it to life. Angie peeked over and giggled to herself in excitement, hanging from the side to watch it all happen. Maybe when this was all done, she could have a new friend to play with too!

Soon enough, its head twitched up ever so slightly, its shining eyes trying to focus on the woman before them. They attempted to sit up straighter, their movements jerky yet slow as they tested the waters. They waved a hand in greeting, pink painted lips curling into a familiar smile.

"Good evening, Lady Beneviento!" they said, in that enthusiastic tone she knew so well. Y/N's voice wasn't quite as high pitched as the doll's, but the underlying warmth in their speech was still unmistakable.

Donna cleared her throat, giving a nod and a soft "Hello" in return.

Doll-Y/N shakily stood up on their feet, taking a few steps forward to greet the other doll. "Miss Angie, come join me up here!" They extended their hands to her, and she hoisted herself onto the wooden surface with their help. They were just about Angie's height standing up, but was now at eye level with Donna.

"Is there anything I can do for you, my lady?" they addressed the woman.

She knew it was just a title, something servants commonly called those of higher status, and she's heard Y/N say it many times, but she still couldn't help the heat rising to her cheeks at what she wished it implied.

To be someone's. To be Y/N's.

Angie was just about to respond but kept quiet with one turn of Donna's head. She made this doll to practice talking to Y/N -- the real, life-sized version of them. She wanted to spend more time with them and get used to their company. It had been so long since she tried speaking to another human being directly, almost always at a loss for words until Angie would swoop in and say what was on her mind. But she knew that with Y/N, she couldn't hide behind her forever. As much as she loved Angie and what she did for her, she also wanted to be with them as her, as Donna Beneviento. She already knew they cared for Angie like she did, and she wanted to let them know personally -- no barriers, no lies, no dolls -- how she felt.

One day, she would say everything to them. But for now, this doll should suffice.

She and Angie thought that she was used to the company of her Cadou dolls, and since she would like to get used to Y/N, then making a doll of them might help with that. Made sense, right? It wasn't ideal, but it made some sense.

She didn't quite count on how much it would be like them, though. As much as she had control over the doll, she can't control how they were when she wills it to act like them.

"If you... would like..." she started to say, almost uncertain as she glanced over at Angie. She only gave an encouraging nod in response, silently telling Donna to speak up. "You can tell me about how your day went." She did always love hearing them speak.

Doll-Y/N's face lit up, bouncing slightly on the balls of their feet and clasping their small hands behind their back. "Of course, my lady. Well, on my way to the market today, I passed a shop selling all sorts of flowers. I didn't know you could grow sunflowers around the village! Or perhaps the Duke brings them in from somewhere..."

----------

This routine went on for a few days: Donna would greet Doll-Y/N, ask about them, and they would go on about things she might already know -- hobbies they want to take up, their favorite foods and drinks, a show or movie they looked forward to watching (with her and Angie, of course), and so on. The lady would reply with some insight as well, though brief and only softly, so as to not interrupt. The doll's movements also grew smoother and more sure with every interaction, practically having Y/N's own habits and tics down pat whenever they spoke. It felt more and more like she was talking to them, the real Y/N. With every thumbs up Angie gave her after every session, it only emboldened her more. This might just work!

One day, she greeted the doll with a little more enthusiasm than usual. Y/N spent time with her and Angie at the study that evening, with her reading and them arranging some books while Angie talked to them a bit about anything they may have read recently, and new games they could play with the dolls ("And Donna", Angie threw out as a suggestion). If it weren't for her veil, Y/N would've seen how she spent most of the time watching the two people she loved converse so freely with one another, unable to help smiling at them.

Donna came back into her room practically bursting with happiness, a light "Good evening, Y/N!" escaping her as she sat down.

It seemed like Doll-Y/N noticed the positive change, so they brought up something they had in mind. "I'd like to switch things a little, if you don't mind, my lady. How was your day today?" they suggested, stepping closer to her. She suddenly grew a little shy again, hands folded neatly on Angie's lap as she kept her close.

"Oh, it was... wonderful," she replied, a smile curling on her lips.

Doll-Y/N nodded, an encouraging smile on their little face as if to tell her to continue. "I spent some of the day in the garden, watching you work for a while. Um, big you. Then I... spent the rest in the study. Also with... big you. You and Angie talked a lot about books and games." They both made such lovely company, after all. "How about you, Y/N?"

"It went by splendidly! Well, it started off just fine, with my usual chores, but after seeing you in the garden this morning I couldn't help but feel like the day's been brighter ever since," they said, taking another step forward and laying a gentle hand on her shoulder, their beaming smile ever-present.

Oh. Did they just...

She... brightened up their day? Did they really think that? Did the real Y/N think that?

"Really?" she whispered, practically sounding breathless.

"Yes. In fact, your presence alone brings more warmth and radiance than the sun ever could," they continued, their smile turning rather cheeky.

...did they just flirt with her?

Donna could feel herself sinking onto her chair, hands cupping her cheeks as if she needed to hide the raging blush underneath her cowl. Never mind that only Angie and the doll replica was here to witness it. But still! This doll looked so much like her Y/N, looking at her with those bright eyes and that charming smile and sweet look on their face and--

Did she just call them "her Y/N"?

Downstairs, Y/N heard a faint squeal and thud from the other side of the manor, setting down the dish they were washing and hurrying to the lady's room.

They knocked a little frantically, speaking through the door. "Lady Beneviento, is everything alright?"

It was Angie who answered, opening up just a crack so they wouldn't see the situation behind her.

"Hey Y/N! Everything's fine, Donna just, uh, she just dropped something and was caught off-guard is all." She seemed nervous, her eyes shifting a little and barely looking at them.

"Oh, but does Lady Beneviento need help? Did she get hurt or--"

"Nope, no! Don't worry about it, we've got it covered, I promise! Now shoo, off you go!" She waved an arm out to get them to turn around before shutting the door, leaving the somewhat concerned but even more confused servant in the hall.

Donna lifted her head up from her hands, Doll-Y/N now lying lifeless on the wooden floor. Luckily, nothing seemed to have cracked on them when she suddenly relinquished control in her embarrassment. She picked them up and gingerly leaned them against a glass on the working desk, just staring into their eyes as she tried to get her heart beat back to a normal level. Even calling them "hers" in the safety of her own thoughts was enough to fluster the poor woman. If she could see her face right now, it would undoubtedly be as red as a tomato.

Was that something Y/N would even actually say? Was her mind playing tricks on her, her feelings betraying only what she wanted to hear from them? How was she supposed to handle it if they did say that?

"I think that's enough excitement for one day," Angie commented, looking between the mostly frozen Donna and Doll-Y/N. The lady could only nod in agreement.

The next day, Donna stayed in her room, not wishing to be disturbed.

It wasn't unusual for Y/N to not hear much from Lady Beneviento and instead have Angie deliver messages and orders on her behalf, but even her personal mouthpiece seemed to want to avoid them. She just kind of... watched them mindlessly on the couch while they swept the living room. What happened last night?

"Miss Angie, is everything--"

"Please just shut up and clean the carpet."

#resident evil village #resident evil 8 #donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #lady beneviento #lady beneviento x reader #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #re8

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shreddedparchment · 4 years

Text

Spa Day

03/04/2021

Pairing: Clark Kent x Reader Word Count: 7,559

Warnings: language, depression, past abuse, emotional abuse, fluff

A/N: I wrote this because I have been feeling pretty down on myself. It’s pure self indulgence to make me feel better. I hope it will help someone else and if not, I hope you at least get a smile or some entertainment from reading it. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

You’re awkward, walking in. Feeling out of place.

This place was for special people. Well, people who mattered.

You’re not sure how you got the voucher. It all happened so quickly.

One minute you were sitting in Mr. Wayne’s office, twiddling your thumbs to expend some nervous energy as you awaited your firing then the next you were being shoved out his office door with a gentle but firm hand at the center of your back.

Mr. Wayne had smiled, his face relaxed and amused.

“It expires soon, so use it tomorrow,” he’d said.

“I work tomorrow,” you’d resisted, no intention of losing a full day’s paid work.

“Take the day. On me. Full pay,” As you opened your mouth to protest again, he quickly lifted his hand to silence you politely and tacked on, “There’s no use arguing with me. Now enjoy it or you’re fired.”

He’d shut the heavy wooden door in your face leaving you standing there, stunned. At a loss to think up a reason to not come here today but obviously you’ve failed seeing as you’re here.

“Good morning!” A young woman with soft to the touch looking blonde hair smiles at you from behind the modern pale wooden counter. The white marble top shines in your eyes.

“Hi. Morning,” you sputter.

“How can we help you today?”

She’s so nice. So polite. Professional. This place is super expensive looking. There’s a crystal chandelier behind you at the center of the small lobby space. Chic sofas line the wall behind you, large pots with dragon trees growing tall add a splash of color to the otherwise sterile and plain gray walls.

Despite its minimalist decor, the office exudes money.

You’re almost at the brink of following the impulse that wants to turn you towards the tinted glass door, but before you can make your escape, the receptionist’s kind voice interrupts you.

“Oh! You have one of our platinum vouchers! Lucky you,” she smiles, genuine in her glee. “Shall I take that?”

She holds out her hands, both of them and waits for you to place the thick and shiny ticket-like paper in them.

Quickly she gives it a read, turning it over and then placing it under a UV light by her computer. An image shines out from under the purple light of a shimmering diamond right at the center of the ticket.

“You’ve got the works. Was it a gift?” She looks up at you, not intending to insult you but you can’t help but feel a little stung by her assumption.

You can’t really blame her though. You reserve all of your best outfits for work. Casual yet distinguished pantsuits and skirts with matching tops or jackets.

Today you’ve chosen a simple floor length skirt. It sits snugly around your waist and hips. Your t-shirt, a simple graphic tee with the words “Touch the Radley House YOLO” printed in bold black letters.

“Uh, yeah,” you admit to the girl, wishing she’d just sign you in and let you go about your day. “My boss gave it to me.”

“Lucky, lucky. You must have a really nice boss,” she admires.

“Well, I lost his company nearly a hundred million dollars and he didn’t fire me, so…” you trail off, still lost as to why Mr. Wayne had been so adamant you take some time off and why he’d been so understanding about the Ronson account.

“Oh,” the girl says, blinking a few times as she tries to process what you just said. “A very nice boss then.”

Her conclusion brings a small smile to your lips because truthfully, Mr. Wayne is very kind. You’ve never heard him berate an employee and he’s usually only tough on his business associates. Members of his board and investors. Like Mr. Ronson.

If he wasn’t so out of your league, you’d even consider maybe letting yourself really look at him. He’s hot for sure, but he always seems so preoccupied. Like he has something he’s trying to keep buried.

Nice, but he has secrets. No one’s perfect.

“Well, we’ve got you all booked in. What you’ll want to do is head in through that door on your right, walk halfway down the hall and the lounge room should be there to your left. Someone will come and escort you to your first experience.”

You observe her vernacular. Every word she speaks is rehearsed and probably scripted to a certain point.

“Thank you,” you give her another small smile, still feeling out of place but a little more at ease.

“Enjoy!” she calls as you cross through the heavy wooden door.

It swings shut behind you silently, a soft hiss at it latches.

The hallway before you is just as simple yet chic as the lobby. The colors are less neutral, a calming turquoise with a black base and a thick silver stripe lining the center of the wall at about waist height.

The doors are pale wood, smooth to the touch. You pass several of them as you make your way to the lounge.

Inside the door to your left at the center of the hall you find the lounge room. Which actually turns out to be a locker room. Smaller than what you would have thought with only about fifteen lockers that look more like small safes. Each one has a digital keypad, a fingerprint reader, and an iris scanner.

“Sheesh…” you observe but pick one and move over to it to set up your passcode, fingerprint, and scan your eye so that you can come get your stuff when your day of relaxation is over.

Inside the locker you find a neatly folded outfit wrapped in sanitary plastic. Completely sealed.

Just in case you’re wrong about this being a spot where you can change, you look for a designated changing area but don’t find one.

With no other choice, you place your purse and keys inside the locker, then slowly begin to strip. Shoes, skirt underwear go into the locker but your nerves don’t let you remove your t-shirt just yet. Untucked from your skirt, it’s easier to tell that it’s intentionally oversized.

After another quick anxious look at the door you’d come in through, you hook your hands into the base of your shirt and pull it up...just as the door opens and a large clearly male body steps in.

You gasp, whirling around in surprise to reclothe your breasts.

Cool air blows against your bottom as your shirt also twists with your movement, but you reach back and yank it down.

“Oh, I am...uh, didn’t see anything?” The voice is deep, smooth. It puts you at ease even though you literally just exposed yourself to a complete stranger.

“No, no. It’s fine,” you tell him, voice strained with embarrassment. “It’s my fault, I didn’t know if there was a separate changing room. I just...didn’t see any.”

“Oh, um...it’s the door right across the hall. But you know what? I’ll actually just step right outside and let you finish.”

That’s so nice…”You don’t have to, I can just-”

You turn around to look at him, keeping your hands on your shirt to pull it down. One at the front. One behind.

Simultaneously, though you don’t notice, both your and his jaw drop.

It takes both of you a moment to find your voices and while he speaks, your mind is busy taking in his massive size.

He’s thick. Muscles bulking through the should-be loose wrap top he’s wearing. Like yours it’s a soft peach color, the same diamond shape you’d seen on your voucher under the UV light etched into the right breast.

With the top he wears loose pants, or somewhat loose around his knee and down to his ankles; there’s a pair of charcoal slippers on his feet. His thighs, like his arms and chest strain against the clothes he’d been given.

It’s clearly too small. You wonder if maybe this place doesn’t carry the outfit in his size. It’s very possible, considering his girth.

“Miss?”

His slightly concerned expression brings you back to yourself, now flustered because he’s caught you gawking at him.

“Sorry, I’m-you just surprised me and my brain’s a little-what did you say?”

“I’ll just step outside,” he doesn’t wait for you to respond as he backs up to the door then pulls it open and disappears through it, closing it gently behind him.

“What the hell was that?!” you gasp, angry at yourself for staring.

He’s hot! You couldn’t help it. He also looks familiar, though you can’t place the face. How you could possibly forget a face like that you have no idea.

While you change, you think about the smaller things you’d notice.

His hair is dark. Black. Curls that are carefully kept in place with hair products. His skin is a perfect pale peach. Not so pink as the clothes you’re pulling on, but it falls under the same shade. There didn’t seem to be a single blemish from what you were able to see.

A small tuft of chest hair had been peeking out of the V of the top. His face had been perfect, yes, but kind. There was a gentleness in it. The small curve of a smile had played on his rosebud pink lips. Not thin. Not thick. They were perfect.

He was perfect.

And those eyes...so blue. Like a clear spring sky. So bright and observant. There’s no way he didn’t catch you staring. Shit.

You note as you shove your underclothes into your locker out of where he might see them, that your own outfit for this spa leaves even less to the imagination than what must be the male uniforms.

Where the handsome stranger had pants, you were given very small shorts. Little more than boy short underwear in length. Parts of your bottom were threatening to overflow.

The top, while similar to the one the stranger wore, also came with a bandeau given the unique look of being wrapped around your chest when it so clearly is just one piece. You were expected to wear this underneath the looser wrap top.

Pulling it shut, you’re still tying the top closed around your waist as you hurry to the door where the stranger must still be waiting.

You open it...but he’s gone.

Disappointment floods through you. Surprising you.

You have no reason to want to see him, but you suppose you had just wanted to apologize for the awkwardness.

With a sigh you shut the door and move back to your locker to shove the rest of your belongings in just as a kind looking young woman no older than the receptionist at the front desk comes in with a smile.

“Are we ready for the diamond experience? You’re a very lucky lady!”

Even though you’re still only halfway sure you even want to go through with this whole thing, her excitement is catching and you find yourself nodding and scurrying after her as she shows you down the hall for your all expense paid spa day.

~~~~~~~~~~

You aren’t used to relaxation.

Not to this degree.

A gold facial? Full body exfoliation with sea salt and Indian kama oil? A rain massage which consisted of you being massaged with several different clays as warm water is cascaded down your body? An herbal bath with murky green water that leaves your skin feeling fresh--like mint but for your skin?

It’s too much!

You’re four hours into your spa session and you’re so sleepy you might pass out in this next one.

As you’re escorted by the same young lady who has been tending to you from the beginning, she opens the door of a long room, the outer wall of which is made up of endless glass panels that catch the rays of the sun.

As you step in, you’re assaulted by immediate drowsiness as your entire being is engulfed in slightly sticky heat.

This isn’t a sauna. It won’t make you sweat buckets. But it makes your skin dewy and your eyes droop.

“Oh, wow,” you gasp, suddenly wanting to run before you can collapse to the floor in unconsciousness.

Your escort laughs, “The hot room has that effect on all of our guests. Come, it looks like we’ve got a spot free over at the far end.”

Along this wall of glass, there are lounge chairs with soft cushions grouped in twos, separated by a lattice waterfall panel that tinkles pleasantly as it empties down into a bed of soft pebbles. On the table at the head of these seats is a pitcher of water, glasses, and a set of small handheld fans that one can use to cool off a bit in the heat. Just in case it becomes too much, you guess. Though you can’t imagine it will. The heat isn’t oppressive. Just consuming.

It’s everywhere but it’s not choking or frustrating.

“I hope you don’t mind if we put you next to one of our other single guests? Most of our diamond packages are used by couples, as you can see.”

Your escorts gestures at the chairs as you pass them and sure enough, every seat is taken with couples hiding behind large potted fan palms.

“No, I don’t mind,” you answer in single, as if you have any choice. “How long will I be in here?”

“An hour or so? If you’d like to exit early, there is a small button on the table by your lounge. Press it and I will come take you to your next experience,” she looks back and smiles at you.

You notice that you pass three spots without lounge seats and wonder silently why some of them have been removed. At the end of these empties is where the escort stops. A set of lounges in the very last spot against the wall.

“Here you are,” your escort smiles. “If you need anything, just give us a call.”

“Thank you,” you smile at her and squeeze between the potted palms.

Slightly nervous, you look for your unintended partner and gasp at the Adonis you’d thought you’d lost.

The sound draws his attention and his expression shifts from stoic concentration to soft smile, “Hey, it’s you again.”

It takes you a moment to find your voice because you’re too busy gawking again.

He’s not wearing a shirt or pants. That is, he’s wearing shorts. A lot longer than yours, reaching about the top of his thighs, but still short. Like briefs. It gives you a good view of every single muscle in his long legs and you suddenly envy anyone that’s ever had the privilege to ride that thigh.

What the fuck am I thinking?! You give our head a shake and try to focus on his face as he waits. It’s only a second too late.

“Yeah, hi. Sorry, I-” you avert your eyes and quickly take a seat in your own lounge chair to his left, keeping your eyes on anything other than the mass that is his chest.

Just as you’d thought, it’s covered in a mouthwatering line of chest hair that trailers down onto his stomach and makes an ever so subtle trail down, down, down...down...down…

He chuckles, “It’s alright. It’s only fair you get a good look too, right?”

You’re not even processing what he’s saying, unable to focus for a bit.

“You’re here alone?” It’s more an observation than a question but you answer anyway, grasping at the distraction.

“Yes,” you nod. “A gift from my boss.”

“Me too,” he turns a little in his seat so that he can look at you, but adjusting his angle so that he can still keep his legs up, one propped up as he rests his elbow on his knee. The other stretched out before him.

This draws your gaze back to him and you’re able to pay attention this time and ignore his very distracting body.

“Oh?”

“I mean, not my boss, but it was a gift from a friend. He thought I could use a nice relaxing day.”

The way he says it, sounds like you’re not the only one saddled with what you perceived was a burden or at the very least, a waste of time.

You grin, “Mine too. My boss. I saved the company I work with from a scandal and his idea of repaying me was to give me a spa day. A raise would have been more than enough.”

“Tell me about it,” the man says, smiling with stunning pearly whites.

His smile is gorgeous and you’re enamored again by how sweet he looks.

How can someone look like he can tear the head off a rhino and still look so adorable? It can’t be fair.

“Rent keeps going up and my job doesn’t pay nearly enough to keep up. At this rate I might end up having to move back to the farm.”

“Oh,” you reply lamely, piecing together where he might have grown his sculpted figure. Farm work can be grueling.

He gives you a look, assessing your response then waves his hand gently as if to swat away his complaint, “Sorry, don’t listen to me. I’ve got it better than most. You don’t need to be hearing about my problems.”

“No!” you rush to assuage his worry. “No, it’s okay. That sucks about your job. Is there no chance at a raise?”

“Not exactly, I have a uh, a hobby that keeps me from taking more work and I kind of get paid by assignment. I have a flat salary but working extra would definitely help with the bills.”

“What do you do?” you wonder, trying to picture this guy doing anything other than just looking like a God in a spa.

He could be a bodyguard? They get assignments. Construction? Personal trainer?

“I’m a journalist,” he tells you, speaking matter-of-factly as if it makes perfect sense.

You blink, then chuckle and then laugh once.

“What?” he asks, amused and smiling again as you chuckle. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head. “It’s just, journalist is not where my mind went.”

He doesn’t seem surprised but he also doesn’t say anything else.

The two of you lapse into silence. It’s not uncomfortable and at least you don’t feel like you need to say anything to fill the dead air.

Twenty minutes pass and you lean back in your chair to relax, sighing lightly and smiling at the immaculate aura that this stranger seems to emanate.

It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.

The longer you lay there, suddenly not sleepy at all, the more your curiosity grows. Turning towards him, you find him already looking at you.

This startles you but in a good way. You smile and the soft curve of his lips breaks into a full toothed smile.

Both of you move your lips to speak, but before you can either of you get a word in a rustle of palm leaves pulls both your attentions behind your seats.

You sit up, twisting a little to look at who’s come, expecting to see your escort or some other spa staff.

Instead you find a woman you’d spotted laying in another spot with who you’d thought was the other half of her couple. Her waist-length auburn hair clings to the skin of her bare shoulders and sides. She’s removed her top, leaving her in her bandeau.

“Hi,” she says to your stranger-wait not your stranger. Shoot.

He looks confused but not unfriendly, “Hello.”

“My friend finally talked me into coming over and talking to you,” she informs him.

“I see,” your-the stranger says.

The girl seems to be expecting something but the stranger just looks up at her expectantly. Awkwardly.

He looks at you and you quickly turn away from their conversation, pushing yourself to the end of the lounge to sit with your hands holding onto the edge, feet flat on the ground.

You try not to eavesdrop but they’re right there.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” he asks her, sounded polite but not uninterested.

You can hear the woman shifting from foot to foot, probably pushing her hips from side to side. Her figure is nice. Not like yours. She’s attractive, in a conventional way. In a magazine accepted way.

Your mood sinks the longer you ponder on this random girl and the stranger. There’s an endless string of disappointments that have built you into this person you are.

Insecurities made worse by words spoken by people that should have supported you or those you thought were on your side. Affections misplaced. Kindness taken advantage of. Betrayal. Worst of all the betrayal. Some small. Some big.

You know that you should be less shaky in your self worth. You know that you’re more than the words spoken and the actions taken that brought you to this point. But how do you turn it off? How to fight the thoughts that bring you down?

It’s not something you can do all at once. You know this. And yet feeling bad about yourself makes you feel guilty because you know it’s bad and that makes you feel worse. It’s an endless cycle.

You’re fully wallowing in your own self-pity before the girl even has a chance to answer the stranger’s question.

“Well, I noticed you came by yourself and I was wondering if maybe you wanted to have dinner sometime? Or maybe coffee?”

You don’t dare turn back, you just resign yourself to a lack of luck and stare out at nothing even though the view is really nice.

“Thank, I appreciate the offer, but I’m not looking for a date right now, I don’t really have the time,” the stranger says, giving her a diplomatic response.

Letting her down without letting her down.

“Oh, well,” there’s a beat of silence. “In case you change your mind, here’s my number. Call me, if you find some time?”

You hear her retreat and the soft shift of what must be a business card against the wood of the table behind the stranger’s chair.

Movement shifts in your periphery and you see that the stranger has moved to the end of his own lounge, mimicking your pose though he’s much bulkier and takes up much more space.

“That was weird,” he says, a small puff of air passing between his lips as he huffs a laugh.

“Why?”

“Well, she just came up to me, out of nowhere,” he clarifies.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not the first time that’s happened to you.”

The stranger seems to pick up on your mood shift, his face etched with concern as he tries to lean forward, head tilted a little as he strains for a better look at your face.

“Actually, that never happens to me,” he says. A lie?

“How about you?” he checks, probing gently to see if he can get you to talk.

“No. Never.”

“But you’re so-”

“I’m nothing,” you interrupt, the words an automatic response as if you’ve been hypnotized into saying those words exactly. A trained response.

The silence is no longer comfortable, but thick and heavy.

“Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s true. I’m nobody.”

It hurts to speak these words aloud. Words that have hurt you in the past. Words that have cut you time and again. Scars left behind by those people that should have loved you but didn’t.

“No one is nobody,” the stranger counters.

He watches you, observing.

You don’t like the front row seat he has to your wallowing. You try to pull yourself out of it but the hole just keeps getting deeper.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, stealing a quick glance at him.

He’s still got his head tilted a little in pure concentration as he watches you, brow crinkled with focus.

It’s not judgement though, just intent. You can tell he’s really listening and it makes your heart flutter. No one has ever listened to you before. Not like this. Not with a deep desire to understand like he does.

He shakes his head, “Was it the girl coming over?”

You look away, feeling embarrassed, “She reminded me of someone I knew. Someone I dated.”

Nodding, he indicates that he’s listening.

You smile without humor, hurt by the memory, “He thought I should look like her. Or...he didn’t say exactly like her, but he said he wished I looked better.”

He frowns, his deep dislike for your story honest, “He doesn’t sound like a nice guy.”

“No, he wasn’t. He wasn’t like, evil or anything, but yeah. Not a nice guy,” you admit, accepting that in that case, it was definitely your boyfriend’s problem.

“But that’s not it?”

You look at him.

“There’s more to it?” he guesses.

You look out at the scenic view finally, not really seeing it but appreciating the colors at least.

“This spa day?” you begin, stealing another glance at him.

He turns to sit facing you, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped as his listening intensifies.

“The only reason I got it was because as I said before I saved the company I work for from being dragged into scandal. I also lost a bunch of money by losing the client but my boss was pretty pleased.

“But the only reason I even touched the account was because I was sorta forced to?” Is that the best way to describe what happened?

“How were you forced to deal with that account?”

“Well, I’m not exactly the best with making friends? I mean, I have had friends before. I just--I got really sick a while back and I lost most of them because I cancelled on plans a lot or I didn’t have the energy to maintain contact? Even texting felt like such a chore. Just the act of responding and-I guess they thought that I thought being friends with them was a chore, and that wasn’t it.

“I just couldn’t find the energy to try to do anything. Some days I wouldn’t even eat because I’d have to get up and make myself food and I barely got up to go to the bathroom much less make a meal.

“Anyway, I just kind of gave up and they did to and now, I don’t really have an in with people? I don’t say much and it’s not that I don’t want to talk, I just don’t have anything worth saying. Or maybe I just can’t think of anything? I don’t know. But it affects work relationships too.”

“How?” he asks.

You take a deep breath, looking down at your hands clinging to the edge of the lounge before releasing it slowly.

“It’s really just me getting in my feelings,” you shrug.

“What you feel is what you feel, even if you don’t think you should. Our pasts can affect us well into our futures.”

His encouragement helps, and you feel a little less vulnerable to share with him.

“I work in the PR department. There are six of us in total. We’re a pretty big company. Multinational big. So there’s one of us for every form of media. Since we all work for the same clients, bridging the gap, we usually spread the workload evenly.

“Or, the other five members of my team do. Sometimes they just forget that I’m there and I usually get stuck with the leftover work. I’m not one to complain, so-” you shrug. “But they forget me for other stuff too. Company dinners. Competitions for prizes in the office. Secret Santa. Stuff like that.

“It makes me feel alone.”

You chance a glance at him, and he’s still watching you but his eyes are far away for a bit as if he’s remembering something.

“I know how that feels,” he nods. “I’ve felt alone almost all my life in some ways. Luckily, I’ve made a few friends to help me see things a little differently but that loneliness will never really go away.

“I understand.”

You smile, feeling more and more at peace again with him. Calm, like he really does get it.

He responds to the shift in your expression by relaxing his own. A small crinkle forms at the corners of his eyes, a subtle curve of his lips.

Now that you’re both feeling a little better, you can admit to yourself that you were jealous. Not just because the girl was everything that you were made to think you should be, but because this stranger, gorgeous as he is, is so nice.

He’s sweet and you want that in your next partner. You want to have someone care about you genuinely. You’re a little ashamed of wanting to claim him. Do you even dare entertain the thought?

“Yeah, I think you probably do,” you smile wider, turning in your seat to face him like he’s facing you.

“Now that you know all about my depression, would you like to know my name?” you ask him, teasing a smile.

He smiles more freely, “On a first date? Isn’t that moving kinda fast?”

Your stomach tumbles, heart sprinting at his words.

“A date?”

He only smiles wider, your heart stuttering before taking off at double speed again.

You tell him your name and then bite your lip, unable to believe your good luck.

“What about that other girl? You told her you weren’t looking for a date,” you wonder.

“Well, how can I be looking for a date when I’m already on one? Besides, how many girls do you think I can come across before I find another one wearing a shirt about my favorite book again?” he asks, all sincerity.

“Your favorite book is to Kill a Mockingbird?”

His smile is blinding.

“It’s really nice to meet you,” he nods, reaching out to shake your hand. “My name is Clark. Clark Kent.”

You take it and almost faint as your head goes dizzy at the soft touch of his skin.

The veins of his forearm bulge as he squeezes gently but he doesn’t actually shake it and instead seems to just hold your hand.

“Wait, I’ve seen your editorials before. You work at the Daily Planet.”

“I do,” he nods.

Your stomach suddenly falls, jealousy raking up along your ribs to settle around your heart to make it ache.

“Aren’t you dating Lois Lane? I thought-you two went to one of my boss’s parties together.”

It had been so long ago. Months and months. You remember Mr. Wayne going on about his friends Clark and Lois. You hadn’t met them, but Mr. Wayne had left to greet them when they’d arrived.

Clark’s own face falls just a tad, a small melancholic shift but it’s not deep. He keeps his smile, though smaller, and nods.

“We broke up last year,” he confesses, still not releasing your hand.

His thumb grazes against the back of it, sending goosebumps up from that point to spread along your arms and the rest of your body.

“I’m...not sorry?” you laugh, unable to help yourself because how can you be sorry about it now?

Clark also chuckles, “You know, right now, suddenly I’m not either.”

Before you can think of something cute to say, your stomach gurgles loudly, announcing to anyone close enough to hear that you’re hungry.

“Oh,” you utter, embarrassed as you finally take your hand back to rub your belly. “Sorry, I guess I haven’t eaten in a bit.”

“They have a menu here, I’ll grab us one.”

He rises and is gone before you can stop him and holy hell does he have a nice butt.

Watching him leave, you contemplate the way he used the word “us” so casually and wiggle with the pleasure it gives you.

As quick as you can, you look for any reflective surface and settle on the window across from you on which you can barely see yourself.

It’s enough though and you quickly go about fixing your hair which is surprisingly not bad even after all the treatments you’ve undergone.

A soft voice calls your name, the young woman who’s been escorting you.

“Hi, are you ready for your next treatment?” she smiles at you politely, kindly even, her body slightly bent down so that she won’t speak too loud and disturb the other people enjoying the hot room.

“Oh, um...I’m actually super hungry and I was going to order something to eat?”

The idea of being taken away to somewhere that you can’t be around Clark devastates you. You haven’t been this into anyone in so long.

“Oh okay! What would you like to order? Did you get a menu?”

The young woman gestures over her shoulder as if asking if she should go get you one.

“Actually-” but you don’t get to explain because Clark suddenly steps up to loom over both of you.

He doesn’t mean to, you don’t think, he’s just so big and he kind of naturally just looms.

“Hi,” he greets her kindly, and she flushes.

You can’t blame her. She takes a step back to put some space between herself and Clark and she’s seriously flustered. He’s hot.

Clark squeezes back by and sits himself in his seat before opening the paper menu and leaning towards you to give you a look.

You read through the choices quickly and nothing looks too crazy.

“Ooh, this one looks good,” you tell him, pointing down at the bottom of the menu.

“Should we get that one?”

“Yeah!” you reply eagerly, excited for the food.

You’re really very hungry.

“Can we get the gourmet pizza?” Clark asks, “And an order of the mini muffins? What kind are they?”

“Blueberry today,” the girl informs him, back to her composed and professional attitude.

“Two orders of those. And…”

“You don’t offer any kind of burger?” you ask the young woman looking back at her.

She smiles kindly but shakes her head, “No, sorry. The closest would be the sandwiches. We have tuna, cucumber, egg salad, and ham.”

While they sound like normal sandwiches, you have a suspicion that they’re going to be fancy in one way or another.

“Can we have an order of the tuna?”

She nods.

“And we’ll get the chocolate fondue, for desert?” Clark adds, folding up the menu and handing it to your escort.

“Alrighty, and for drinks? We can bring just plain water or perhaps some herb infused tea?”

“Do you have any sweet tea?” you wonder.

She nods.

“Two please,” Clark smiles. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” your escort says and hurries off to put in the order.

Both of you watch her go then when you meet Clark’s eyes, he laughs, just once. Failing to keep it inside.

“Did we order too much?” you wonder.

“I’m hungry too,” Clark assures you.

“I really wanted a burger,” you lament. “I mean, this food will probably be better than some greasy burger but-”

“A burger sounds like heaven. I love greasy burgers. Double meat. Triple cheese. Lots of pickles.”

He makes a funny face, pretending to salivate over the image he’s painted and while it’s a subtle change in his expression, you can tell that he’s more prone to being serious and that makes the gesture funnier for some reason.

You laugh, shaking your head.

He laughs with you, leaning back in his lounge.

You follow his lead, then turn onto your side and shove an arm underneath your head.

He mimics your pose, drawing his long legs up a little to bend them.

“I’m sorry about earlier, with the locker room? I really didn’t know that I wasn’t supposed to change in there.”

Clark’s smiles shift to a soft curve of his lips.

“I’m the one that should be apologizing,” he counters. “I walked in on you.”

“But you had no idea I’d be in there half naked, I kinda just thrust my body at you.”

There’s a beat, he looks down at your chair instead of maintaining eye contact, then, “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Your neck is suddenly on fire. Cheeks, ears, the base of your belly. It all burns as your heart stutters.

As he looks up to meet your eyes again, those baby blues burning with a striking spark, something he said when you first came in here replays itself in your head.

You frown, narrowing your eyes at him, “Hey, when I came in here, I apologized for staring at your naked upper body and you said that it was only fair I get a good look too.

“Are you saying you saw me when you clearly said you didn’t in the locker room?!”

Clark averts his eyes, clearing his throat loudly before throwing himself onto his back to stare up at the ceiling.

“I’m gonna have to get my friend something really good in return for gifting me this spa day,” Clark says, pointedly changing the subject.

But he has a point. This has been the best little indulgence you’ve ever given yourself and none of it could have been possible without Mr. Wayne’s generosity.

“Me too. I’ll have to make sure my boss knows how glad I am that he forced me to come here.”

Clark smiles, “What’s your next treatment? Did you pick them before you came?”

“We could do that?” You gasp.

Clark just smiles wider.

“No, I’m just going with the flow. The girl who took our order has been suggesting stuff and I’ve just been going with it.”

“I have a fresh water soak after this. You should join me.” Clark offers.

After the hot room, a swim in some fresh water sounds like heaven. And extending your time with Clark is a definite bonus.

“Aren’t we not supposed to swim for thirty minutes after we eat?” you tease.

Clark chuckles, “It’s a soak.”

Then, his voice shifts and you’re knocked breathless as he basically pleads with you.

“Join me. Only if you want to. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to.”

Your brain is buzzing with that pleading voice of his. Gentle urging that betrays his want to be with you rather than wanting to control you.

“A fresh water soak sounds amazing.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Nothing could ever top today. You and Clark stuck together the rest of the day. It was fun getting to know him and exciting because the longer you two spent time together, the closer he sat to you.

As you dropped your spa outfit into a canvas souvenir bag that your attendee had given you at your last treatment--a couple’s massage that you and Clark had talked all the way through--Clark peeked around his own locker door, shutting it.

“So, I was thinking,” he began, moving to lean beside your locker as he towers over you, making you internally swoon with the curve of his lips.

“Yeah?” you urge him on, taking your other belongings and throwing them into the canvas bag along with your spa outfit which is also free for you to take.

“I have some things to do tonight but, how would you like to get some burgers tomorrow?”

“Are you asking me out on a second date, Clark?” as much as you wish you could sound like you were teasing, your excitement betrays you and Clark beams at your tone.

“Definitely,” he says low and deep.

Fuck, you’re totally screwed. You’re falling hard.

You really want to reach up and gently slide the curl falling on his forehead to the side lightly, but you resist the urge.

“I’d love to go out and get greasy burgers with you,” you bite your lip and Clark’s expression shifts a bit more serious but there’s a fire in his eyes, a darkening as his pupils dilate that makes your heart stutter.

“Come on,” Clark nods towards the door. “I’ll walk you out.”

He bumps into you, flirtatiously nudging you as he leads you out and you return his gentle push with your own.

“Had you been to a spa like this before?”

“No,” Clark shakes his head. “I actually don’t get much benefit at these places. It feels good, but it’s not really my thing. You?”

“I feel cleaner than I ever have,” you scoff. “But I could never afford it. Even the cheap places. I’d rather just take a walk around a park or something.”

“Me too,” Clark agrees, smiling.

As the two of you walk out into the parking lot, the cooler air outside feels pleasant against your treated skin.

In the setting sun light, Clark looks especially good and you can’t help yourself. You steal several glances at him with no worry as to hiding it.

You’re happy to see he’s doing it too.

“Oh good,” a familiar voice interrupts, pulling your feet to a stop as you search for your boss’s face. “You two met.”

“Wait, us two-?”

“Bruce?” Clark also stops beside you, eyes narrowed, a crinkle between his eyes.

You look between the two of them, confused but starting to put two and two together.

“Bruce? You-Mr. Wayne is your friend who gave you the voucher?” you realize.

Clark looks at you, his own realizations starting to manifest.

“Bruce is your boss?”

Mr. Wayne moves towards the two of you, hands shoved into his long charcoal gray coat. There’s a satisfied grin on his handsome face, a pride in what you realize must have been a carefully crafted maneuver.

Clark looks at you, a knowing smile on his face as if amused but maybe also a little irritated? Not with you, of course. Clearly his annoyance is with Mr. Wayne.

“You did this,” he accepts, looking back at Mr. Wayne with a tilt of his head.

“I didn’t do anything,” Mr. Wayne denies. “I just gave you two a free day at the spa. Did she tell you why I gave her the voucher?”

“She did,” Clark nods.

“Not every PR rep would overlook a five hundred million dollar investment in order to keep us clean from associating with a suspected illegal arms dealer. Most of them would just look the other way.” Mr. Wayne brags.

A look of understanding crossing Clark’s face and he looks down at you, smiling again as if he’s pieced together a puzzle.

“It was really nothing, Mr. Wayne, and thank you for today. I-I’m actually really glad I came. I would have hated it if the voucher expired.”

“Expired?” Clark asks, turning that confused look back on his friend. “They don’t expire.”

Mr. Wayne clears his throat and turns his full body away from you both, looking back at his shiny expensive sports car.

“Yeah, they do,” he says.

“Bruce,” Clark chides.

“We’re gonna be late,” Mr. Wayne says, ignoring Clark’s reprimand, then looks at you as he pretends he wasn’t just caught in a lie. “Do you have a ride home?”

“Yeah, I brought my car,” you gesture at a modest white sedan parked a few spots over.

“Good. I’ll see you on Monday. Clark?” Mr. Wayne urges him, then walks towards his car.

“I’ll be right there,” Clark tells him, then waits for you to lead the way to your car.

Your heart is still thrumming rapidly with the realization that Mr. Wayne went out of his way to make sure you and Clark met. A set up?

You stop by your car door and unlock it. Clark is quick to take the door from you as you open it and he holds it with his left arm as you turn to look up at him.

“I had a lot of fun today, despite the obvious premeditation of us meeting,” you scoff. “I’m glad I met you.”

You’re quickly becoming acquainted with the gentle curve of Clark’s lips, the peek of his pearly whites as he blushes and meets your eyes.

“I’m glad Bruce interfered,” he nods. “I’ll see you tomorrow for burgers?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” you assure him.

After a moment of hesitation, he reaches out and places his hand on your bicep then traces the length of your arm until he can take your hand.

It sets your skin on fire. It makes you dizzy and breathless.

“You have my number,” you remind him, eager to reconnect if he has the time.

He gives you that pearly smile, blue eyes full of excitement, “I’ll call you later. Tonight?”

You nod, “Tonight.”

He waits for you to get in, shutting the door for you when you’re sitting.

You lower the window as he backs away, “Bye.”

“Bye,” he nods, then turns to meet Mr. Wayne at his car.

“What?” Bruce asks, “It’s been months. She’s perfect for you.”

“Really?!” you can hear Clark demand, more annoyed with his friend again than any consequences his actions might have brought, however positive.

“You like her, don’t you?” Mr. Wayne asks.

“That’s not the point, Bruce. Boundaries.” Clark reminds him. “Why did you lie to her?”

“I knew you were coming today, I had to get her here,” Mr. Wayne explains. “Besides, you’re-”

As their doors shut, you’re cut off from their distant conversation. You shut your window, watch them speed out, and smile to yourself at the unexpected turn your spa day took.

#clark kent x reader #superman x reader #clark x reader #dceu fanfiction #dc fanfiction #clark kent #superman #bruce wayne #batman #dc oneshot

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avengersassemble123 · 3 years

Text

THE ONE WITH THE WEDDING -part 2

Fandom: Marvel, avengers

Note:hey guys!! This is going to be a series and a new chapter will come out on Fridays every week. This series is based on Friends (Monica and Chandler’s relationship)

Warnings: hate for step family, some few bad words, idea of a bit of lovemaking at the end(just mention), alcohol consumption but mainly fluff.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You were invited to your stepsister's wedding at the last minute and your stepmother wants you to bring a date. Bucky Barnes decides to become your so-called date and shenanigans ensue. But will he remain your ‘so-called’ fake date or will he be someone more?

Thursday. The day which you dreaded the most. The day when you have to attend your stepsister’s wedding. Your alarm blared at 8 in the morning but you still didn't want to get out of your bed. You almost decided against not attending when you realized that you might not get to meet your loved ones too. So you finally managed to pull yourself out of the bed and proceeded towards the bathroom. You brushed your teeth and took a bath as slowly as possible, delaying the day's events. By the time you finished your breakfast, it was 10 am. Since there was no one to accompany you in the kitchen as all of the teammates except Bucky, left for a mission the previous day, you were grumpier than usual. You were just playing with the cereals and the spoon when you heard someone walk in, knowing exactly who the said person was.

Bucky took a milk carton from the fridge to drink while he looked at you, playing. He knew what kind of situation you were in since he knew your history with your family, and since you didn't acknowledge him when he walked in the kitchen, which you tend to do when you were in deep thoughts.

“From the milk carton? Seriously? When will you learn that it's disgusting to drink directly from the carton and that people would rather prefer a glass or a bowl?” you asked, breaking the silence.

Bucky raised his eyebrow at you and purposely drank from the carton right in front of you. You groaned, which made Bucky chuckle.

“Alright, alright I'll stop since you're gonna have to experience more torturing situations today.” he looked at you genuinely, while taking a glass from the cabinets. You smiled a bit, knowing your colleagues and friends, or let's say your second family always had your back.

“So when do we leave?”

“We’ll leave two hours early since it'll only take 45minutes to reach there, but I want to introduce you to my real loved ones, for they are the only reason I want to go to the wedding.”

“Oh wait you mean your dad, grandma and your twin brother right?”

“Yep you got it right Sargent.”

You both chuckled, a few seconds of silence when Bucky said, “Tell me about them.”

“Hm?”

“Your loved ones..tell me about them, if I'm gonna meet my fake date’s family, I'd rather go prepared, don't you think?”

You giggled.

“Well let's start with my grandma. She is the most generous person you're ever going to meet-”

You continued to talk joyfully, which made lucky smile too. He observed how your features carefully. He could memorise all the details and still observe you again all the time. He liked how you were smiling widely, how your cheeks were lifted by the beautiful smile on your face.

You guys talked for an hour when you decided that you should start getting ready so that you guys could leave at the designated time.

It was 3 by the time you guys got ready. You were wearing a decent long sleeveless maroon indigo dress while he wore a black tux with an indigo coloured tie to match your dress. You both wore hair buns, yours being adorned by a floral hair pin.

You both were in the cab, when you started fidgeting and biting your nails. Bucky noticed your nervousness, which made him to hold your hand gently and give you a reassuring look, which made you fidget less. You both held your hands, basking in the silence, not an awkward but a comfortable silence.

As soon as you reached the wedding hall, you dragged Bucky inside the hall, your eyes searching the whole crowd. When you met a familiar pair of eyes, you rushed towards it, still pulling Bucky along you. You both came in from of an old lady, dressed decent but beautiful enough for the wedding.

“Granny!!” you squealed, while hugging her. The sight of both the hugging ladies in front of Bucky, made his heart melt. He tried to give you both privacy by taking a step back. Your grandma noticed him and asked you, smirking, “Now who's that gentleman here y/n? Why don't you introduce him to me?”

“Introduce who?”

“Dad!!” you squealed while hugging him tightly.

“Oh God...i missed you so much baby girl.” he said while holding your face between his hands and kissing your forehead.

“I missed you too?”

“What about me? Did you forget me?” you ran towards your brother and he hugged you tightly lifting you up a bit.

“Whats up bro? Still being a jackass?” you asked slyly and teasingly. “Well now I know you're still the pain in my ass.” your brother retorted making all of you laughed.

Just then your brother’s attention turned towards Bucky.

“Hey I know you. You’re Bucky Barnes. Y/N’s colleague.” he says while shaking Bucky’s hand but also squinting at him suspiciously.

“Its an honour to meet you three. You must be Y/B/N, Y/N’s brother.” “And I am Y/F/N, Y/N’s father” your father chimed him also shaking his hand and squinting at him suspiciously.

“Now now both of you back off from the poor man. Now he may be older than me but I am older than you and I suggest you do not torture the poor man already, since our dear Y/N got him as her date.” your grandmother said, looking at you mischievously.

“Thats the thing...” you started. You then filled the three of them about how your stepmom had called you at the last minute to taking Bucky with you as your fake date.

“Oh then it's fine..” your dad said, “i think we tortured James a bit don't you think Y/B/N?” “I think so too dad.” they both said, but still squinting at him suspiciously. Your grandmother swatted, both of their heads lightly which caused you to chuckle. You then heard someone call out to everyone to take their seats as the wedding was going to start soon. Your grandmother ushered all of you to take your seats, while you joined Bucky.

“Sorry about that,” you said while sitting beside him. “Oh don't, in fact, I quite liked your family, especially how protective your father and brother were. Honestly speaking if I were in their place and if I had a daughter myself then I would have the same reaction too.” he smiled genuinely. “Oh thanks,” you said while your cheeks burned a bit. You two looked at each other for a bit when someone called out that the wedding began, beeaking both of yours stares. You both sat together, watching the ceremony while you and Bucky cracked jokes on the topics of the decoration or the food or the bride or groom. You both had to stifle your laughter to save yourselves from the embarrassment. When the reception began you excused yourself to the restroom. While returning back from the restroom, you were stopped by a shrill voice behind from you, your stepmother. Of course it is. You turned your back slowly and smiled a bit too much, while walking towards her. “Hello Y/N” your stepmother said, walking towards you, having a smile almost as fake as you. “Hello to you too stepmom.”

“Well are you enjoying the wedding?”

“Oh I am, in fact I liked the decorations.”

“Oh thank you. This had to be wonderful since this is the only wedding that was gonna happen besides your brother’s”

You clenched your jaw but still managed to laugh it off.

“Well I have got a wonderful son in law you know, I mean of course no one but my daughter deserves it since she is the only one capable of being successful like this, and you know being this beautiful than anyone in the whole family.”

Every word stung you but you still managed to regain yourself and chanted in your mind that you saw this coming.

“I mean of course she was better, smarter and deserving than both of you”

This bitch wasn't even trying to hide her hatred towards you.

“Oh honey, I'm sorry for the date. I know you are not capable of finding someone-”

“Actually her date is right here.”

You felt hands on your shoulder and a kiss placed on your cheek. Bucky was smiling and chuckling beside you, hugging you tightly sideways.

“Oh I'm sorry how rude of me, I'm James Buchanan Barnes, Y/N’s boyfriend, my friends and Y/N call me Bucky”

And you saw your stepmom have the most surprised look on herself when Bucky introduced himself to her.

“Well honey I think I gotta show you something. How about we take a walk. Now if you'll excuse me-” bucky pulled you towards the end of the hall.

You both sat on the empty chairs, facing towards the balcony.

“Hey Y/N you okay?”

You nodded while rubbing your eyes roughly, “You didn't have to do that James.”

“Well what kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I don't save my own fake girlfriend from her troubles?” he said cheekily which earned a giggle from you. You both looked at each other, observing each others features. You saw how his baby blue eyes shined due to the hall lights, few hair strands falling on his face, his cheeks having a pink flush, a scruff of beard on his face with an adorable smile adorned on his face, making him look more attractive. You both stared at each other intently. “So was it true?” you asked.

“What?”

“That you would have the same reaction if you would have a daughter.”

“Oh that...uh well yea...its true..”

“Do you want a family?”

“Yes....yes I do...”

You both smiled at each other with a comfortable silence between both of you, when one of the bridesmaids came to inform you two that the rooms to stay we're ready. You both parted each other hesitantly but asked Bucky to go ahead to his room since you were the direct family member and had to stay behind to make sure everything was settled. He nodded and headed towards the room.

It was almost midnight when almost the whole staff was clearing out the decorations, you were about to head back when you again saw your stepmom approaching you. You tried to ignore her but she grabbed your arm and turned you towards her. “Now listen here you minx, I know you were the one who tried to steal my precious daughter's spotlight so you better apologize now.” what? What was she talking about?

“What are you talking about? Why would I wanna do that?”

“Oh so now you're gonna play the victim card. Well listen here sweetheart I know how you tried to out best your sister by making yourself pretty and finding an avenger boyfriend for yourself so that everyone could talk only about you. I was surprised that you got a boyfriend for yourself yet alone an Avenger, but now I see it that he is your fake boyfriend, and you just wanna be in the spotlight and want more boys to fuck with. Well hear me out you will never be better than anyone, always be the most dumb one and no one is going go accept you. So I better not see you outshining my daughter again, you hear me you whore? Shame on yourself.”

Your stepmother left you all by yourself in the hall, leaving you in tears. You just couldn't handle it anymore. You saw a bottle of wine on the buffet table and you picked it up, walking towards your room.

1 am

Knock knock.

Bucky was awake due to his nightmares and since he didn't want to scare his neighbor but he got suspicious when he heard knocks at his door.

He slowly approached the door, ready to act on spot, when he saw you at the door, still in your party clothes, but a drinking a glass of wine from a straw. “Hey Y/N” he says a bit surprised. “Hey Buck, cute clothes.” you say making him realise that he was shirtless with him only in his jumptracks and dog tags.

“Well I wasn't exactly expecting company at...1am.” he nodded while looking at the walk clock.

You walked in the room, placing the glass on the table.

“What happened? Are you okay?” he asked, concern etching on his face.

“Well other than the fact that when I was returning to my room, my stepmom accused me of stealing my sisters spotlight, bringing you as a means to my ends of fucking other boys and called me a whore, ...yeah Im fine.” you said with a smile on your face but tears threatening to spill.

“Hey do you want me to talk to her with your dad and brother? Just tell me what to do. I know it's been a real emotional time and you've had a lot to drink so you know..you just gotta let it go, okay? I mean you were the most beautiful woman in the room tonight.”

“Really?” you asked.

“Are you kidding me you were the most beautiful woman in the most rooms-”

You suddenly pounced at Bucky, kissing him passionately, his hands roaming on the back of your body, you both were kissing for a few seconds when he suddenly pushed you a bit, “Woah Woah woah what's going on? You and I just made out. You and I are making out?”

“Well not anymore.” you sassed.

“But we don't do that.” he said

“I know I just thought it would be fun.” you said shyly.

Bucky squinted at you for a second before asking, “how drunk are you?”

“Drunk enough that I know I want to do this, not so drunk that you should feel guilty about taking advantage.” you said too fast as excited.

He started at you for a few seconds.

“Well that's perfect amount.” he said, pulling you towards his bed. You both sat on the bed and started kissing each other when you broke off and said, “ you know what's weird?”

“What?”

”This doesn't feel weird.”

“ I know”

“And you're a really good kisser.”

“Well they didn't call me a ladies man in the 40s for no reason.”

You giggled and continued to kiss him.

“Want to get in the covers?” he asked. You nodded and you both went inside the covers.

You were removing your dress when you saw buck already naked.

“Wow you're really fast.” you said.

“Well it bodes for me that speed impresses.”

You nodded in approval.

“We’re gonna see each other naked.” you said.

“Yep.”

“You wanna do it at the same time?”

“At the count of three?”

“One” you chanted.

“Two” he chanted.

“Three” both of you peeked inside the covers at your bodies and looked at yourselves over the covers with wide eyes.

“ well I think it's safe to say that our friendship is effectively ruined.”

“Well we weren't that close anyway.” you said.

“Yeah” he replied, and you both started making out with each other.

And let's just say all your wild dreams came true...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list

@pretty-vulture

@itsanerdlife

@dreamwritesimagines

@starkn

@aynanasstuff

@natsblackwidow

@shurisneakers

I added requested tags as well as some tags of some of my favorite fanfic writers

Ignore the tag if it bothers you😅😝😊

Taglist is open!!!

Read chapter 3 here

#marvel #mcu #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #bucky barnes #mcu x reader #bucky barnes x reader #tfatws #tfatws x reader #tfatws bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader friends au #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #THE ONE WITH THE WEDDING #avengers

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 4 years

Text

Moe Moe Mallekei Kyun~

In which Malleus and Cater go to a maid café, and shenanigans ensue.

... I’ve been wanting to write this for a long time.

***Warning: mild spoilers for Malleus’s PE Uniform personal story!***

Imagine this...

“Lilia-sama.”

Two bodyguards fell into line, saluting simultaneously to their vice dorm leader.

“We just finished combing through the prime gargoyle locations around campus,” Silver reported. “Unfortunately, there was no sight of Malleus-sama to be found. The accounts of the various students we interviewed also corroborate that the Young Master has not recently been spotted in the area.”

“I see. Thank you, Silver.” Lilia sighed, cupping his cheek in one hand. “Hm, this is a bit odd. Wherever could he have wandered off to this time?”

At that moment, a ping! sounded off. Lilia fished his phone out of his pocket and, with one glance at the screen, his expression softened.

“You don’t suppose some dastardly villain has… kidnapped the Young Master and is holding him for ransom, do you?!” Sebek’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull at the thought. “If that is the case… THEN WE HAVE FAILED AS MALLEUS-SAMA’S KNIGHTS!!”

“Now, now--let’s not jump to conclusions. Even if that were true, I’m certain that Malleus would be able to easily fend off assailants on his own. Perhaps he has simply lost his way, or headed off campus to run an errand.”

“... Without warning us in advance?”

“I would have happily accompanied the Young Master wherever he went--EVEN TO THE ENDS OF TWISTED WONDERLAND ITSELF!!”

“Kufufu. Malleus is still young at heart. Let us allow him this moment of independence, just this once. He will find his way home eventually.”

“Welcome home, my masters!!”

Malleus skidded to a stop in the doorway—for beyond it laid unknown territory. The interior sported cream walls, with fairy lights, streamers, and paper flowers strung up. A number of tables and chairs, populated with people, were set against flowing white curtains.

Young ladies flitted about, balancing trays of food and drinks, cameras, and microphones. Each wore the same outfit, consisting of a frilly headdress, an apron, and a black dress with lace trim and ribbons.

And now, one of those uniformed girls extended a hand to him and a warm, welcoming smile.

Malleus frowned and turned to the orange haired young man beside him. “... Diamond. What is this strange establishment you’ve brought me to?”

“Mm? It’s a maid café,” Cater chirped, glancing up from his phone. “You said you’ve never been before, right?”

“Well, yes… However, when you invited me to join you for an outing, I did not expect this to be our destination.”

“It’ll be fine~ We’re already here, so let’s get seated!” Cater insisted cheerily, ushering the fae through the door.

“Right this way, my masters!” The greeter giggled and led the way, eventually stopping at a vacant table set for two. As the duo slipped into their seats, she handed them menus and moistened towels. “We have a wide selection of special services and delicious dishes for your enjoyment!”

Malleus hesitantly flipped open the (very pink) menu and ran his eyes down the page of available items. Along with the expected offerings of desserts, savory foods, and beverages were odd listings: massage, ear cleaning, karaoke, game, arts and crafts, picture, spoon feeding, live song and dance...

He stared quizzically at Cater, who seemed to be taking everything in stride.

“I’ll take a plate of omurice! How about you, Malleus-kun?”

He stared back at his menu, trying to make rhyme or reason of the unique names. What in the Great Seven was a Pyon ❤ Pyon Sunshine Bar…? Or a Lucky☆Happy☆Cookie? Malleus’s brows furrowed in both concentration and confusion.

“I… I shall have the local specialty, whatever that may be,” the fae prince declared at last.

“Excellent choices! And would you like a bunny, or a kitty?”

“You hand out animals at this eating establishment? Is that not a health code violation?”

“Aaah, Malleus-kun, she doesn’t mean real rabbits and cats. Look--you’ll see when she brings them, okay?” Cater laughed awkwardly. Then, turning to the waitress, he held up his index finger. “One of each, little lady~”

“Of course!” She scribbled down a few words on her heart shaped notepad before prancing off.

“... Diamond. Are you certain this is the fabled maid café of which you spoke of?” Malleus asked, folding his arms. “I find it difficult to believe that every patron here is descended from a high class lineage. Furthermore, the servers are wearing attire entirely unlike that of a traditional household servant.”

Cater blinked once, twice—then chuckled.

“Maid cafés are like normal cafés. Anyone can go to them to play pretend and chill for a while! The difference is that the waitresses are dressed cutely and offer fun services. Singing, dancing, playing games—that kinda thing!”

“I do not understand.” Malleus swept a hand at their surroundings. “The purpose of this establishment is merely for… amusement?”

“Yup! People get tired of the daily grind sometimes, so they go to places like this to see cute stuff and just take a load off.”

“I… I see.” Malleus tucked his thumb and forefinger under his chin. “We do not have anything like your maid cafes in the Valley of Thorns.”

“You don’t? What sort of things do you do back home for fun, then?”

“I was not allowed to venture far from the palace grounds. Most of my time was spent indoors, studying spells or honing my magical abilities.”

Cater inclined his head. “Oooh, right! Because you’re a prince and all, you weren’t able to do much—but hey! Things are different now! You’ve got Cay-kun to show you a good time!”

“Ah, yes. A ‘good time’...” Malleus attempted at a smile, which came out more wary than he had intended.

“Thank you for waiting!” a girlish voice chirped—their waitress had returned, wearing a tray of food in one hand and two headbands in the other. “Here is your omurice and Nyan ✨ Nyan ✨ Kitty-chan Parfait, plus one pair of kitty ears and one pair of bunny ears!”

She handed Cater his dish—a bed of ketchup flavored fried rice, sealed by a wobbling omelet and garnished with a sprig of parsley.

“Mm! Smells delicious. Thanks a bunch~” Cater grinned, winking at his server.

The maid giggled and placed Malleus’s dessert before him, along with the headbands.

“Would you like me to draw or write something special for you on your meal, master?” she asked, gesturing to Cater’s omurice.

“Sure thing! Could you write ‘Mallekei’? Oh, and a couple of hearts would be cute, too!”

“As you wish!”

As the maid set to work, Malleus marveled at the sight of his parfait.

Colorful scoops of ice-cream, granola, and sliced fruits were layered inside of a tall glass cup. A generous crown of whipped cream and a drizzle of strawberry sauce topped it off. Sticking out from the whipped cream were two wafer triangles and dots of chocolate candies, forming a cat-like face.

How adorable.

… But not adorable enough to be spared.

“Thank you for the food.” The fae raised his spoon to demolish the poor parfait kitten—

“Stop, stop, Malleus-kun!!” Cater cried, frantically waving his arms. “N-Not yet!!”

Malleus lowered his spoon with a frown. “Food is meant to be consumed, Diamond. Is there an issue you have with my table etiquette?”

“Well—no, but…” Cater played with a lock of his orange hair and sighed. “There’s certain rituals we need to do first!”

“Rituals? Oh, my apologies. I was not aware. Please proceed with your regularly scheduled… rituals.”

“Ahaha, you’re a quick learner! First thing’s first, let’s put on our headbands!” Cater swept up the cat ears and passed them over. “Here, to match your parfait! I’ll take the rabbit.”

Malleus gingerly nestled the cat ears on his head, copying Cater’s movements. It was a bit tricky maneuvering around his horns, but somehow, he managed.

“Oh!! Those ears suit you so well!” the waitress said, glancing up from decorating the omurice. Carefully placed splotches of ketchup spelled out ‘Mallekei’, hearts and little sparkles littering the space around the boys’ combined names.

“... Do they?” Malleus doubted it.

“They do!!” Cater reassured him with a laugh. “Ne, ne, miss! Can you take our picture so my friend here can have a souvenir to take home with him?”

“Certainly!” She replaced the bottle of ketchup and hurried off, returning shortly after with a polaroid camera. “Are you ready, my masters?”

“Ready, Malleus-kun?”

“Hmph. Of course. I will have you know that my posing abilities have improved considerably since our last encounter. Do not underestimate me.”

“Oh, that’s great! You’ve been practicing! Then… on the count of three, we nyah, okay?”

“... What is ‘nyah’?” Malleus inquired, his confidence suddenly waning.

“Eh?” A blip of surprise crossed Cater’s face. “Like, y’know… nyah!”

The influencer curled both of his hands into balls and made a pawing motion at his friend. “Now you try!”

“Like this?” Malleus mimicked him. He was more stiff—definitely not as practiced—but the general motion was still recognizable.

“Very good, master!!” the waitress gushed, raising the polaroid up. “On three?”

“1, 2, 3… Nyah!”

A flash went off, sending stars into Malleus’s vision. As he rubbed the daze out of his eyes, Cater’s voice called out to him.

“Are you okay there?”

“I am well. There is no need for your concern,” the fae insisted. “This ritual… it is more confounding that I took it to be.”

“Eeeh? It’s not meant to be hard or anything. Just relax, relax!” Cater paused before adding, “It’s part of the ritual’s requirements! You need to be nice and loose for the last step!”

“What is this last step?”

“We need to cast a magic spell to make your food taste extra tasty!” the waitress declared cheerily.

“Hoh?” A smirk found its way onto Malleus’s face. “That can easily be arranged. Allow me to do the honors.”

He put his hand before his parfait, an eerie green glow emulating from his palm. The sinister light engulfed his dish and Cater’s, sending them floating midair. Radioactive ice-cream and omurice hovered above their heads, causing both Cater and their maid to recoil in shock.

Other customers stared at the spectacle from their own tables. One man’s jaw dropped, the forkful of spaghetti bolognese in his mouth clattering onto the floor.

“You, who provides sustenance to the masses, become that which is delici—“

“H-Hold on a sec, Malleus-kun!!” Cater practically leapt over the table to seize his friend’s glowing hand. “Not that kind of spell!!”

Eyes wide with surprise, Malleus allowed his magic to settle down. The parfait and omurice gently floated back onto their table, and the maid sighed with relief.

“Is there a different spell needed for this occasion? I assure you that I am well-versed in practical magic—you need only speak its name, and I can conjure the proper…”

“No, no! It’s—“ Cater casted a look at their server and nervously chuckled. “Ne, Maid-chan~ Think you can give us a demonstration of the right spell?”

“Yes, master!” the girl, ever professional, flashed a perky grin. “Please watch carefully!!”

The maid set down her polaroid on the table. She then arched her fingers into C-like shapes, thumb extended straight. Pushing her hands together, she formed a heart and aimed it in the direction of the boy’s dishes.

“Moe moe kyuuuuuun!”

“What an odd spell. In all my years, I have never heard of such an enchantment…”

“Well, there’s a first for everything, right?” Cater flicked one of his floppy rabbit ears. “Plus, it should be no problem for the great Malleus-sama to pull off this spell, right?”

“This is child’s play,” Malleus’s laugh was like the earth itself rumbling. His lips quirked into a small smile. “You will join me in performing this sacred ritual, will you not, Diamond?”

“Of course~”

“Very well.”

They made hearts and thrust them upon their meals. And together, they uttered those three magic words.

“Moe moe kyuuuuun!!”

“Welcome back, Malleus,” Lilia greeted. The vice dorm leader nonchalantly hung from the ceiling, his raven and magenta bangs suspended midair. “Did you have fun on your outing?”

“Lilia. You knew?” Malleus slowly shut the door behind him, chasing away the cool air of the night. He spoke softly, knowing that sounds carried in the dusty hallways of Diasomnia and could disturb its residents.

“The wonders of modern technology,” Lilia trilled, expertly landing beside his young master. He brandished his phone in a gloved hand, a text message displayed on the screen.

hey hey lilia-chan! gonna steal malmal-kun for the day~ he’ll be back later, but do me a solid and keep it a secret from s&s til then, ‘kay? thnx!! (✿˶˘ ³˘)~♡

“It looks as though I have been exposed.”

“There is no shame in making new friends. In fact, I’m proud of you for expanding your horizons.” Lilia beamed. “Though what a shame it is that I was not present to grab a few pictures. Hopefully Cater fulfilled that task for me.”

The ancient fae tilted forward in his toes and peered up at his prince. “Soooo? Where did you sneak off to?”

“Fufu. Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“My. Is that any way to treat the man that kept Silver and Sebek from hunting you down?” Lilia teased, wagging a finger.

“Such loyalty,” Malleus smirked, hands on his hips, “deserves to be rewarded.”

He produced a polaroid photograph from his breast pocket and presented it with a flourish. The image, forever captured in time, was that of Malleus and Cater—the former with cat ears, the latter with bunny ears—with hands balled to resemble paws. Cater cheekily winked, while Malleus looked slightly bewildered.

The edges of the polaroid were dotted with stickers—smiley faces, flowers, and hearts. Marker had been used to scrawl on whiskers and blushes over both boys’ cheeks.

Overall, cutesy—overwhelming so.

But the Malleus and Cater in the picture were happy.

Their eyes shining like jewels.

Nyah-ing their hearts out.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Malleus Draconia #Cater Diamond #twisted wonderland imagines #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland scenarios #something no one asked for #spoilers

320 notes · View notes

kimvvantae · 4 years

Text

puzzle; 7 (m)

➜ you and jungkook are best friends of a lifetime, even though your personalities are like unmatching pieces of a puzzle. the line between friendship and something more has never been crossed between you two - but that changes after a break up and a drunken night, when you not-so-accidentally cross this line to something much more. what happens when after this accident your non-matching puzzle pieces seem to match in a way you’ve never imagined?

pairing: jungkook x (f) reader

genre: smut, angst, comedy; friends with benefits au; college au

warnings: lots of swearing, a little bit of violence

rating: 18+

word count: 12k

A/N: sweet jesus it’s been so long but it’s finally here! this is the last but one chapter of the series. i genuinely hope you guys enjoy it and i reeeeally want to know your thoughts on it! feel free to leave a comment! if you feel i’m deserving of it lmao

enjoy!

➜ Chapters: check up masterlist in bio!

« playlist »

[bby bear]: where are you???

[bby bear]: you'll get late for class

[you]: i knoww

[you]: the traffic is so heavy today 🤦🤦

[bby bear]: you should have come w me

[you]: i need to go to the bank

[you]: i told you

[bby bear]: i could have taken u theer

[bby bear]: there

[you]: 🥺🥺 next time i'll go w you i promise!!

[you]: but i'm close

[you]: i'll probably lose the first period tho

[bby bear]: 🤦

You shove the phone inside of your pocket when you notice the pedestrian sign is finally green. The crowd on both sides of the avenue rush, everyone on their fast pace as usual. You're even forced to push some people in order to walk by.

Getting to the other side of the street, you stop in front of the building.

Tall as fuck. That cool kind of building with mirrors all over it, where only cool people wearing cool suits walking around holding cups of coffee on one hand and phones on the other hand talking business language kind of people work at.

You certainly don't work here. You definitely don't have any stuff to do here. You surely are not close to the campus and you will lose much more than just the first period.

Seulgi will most definitely punch your face when she finds out where you are and what you're about to do.

You confidently walk inside the building, pushing through its glass doors into the pristine, modern and gigantic main hall. Your black boots contrast with the high heels all the other women wear around you. So does the rest of your outfit. Mini skirts and oversized hoodies are not part of the dress code here. You can almost hear their minds asking, what is this person doing here? The clanck clanck sound of their heels clicking against the marble floor is somehow pleasing, though.

You stop in front of the reception counter. A pretty girl opens a crystal white smile to you. Her hair is tied tightly, her uniform was ironed to perfection. "Good morning. How can I help you?" She chirps happily.

"Good morning. My name is Y/N. I'd like to talk to Irene."

The smile quickly falters.

The girl side eyes her colleague that sits by her side. "Hmm… unfortunately, Miss Irene does not receive visits," she says carefully, still trying to keep her smile. "You must be mistaken."

You can see this girl thinks you're crazy. You quickly realize that people usually don't come at the reception and simply say they want to talk to Irene. But, well, what else would you do? You have to announce your presence somehow.

"Irene is waiting for me. You can call her and ask if you want," you insist.

The receptionist looks pale for a moment.

Hesitantly, she takes the phone and dials a number. You can still see that the girl thinks you're lying; she's probably ready to call the security guards. During her quick talk on the phone, you notice she's not talking to Irene, but with her secretary.

You also see the moment her eyes widen.

She hangs up the phone and stands up, smiling widely again.

"Miss Y/N, Irene is waiting for your arrival," she says, and you notice the slight tone of panic in her voice. "Please, accompany me."

All the other visitors have to show their identifications and take a quick picture on the reception, you notice, but the girl simply ignores this procedure with you, guiding you to the elevator instead. She explains the situation to the security guard and he lets you in. The receptionist still looks slightly panicked. She's probably scared that you'll complain how the receptionist was rude to me directly to Irene, but you won't. Poor girl was just doing her job.

The elevator is big, too. It has a panoramic view of the city as it goes up to one of the highest floors.

You always thought Seulgi was overreacting when she said how bad she sometimes felt for dating Irene, but now you kind of understand her.

You knew Irene was rich. You can recognize a Gucci jacket when you see one, and you've seen Irene wearing plenty of these. But Irene always acted so normal. Sure, she was elegant - and sometimes even arrogant -, but she was still someone very pleasant to be around. She never looked disgusted to be in your tiny but comfy apartment, she never made faces when she'd sometimes wear some of Seulgi's or your clothes when she didn't bring any to spend the night, she never complained to eat the junk food you'd buy for dinner. She was just… chill.

Because of that, you'd forget that she's rich sometimes.

Being in this massive building where everyone acted as if she was a princess made you remember, though.

Irene is beyond rich. Your standard of "rich" used to be Joy: someone that has a cool, big house in a nice part of the city. Irene partially owns a fucking company. She's so chill that you never even bothered to Google the company's name; you did this today to get the address, and it only made you more shocked.

Seulgi must have felt overwhelmed many times in their relationship.

But you're sure she was much happier back then than she is now.

You're used to their drama. They were already dating when you first met Seulgi, and you saw this cycle repeating many times. This time, though, things are not happening as usual. Seulgi is the saddest you’ve ever seen in these almost three years of convivence. Right after they broke up, you thought she was just being dramatic as usual… now you see that it isn’t simple drama. She’s actually sad and has been in this state for months. She doesn’t go out anymore, stopped doing the things she liked… she even got tired of Netflix. That’s probably the most shocking fact of all.

Jungkook said you shouldn’t get involved in this, but you’re tired of seeing your friend being so sad all the time.

Their breakup was messy this time. They didn’t talk properly, didn’t make things clear. Seulgi is too stubborn to make a move (she’s totally lethargic at this point, both physically and spiritually), and Irene also seems too stubborn. Since none of them has the balls to do anything, you finally decided to step up and take action.

(Funny how you thought Jimin was annoying for trying to push you and Jungkook together, but you’re doing the exact same thing right now).

Well, look, you’re not exactly trying to push them into each other. First, you want to know Irene’s feelings and opinions on this situation. If you see that she has really moved on from Seulgi, then you’re ready to give your friend all the comfort and support in the world so she finally moves on. If Irene shows you that she still has feelings for Seulgi… well…

The speed in which she replied to your DM is a strong indicative of that.

The way her eyes glint with undeniable hope when the elevator doors open and she greets you is another indicative.

Irene looks gorgeous as always; she’s like a human version of Snow White. It’s kind of funny to meet her in her office like this. She’s almost like a female and hotter version of Christian Grey.

Her ways of greeting you are polite and… hesitant. You understand why. She probably doesn’t get what you’re doing here in the first place, what you want to talk about. Considering you’re Seulgi’s friend, she must think you’d be mad at her or something.

“Why didn’t you call me, Y/N? My guests never enter from the common hall.” she asked. Oh. Common hall is what that massive hall is called. Almost like peasants area.

“I didn’t know.” you simply say, shrugging.

“I’m sorry that we’re meeting here at my workplace. It feels too profissional, doesn’t it?” she smiles sheepishly.

Well… it does. You don’t even feel comfortable enough to move around her great office, afraid that you’d accidentally break anything (you’re sure that every little piece in this room is much more expensive than you’d be able to afford).

“Come on, let’s go to the cafeteria. I think it’ll be more comfortable to talk there.” she politely suggests, and you just agree with her.

Irene guides you around the halls. This floor is less crowded, since only Important People with Important Tasks work here - and she’s greeted by all of them as she passes by. Their eyes immediately float to you, and they were surely asking themselves why Princess Irene was being followed by this peasant.

The cafeteria in question is as pretty and neatly clean as the rest of the building. Soft music plays from the speakers. Irene chooses a more private table by the windows and asks if you want to have breakfast; you politely decline and both of you end up ordering simple cups of coffee.

An uncomfortable silence lingers in the air.

"I… have to confess that I got surprised when I saw your DM," Irene speaks softly. Her eyes are glued on her cup of coffee. "It's been a while."

"Yeah."

"How are you doing?"

"I'm doing fine." a hundred different scenes pass on your head as she asks this, and you know that you feel anything but fine in the moment, but it's not as if you'll rant about your complicated love life right now. "But I'm sure you don't want to ask about me."

You see a shade of pink flush Irene's cheeks.

"Well… I don't think it would be right to ask about her." Irene says.

"Why not? It's not as if you didn't know I came here to talk about Seulgi."

"But she doesn't want to know about me."

You're left speechless for a few seconds.

It's funny to see the two sides of a breakup. Because of their stubborness, they became completely out of tune with each other. Irene thought that Seulgi didn't want to know about her, when you knew pretty damn well that Seulgi stalked her social media an unhealthy amount of times per day.

You cross your arms and lean your back on the chair. Irene looks hesitant, but you see she's eager to know whatever information you may have. That's not the behavior of someone that hates their ex.

"Can I ask you something?" you say. It's funny how Irene, the owner of pretty much everything around you, looks so cornered by you, her shoulders shrinking visibly. She nods softly. "Why did you guys break up? I mean, what's your side of the story?"

Irene sighs and passes her hand through her dark hair. She looks out the window. She doesn't seem irritated by your ask. She just seems… thoughtful.

It makes you realize that, perhaps, Seulgi's not the only one feeling broken here.

"We're… different." she starts quietly. "I have been trying to keep this relationship working for a long time, you know. Even though we argued a lot and disagreed about many things. But…" Irene sighs again. Sadness shadows her features. "It was getting hard. Seulgi never accepted my help. She knows that money is no problem for me, and I just wanted to help, but why did she act so angry every time I wanted to help you guys?"

Oh.

You don't miss the way she said "help you guys"; she must be talking about the times both of you were struggling to pay the rent. Oh God. You clearly see where their opinions diverge. Irene has always been rich; she saw money as something simple, giving money to others wasn't a big deal. Meanwhile, Seulgi must've felt dependent and it surely hurt her pride. Besides, there were enough people saying that Seulgi was only dating Irene to get money from her…

"And there's more." Irene's voice becomes quieter, more fragile. "My family, they're… very conservative. It was already hard enough for them to accept my sexuality. They never did, to be honest… but they particularly don't like Seulgi, because she's not, hm, on my "social level", as they like to say."

Ooh.

This is more complicated. Seulgi doesn't know what it feels like; her family is very open minded. She told you that, in the beginning, her parents were shocked when she told them that she also liked girls, but they slowly accepted it. Irene, on the other hand…

"They keep saying that my relationship with her will be bad for the company." She confesses. "They said they'd even accept my relationship, as long as we dated in secret."

"What?!" you gasp. "This is disgusting!"

"I know." Irene nods, eyes focused on the mug between her hands. You have the impression that you see tears welling up on her eyes, but she blinks rapidly to dissipate them. "I… I was willing to go against them, because if they don't accept my relationship, then they don't accept who I am. But… I don't know if it's worth doing this if I'm not sure if Seulgi feels the same about me."

Ouch.

You remembered the night when they broke up. Seulgi came to you, crying, and said that she was tired of being with someone that wasn't brave enough to accept her.

Seulgi, my dear… you know nothing.

You can see that to go against her parents isn't as simple as it sounds. To Irene, going against her family involves reputation, money, and the company itself. It's definitely a big deal. Seulgi didn't understand how serious it is.

And Irene is willing to take this big step for her.

It's your time to sigh.

"Irene." you lean closer, staring at her seriously. "Do you still love Seulgi?"

She blinks at your direct question. Irene looks down, gulps… and nods.

"I do love her."

You can't hear any hint of doubt on her voice.

That's what you wanted to hear.

"She's not okay." You blurt out the truth. Irene widens her eyes softly and looks at you. You see guilt on her eyes as she hears this. "I came here because I'm worried about her. She doesn't act like herself anymore. She even got tired of Netflix."

Irene widens her eyes in shock. "She stopped watching Netflix?!"

"Yes." You nod seriously. "And she still loves you, too."

Irene freezes when you say this.

Now, you're sure of the tears welling up on her eyes.

"I…" she stutters, unable to form a coherent sentence. "A-Are you sure?"

You can't help but giggle at her; Irene looks shy, almost like a teenager - scared and excited to know that her crush likes her back. You feel your own heart warming up at the sight.

"Of course I'm sure."

A smile wants to make its way up to her lips. "B-But what do I do? I can't just walk up to her like this. I don't want to start another fight…"

"Irene, believe me. Seulgi will listen to anything you have to say, as long as you're being honest. Tell her about the situation with your family. Prove to her that you're willing to stand for her. I mean, if you're still willing to…"

"I am!" Irene exclaims in a heartbeat. "I am. As long as she's with me, I feel like I can do anything."

You feel yourself smiling. Irene's eyes are shining like diamonds.

"But you also have to try to understand her." You say seriously. "Seulgi is not wrong for wanting to be independent. She's finishing her studies, she wants to build a career for herself, and she wants her own money. I know you're trying to help, but you have to respect her. Also, I'm sure she doesn't want to be a burden for you."

Irene nods vehemently. "Okay. You're right. I get it."

She doesn't hold her smile back anymore as a tear rolls down her cheek. She looks so immensely happy… it's a delightful sight. And you can't help but feel happy too, because right now, more than ever, you see that Seulgi found something rare and precious in this world.

True love.

And this fact itself is enough to make you feel that coming here was worth it - even though Seulgi might want to kill you afterwards.

"But hey, Irene," you call her seriously again. "I'm doing all this because both of you stupid asses couldn't, but if you make Seulgi cry again, I will kill you. I know where you work now."

Irene laughs at your very serious threat. She leans forward and holds both of your hands. "Y/N, thank you so much for telling me all this. I will forever be grateful. If you need anything- and I mean anything- I will help you, okay? Anything!"

"Alright, alright," you say, shrugging, the slight thought that a millionaire owns you a favor sounding nice. "Now, you better go talk to Seulgi. I can't stand her walking around the living room looking like a zombie anymore." Irene laughs softly. "And… I said I wasn't hungry, but now I kind of want that waffle."

Seulgi looks like a very grumpy zombie when you meet her in the corridor.

"Where the hell were you?!" Seulgi exclaims. "It's noon!"

"Yeah, I know." you shrug. "The bank was pretty crowded."

Seulgi narrows her eyes. Her hair looks messy even though it's tied up and she has bags underneath her eyes. She's wearing the top of her old orange pajamas. It has an old kitchen oil stain over the chest. Seulgi from months ago would rarely go out looking like this.

"What the hell did you need to do there anyway? I didn't even know people still go to banks." She whines. "I was getting worried, you know?"

You walk down the corridor with your hands behind your back. You're glad Seulgi is too grumpy to notice the sly smirk on your lips, the way you kind of bounce by her side in expectation.

"Always so thoughtful, Seul. You're so cute, did you know that?"

She side eyes you, the frown deepening. "Why are you complimenting me?"

"What's the problem with complimenting you?"

"Whenever you compliment me it means either you want something or you did something that you know will piss me off."

Sometimes you forget how well Seulgi knows you.

"Jesus, you're too stressed, girl. I'll pay you lunch, okay? Let's eat at that Italian restaurant you like."

"When you offer yourself to pay for stuff it also means that-"

Seulgi stops in her tracks, completely frozen.

"Irene?"

You step back silently and hold your breath.

This is the moment that might end your friendship with Seulgi if it goes bad.

Irene seems to be holding her breath as well, her eyes round - scared, hesitant, hopeful.

And they stand there, looking at each other. As if time has slowed down. As if there was no one else besides them in the busy corridor.

If this was a drama, you imagined that the romantic soundtrack would kick in now.

"Hi, Seulgi." Irene says softly. "It's… it's been a while."

It seems that Seulgi's brain is struggling to function. "What… what are you doing here?" the fact that she does not sound defensive or aggressive but genuinely surprised and confused relieves your chest.

"I came here to talk." Irene says. "Just… just talk. But if you want me to go…"

"No." Seulgi interrupts her embarrassingly too fast. "It's alright. We… we can talk. Just talk."

Their eyes are gleaming and the ghost of smiles appear on their lips.

Your chest fills with triumph as you silently walk back. Not that either of them would even notice you anyway.

You're too far to hear what they're saying now, their soft voices drowning in the middle of the many more people walking around the corridor, but you still kind of hide inside an empty classroom, half of your body peeking outside of the door to watch them. They're talking and smiling timidly. You feel tempted to take some photos, but it's better not to. You kind of feel like an intruder watching them, even if you're this far-

"What are you doing?"

You almost feel your spirit jumping out of your body when the male voice asks dangerously close to your ear, turning around in a jump to see the source.

Now you don't know if your heart is beating so ridiculously fast because of the scare of because of the view in front of you.

Jungkook looks down at you with a puzzled expression, his hands behind his back, his body slightly leaning on your direction. He's wearing a modern grey hanbok over a black t-shirt and slippers. His backpack hangs from one shoulder. His hair is half tied up in a small bun, curly bangs falling over his eyes. This is precisely what makes your heart almost fail. You've been wondering how he would look like with his hair tied up ever since he decided to let it grow…

He's got no business looking this good. No. Fucking. Business.

But you're a master of pretending you're unbothered, so you just point ahead at their direction with an excited smile. Jungkook's eyes look up to where you're pointing and his eyes widen.

"Oh!" Almost instantly, he kind of hides behind you as well. It's hard to ignore the warmth of his body on your back, even though he isn't close enough to touch you. "Did they make up? Are they dating again?"

"I hope they will." it's weird how you're both speaking so low, as if they could possibly hear you over the loud chatter.

"What if they start fighting?"

"Don't even say that! I put my friendship with Seulgi at risk to get these two to talk!"

You turn your head in time to see Jungkook's eyes frowning as he realizes what's going on.

"It was you?"

"Of course it was."

He crosses his arms over his broad chest and shakes his head slowly in disapproval. "You said you wouldn't get involved!"

"I never said I wasn't going to get involved." you bat your lashes prettily at him, trying to give your best innocent look (unsuccessfully).

"You damn gremlin."

You whack his chest. "Aw, come on! Just look at them and tell me it isn't working!"

Both of you look ahead again to see them smiling sweetly at each other as they talk. You bounce and giggle excitedly like a little kid. "Look, look! She's blushing!"

Jungkook tilts his head to the side. "But what about Jennie?"

"Oh, Irene and Jennie went out on dates, but it didn't work out in the end. They're just friends." you repeat the exact same words Irene told you earlier.

"Are you sure?"

"Well, if she cheats on Seulgi, I'll kill her."

You watch as they slowly start to walk away side by side, heading towards the exit.

You jump out of your "hideout" and open your arms in triumph. "I did great this time, didn't I?!"

Jungkook chuckles and leans on the doorway, arms crossed. "Whatever you say."

You're an expert at acting unbothered, but right now it's really hard to do so when he looks at you this way.

He has a pretty lazy smile on his lips. It makes you feel hot inside and your stomach jumps and your heart races. His gaze is intense… but not in the way you're used to. That look isn't his I want to fuck kind of look, it's… it's… shit, you don't know what that means, but it's pretty intense. Why is he looking at you like that?

You just hope he doesn't notice how your legs are wobbly.

It's the first time you see him in person since two days ago, when he slept at your house. Two days after you had sex even though you said you wouldn't. You didn't talk properly about what happened there. To be honest, your brain still didn't process that well.

Things are awkward between you two - but this time it's a different kind of awkward. A type of awkward that made your cheeks burn while you cleaned yourself and got dressed. A type of awkward that made you feel all fuzzy and warm inside, that made a silly smile grow on your lips every time your eyes crossed his from the other side of the living room, an awkwardness that forced you both to look away and try to pretend your cheeks weren't aching from the damn smile that didn't want to go away. A type of awkward that didn't let you talk about what happened - as if none of you wanted to talk about it, to just keep it engraved in your minds forever, as if talking about it would take all the magic of the moment away.

You don't hate this type of awkward.

It's not uncomfortable. Not like what has been happening for the past months. Yet, you feel that you need to talk about it - to sort things out clearly and straightforwardly this time… because if the way he's looking at you means anything, then maybe… just maybe…

"I've got good news." Jungkook says suddenly (because he noticed that you've been staring at each other for far too long to not be embarrassing anymore).

"What?" you fiddle with your own fingers, trying to ease the tension.

"Remember that director I told you about? Mr. Choi?" You nod. "He invited me to work with him."

Your jaw drops, your eyes widen. "What? Are you serious?!"

Jungkook nods excitedly. "Yeah. Well, I'll be like the assistant of the assistant, to be honest, but… he invited me to work with him on his next project. I'll gain some real experience, at least…"

"Are you kidding? This is great, Kook! What the fuck!"

You jump over to hug him, your arms dropping around his shoulders, and Jungkook quickly hugs you back. His low excited giggle right next to your ear makes goosebumps crawl on your skin.

"I'm so fucking proud of you!" And you couldn't be more honest. Jungkook has always been so hardworking; he deserves all the success and recognition in the world. You always thought so.

"Thank you," his voice is still low and excited.

He caresses your back. It makes yet more goosebumps crawl on your skin.

Oh, God. He still smells like baby powder. He always does. You feel tempted to sniff the crook of his neck, just to take a little bit more of his scent, but you hold yourself back. It's not like hugging Jungkook is something new to you. Fuck, after everything you've done, hugging should feel like nothing. But for some reason… hugging him right now feels like a lot.

Feels awkward.

So awkward that you have to remind yourself that you're in the middle of a corridor full of people, and that this hug is taking way too long, so you step back before your brain completely malfunctions.

"A-And," you clear your throat and put a strand of hair behind your ear, furiously avoiding his gaze. You never thought that Jungkook would make you feel shy like this. Shy and Y/N shouldn’t make sense in the same sentence. "When is this next project?"

"In two days. I think he decided to put me on the crew last minute."

"This means that he really trusts you."

Jungkook smiles sheepishly and massages the back of his neck. "I just hope I won't mess things up."

"You'll do great, Kook. You always do."

He lifts his gaze to you again.

That same look again.

You feel that everything is blurred except him again. No one else is in that corridor. No loud chatter. Just him and his starry eyes, looking back at you, eyes that smile as much as his lips.

God.

You need to sort things out.

You can't just stare at him with heart eyes like this anymore. You need to talk about what happened. This conversation feels awkward because you're both trying to act normal, pretending that there isn't a fucking elephant in the room - an elephant that makes you think of a mattress in the middle of your living room, of sunrays touching his exposed skin, of old pajamas being thrown around and sweat and soft kisses and salty tears dripping down your temples.

You need to know if he also felt that that morning was different. You need to know if he feels the same. Even if he doesn't - even if his heart lays with Yeri or Joy or whoever it might be - you need to know, and you don't care about what the outcome might be. You just can't torture yourself like this anymore.

So you inhale and gulp.

"Jungkook, I was thinking… are you busy after classes?" you ask timidly.

He presses his lips together. "Actually, I am. The boys and I are planning to celebrate the end of the semester tonight."

Mission abort! Mission abort!!

"Why?"

"Oh- it's nothing. I was just…" you can't think of any excuse. "It's not that important anyway. Forget it."

Jungkook looks at you with suspicion. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah! I'm sure. Nevermind."

He still stares at you for a while, frowning.

"You wanna come with us?"

"No!" you shake your hands dismissively. You're not having this super important conversation surrounded by all of his friends. "I'm just gonna bother you guys. It's fine, Jungkook. Enjoy your night."

Jungkook shrugs. He takes his phone from his back pocket for a moment. "Well, I gotta go. I promised I'd pay Jimin lunch."

"Alright."

You start to walk in opposite directions.

“But we can meet tomorrow, right?” You turn around way too fast when you hear Jungkook say, a few steps away from you. He looks hesitant, an awkward little smile on his lips. “I have some stuff to do, but we can see each other at night. After I finish preparing my stuff. We could meet, right?” He visibly starts to look more and more awkward as he speaks. As if his confidence started to vanish. It’s kind of adorable. “You could come to my place. O-Or I could go to yours, I don’t care- I mean, can I?”

Your heart is bouncing crazily inside of you. You don’t notice how you’re mirroring his awkward smile. “Of course, Kook. When did you ever need permission to go to my apartment?”

Jungkook frowns as if he just realized how stupid his ask was. “Guess you’re right. Or maybe we could go out somewhere, right? It’s been a while since we went out, the two of us.”

He’s right. All you’ve been doing for the past months is meet to have sex. You don’t even remember the last time you two did something that didn’t involve getting naked.

“Sure, let’s go out.”

You stare at each other for a few more awkward moments (awkward is a word you’ve been thinking a lot about lately). See, that’s not how things would go between you two back then. Neither of you ever needed to ask previously to go out. You’d just usually drag Jungkook out of his house by force when you deemed he hasn’t been taking enough sunlight (fucking Overwatch). Or Jungkook would call you at 3am because he was bored of playing Overwatch and just realized there was only expired milk and an empty box of cereal in the cabinets because the last time he and Jimin bought food was 2 weeks ago and he’d be like “hey, let’s go to Walmart” and you’d be like “what the fuck Jungkook it’s 3am” and he’d be like “but Jimin’s not home I need help” and you’d be like “fuck you” but twenty minutes later you’d both be on your pajamas pushing a cart inside of an empty Walmart as you barely register Jungkook ranting about how he thinks he’s lactose intolerant because he had diarrhea the last time he ate yogurt.

That’s kind of how things used to go back then.

At the same time you desperately want your relationship to go back to normal, you don’t really hate the way you’re feeling right now.

“Right, I gotta go.” Jungkook snaps out of it faster than you and nods. “I’ll text you later.”

“Okay.”

Again, you turn around and start to walk in opposite directions. Slowly. Hesitantly. Because both of you know you don't want to go. Both of you know you still have a lot to talk about.

But maybe later.

[bby bear]: i kinda want to kill you rn but

[bby bear]: thank u so fcking much

[bby bear]: ily

[bby bear]: bitch

You're smiling so hard that your cheeks might probably start to ache. If Seulgi texted you this, it means things went really well with Irene.

The chatter in the dining hall is nothing but background noise on your ears as you scroll down your boring Instagram feed, the plate just half eaten in front of you. You’re not really hungry. Maybe the stress of studying for finals messed your stomach. The hell’s finally over, at least, and you’re sure that your grades won’t be that bad (Seulgi didn’t want to do anything, but you at least convinced her to study with you. That’s the only thing that got her out of her bedroom. Her zombie state was kinda the reason why you studied so hard).

Some text notifications pop on your screen, but you just swipe them away since none of them are from the person you’re waiting for. All of your friends are planning to go out tonight and some of them are asking if you want to go. No, you don’t. Honestly, you’ve not been feeling yourself these days. Past you would always be up to a party. Past you wouldn’t be having lunch alone in the dining hall - honestly though, you don’t even mind being by yourself. Nothing would make you feel emptier right now than being surrounded by random people. Just one person matters at the moment-

“Hi.”

You almost drop the phone inside the plate when you look up to see who just sat in front of you.

Joy.

Your throat feels suddenly bitter. You have to gulp.

“Jesus, I didn’t even notice you come,” you inhale and chuckle. “How you doing, Joy?”

Joy smiles. “I’m fine.”

She’s lying.

There’s something in the way she looks at you and in the way her smile looks plastic-fake that makes you shiver.

It makes you think that she didn’t even want to be here.

Well, you don’t know about her, but you certainly feel uncomfortable right now. You can’t lie that you’ve been feeling kind of guilty these days because you’ve been fucking the guy she likes in secret, but a big fat load of guilt hit you especially after two days ago. Joy went on a date with Jungkook and barely a few hours later you had him inside of you. And, of course, you had rough sex with him inside of her bathroom. All the while you knew Joy liked him and encouraged her to be with him-

Wow, it’s getting hard to look at her right now.

You really are a bitch. In the beginning you didn’t feel bad because you stupidly assumed there weren’t feelings involved. It was just friends with benefits, right? You even agreed that you could have sex with other people. If Jungkook started dating Joy, of course you’d stop doing it. Also, there was nothing between you two. You didn’t even feel jealousy.

Things changed, though, and at some point you genuinely started to hate this poor girl for breathing around Jungkook. And now you feel guilty because you realized that you like the guy that she told you she had a crush on months ago.

I took a shower this morning, so why do I feel so dirty right now?

A shiver runs down your spine.

The way she’s looking at you… what if she knows-?

“I’m throwing a party tonight,” she says suddenly. “To celebrate the end of the semester. You wanna come?”

You’ve been fucking the guy she likes for months and there she is, being nice and inviting you to her party. You really are a fake ass bitch-

“O-Oh.” You rub the back of your neck. “I, uhm… thanks, Joy, but I’m not feeling very well today. I just feel like sleeping, to be honest.” You chuckle sheepishly again.

Joy nods. “Alright.”

She doesn’t insist. It looks like she doesn’t even care. As if she’s just being polite.

In fact, it kind of looks that she’s relieved that you said no-

“So, how was your date with Taehyung?” She changes the topic quickly. “We didn’t even talk about it.”

Right. She’s talking about the person you don’t even want to think about because there’s only so much guilt one person can feel at once.

“It was fun.” You say. “We had a lot of fun.”

It sounds stupid, the way you can’t even articulate your date with him. You’re not lying - you had fun… kind of.

“Are you dating him now?”

Okay, this is getting strange. Not the question, but the way she asked. You’re 100% sure she’s annoyed by something, and honestly looks uninterested in your current state with Taehyung right now, so why is she asking anyway?

“No, we’re not.” You admit.

Joy stares at you in silence as if she’s waiting for you to say something more, but you say nothing else. Joy then nods. This is getting very uncomfortable.

You feel that she’s about to leave, so you pick up the courage to speak again. She touched this topic anyway.

You know it’s wrong to ask. You shouldn’t. But you’re so curious that you can’t help.

“A-And, uhm… what about you and Jungkook? How was your date?” you try so hard to pretend you’re not dying curious to know.

Joy stares at you in silence again. She isn’t smiling.

“He didn’t tell you?”

What? Is there something to tell?!

“No. Jungkook’s kinda private about this type of thing,” you’re lying, of course, because even if Jungkook didn’t want to, you’d usually annoy him with questions about his dates so hard that he’d end up telling everything that happened.

Joy looks away and quirks one eyebrow. “Oh. I assumed he would have since you guys are so close.”

The way she says so close bothers you.

It’s her turn to rub the back of her neck, her eyes glued on the table - only she doesn’t look nervous. Yeah, she’s annoyed. Joy takes so long to talk that you’re about to repeat your question, but she finally speaks:

“We also had fun. Jungkook really is a sweet guy, right? He did nothing wrong. He’s so polite that it ended up annoying me, honestly. More polite than I would have wanted him to be…” Hah, so they didn’t fuck! Great! “Well, he dropped me home and I invited him to spend the night and all, but… He was very polite. He apologized a lot and said that he couldn’t stay…”

Joy licks her lips. Why the dramatic pause? Say it already, come on!

“He’s also a very honest guy, right?” She chuckled, but she clearly didn’t think it was funny. “He said that he thought I was an amazing person, but things wouldn’t go further than this because…”

For the first time, Joy lifts her gaze and looks at you.

“Because he already had feelings for someone else.”

You’re honestly not breathing anymore.

Joy is watching you very carefully. You’re as stiff as a board.

“Not a fun way to finish a date, right?” She says and chuckles, again, it’s clear she isn’t happy at all. “Anyways, I have to go now. Bye.”

She gets up and walks away before you can even say anything, as if this conversation was being unbearable for her.

Meanwhile, you just sit there. Frozen. Breathless.

He said things wouldn’t go further than this.

Your throat feels very dry out of sudden. Very, very dry and coarse, as if you’ve eaten sand.

Because…

You take the water bottle from over the table and drink it in one big, big gulp, until the bottle is empty and your shaking fingers crushed the fragile pet bottle.

He already had feelings for someone else.

You get up and take the tray so fast that you almost drop everything.

Your movements are fast as you walk out of the busy dining hall, your heart beating loudly on your ribcage, your breathing irregular and your mind working at 200 km/h.

He already had feelings for someone else.

He told Joy this. He dropped her home and told her the truth. He apologized. He… he said he already had feelings for someone else. Jesus Christ. Your heart is beating so fast it feels like it’s going to stop anytime soon.

He- He-

He might be talking about Yeri, a little, hesitant voice inside your mind whispers. Well… sure. You’ve been suspecting it for a good while. But… after Jungkook dropped Joy home and said this he-

He went to your apartment.

He went to you.

You feel the need to stop walking and lean on the corridor’s wall. The world around you is blurred.

What is this feeling bubbling up in your chest? A feeling so strong that it’s almost spilling over? This thing that makes you open the widest smile you ever opened and makes you want to jump around the corridor like crazy?

He came to me. He came to me. He came to me. He came to me.

He came to me!

But-

But there’s still the Yeri possibility.

You need to know the truth. To hear him say it, and you can’t wait another day - not anymore.

You take your phone from your bag and type with shaking fingers.

[you]: hey

[you]: can we meet today?

[you]: i really need to talk to you

Jeon Jungkook is a simp.

He doesn’t like this word. He thinks it’s annoying how people would call a guy a simp just because he’s treating a girl with minimal decency.

But, like. He’s a simp. He knows he is. He took a long time to admit this, but lately his pride has been already so crushed and stepped on by a particular pair of feet that he can’t even bring himself to feel anything anymore.

Actually, no. He has been feeling like shit for a long time. It’s just the alcohol anesthetizing him right now.

That’s just his second bottle of beer and he already feels kind of dizzy. It’s been a while since he last drank alcohol, that’s probably why his resistance feels weak. He makes a mental reminder to not drink too much. Jungkook knows that he gets really talkative when he’s drunk and he always ends up saying stuff he shouldn’t - and today especially he can’t end up saying stuff he shouldn’t with that guy around.

If he knew Taehyung would be here too, Jungkook wouldn’t have come. Yes, he knows he’s being childish. He knows he’s angry at someone that didn’t do anything wrong, he knows that jealousy is bad, he knows that technically he is wrong because he’s been dicking down the girl that he knew his friend liked. He knows all that, alright?!

Jungkook throws his head back and sighs, passing his hand through his hair. A chilling night breeze touches his cheeks; since the inside of the bar was already full and they were too many, everyone decided to sit on the outside part of the bar. Jungkook hasn’t been paying attention to anything anyone around him was saying and neither was he interested. He thought that coming here would make him forget about the things that have been troubling him, but in the end he’s just thinking more about them.

I could excuse myself and go home. He thought. I have a lot of things to do anyway. I wouldn’t be lying.

He feels a hand rest on his shoulder and looks at Jimin, sitting on a chair by his side. The look on Jimin’s face already says everything. Jungkook sometimes thinks that Jimin has telepathic superpowers; how does he always know what’s going on before anyone even says anything?

“You alright?” Jimin asks in a low tone, careful not to call anyone’s attention. The younger one nods.

“Yeah.”

“You’re lying.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you drunk?”

“I’m not.” Jungkook reassures.

Taehyung laughs loudly from across the table and both of them end up looking at him. Jimin looks back at Jungkook.

Jimin sighs. “You know you can go home if you want to.”

“Yeah.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Just… don’t do anything stupid.”

Jungkook looks at Jimin and sips a bit more of the beer slowly.

“Yeah.”

Jimin smacks his shoulder and goes back to his previous conversation with Hoseok.

How Jimin always seems to know what’s going on… it annoys Jungkook a lot. He wasn’t supposed to know anything. It’s not like Jungkook told him about his feelings, Jimin just… realized. They were doing grocery shopping one day and Jungkook mentioned how last time he went to Walmart you told him that the diarrhea he had wasn’t because he was lactose intolerant but because the yogurt was expired and then Jimin turned around and simply said:

“You like her, right?”

And Jungkook gasped.

Jimin smirked knowingly and just kept pushing the cart. He said nothing else - but it was as if Jungkook had just confessed his deepest feelings right there.

This happened a little bit after Jungkook and Yeri broke up and kind of made him feel offended. How could Jimin say he liked you? He hadn’t even gotten over Yeri, Jimin knew very well. However, it seems that Jimin is not only a telepath, he can also see the future, because he couldn’t be more right.

If Jungkook’s being honest with himself, some months ago he wasn’t really really sure about what he felt about you. As the “Yeri” scar started to heal he got more aware of his own feelings and actions towards you, but it was hard to sort things out because he was always in denial. That desire to hold you close and hug you and take care of you and not let anyone hurt you anymore? Well, that was just his protective side. You have always been one of his dearest people. Jungkook also knew that he had a little possessive side. He was sure that this feeling would eventually vanish.

Maybe he was also frightened because he knew it wasn’t reciprocal. You never even looked at him in a way that might mean you felt something else for him. He wasn’t going to confess something he wasn’t sure of to someone that definitely didn’t feel anything for him and destroy a life-long friendship.

But oh boy, how things have changed.

They changed the moment you hopped on his lap that night inside his car. Jesus, that first week was hell for Jungkook. He was trying so, so hard to forget the messy drunken memories of his night with you - especially because, the moment he woke up and saw the pure face of terror on your face when you realized what just happened, he thought of how much you regretted that and all of his hopes died right there - the hopes that maybe, just maybe, you could be more than friends.

Yet, he got to taste you again. Two times were all it took to get him addicted.

He couldn’t stop anymore - and it hurt him much more than he would like to admit. He felt that he was being used, even though he let you do it (and he enjoyed it every time, not gonna lie). He felt worthless, he felt angry at himself because he couldn’t stop and because you were so, so fucking stupid, so fucking blind, he felt sad because he watched as your friendship started to slowly die down, and now he feels jealous and guilty because he’s been seeing how Taehyung likes you - how Taehyung even asked him advice to ask you out - and he didn’t stop fucking you anyway.

That day at Joy’s house? It was ridiculous. Jungkook still doesn’t understand what the fuck happened to him, why he felt so angry. Perhaps he was finally getting tired of how dumb you are, how you can’t see what’s right in front of your face.

Just thinking about you hurts now. And Jungkook thinks about you a lot. There he is, surrounded by his friends, where he should be talking and having fun, but he’s too busy thinking about you. In two days he’ll start working for Mr. Choi, his first real job. He should be thinking about it. Not about you.

He can’t stop thinking about your flustered face.

You don’t look flustered that often. Especially not around him.

He thinks this is very intriguing.

What hurt him the most in all this - the thing that made him feel like a piece of shit more than anything - is that he knows you too damn well and he knew that it was never special to you. To you it was just sex, it was just fun; whenever your lips touched you never felt like you were being swept off your feet like he did, whenever you touched him you didn’t feel like just then, in that moment, everything was right - as if the Universe was only created for that specific moment to happen, as if the Universe was expectantly waiting for the moment his fingers ran on your skin freely since the very beginning.

He never felt like this with anyone else. No other pussy has ever made him feel this poetic.

The fact that Jungkook knew you didn’t feel the same was exactly why he couldn’t stop; this would be the closest he’d ever be from you in that sense - and honestly, after he tasted you, he didn’t want to go back to stage one. You were like a drug. You brought him comfort, you brought him bliss. Having sex with you became somehow of a escapist method. But, just like every drug, you started to make him feel sick… so sick that he couldn’t stand to be around you when you weren’t fucking.

He drifted away.

God, he even stupidly tried to move on, but Joy was a foolish try. Jungkook felt bad for using her like this - even though he never even kissed her, he felt that he was fooling her anyway. Going on that date with Joy made everything worse, because he was with that gorgeous, intelligent and lovely girl, but he couldn’t feel anything but fucking empty.

He also realized that you couldn’t be his drug anymore. You deserved much more than that. That’s why he drove all the way to your apartment like a magnet. He preferred to go back to stage one if necessary, if it meant that he could be around you without feeling like a worthless piece of shit anymore.

Of course - things didn’t work out that way.

But that morning- it was different.

Jungkook has to sip more of his beer just thinking about it.

It was different.

It was… quiet, very quiet. Much more quieter than he was used to. And much closer than he ever remembered.

All the times he had sex with you - his body was being pleased, but his soul felt hurt. This time, though, he felt that his whole self was being healed. You didn’t feel like a drug. You felt like a cure.

As if you were connected in somehow of a deeper way.

As if this time, it wasn’t one-sided on his part.

Jungkook can’t stop thinking about it. His pessimistic side tried to convince him that he was being delusional or dramatic (he has this tendency to overthink anyways) and maybe he was, but, again… you don’t usually act flustered, especially not around him. And you’ve been looking flustered around him for quite some now, even before that morning. Sure, your friendship became uncomfortable at some point and he realized that none of you knew how to act around each other anymore, but still…

What about that time you saw a picture of Yeri on his computer?

You looked very, very awkward.

Or how you sometimes seemed bothered when Joy was around. You teased him a lot at that pool party. Jungkook knew you could get kinda kinky sometimes (he knew you liked the thrill of possibly being caught), but that felt like too much even for you.

His pessimistic side once again tried to convince him that he was seeing things. You wouldn’t be acting jealous. You were never jealous of him with any girl. Never. You even encouraged him to be with Joy, right?

What if… what if maybe, just maybe…?

Stop getting your hopes too high, his pessimistic side scolded. You look stupid.

I’ve been looking stupid for a goddamn long time, Jungkook thinks back. His pessimistic side looks back at him with disdain.

Jungkook frowns and looks at the bottle of beer on his hand. This is just regular beer, right? He surely isn’t so drunk that he’s already arguing with himself.

I should probably go home.

Or…

He could go to your home.

You wanted to talk to him earlier today. You looked very hesitant - again, very uncharacteristic of you. It felt like it was something important. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind if he knocked on your door unannounced - wait, you never cared. At least when your relationship didn’t involve rough sex. I mean- you didn’t mind not even when you started fucking, to be honest.

Why do I feel so nervous? I’ve never felt nervous over such a stupid thing. I mean, she’s the same dumbass I’ve known my whole life.

You’re probably home doing nothing. That’s also very uncharacteristic of you. Normal you would be at some club or party right now, celebrating the end of the semester. Normal you would probably have tried to drag him along. Or you’d meet some time during the night when you’re both too drunk to be standing and then you’d end up at 5am at the usual Burger King because you’re both hungry, and the Burger King employees would be staring at you both with anger and disgust because you’re both laughing like stupid and talking too loud and they’ve been up all night and can’t stand two drunk costumers this early in the morning.

It sounds nice.

Jungkook remembers that Seulgi and Irene made up, which means that Seulgi most definitely isn’t home.

Which means you positively are home alone.

Home alone, huh.

Jungkook sips more beer.

This sounds nicer.

But, hey, it’s not like he’s being dirty minded (well, at least not entirely). He really wants to know what you wanted to talk about - and suddenly, he doesn’t feel like waiting until tomorrow. Maybe it’s the alcohol (maybe he really shouldn’t finish this beer), but he wants to see your face a lot right now. Your flustered face. And he kinda feels like holding your face with both hands and kissing you very slowly. And he kinda feels like going very very deep inside of-

You know what? Fuck it.

Jungkook puts the bottle over the table and is ready to get up. His excuse is ready. Nobody’s gonna think it’s strange anyway - Jungkook has actual stuff to do.

But he doesn’t have the chance to move when he notices a person approaching the tables where he’s sat.

He freezes.

It’s you.

You’re looking down at your phone before you lift your head and see the group of familiar faces a few meters away from you. You’re alone.

Jungkook’s heart starts to beat furiously inside his chest. A smile unconsciously increases on his lips. What are you doing here? He didn’t know you’d come. He’s also sure that he didn’t tell you which bar he would come to earlier today. Adrenaline rushes through his veins as a hundred ideas run on his mind in those few seconds; did you feel the need to see him as much as he wanted to see you? Did you have the same idea as him? Were you so eager to see him that you couldn’t wait until tomorrow-?

Your eyes finally cross his.

That’s when Jungkook notices something isn’t right.

You look surprised, then a second later you frown, then you slowly widen your eyes.

He knows you too damn well.

You didn’t know he’d be there, too. You’re surprised to see him. And it looks… it looks like you didn’t want to see Jungkook there.

“Y/N!”

A loud, excited, familiar male voice bursts out.

Jungkook watches frozen in place as Taehyung gets up in a swift movement, holds your face with both hands and kisses you.

Taehyung’s lips are warm against yours. They taste like toothpaste and beer.

The kiss is very brief. Taehyung breaks it alway soon, but still holds your face with his hands. He’s smiling widely.

“You're late, missy!" He says happily.

You're frozen in place.

This isn't happening.

"I-" you stutter. It seems that your brain went into complete malfunction. "I, uhm…"

Your eyes travel back to Jungkook.

He's just watching. Not moving a muscle. No.

No no no no no no.

This can't be happening.

Jungkook wasn't supposed to be here. You thought- you thought he was going to celebrate with his classmates, you didn't expect Taehyung would be here too. No, no. Just no.

You see the exact moment his features get as hard as stone. The way he clenches his jaw tight.

You can't breathe.

When you texted Taehyung earlier, you didn’t really like that he told you to meet him at a bar. A bar wasn’t the right place to have this type of conversation - you also felt bad that you’d probably ruin his end-of-semester celebrations - but you agreed anyway because you desperately needed to make things clear with Taehyung before you had that talk with Jungkook. You decided to do this because Jungkook was honest and fair with Joy; you needed to do the same. You left the worst of the impressions when you let Taehyung kiss you that day. You needed to tell him the truth, or else he’d just suffer more - and you couldn’t be a bitch enough to just dump him by text.

But fuck - you didn’t expect Taehyung would fucking kiss you in front of everyone the moment he saw you!

With the corner of your eye, you see Jimin looking from you to Taehyung to Jungkook very fast, his face going pale as he realizes what just happened. No one else notices that something’s wrong.

Jungkook breaks eye contact with you and gets up from his chair. Jimin looks at him, helpless. You know that expression. He’s angry and- and-

Hurt.

You step away from Taehyung, trying to get control over your body again. It feels like pure frost has filled your veins. “T-Taehyung, I…” Your mouth is very dry again. You clear your throat. “C-Can we talk somewhere else?”

You suddenly hate how oblivious Taehyung is and how touchy he is because it’s clear that he’s moving his arm to hold your hand. What the fuck?! We just kissed once, it’s not like we’re dating!

“Sure. Do you wanna get inside? Wanna get a drink?” He asks with the same happy smile.

You’re trying to think of something to say, but again, someone else behind him gets your attention.

“You’re going this early, Jungkook?” Hoseok whines, oblivious to the whole situation. Jungkook is putting his backpack over his shoulder. He’s looking down, jaw still very tight. Not a word said - yet you could see exactly how hurt he was.

“Yeah. I have a lot to do.” He simply says.

“Aw, come on, man!” Taehyung encourages. “You can stay a little longer!”

If Taehyung was a little less oblivious, he would have noticed the death glare sent in his direction.

“I can’t.”

A shiver crawls over your entire body as the death glare is now directed to you.

He’s so, so hurt.

Jungkook’s walking away.

Stop! You want to scream. You got it all wrong! Don’t go!

But you don’t have the chance to stop him, and Jungkook doesn’t have the chance to walk away, and Taehyung doesn’t have the chance to understand what’s going on.

Everyone turns their heads when they hear a boisterous, scandalous laughter, and the sound of someone clapping their hands dramatically.

Now you’re sure that your veins are frosted. You shiver again - yet this time, it’s pure fear.

It’s Mike.

A very, very drunk Mike.

He looks the worst you’ve ever seen him; his clothes are a mess, his hair has grown a lot, and he hasn’t been shaving lately. His eyes are widened, red and maniac. He stumbles as he walks closer, everyone on the table - and the people on the tables around - stopping to look as he still claps ironically.

“Oh, look at what we have here!” he’s loud. Very loud. “So interesting!”

You notice that Jungkook isn’t walking away anymore - in fact, he comes back a few steps, standing closer to you. His body language has changed. Jimin has also gotten up; it seems that Taehyung might be starting to understand what’s going on.

“This is the funniest shit I’ve seen in a looooong time,” Mike continues. God, he’s drooling. This isn’t happening. That’s not possible.

You watch as some guys come closer to Mike and recognize them as his friends. One of them holds Mike’s arm. “Come on, man. Don’t start a scene. It’s not worth it.” He says in a rather low voice, but you can still hear it.

Mike gets off his grip aggressively. “What do you mean? Of course it’s worth it!” Mike looks at you and grins like a madman. You feel another shiver run down your spine. “Hello, Y/N! It’s been a long time! How have you been?!”

“Your friend’s right.” Jungkook speaks up. “Get out of here.”

“Ooooooh,” Mike shakes his hands as if pretending to be scared. “Look who’s here, too! It’s the bestie! Jeon Jungkook, the best friend your girlfriend could ever have!”

Pretty much everyone on the outside part of the bar is paying attention to what’s going on. They whisper between themselves, looking at Mike, you and Jungkook. You feel so embarrassed that you might as well faint. You feel that you should have said something already, but your brain is still malfunctioning.

“Jeon Jungkook, the friend that will want to fuck your girl so bad, but he won’t because he’s a coward!” Mike screams and laughs like a maniac.

Jungkook steps up closer to Mike in a brusque movement, but Jimin’s fast enough to hold him back. At this point, all of his friends have already gotten up from the table, wanting to stop Jungkook from doing anything.

“Shut up, Mike! Let’s go!” Mike’s friends try to stop him as well, trying to drag him away, but even though he’s drunk, he’s still strong enough to stay in place.

“You think I didn’t know, huh, Jungkookie? You think I didn’t know that whenever I was balls deep inside of Y/N you wish it was you? You always wanted to make her scream like a bitch the way I did!”

At this moment, the fear and shame are overwhelmed by anger. Without realizing, you are the one stepping closer, you are the person who Taehyung has to grab the arm in order to stop. “Shut the fuck up, you son of a bitch!” You hear yourself yelling.

People on the tables around have gotten up - the noise of many chairs scraping the floor getting louder than the worried voices of the people trying to get away from this mess. You hear someone - a guard from the bar, maybe - threatening to call the police, but you can’t pay attention to him.

“Oh, but that’s exactly what you are! A whore!” Mike yells back. “You got so sad that I cheated on you, but haven’t you been doing the same to me?! You think I didn’t see you two inside the car that night?!”

That night… in the car…

Did he... ?

You freeze again when you see Mike pointing at Taehyung.

“Hm, you’re Taehyung, right? Are you dating her now? Well, be aware of her best friend right here, unless you like sharing your girl! But Jungkook likes leftovers, right, Jungk-?”

He doesn’t finish the sentence.

Jimin isn’t strong enough to stop Jungkook from jumping over and landing a punch on Mike’s nose.

There’s yelling and the sound of tables turning as a whole lot of men try to stop the fight and glasses breaking and Jungkook screaming incomprehensible things as he holds Mike’s collar and punches once, twice, three times, and then Mike’s mouth and nose are bleeding, and Jimin, Hoseok and Taehyung are trying to get Jungkook off Mike but it seems that not even the three would be enough to stop him.

You’ve never seen Jungkook so mad. It scares you because Mike is too drunk and can’t defend himself - but you’re not scared for Mike, that fucker can die -, you’re scared of what might happen to Jungkook.

So, when Jimin and the others drag Jungkook away as he still tries to free himself violently, you somehow squeeze yourself between them to hold Jungkook’s arm.

“Jungkook, stop!”

The black-haired man looks at you, his eyes red with rage in a way you’ve never seen before.

You didn’t notice that, in your despair, your eyes filled with tears. This is probably what makes Jungkook stop for a moment.

“Enough! I called the police! Everyone out of the bar!”

A siren can be heard from far.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here!” Jimin yells.

Another mess as everyone grabs their things and to try and run out of the bar - even the people that weren’t involved. You see that Mike hasn’t fainted as his friends grab him out of the bar in a rush.

Jungkook has to get out of here, it’s the only thing on your mind. Jungkook thinks the same apparently, because he’s quick to take his bag from the floor and jump over the bar’s fence to the sidewalk. You assumed that he didn’t drive his way here because he knew he would drink - which means he had to run.

Your only instinct is to follow him.

You jump over the fence too, much more clumsily than him. Jungkook is already running down the street.

As you’re about to follow him, you hear someone call your name.

It’s Taehyung.

He’s standing on the sidewalk as customers run out of the bar. And the look on his face crushes your heart.

I am the worst person in the world.

“Y/N, what he said… is it- is it true?” He asks quietly.

You open your mouth as if to say something, but nothing coherent comes out of it. The guilt rushes with adrenaline through your veins. You knew he would be hurt, but it wasn’t supposed to happen this way. It wasn’t.

“I-I’m sorry, Taehyung,” is the only thing you can stutter.

You don’t see what face he makes next - both because you can’t take it, and because you’re already turning around and running down the street after Jungkook.

Jungkook is the only thing on your mind.

You can’t let him go away like this.

You run through the busy streets full of bars. As usual, they’re crowded with people. Some of them look at you running like crazy when you pass by, but you can’t stop running because you can still hear the sirens.

Jungkook has some damn long legs. He runs much faster than you and doesn’t even look back. You can barely breathe and your stomach hurts as you unsuccessfully try to catch up to him. You keep running and running and running until you’re on less busier streets, until the bars are left behind and now you’re on a more residential part of the neighbourhood. As Jungkook crosses an almost empty square, you decided that your body can’t take it anymore. You stop gradually, feeling your entire body scream in pain.

“Jungk- Jungkook!” you yell.

The black-haired man finally looks behind his back and sees you; he widens his eyes in surprise and stops.

“Why are you-?”

He doesn’t have the time to finish his sentence as the sound of the sirens get closer. You immediately start to run again and this time - instead of running in front of you - Jungkook waits until you get closer to grab your hand, forcing you to run faster. You two cross the square and run into a stair alley with houses on both sides. It’s quiet here. Jungkook crouches down behind a big trash bin, making you crouch down as well.

You both make as much silence as possible (considering you’re both panting heavily), both sweating, and wait until the sounds and lights of the police siren go away.

After maybe five minutes Jungkook gets up again, dropping his backpack on the floor. He cleans the sweat on his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt; you rest your hands on your legs, trying to recover your breath. Your stomach hurts as if it has been stabbed. Maybe I should start working out.

You notice that Jungkook’s right hand is hurt; his knuckles are swollen and bleeding a little. He frowns in pain as he analyzes it. “You- you’re hurt.” you stupidly stutter. Jungkook shakes his head.

“It’s nothing.” He says in a low voice. “I said I would beat him up if I saw him…”

Out of instinct you step closer to him, worried, and lift your hands to hold his swollen one.

But Jungkook steps back before you can even touch him. He literally flinched away from you.

It feels like an arrow has just buried itself in your heart.

He’s not looking at you.

“Jungkook-”

“No.” He shakes his head again. He’s breathing heavily as if trying to calm himself down. “Don’t… don’t say anything. Please.”

It’s getting so difficult to breathe. Jungkook puts his hands on each side of his waist, staring at something on the floor - clearly avoiding your pleading gaze.

“But Jungkook, I… you didn’t…” why the hell can’t you speak a coherent sentence anymore? That’s why you followed him all the way. You must make things clear, but seeing his face right now makes you hesitate. Jungkook looks genuinely angry; you’ve never seen him like this, ever.

He throws his head back, looking at the sky, and lets a very dry chuckle past his lips. His expression tells you everything you need to know - he’s tipsy, not entirely drunk.

“You know, I don’t even understand why I’m angry.” You’re not sure if he’s talking to you or to himself. “There was never anything real happening, right? We were never real.”

You feel yourself choking on your own words. What does he mean?

“Jungkook, you have to listen to me. I just wanted to talk to Taehyung-”

“You don’t need to explain yourself, Y/N!” He interrupts and finally gazes you back with bloodshot eyes. “We’re fuck buddies, right? It’s just for fun, right? No real feelings involved. It’s not like we’re supposed to care.”

Tears start to make your sight blurred. Each word of his sound more and more bitter, more sad, more hurt, and it feels like someone has buried the arrow in your heart deeper when you realize that his eyes are getting teary, too.

“Stop saying that. You know it’s not true. You’re the person I care about the most in this world-”

“If you start saying how I’m your best friend I’m leaving you right now.”

You frown and blink, trying to dissipate the tears. “B-But it’s true-”

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N! I’m in love with you! Stop acting like you don’t know that already!”

It feels like your brain and your limbs and your lungs stopped working all at once.

Did he… did he just…?

Jungkook exhales heavily. He looks so tired. He rests his back against the wall in front of you, once again avoiding your gaze.

Something tells you that this should have been a happy moment. Deep down, you feel the pure bliss and excitement and it feels like your heart will combust - because you finally heard the words you wanted to hear the most coming directly from his mouth, you finally understood everything; he felt the same, the fucking same.

Yet, all the happiness is being overwhelmed by worry.

You’re watching him intently. You know the man in front of you better than you know yourself. You’ve never seen this expression before - this mix of anger and hurt have never been directed towards you. You’re scared because you don’t know what it implies.

It’s his breaking point.

He might be giving up on you right now.

You don’t know what to say. For a long moment, you just stare at him as he tries to calm himself down - always avoiding your gaze. It seems that words won’t come out of your mouth no matter how hard you try.

“Since when?” is the only thing you can whisper after a long time.

Jungkook shakes his head and lets yet another lifeless chuckle. “I don’t know.” He says in a low, broken voice.

Your fingers are shaking as you close your hands in tight fists. He needs to hear the truth.

“Jungkook.” Yet again, you hesitantly step closer. Your voice is fragile, pleading. “You got it all wrong. Please, you have to listen to me. Today, I-”

“Yeah, I know I got it all wrong from the start.” He interrupts you again. Shut up!, you want to scream. Let me fucking speak!

However, you can’t speak anymore when you notice the tears dripping down his face.

Jungkook is crying.

It’s your fault.

He passes both hands over his face as quickly as the first tears started to fall and sighs heavily. He takes his bag from the floor and shoves it over his shoulder again, turning around before you can see his face again, before you have the chance to say anything.

“I’m going home. You should go home, too.”

And he starts to walk down the stairs way too fast.

Your body is moving before your mind registers and you try to catch up to him. “Jungkook, wait-”

“Don’t.”

Is the only thing he says without looking back.

This makes you stop.

You watch, frozen in place, as he walks down the stairs. You keep your eyes on him as he crosses the empty square again. He’s almost running.

He wants to get away from you as soon as possible.

You know Jungkook too well. You know that, even if you followed him, even if you insisted, he wouldn’t want to hear you anyway. He’d probably despise you even more. This is what made you freeze.

You suddenly feel your legs get weak and sit down on the stair steps. Not only your legs, actually. All of your limbs feel heavy.

You don’t remember the last time you cried like this. The unstoppable tears just coming and coming and the sobs barely let you breathe.

You’re crying because you’re ashamed of what just happened at the bar - how Mike made you feel humiliated in front of all those people. You’re guilty because you weren’t honest with Taehyung and now there’s no way back - you let him believe in whatever he wanted to believe instead of making things clear, and now he’s hurt.

And the worst of all.

You’ve been hurting Jungkook so bad for so long without realizing. You hurt the person you cared about the most.

All of it is your fault.

God, it hurts so much.

You know Jungkook too well. He’s the person that has been always there with you for better or for worse. You always knew you’d have each other’s backs no matter what happens; he’s a part of you, the most important, most precious part of you.

This time, you genuinely don’t know what will happen from now on.

This time... you don’t know if Jungkook will ever forgive you.

#btswriterscollective #jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenario #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios

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certifiedskywalker · 4 years

Text

Still Dancing - Luke Skywalker

It is the birthday of the New Republic and, to celebrate, the freshly appointed Senators have thrown a gala that spans across all of the Core Worlds. Nearly the entire galaxy! By Leia Organa’s invitation, you find yourself lost in a sea of unfamiliar faces. You are, it seems, a wallflower, shy and unmoved by the rejoice in the air. Or maybe it’s the dancing that puts you off. Either way, Luke Skywalker is ready to sweep you off your feet.

AN: Gender neutral for the most part! Enjoy!

“You sure look happy to be here.”

“I could say the same for you,” Han fired back before he took a sip of whatever cocktail Leia had ordered for him. His face screwed up at the taste and he all too-quickly placed the glass of bright green liquid down on the table.

“Sour?”

Han answered with a glare.

“Could be worse,” you pointed out.

“Really? How?”

You tipped your head towards the table set next to the one you shared with the smuggler-turned-war hero. “Could be like him.”

Han glanced over and saw the same, overweight Twi’lek man whose head, heavy with his lekku and drink, was pressed against the table. Residue of all colors, including the bright green of Han’s drink stained the fabric cloth of the senatorial place settings. Drool dribbled out of the man’s partially open mouth alongside snores that were drowned out by the political chatter. Han turned in his seat to face you again and shook his head.

“I’d rather be where he is.”

You shrugged. “At least you can still dance away from your problems, Solo.”

“Ha, yeah. Sure.” Han looked back at the passed out Twi’lek and asked, “isn’t this the Ryloth representative?”

“He’s your wife’s co-worker,” you confirmed with hints of a smile played on your lips. Han let out a heavy sigh.

“At least I don’t have to worry about competition.”

“You? No,” you teased and waved a dismissive hand. “You’re a fine Coreillian wine he is to...well...whatever it is that you’re drinking.”

Han frowned but, based on his quietness, your analogy sated him. Both of you, resigned to your spot at the distant, corner table and your respective drinks, stared out into the crowd. Senators, representatives, and business people were dressed in their finest for this long awaited evening: the first annual New Republic Celebration. You, on the other hand, had dreaded your attendance. Though, Leia had stressed to that your presence at the gala was not mandatory.

“I, personally, want you to be there. At best, you meet someone. At worst, you commiserate with Han,” she had said.

That agreement, your promise to attend, was made weeks ago. If you had known it was going to be this stuffy, you would have stayed in your apartments. At least there you knew what you were drinking. There was the added bonus of not being surrounded by strangers, drunk strangers that, lured to their feet by the classical, live music, felt the horrible urge to dance.

Pairs of all sorts and shapes waltzed along the shining, Jelucani fogstone floor. If you dared to watch too long, you grew dizzy and forced your eyes to the stagnant ceiling of dangling, crystal light features. White, amber, and gold reflected beams and refracted waves in a dazzling show that impress you more than the swaying politicians. Much to your surprise, Han seemed more intrigued by the guests.

“Who’s that?” His sudden question coaxed your eyes from the ceiling and in the general direction of his gesture. A lithe figure with powder pink hair was in deep conversation with Leia.

“Amilyn Holdo. Senator from Gatalenta. I met her when Leia took me clothes shopping.”

“I hope she didn’t pay for her dress,” Han jeered. You rolled your eyes and studied Holdo’s holographic dress for a moment. Slips of pink fabric slid around her waist like an in-sown sash, the pastel tone creating a sharp contrast with the rest of the metallic skirt and bodice. Her apparel was not the worst by far. Though, stood next to Leia, whose hair had been done up special for the gala and wore a sleek, white and grey gown, anyone looked gaudy.

With a hard swallow, you let your gaze fall into your lap. Rested there, your hands brushed over the soft material of your outfit. Leia had had more of a say in your look for the evening than yourself. Not that you minded; she had great taste. However, despite your friends’ knack at putting together an outfit, you felt lost in your clothes.

The light blue color of long shawl and matching, flowing trousers reminded you of tundra-covered your home world, Hynestia. When you told Leia just that whole shopping, she had stuck with the color and got to work coordinating accessories and layers. Earlier, you caught your reflection and marveled at your appearance. After working with the Rebellion for so long, you never thought you could look so clean or so poised. Perhaps that was why you slunk to the back of the gala, the ballroom it was held in, and turned your feeling of being out of place into a reality. You didn’t belong here, you yearned for the field, the excitement, and, as grateful as you were for the rest, you longed for the danger too.

Dancing certainly was neither a substitute nor did it appeal to you. Though, the smiles on the faces of those on the dance floor did spark an itch somewhere in your soul. An itch you knew that you would never be able to scratch. Not until you were out of these clothes and back in a shuttle destined to an Outer Rim planet.

“That can’t be...is that…” Han’s voice, once more, broke through your thoughts. When you looked over at him, he wore a wide grin; but it was not directed at you or his wife a few paces away. “I thought you were stranded in Nar Shaddaa!”

“I was, but I couldn’t miss this. Leia would have had my throat!”

That voice! Quickly you traced Han’s eyeline and found its familiar, friendly owner. There he was, Luke Skywalker, dressed in pressed black and a smile that shown like the stars. His blue eyes finally landed on you and, instantaneously, your face warmed.

“Hey,” Luke raised a hand and waved at you as he approached.

“Hi,” you said and returned the wave but smaller, more timid.

“You couldn’t Jedi your way outta this?” Han raised a hand and gestured to the ballroom.

“That’s not how the Force works.”

As he explained, Luke moved and took the seat at the table next to you. Fuel, smoke, and warming spices filled your nose when he leaned in towards you. You looked at him, wondered what he was going to say or do when you saw his hand close around Han’s abandoned glass. He brought the bright green liquid to his nose and sniffed. Immediately, he cringed, face screwed up with disgust, and set the glass back down.

A laugh slipped up your throat and out your lips. The sound captured Luke’s attention and brought eyes up to meet yours. You clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle yourself. Luke chuckled at your reaction and reached over to grab your wrist. Gently, he pulled your hand from your face and set it back in your lap.

“I like your laugh,” he said softly. Heat washed over you, numbed you with the affection in his voice. When you found your voice, you were stopped by a scoff from Han.

“Haven’t heard Y/N laugh all night.”

“Well, we can’t have that!” Luke looked back at you, “tonight we’re meant to celebrate!”

“Galas aren’t quite my...my thing.” Thing? You couldn’t find a better, more descriptive word? Luke cocked his head at you and you sighed. “This is my first time at an event like this.”

“No, it’s just like the celebration on Endor,” Luke gave you a smile and you were thrusted back into the memory of that night, the excitement had been heavy in the air. “Here, it’s just people with fancier jobs and fancier clothes.”

“Less bugs and stinking, furry gremlins,” Han added with a grimace.

You frowned at him before you looked back at Luke. His blue eyes were fixed on you, just as they had been on Endor the night the Empire fell. Tension fell over you that night, made you nervous to be around him; but the good kind of nervous. The kind that let the butterflies in your stomach go wild and your heart threaten to leap out of your chest.

“I...I don’t know,” you murmured. To escape embarrassment, you forced your eyes away from his and out to the dance floor.

“I do,” Luke said and he stood up from his seat suddenly. You peered up at him and watched when he extended his hand down to you. “Let’s dance.”

“Luke, I don’t-” Luke leaned down towards you before you could finish. The proximity shocked you into silence, the quietest you had been all evening.

“I wanted to dance with you, that night, on Endor. You declined every pilot that asked. But will you reject a Jedi?” Teasing and low, Luke’s tone sent a shiver down your spine. You impressed yourself as you held his gaze and took his extended hand.

Easily, Luke lifted you from your seat. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Han’s expression. His eyes were wide at Luke led you out from behind the table, mouth slightly open. Though, you were so enraptured by the warmth and softness of Luke’s hand in yours. So much so that you almost didn’t notice how Luke had started to lead you in the opposite direction of the dance floor. Almost.

“Um, it’s the other way?” You glanced over your shoulder, towards the crowd of politicians still waltzing around the ballroom.

Luke didn’t respond. Instead, he guided you out of the heart of the gala and down ornately decorated hallways. Hologram images of new New Republican officials littered each walkway but did nothing to distract you. When Luke finally stopped, you were in a small viewing room with walls made mostly of windows that gave you a perfect snapshot of the glowing city of Hosnian Prime. As you looked out across the twinkling lights, distant, soft classical music filtered down the hall from the ballroom. For the first time that night, you found that you could take an easy breath.

“Thanks,” you said when you met Luke’s eyes again. “I needed to get out of there.”

“Sure,” Luke smiled, “but I hope you know that we’re still dancing.”

On cue, he lifted your joined hands and turned his body to front against yours. You couldn’t help the grin that spread along your lips and you played along. Mirroring the movements of the politicians you saw on the dancefloor, you rested your hand on Luke’s shoulder. However, when his free hand found your waist, your breath caught. Luke’s face fell at the sound of your stifled breathing.

“Are you alright?”

“Y-Yeah. Yeah,” you swallowed hard and held Luke’s eyes. “So, we’re dancing?”

“We’re dancing,” Luke echoed as he began to move.

Work with the Rebellion had demanded that you be somewhat agile and coordinated. Dancing, waltzing, whatever it was Luke was leading you to do, was not something your revolutionary duties had not required. However, as you moved, you felt as if you were doing it right. Graceful and practiced, Luke moved with purpose and you followed.

The two of you twirled about the small, hidden room in total sync. While dulled by the distance, the music from the ballroom provided that perfect beat for your feet to follow. Though, that didn’t stop you as you glanced down to make sure you weren’t stepping on Luke’s toes.

“You look beautiful.” Luke’s soft tone coaxed your eyes up to meet his. “You always do, but...especially tonight.” Warmth licked at your skin along with the compliment.

“You look quite handsome yourself,” you replied.

In step, you and Luke continued to move. Stride after stride, you moved together. Your fingertips, desperate for you to get closer, pressed tenderly into Luke’s shoulder. He took the hint and brought his body closer to yours, nearly pressed you together using the hand that rested on your back. Your stomach twirled in tuned with you at the touch.

A few minutes passed, with you and Luke focused entirely on each other, before you realized the music had fallen into silence.

“Luke,” you whispered, “the music. It’s stopped.”

“And we’re still dancing,” he said with a smile. “Unless you want to stop?”

You returned his smile and shook your head. At best, you meet someone, Leia had said; and you were tired of commiserating with Han. “No. I don’t.”

Wordlessly, Luke brought your hand, the one joined with his, to his lips. He pressed a feather-light kiss to the skin atop your hand as you both swayed in the quiet. The touch lifted you up, suspended you like the crystal that hung from the ballroom ceiling. You imagined, if you were to step outside of yourself and watch you and Luke dance, you would find that both you would glimmer too.

#Luke Skywalker #luke skywalker imagine #luke skywalker imagines #luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker fanfiction #luke skywalker fanfic #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars imagines #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #guess who watched bridgerton

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mzmezzler · 4 years

Text

Darling Boy - Jinyoung x Fem!Reader

shortlist: crossdressing, humiliation, sub!Jinyoung, dom!reader, Jinyoung in a maid outfit, role play, degradation, mistress kink, minor food kink (it’s just passing a drink before and during a kiss)minor cock stepping, strap sucking.

word count: 2k

summary: I can’t fake out a summary, this is just late Valentine’s porn with a semblance of plot.

a/n: Let’s give it up to the only fic I wrote in its entirety not at work! No,but why tf did this take so long. I was at it all day writing and rewriting and i barely like it.... Anyway @foenixs really helped me pick some integral parts of this fic, hope you like it!

Any and all feedback is appreciated :)

Turning to you from his side in the bed, Jinyoung looks at you expectantly, “Y/N” Humming in response, you turn your head slightly from where it’s trained to the book in your hands to show you’re listening. “What do you want for Valentine’s day?” He asks.

Turning a page you sigh, “I’d love to see your perky ass in a skirt maybe.” You pause to settle on the idea. “Yeah, and maybe you could go about being completely oblivious, instead of your usual act cause I need a break having to deal with your-” Jinyoung cuts you off with a scoff. “Sounds like you don’t want me at all, I have to be my authentic self for you.” He replies, finishing his words with a sarcastic drawl. Setting your book down on the nightstand, and shifting your front towards him, you offer him an unamused look. “You know what I mean.”

Smirking to himself, Jinyoung rolls his eyes, “What if I don’t?” His smugness was just one thing he knew he had over you, it was an integral part of the push and pull of your relationship in and out of bed. It took long enough for you to realize that the relationship between the two of you was even evolving since neither of you noticed the consistent bickering more times than not laced with an odd sense of longing.

However, for once, you’d like something easy. Just the version of Jinyoung that would slide easily into things without a fight, you both knew he could, but in his words “it wasn’t as fun”.

“What’s the point of asking me what I want then?” You ask. Stumped he pouts to himself, “You know I was just teasing.”

Still maintaining your blank stare, Jinyoung rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. Knowing that’s the sign he was finally done you leaned onto him, snuggling into his die.

“So do you want to hear what I really want?”

“Fine”

By the night of Valentine’s the scene was set.

Lounging on the sofa of your living room in a robe, you enjoy a glass of wine and a novel while snuggled in your favorite cover. Sipping from your glass, the drink swirls in the amber glow of the low lights. Settling around the basen, and reflecting the glow of nearby candles. The living room seemed to be ripped out of a Hallmark movie, if it weren’t for the insistent sound of wet bristles scrubbing against the kitchen tile.

Swinging an arm around the back of the sofa and craning your neck towards the sound, you see a bundle of white tulle bobbing with every stroke. At the center of the mess of fabric was Jinyoung's bum wiggling in his haste. It was a glorious sight, drinking in the man in his costume, working like your little maid. Faced away from you, you drink in the sight of his skirt and the white panties stretched across his ass. Lined with white and black fabrics down to the garters holding up his stockings, you can only take another long sip of your wine.

You hear small grunts and a sigh as Jinyoung sits back on his knees. Suddenly turning towards you with a small smile, he wipes the sweat from his brow. With the full outfit on display, you take notice of how the dress hugs his waist and is subtly cinched by the ties of the apron that lies along his front. There’s a knowing glint in his eyes, but still, he kneels across the room from you to be ogled under your hungry gaze. Squirming in his place he stutters “Mistress, I’ve finished cleaning”

“Come here darling” You reply, motioning towards the spot in front of the sofa.

Getting onto his hands and knees, Jinyoung never breaks the heated stare between the two of you as he crawls across the floor. You could now see the pink flush painting his face, an adorable touch to the obscene picture the man put on. Untying your robe, you reveal a lingerie set of your own. Almost contrasting the frills of Jinyoung's costume you opted for a crisp red, matching the strap nestled tight onto your groin. Jinyoung's pace falters at your unveiling, seemingly taking you in as you did before.

Now kneeling between your legs, you caress Jinyoung’s face and smile as his eyes flutter shut at the affection. Moving your hand to tilt his chin up you press your thumb into the man’s mouth. Jinyoung drops his mouth open at your intrusion, licking at the finger. Swirling your thumb over his tongue, you both stare at each other with heavy eyes.

Removing the finger from the man’s mouth, a trail of spit follows. Jinyoung whines out at the emptiness, and before he could pout for more you slip your foot underneath his skirt. The hitch in his breath quickly becomes a deep groan as you press the ball of your foot onto his half hard bulge. Snickering at his reaction you grip his chin and dig your heel in harder, “You know what I won’t take any brattiness today. You’re supposed to be my darling boy for once.” You take a long drag from the wine glass and set it down on the coffee table.

Swallowing most of what's in your mouth you tip back Jinyoung's head, "And you're supposed to obey and take what I give." Ghosting your mouth over his, you trace his lips with yours before opening your mouth to drip wine into the Jinyoung’s mouth. Gasping at the sudden flow of the drink into his mouth, Jinyoung gulps the wine heavily. With a hand on his chin, and the other running over his styled hair.

As the flow stops, you both pant into each other’s mouths before meeting in a wet kiss.

The facade almost fades as the kiss turns suffocating, gripping Jinyoung’s hair and pulling away a string of spit still binds you too together.

With a dazed look on his face, Jinyoung looks up at you with slightly parted lips, whether they were reddened more by the wine or your assault didn’t matter. Cooing at the sight, you loosen your grip, only to clench your fist in his hair making him groan out. “Are we going to be good then love” Blinking the moisture from his eyes Jinyoung nods, “Yes mistress, I’ll be good.”

You widen your legs and move to fully take off your robe, "Then make yourself useful."

Jinyoung parts his mouth and lays his tongue flat against your inner thigh, tracing up to your groin he goes nose around the base of the strap. Opening his mouth to lick at the head he opts to put on a show for you, knowing that you can’t feel his motions.

“You always looked so pretty while sucking my cock” You were smirking, head tilted while the man writhed under his maid outfit. You could see it in the way his thighs clench and twitch while he moves to wrap his lips around the tip. “You look like a doll, pretty lips, wide eyes, and all” Running a hand through his hair you grip at the strands and push the man further down your shaft, successfully making him gag. Moving him to slowly fuck his mouth, Jinyoung moans at the intrusion. The vibrations shake your skin while Jinyoung drinks in the burn now nestled in his throat.

“It feels good to be used like a whore doesn’t it?” You smirk.

Popping off of your member with a gasp Jinyoung looks up at you with wide eyes , “More Mistress...please" Narrowing your eyes, you chuckle at his desperation, “I need to prep you love”

Jinyoung wipes the spit from his chin and pipes up again, “I-i did that myself, Mistress." The needy look in his wide eyes is enrapturing as he stutters out his reply, " I did it in the shower before I got ready, thinking about you."

Imagining Jinyoung under the steaming water of a shower working his fingers into himself, panting out to deaf ears is enough to make you freeze and stare at him with a heavy gaze. He's half defiled in his dress with garters askew and his apron slightly wrinkled with a few drops of wine staining the previously pristine white. You can see his bugle warping the fabric with every heavy breath, it's obscene.

"You don't know what you do to me." You say. Moving onto the floor, you press your lips against Jinyoung's while pushing him onto the ground. Sliding on top of him you cage your arms around his face and look down the man.

Lying flat against the floor, Jinyoung’s hair is completely undone and spread out in wild tufts.

“You’re so beautiful like this Jinyoung, spread out for me and hard under your panties like my little whore.” You pause to move your hand under his skirt to prove your point. He was hard and leaking through the lace, gripping onto his erection you smile softly at the hard jerk he gives at your touch.

Leaning down to bite at his ear you chuckle, “Do you want me to make it hurt baby?”

Jinyoung nods slowly.

Pulling at the lace panties you unfasten the garters and slip the fabric down to the man’s thighs, “Can you hold your legs up for me baby.”

Wrapping his arms around his thighs, Jinyoung’s legs hang above him as you toy with his wet hole. Plunging in one of your fingers, it slides in with no resistance and only results in a whine from the man below you.

Giving a sharp spank to the side of his ass, “Don’t get cute now. I’ll leave you right here leaking all over the carpet so you can clean it up after you finish rutting against my leg.”

“I’m sorry mistress” Jinyoung moaned out.

“I don’t have to fuck you, but this is for me.” You press.

Lining up your cock with Jinyoung’s entrance, you slap your strap against his hole.

Pushing into the man, you groan at how easy the slide was as you bottom out in him. Wrapping your arms around Jinyoung’s legs you start to thrust into him slowly, building up a grueling pace that would punch out the filthiest moans from your lover.

Pulling the panties past his knees you part the man’s legs to wrap them around your waist. You change the angle of your thrusts, groaning at the twisted look on his face, “How does it feel Jinyoungie, to be used like my darling whore on the floor of our living room, does it get you off knowing this is how you really are?”

Deepening your thrusts, you move a hand between you to fist Jinyoung’s own dick. He hisses at the sudden attention, crying out as you start to pump his cock in time with your thrusts.

Jinyoung is a mess under you, drool once again running down his chin while faint whimpers are punched out of him. His eyes are heavy with tears as he holds his skirt up for you.

Suddenly squeezing his eyes shut he stills and cums with a shout, spilling onto the frills of his skirt.

Sitting back against the sofa, you let your head rest on the edge as you catch your breath. “Thank you for this love.” You pant. Looking over at Jinyoung, he seems to be in the same state having shifted to lie his whole body flat on the floor. Running a hand through his sweaty hair he chuckles, “Happy Valentines Y/N”

#sub!idol #sub!kpop #dom!reader #sub!got7 #sub!jinyoung #jinyoung x you #jinyoung x reader #jinyoung smut #got7 smut

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 3 years

Text

COSMIC - S3:E3; Chapter Three, The Case Of The Missing Lifeguard - [Pt. 4]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

𝘌𝘭 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘉𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘋&𝘋. 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘙𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦.

⚠️: character death, gore, jazzercise, and small mentions of El having a panic attack [will include markers]

📝: the character death and gore is a flashback from last season cause apparently making us watch Bob die once wasn't enough 🥲 also sorry the code cracking scene was so bad, it was kinda hard to write

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

It hadn't taken long to get El ready for her next trip to the void. El found a spot on the ground, dry enough to sit, and began constructing a familiar device with goggles and duct tape they had miraculously found laying around. El had been kicking herself for leaving her headband at home, she should have known she'd need it. But this would do. And it reminded her of her conversation with Joyce that night; the first time someone had helped her through her fears of the void. Y/n and Max got to work behind her, turning on each of the showers to create the white noise El needed.

When they had finished, they took a seat on either side of their friend who now sat before the photo. Drawing in a deep breath, she placed the goggles over her face and began her search.

It was cold and lonely like it always was. Again, she tried to remind herself her friends were with her but it did little to lull the growing fears of what she might find next.

A mailbox was her only clue this time. It wasn't too far away, but the way it stood alone in the distance, waiting for her, unsettled her somehow. Maybe that was just the void, but that felt like a lie she kept trying to tell herself to get through it all.

It bore the numbers 1438, and it was sprinkled in rain. When she finally reached it, she carefully reached out her hand. She could almost feel the tin under her fingertips when suddenly a crimson smoke manifested out of thin air just feet away. It didn't take long for the smoke to build and the picture to form.

"What do you see?" Max asked, after some time.

"A door," El answered, her voice obstructed from the goggles over her nose. "A red door,"

It sat there, waiting for her to move. El knew she had to, and when she did that awful feeling in her gut grew stronger. Her heart pounded against her ribcage as she reached for the handle, and it took all she had not to waver as it slowly swung open.

El's frown grew at the sight waiting for her on the other side. A ways away sat a bright white bathtub. She wasn't at all eager to find out what was inside, but when she did, she wished she could say she was surprised.

Ice. Just ice.

Just like with Billy, but the ice hadn't melted yet. The tub was almost overflowing with it and—

El jumped back when a girl shot up from within so suddenly. It was Heather. She was pink-faced and trembling, but something told El it wasn't from the cold. The droplets of water covering her face had easily disguised the tears slipping down her face, and the look in her glassy eyes was pleading up at her.

"Help me," she sobbed.

El didn't have time to react before Heather was pulled violently back under. El shrieked, immediately diving after her only to be met with the watery floor. She was panting for breath, trying so desperately to calm her racing heart but she realized she didn't have time to. Heather was still there, in need of her help and she was quickly disappearing under the water that separated them.

El cried out to her, desperate to reach her but something was stopping her. She could scream and claw at the surface of water separating them, but by the time she found a way to duck her head and arm in after her, it was too late. El watched helplessly in horror as Heather was pulled into the deep black abyss of her watery grave, crying out for help.

"NO!"

■■■■■■■■■■■■■

El threw the goggles off her head in an instant, her shoulders heaving as she gulped down breaths of air.

"What happened?" Max asks immediately, her hand flying to El's shoulder for comfort. "El!"

El didn't answer. With a haunted look in her eyes, she gaped between her friends. Worried, to say the least, Max and Y/n looked to one another afraid as she buries her head in her hands. El didn't say a word and instead collapsed into shaky sobs as she tried to come down.

Y/n recognized the panic attack, and in an instant she had thrown herself to the floor beside El, laying her hand on her back and began rubbing soothing circles.

"Hey, you're okay. You're okay. Take my hand," She whispers, carefully taking El's left hand in her own. She knew it was a good sign when El squeezed back, despite her heaving breaths. It was a sign she was responding. "We're here, it's okay. Just breath. Deep breaths, in and out,"

El's breathing barely slowed, but Y/n kept encouraging her. As they found themselves doing more and more, Max and Y/n lock eyes, their faces horror-stricken for their friend. El doesn't notice. She merely squeezed Y/n's hand tighter and allowed the sobs to come.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

HAWKINS NATIONAL LABORATORY

Once a place thriving with life and secret agency was now a desolate wasteland; a grave for rot and chaos that lay untouched for months.

The sign once erected on the outer gates now lay dented and scuffed among the mud and rain, forgotten like the rest of the laboratory.

RESTRICTED AREA

NO TRESPASSING

U.S. GOVERNMENT

PROPERTY

Hoppers truck comes to a screeching halt outside the lab's doors. Grabbing their bolt cutters and flashlights, Joyce and Hopper make their way to the abandoned laboratory that had caused them so much pain.

Joyce couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong. She knew it was silly to be so worried about faulty magnets, but she didn't regret her actions. The last two times she had this unshakeable feeling in her core, she had been right to listen. The first being the moment she found Will's bed empty on the morning of November 7th, 1983. The second being Halloween night, the following year. And each time she felt it, untold horrors had followed.

And now? So far, those instincts hadn't failed her yet.

One visit to Scott Clarke about the town's sudden faulty magnets and her doubts were confirmed. And according to him, the only way an unstable electromagnetic field big enough to reach over all of Hawkins would have cost billions of dollars, and likely government-funded.

This had the lab written all over it. This had to do with the Upside Down and those monsters with it. It just had to. And she wasn't about to sit around and wait for it take her boy again. Or anybody else for that matter.

So here she was, nothing but a flashlight in hand and a fierce determination in her as she stormed the gates of Hawkins Lab, Hopper in toe.

The lab was just as they had left it that night. Glass was shattered among the floors from the busted windows, the chill seeping in from all sides; still as sharp as it was that night.

"Hello? Anybody home?"

The only answer the duo receives is the echo of Hopper's voice bouncing back to them as they step inside.

"We come in peace."

As she stood here now, Joyce realized everything was as she had last left it. That is... all but one thing.

One person.

Bob Newby. Superhero.

《•••》

He stood, the warmest of smiles gracing his face as he looked at the woman he loved. She was safe.

The next thing he felt was a harsh thud in his spine and skull as he was thrown to the floor.

All he knew was fear as he stared death in the face; its haunches in the air and its faceless head peeled away to reveal several rows of sharp thorny teeth as it pinned the man to the floors.

Joyce jumps back at the sight, her horrified screams blending with his own. The creature towers over Bob, and despite the man's best efforts he cannot quite match the beast's strength. It raises a single lean arm into the air, and in one swift motion its talons glide down to meet his left kidney. As its claws sink further into his sides, a cloud of deep crimson stains his scrubs, and a guttural cry of pain tears from deep within his chest.

"No!"

Joyce's cries of anguish alert the chief, who comes in all too late. He draws his rifle, now more in tune with the weapon without a still unconscious Will over his shoulder. But even then, it is far too late when the bullets hit the thing attacking Bob. Life has already begun to drain from the man, and in a matter of seconds, his chest had been torn to shreds.

"No!" She cries, fighting against Hopper's grip, unable to tear her teary eyes away from Bob.

"Go!"

As she is pulled around the corner, her one free arm stretches out after the man who had risked so much.

"Bob!"

The last thing she sees before the scene disappears from her view altogether is Bob's trembling and bloody hand reaching out for her in his remaining moments.

"No!"

《•••》

"Joyce,"

Her eyes are far away and haunted when she finally looks at Hopper. It looked to him as if she was pulling herself out of a memory, and he didn't have to wonder which. Hopper had a hunch this would happen, but he was in no place to blame her.

"You okay?" He asks.

But she was already burying it. Again, something he anticipated.

"I'm fine," she says quickly.

"You wanna wait in the car?"

Joyce all but scoffed and marched ahead.

"I said I'm fine."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Hours. They had been at this. For hours. At least... Well, that's what it felt like to Steve and Dustin as they continued their search.

Really it had only been a little over one.

Spycraft could be pretty boring, they quickly realized.

Their mission was beginning to feel a bit silly as the longer time wore on. After all, what were the odds they'd find an actual evil Russian waltzing around in broad daylight?

"Target acquired," Dustin gasped.

Okay, so maybe the odds were pretty decent.

"Where?"

"Ten o'clock. Sam Goody's,"

"Give me that," Steve says, taking hold of the binoculars.

Sure enough, just as Dustin had said, a towering man in shades, long blonde hair, was carrying a duffle bag as he strode through the crowd.

"Shit. Duffle bag,"

Lowering the binoculars, the duo look to one another with grave faces as it dawns on them.

-"Evil Russian"

He wasn't at all hard to spot in their sudden chase. His all-black jumpsuit stood out among the sea of neon around him as he ascended the escalator.

Despite his casted looks at his surroundings, the man didn't seem to notice the two boys close on his tail.

"Slow down," Dustin warned, as they squeezed through a group of girls.

"We're losin' him,"

"You're getting too close,"

Steve's shoulder suddenly collided with a guy not much older than him, who turned to scowl at him.

"Watch it, dickwad!"

The target slowed, peering curiously over his shoulder. Steve and Dustin fall back against the wall; Steve behind a plant that didn't exactly hide him or his bright blue uniform and Dustin ran for the payphone. He picked it up, immediately speaking into it in a monotone voice he would cringe at later.

"Hello. Yes. I am fine. How are you?"

But he didn't seem to notice, the target had already moved on. He seemed to be in a hurry.

When they were certain he had no reason to spot them, they fell back into a scurry on his tail which carried them all the way to...

Jazzercise?

Peering around the corner, Steve and Dustin watched bewildered as the man hurried to the front of the class.

"All right, everyone, listen up!" He yells.

Their minds raced as he threw the duffle bag onto the counter with an impressive thud before pulling back the zipper.

"I just have one question for you."

What evil did this man have in mind for this poor, unsuspecting group of women?

"Who..."

He rips his glasses off, and reaches into the duffle bag-

"is ready to sweat?"

-and pulls out a boombox.

Simultaneously, their faces fall into small 'o's as they gape at the unexpected turn of events.

The ladies clad in neon tights and leg warmers bounce happily on their mats, and a chorus of agreements ring out throughout the class.

"That's right!" Cheers the non-Russian. With a blindingly white smile, he presses play on the boombox and Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go begins to burst from the speakers. Stepping onto a mat of his own, he unzips his black jumpsuit — which they now realized was a tracksuit — to reveal an equally neon, dangerously thin, muscle tee. "Okay! Let's start nice and easy now."

A grimace falls over Steve and Dustin as they watch the sight unfold.

"Let's move our thighs. Yeah!"

The women cheer as he begins to grind the air.

"Yeah, ladies, warm it up."

They begin to copy his motions.

"Bring it down to your hips. Start feeling that burn, everywhere, down in the loins, right?"

Steve just blinks.

"Slow now. Just isolate."

The man begins thrusting his hips, and Dustin watches horrified.

Okay, so maybe this mission wouldn't be so easy.

But if they were going to find anything, he was sure it would be easier to handle than this.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"The week is long," Robin mutters. "The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west. A trip to China sounds nice if you tread lightly."

She takes a thoughtful sip of her soda, eyes raking over her notepad with the now fully translated message. Turns out, translation went a lot faster without those idiots trying to help. But something was still nagging at her.

"Tread lightly," she mumbles, discarding her drink and beginning to thumb through the translation book.

Had she gotten it wrong? She didn't think she had, but why else would it be bothering her?

She was pulled from her thoughts at the sudden sound of knocking on the back door. In a haste, she unhooks the headphones from her neck and squeezes through the partition window before yanking open the back door.

"Delivery for you,"

"Thank you," she says, grabbing for the package.

It was heavy, but that was to be expected. It must be the new shipment in from Michigan, she thought. With a huff, she drops it onto the break table before turning back to the waiting delivery man.

She scratched her signature in before handing the pen and clipboard back, and that's when her eyes linger on his uniform.

LYNX TRANSPORTATION

That nagging feeling was back, but more than anything it felt like an itch had finally been scratched.

It couldn't be, could it?

"Have a nice day,"

"Yeah, you too," she mumbles.

She could hear the wheels of his hand truck carrying down the hall and that's when Robin peered out after him.

A hint of a smirk grew on her face when she laid eyes on the insignia painted over the back of his uniform.

"Silver cat." She gasps. "Silver. Cat."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Hey, Robin, you're not gonna believe who Dustin thought was a Russian," Steve grumbled as they strode back into Scoops Ahoy.

Dustin shoved his arm.

"You did too."

"No, I did not!"

"Yes, you did!"

"No, I did not."

But Robin wasn't listening. She had shoved herself right past them without so much as a glance in their direction.

Out of breath in exhilaration, Robin finds herself on the ledge of the topiary in the very heart of Starcourt. Her eyes scoured the shops and she can feel everything falling into place.

"A trip to China sounds nice," she mutters. "A trip to China... sounds... nice..."

If Lynx Transportation was the Silver Cat, something in this mall — a store in this mall — then that meant...

Imperial Panda.

Her grin returns.

"A trip to China sounds nice."

She checks her notes again.

'If you tread lightly'

It had to be something with shoes...

How about Kauffman shoes?

"If you tread lightly,"

Now blue and yellow... what could that be — where had she seen that?

"When blue meets yellow..."

Her eyes fly across the walls, and for a moment she wonders if it's somewhere deeper in the mall out of sight. But that didn't make sense. What did make sense were the two clock hands at the center of the mall she had glanced at almost every hour of every shift.

"in the west."

"Robin?"

Steve and Dustin reach her side, peering up at her with a questioning look.

"What are you doing?"

"I cracked it," is all she can say.

"Cracked what?"

No longer able to contain her excitement, she jumped down from the ledge and her lips split into a small, shaky smile.

"I cracked the code."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Stepping through the airlock doors that separated the world from the gate to the Upside Down was not as daunting as it once had been.

For one, the airlock obviously was no longer functioning, nor was anything else in the building and above all, it all felt... empty. It looked more like an abandoned hospital than a notoriously evil government lab dedicated to the study of alternate dimensions and psychic child weapons.

And what once had been a gaping hole that lowered into a stories-high rift to another dimension was now just a slab of fresh concrete. The gate, and any way of reaching it, had long since been sealed.

Hopper gives a definitive, hollow knock on the plaster when they reach the wall, and turns to Joyce, "Nobody's home," and paces away.

"All the cavities have been filled. I watched 'em do it, Joyce."

At the very least, it was hard to swallow. For so long the truth had always led back here. Everything led back here.

The mind flayer, the demodogs. Will himself.

How could this not be the lab? Or at the very least, the Upside Down?

"It's over," Hopper concludes, seemingly reading her thoughts. Sharing a collective sigh with Joyce, Hopper looks around at the remains as she takes a seat on a nearby lift. "It's over,"

"I feel like I'm looking my mind," she says.

"You're not losing your mind," Hopper assures, nervously beginning to pace. "Not any more than I am."

He nibbles on the inside of his cheek as he nervously kicks a loose piece of rubble.

"You know, the other day, I almost shot Betsy Payne's dog because it came rushing at me from behind this fence, and I... I swear to God I thought it was one of those things."

The look in Joyce's eyes was all too familiar. It was a look he knew he had been wearing as long as she had

"You know that I'm keeping a close eye on things, right?"

"Yeah,"

"Because it is important to me." Hopper all but chokes. "It is important to me that you feel safe. That you and your family feel safe. I want you to feel like this can still be your home."

Joyce winces.

"What?" He asks somberly, already knowing the answer. "You didn't think I'd find out about that? Gary called me. He's said he's fixing up your house to put on the market."

Joyce makes no effort to deny his claims and Hopper realizes he never really expected her to. He didn't know what he was expecting. But the Byers leaving Hawkins was something he considered unthinkable.

And knowing that family, he wasn't the only one who'd miss them.

"The kids know yet?"

Joyce doesn't say a word, but it's all the answer he needed. The look on her face says it all; she didn't want to. She was afraid to. But she was also afraid to be in Hawkins. Afraid for her boys being in Hawkins.

And Hopper knew that feeling all too well.

"After Sarah..." he sighs, taking a seat on the ground beside her. "I had to get away... I had to get the hell out of that place, you know? Outrun those, uh... those memories, I guess."

Hopper tries to summon the words but they were having a hard time through the lump in his throat. There wasn't a day that went by he didn't think about his little girl. About what life would have been like had she still been around, how she and El would get along... All of it. But that wasn't the truth, and he knew it.

"I mean, why do you think I ended up back in this shithole?"

Eyes brimming with tears, Hopper peers up at the woman who had wormed her way into his heart all those years ago. She let out a pathetic chuckle, as he did and all he can do is smile weakly up at her.

"But you have something that I never had. You have people that know what you've been through. You have people that care about you. Right here. In Hawkins."

"You mean," she begins, her voice soft and cracked. "You mean, people like Scott Clarke?"

There's a painful silence that Joyce finally puts out of its misery.

"That was a joke," she smiled.

Hopper releases a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering closed in relief and her smile widens just a little further.

"Mm," he groans softly, giving a small laugh.

Lost in the moment and each other's company, they had nearly forgotten where they were had it not been for the sudden clang echoing down the nearby halls.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The Okra Project:

AAIP Mental Health Association

Black Trans Lives Matter Carrd

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"The Okra Project is a collective that seeks to address the global crisis faced by Black Trans people by bringing home cooked, healthy, and culturally specific meals and resources to Black Trans People wherever we can reach them."

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#cosmic #cosmic 3 #will byers x fem!reader #will byers x reader #stranger things #stranger things 3 #the case of the missing lifeguard #3x03 #st 3x03

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shreddedparchment · 4 years

Text

A Wife For Thor Pt.01

10/12/2020

Arrivals and Departures

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader Word Count: 6,990

Warnings: language, talks of death, angst, talks of sex,

A/N: This is seriously...I mean, I don’t even know where this came from. Credits to @darkficsyouneveraskedfor because Roo gave me the idea and I kinda ran with it. Like omg, y’all. Blame Roo. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo Dialogue from Thor Ragnarok has been used in the beginning of this story.

Please do not REPOST my stories anywhere. Reblogs are most welcome!

He stands with his arms crossed in what appears to be a small sitting room with a large window that opens to the sublime sight of the black space beyond. Sterling silver, radiant red, and brilliant blue stars twinkle into infinity.

This is a sight that Thor had seen many times before and yet, for the first time in an age, he felt hopeful for the future.

His fight had ended. With Ragnarok, his journey had reached an end. Not the end, but certainly that of a chapter I which his battles might rest.

He imagines that this might be how his father felt when he had taken charge of the nine realms.

However violent that takeover might have been, his father had lied about many things—his sister for one—it had been the beginning of a quieter reign. A new formative time for his father. He may not have been a perfect man, but he’d grown wiser in many ways. Still not the best father, but his father, nonetheless.

Thor can almost picture his life on Earth, a time of peace. A time to rebuild. He will be able to give his people a good life there and he’s certain that his friends will appreciate having him closer. Friends from work they may be, but friends.

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to go back to Earth?” Loki asks, standing beside him with his hands held gently at his front.

Thor looks at him, waiting a moment to allow him to finish speaking.

“Yes, of course.” Thor assures him. “The people of Earth love me. I’m very popular.”

Loki takes a breath, looking out the window as he quickly accepts his brother’s reasoning while simultaneously realizing he must word this differently to get his point across.

“Let me rephrase that.” Loki begins, “Do you really think it’s a good idea to bring me back to Earth?”

Thor knows that Loki has a point. His history with Earth is…not perfect. To say the least.

“Probably not, to be honest.” He admits, noting Loki’s apprehension.

Loki smiles, a little knowing.

“I wouldn’t worry, brother.” Thor tells him, both turning back to the void outside. “I feel like everything’s going to work out fine.”

The moment seems endless, the two of them waiting as if the something should or might happen after Thor’s optimistic sentiments.

Then the moment passes and Loki sighs.

“Right, well, I’ll start rounding up the people who will be of the most use once we arrive.”

Thor gives his brother one parting smile but doesn’t watch him leave.

Thor doesn’t know exactly what has changed in him, what makes him so confident in this decision, but he knows it’s the best decision he could have made. And if he’s honest, though he’d never admit it out loud, the possibility of finally being on the same planet as Jane…well, he’d be a fool not to consider the possibilities.

~~~~~~~~~~

Something feels different today.

As you wake, turning onto your side to stare across the small room at the blinking line on the blank word document on your computer screen, you can’t quite put your finger on what is making you nervous.

Your stomach is rolling, making you queasy, despite the fact that you have no reason to be anxious.

Yesterday was like the day before and today will be just like yesterday. Nothing in your life ever changes, and that’s become so much of who you are that whenever you have even a doctor’s appointment your heart begins to race in dreaded anticipation.

With trembling hands you clutch your blanket, trying to find a reason behind this mood. Your breath quickens as your heart panics, your mind scrambling to make sense of these emotions but nothing comes to mind.

So, you get out of bed. You get dressed choosing a simple knee length black dress that fits loose enough to keep you comfortable throughout the day. Then you head into the kitchen and start the coffee pot.

Halfway through the brew you shut the machine off and rush to dump out its contents into the sink.

“Fuck.”

You sigh, realizing you should really invest in decaf coffee for morning just like this.

“Tea. Tea is better.” You rationalize and pull your kettle off the warmer and fill it in the sink.

You replace it in its dock then turn your back to it, hands gripping the edge of the counter as you lean against it.

Your fingers stroke the smooth and unvarnished wooden countertop, suddenly going rigid around the lip as your heart goes frantic again.

The island counter directly in front of you is made of the same unvarnished wood, a slightly mismatched chair on the other side, tucked in beside the open shelving that holds your pots and pans. Along the center of the island sits a small vase with nearly completely withered flowers.

You’re filled with relief as your hands are given new task and you hurry forward and take the clear glass vase, toss the flowers—which crumble as they hit yesterday’s empty cereal box—dump the water in the sink and quickly refill it.

Setting the vase aside, you pull open a drawer and pluck from an array of contents a small packet of flower food, a pair of small pruners, a long piece of twine, and head out the back door to your modest backyard.

There isn’t much in it, and it’s unfenced. A large tree at the back-left corner provides shade and pecans. In the center of the yard sits a set of antique iron work garden furniture. Twisted and shaped into what reminds you of lace. Two smaller chairs and one long bench with curved backs.

You’ve been of a mind to buy cushions for them, but you haven’t found an excuse to justify the expense.

In between the garden set sits an outdoor coffee table made of wood and painted white. It’s fading and will need a new coat soon but again the expense can wait. At least until you sell another story.

Apart from this set and a small wooden shed beside the pecan tree, your yard is mostly overgrown grass and carefully cultivated flowers lining the length of your narrow back porch.

You smile, noticing the length of your grass, grateful for another something to keep you busy today. Something to keep your mind off this mysterious and anxious premonition of something to come.

Quickly you move to a large blooming bush at the end of your porch and cut from it several bunches of pink and blue garden phlox.

You admire the shade of the blue flowers. The color reminds you a pair of blue eyes you’d once seen on a woman who’d come to your school as a child.

She’d been beautiful and kind, but she hadn’t picked you. Still, you’d never forgotten the color of her eyes.

The pink is pastel at the edges of its petals and vibrant magenta at the center.

As you head back in, the kettle only barely beginning to steam, you quickly arrange the bunches you’ve picked and wrap them up with the twine. You set the bushel aside and with the vase pulled close, you tear the packet of flower food with your teeth and pour it in.

Replacing the flowers, you give the kettle one more look before you race back into your bedroom to pick out a more appropriate outfit for cutting the grass.

You decide on a pair of jeans and a plain yellow t-shirt. Pulling them on, you pause with your shirt hooked around your arms as your eyes find your laptop screen, annoyingly black still.

With a groan you pull your shirt on and from the kitchen you hear the whistle.

Breakfast is simple. A store-bought muffin and a cup of breakfast tea do the trick and while you’re still chewing your last bite you head out to cut your grass.

It doesn’t take you too long and you lament the last bit as you cut it, the machine vibrating violently in your nervous grip.

No matter how much you try to distract yourself, this feeling of something terrible coming will not go away and you’re about to go out of your mind when a shout from your back door pulls your mind from it.

Standing there is an older man with an unconventionally handsome face. His lips are thin, cheekbones prominent, brown eyes sunken, and his nose long and defined. His dark hair slicked and parted, neatly kept to match his crisp navy suit.

“Aren’t you a little overdressed?” You shout at him as the whirr of the machine dies into silence.

The man moves towards you, a smile brightening his face.

“I was just at a meeting.” He explains.

“Do you ever stop working?” You wonder, pushing the lawn mower towards the shed as he follows.

“Only when I’m on vacation.” He tells you, amusement in his voice but subdued and you only hear it because you’ve known him for years.

“You don’t take vacations.” You sputter, almost laughing.

“Precisely.” He agrees.

He waits for you to shut the door and when you turn, he greets you with open arms.

“How have you been?” He asks, holding the hug for longer than you’re used to which only adds to the anxiety you’ve been feeling all morning.

What’s going on?!

“Hey, you okay?” You ask him, ignoring his question in favor of satisfying your curiosity.

He doesn’t answer but holds the hug a moment longer before pulling back to look at you.

“We have to talk.” He tells you, making your heart pound.

“Okay. You want some breakfast?” You offer, and swallow hard as your fear mounts.

“Sure.” He says and follows you inside.

You make him a full breakfast. Eggs, bacon, breakfast sausage, and buttered toast with a cup of coffee. Just because you can’t stand the idea of being hyped up on caffeine today doesn’t mean David won’t.

He digs right in while you stand on the other side of the island, sipping on your second cup of tea in hopes that it will ease your frayed nerves.

For a few minutes he gobbles down your food but when you shift on your feet for the fourth time, he clears his throat, takes a drink of his coffee, then puts his fork down.

“It’s not exactly bad news.” He assures you, easing you a little but something tells you that you still won’t like it.

“Just tell me, David.”

“As your lawyer,” He begins, sitting back in your old wobbly chair. “It’s my duty to inform you when there are developments with your family’s estate.”

“Right.” You agree, remembering the day he’d found you when you’d turned eighteen to tell you that you weren’t exactly as poor as you’d thought.

You’re not really rich either. You have a little money that your parents set aside for you. Old money that you hadn’t really touched. You use it mostly for bills when you can’t sell a story fast enough and most of your wealth is in this cottage. A family home that you’d had no idea was yours until David brought you here.

Finally, a home, after living in that school all those years.

“Well, I think it might be time to reveal a little more of that estate’s history.”

“Why?” You put down the floral porcelain cup and wrap your arms around yourself, afraid of what he’ll say.

How did you know that something was coming? What kind of sixth sense do you have?!

“After all this time, why would it matter?” You sigh, moving to pull out the second chair to his right on the shorter end of the island.

“Don’t panic.” He tells you, reaching over to place his hand over yours. “Let’s keep our heads. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“You say that, but why do I feel like that’s not exactly true?” You sigh.

He blinks, gathering his thoughts before he nods.

“I think I’ll tell you all at once. Like ripping a band-aid. Might be the easiest for you.” He realizes.

You don’t disagree.

“Your family comes from a very small people in Europe. Their origins are hard to trace but we know that they travelled between France, Norway, Denmark, Romania, Belgium, Sweden, Austria, Greece, and even spent a large amount of time in hiding in the United Kingdom.”

“I get it, they were nomads.” You sigh, your mood taking a turn from the anticipation of clarity.

“Yes. Nomads.” David agrees, patting your hand in an attempt to calm you. “I only mention it because there are many questions as to where they had originated from. No one seems to know. Unfortunately, I don’t think that question will ever be answered as all records before their stint in France have been lost.

“What we do know is that your ancestors, your bloodline are royalty.” David says, as easily as if he were telling you your age. “Even though the titles have long since been lost, you are technically—though you have no country to rule over—a princess.”

Slowly his words sink in and your face begins to relax. You look down at his hand over yours and without warning you laugh once. Then again, and again, until you’re leaning on your chair, head thrown back as your whole body shakes with it.

“What is so funny?” David asks, unamused but he goes back to eating.

“This is a joke, right? You’re pulling my leg.” You gasp, breath shallow.

“Not one little bit.” He shakes his head. “If we knew what country your ancestors came from, you would very much be in some palace or castle, reigning over your people. Your parents, were they alive, would have been King and Queen.

“You may not think it possible, but that is your legacy, Y/N. You are of royal blood.” David insists which sobers you a little, but you think it’s so silly that this is what you’d been so scared of.

This is what you’d been dreading?

“Okay. Fine. I believe you. But what does it matter? You said that if I still had a country then I would be princess, but clearly, I don’t. So, I’m not. What’s the point of telling me this when it makes absolutely no difference to my life?

“I don’t feel any different and it’s not like that makes me any richer? I’m still sitting on a decently sized fortune to assure that I don’t want for anything at least until my forties. What could this possibly change that you felt it necessary to tell me?”

David wipes his mouth with his napkin, finishing up the last bit of his coffee before he gets up and with his dirty plates moves towards the sink.

“Leave it, David. I’ll clean up later.” You watch him, sitting up a little straighter as that anxious feeling begins to grow again with his extended silence.

He washes the plate and as he does, your nerves begin to fray again. You anxiously pick at a small splinter in your island, waiting for him to speak.

He turns towards you as he finished washing his plate, then meets your eyes.

“You weren’t just revealing my heritage, were you?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I felt I needed to reveal your heritage because someone has reached out with the hopes of setting up a meeting with you.”

“Why would anyone wanna meet with me simply because they know of my lineage?” You wonder, slouched, hands moved to your lap to rest limply as you stare at David, fear increasing with every moment that passes.

“May I ask you a personal question?” He says, moving to stand closer as he dries his hand on your dishtowel.

“David, you know everything about me.” You sigh.

“Why haven’t you ever had a boyfriend? Or girlfriend? I’m not sure I’ve ever asked if you-?”

“To be honest, I don’t know either.” You shrug. “I’ve never really thought about it.”

“Not even as a child?” He wonders.

“I was too busy wishing for parents as a kid.” You clarify. “I didn’t have time for crushes or any of that stuff.”

“Are you opposed to a relationship?” David asks, dropping the towel then moving around to sit back down in his seat.

“Opposed?” You ask, shaking your head. “Not exactly opposed. I’ve just never known anyone worth caring about like that. I’m mainly here at home. I do go into town when I need to get my packages but there isn’t anyone there that…I don’t draw attention like that.”

“You’re a pretty girl.” David tells you, reaching over to tug on your sleeve. “When you aren’t sweaty and covered in grass clippings.”

You scoff, shaking your head.

“It’s not something I really worry about.” You admit.

“Would you ever want to get married?” David asks, and your heart is suddenly pounding.

The idea of being someone’s wife had crossed your mind once or twice. Mostly when you’d been jotting down ideas or plotlines for your books. In the end, because you didn’t think you had enough insight, you’d opted to remove all romance. You write mysteries.

“I don’t know that I’d be any good at it.” You confess. “I’m not…I can’t exactly picture myself being someone’s wife.”

“Why not?”

“Because I…I don’t even know what I’d be like in a relationship, sharing space and time, much less sharing an entire life?” You shake your head. “I’m not saying that I haven’t thought about it but it’s only ever been in passing.”

David goes silent, tapping his index finger against the island.

“David, please. You know I can’t take the suspense.” You plead.

“Yes. I’m sorry.” He nods then reminds himself, “Band-aid.”

You take a deep breath and turn to face him a little more in your seat.

“Well, you are aware of our planet’s newest inhabitants?”

“Th-The Asgardians in Norway?”

“Yes.” David nods. “Well, as a sign of good faith, to ensure that they will abide by Earth’s laws and to assuage any ideas from panicked world leaders that they might try and overtake the planet and make it their own, they have decided that marriage to someone from Earth might be the best way to do that.

“The Asgardian known as Brunnhilde has reached out to all families of royal blood and asked to meet with any eligible women, preferably—as she so tactfully put it—maidens.” He explains. “Which I take it you are?”

You swallow hard, your lungs rubbed of oxygen and yet you somehow manage to quietly acknowledge, “Yes. I’m a virgin.”

How can you not be after spending your whole life unconcerned with romance?

“You don’t have to do it, Y/N.” David suddenly says; however, you can see the ‘but’ in his eyes. “But if you don’t and the Asgardian king cannot choose from the women he does meet, you will probably be hunted down and forced to meet with him anyway.

“All world leaders are in agreement that this is the correct and only way to ensure the safety of the planet. They will not give up until every woman meeting the Asgardian’s requirements have been given the chance to meet with Thor.”

“Thor?!” You gasp, rising to your feet as hundreds if not thousands of images flash through your mind of the Thunder God and the Avengers fighting side by side.

“Yes.” David affirms, rising to his feet with you. “With the death of his father, he is now King of Asgard.”

Of course, Thor is going to be King. You already knew this. It’s common sense.

For some reason though, the confirmation made out loud, vocally…how the fuck are you supposed to marry Thor? An Avenger? That’s not…this cannot be real life!

“David,” You begin, apprehensive.

“I know. I know it is a lot to ask but as I said, I don’t believe we have much of a choice. He might very well not pick you.” David adds, rushing to comfort you and point out how unlikely you’d be the one Thor chooses to wed. “There are plenty of other women that he’s already met with. Women that are more suited to life in a palace than you are. The Hungarian princess is so eager to be Queen of Asgard that she’s been sending the other women bribes to try and convince them to refuse.

“It won’t make a difference, since they cannot refuse should Thor choose them.” David admits.

“A-all I have to do is meet with him?” You stutter, heart in your throat.

“Just a quick one-hour meeting. He’ll ask you questions. Get to know a bit about you. See if you are suited for life as Asgardian queen and then it’s over.” David assures you.

“I’m…There are lots of other women better for it, right?”

“Loads of them.” David promises.

New fears begin to take hold in your heart and mind.

It conjures up the last time you’d seen Thor, strutting from a massive spaceship docked over the ocean by New Asgard. He’d risen from its depths all wide shoulders and biceps. Heavy steps thudding as he’d stopped at the end of the massive ramp, waving at the cameras as his people had filed out behind him.

His hair cropped short as opposed to the long tresses he’d had when he’d last been on Earth, one eye missing with a sleek black and gold metal patch over it the absence.

You’ve never been threatened by him before. He’s a hero. But the prospect of being his wife and having wifely duties...

Your mind flies into panic as it shifts that large body over you, crawling towards you with his hands prying your legs open. The years of sexual experience radiating off of this fantasy Thor and all of his bulging muscles.

You almost want to throw up at the prospect of having to consummate a marriage. You haven’t exactly been eager to be with anyone since you haven’t met anyone special, but you’d at least imagined something more intimate. More personal.

“David I-they won’t choose me though, right?” You reach out for him because your legs are suddenly weak.

He takes hold of your arms and helps you stand still.

“They won’t.” He tells you, sounding convinced. “There are better candidates. Women with actual titles.”

He’s right. Of course, he’s right. He has to be right.

“It’s just a quick meeting.” He promises. “Then it’ll all be over, and you can come back to your cottage and live just as you have been, with no one to bother you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Leaving your little place is difficult. After spending years without a home to call your own, now that you have your cottage, tearing yourself away from it is like pulling splinters.

You like your little yard. You like your flowers. You love your bed and its white sheets, little pink and yellow flowers printed on the soft fabric.

You’d made it more feminine. You’d brought flowers back and frills and lace. You’d made it everything you thought a cottage at the edge of a wood should look like and as time had gone by you’d brought in more personal touches.

After several years, your home is finally completely you.

This place, this massive Asgardian structure is less gold and more wood, stone, and iron. Silver steel polished so bright it gleams even in moonlight. This place is not you. It’s him. It’s Thor. His home.

Right now, with the day almost over, the palace takes on a warmer tone. The wooden structures and gray stone pillars are bathed in orange light, giving the place a pleasant glow and despite yourself, you can almost picture Thor meandering through these Nordic halls, a long crimson robe around his thick form.

It isn’t an unpleasant image now that you’ve given yourself some time to get used to the idea of him.

When you arrived you were greeted and seated in a large round room, the lower quarter of the sturdy walls made of ornate stone brick, the rest of the wall beautiful dark oak. The floor is also stone, massive carpets underneath several pieces of obviously Norse inspired furniture.

Well actually, the Norse was probably derived from Asgardian styles. There’s a difference in them that you can see but don’t understand. The coffee table in front of you has ornately carved legs, golden embellishments, and a black coat of paint.

The sofa you’re sitting on is mostly wood, painted gold, with plush and soft satin covered cushions in wine red.

There are two other tables around the room, a collection of books on one and an array of fruits, foods, and drinks on the other. There are several different statues and stands. Lamps that look as if they should have flames instead of the electric bulbs they now hold.

Small touches of modern design filter through the room complimenting the more traditional décor.

“Hello there.” Says a lilting voice.

You recognize it and turn to find Loki, slipping through a narrow opening in the large set of doors you’d been escorted through almost half an hour ago.

He’s dressed in a black suit with a plain white t-shirt underneath dressing the look down.

“H-Hi.” You stammer, surprised by his appearance.

You stand, knowing well that he may not be King but for Asgard, Loki is still a prince.

“No, please. Do not get up on my account.” He gestures at your seat and you settle back in as he crosses to the table with all the books. “I forgot some papers in here, I only came to retrieve them. Do not mind me.”

You avert your eyes, afraid to see something you shouldn’t and sit just as stiffly as before, hands fisting the royal purple dress you’d chosen to wear. It’s simple, quarter sleeves, high neckline with a small V at the center. Just above your knees in length, it rises as you grip it.

“Nervous to meet my brother?” Loki asks, stopping by the doors as he eyes your tight grip.

“This whole situation is a little stressful.” You admit. “I’m…I live in a small house in the middle of nowhere. I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“Ah, you’re the one with the lost lineage.” Loki realizes, moving closer with interest. “A hidden princess. You could have refused to come, you know?”

“I would have been forced eventually.” You point out. “There are a lot of people who want this marriage thing to happen.”

“True.” Loki agrees, “My fault, I’m afraid. I make them nervous.”

“You did very nearly destroy New York.” You point out, remembering the carnage reported that day. The aftermath had taken forever to clean up.

“I did.” Loki agrees. “Do you fear me?”

“No.” You admit. “If you weren’t safe, Thor wouldn’t have brought you back here.”

“He could just be too trusting.”

“Maybe.” You agree. “But with the fate of his entire people tied to the successful acclimation of Asgard and Earth, if you were really a threat, I think he’d have cut you out before coming back.”

Loki’s lips slowly curl up into a smile before breaking apart into a toothy grin.

“What is your name again?” He asks, a sparkle of something in his eyes.

“Y/N.” You tell him. “Why?”

“No reason. This has been very illuminating, Y/N. It was lovely to meet you.” Loki says then with a quick bow of his head, he leaves you to your solitude.

Confused, you sit there completely at a loss for what just happened.

Had you taken too many liberties with Loki? What had that smile meant? You’d been made aware that Loki was also involved in recruiting women of royal blood into marriage meetings for Thor, but you hadn’t expected him to know you by the description of where you live.

Maybe because it’s so unlike anyone else’s?

You sit there stewing for another twenty minutes, wondering if maybe you’re being stood up when the large doors open once again.

You shoot up onto your feet, so damn nervous your body reacts without your permission. Through the door this time comes the man of the hour. The massive Thunder God dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and a plain gray t-shirt crosses over to the table with food and pours himself a stein of what looks like beer from a sloshing brown pitcher.

“Estrid, is this from the new batch of ale?” He booms loud enough that he can be heard even outside of the room as he takes a quick sniff of the liquid.

His voice is so deep.

Licking your lips, you watch him drink the entire stein without taking a breath or waiting for an answer, and then refill it before grabbing it and taking an apple with his other hand.

He turns, holding the fruit up to his mouth and freezes with it pressed to his lips as he meets your eyes, realizing he isn’t alone.

You’re not exactly sure what to say or what to do, completely taken aback by this strange and sudden exposure to candid Thor. Both of you unprepared to see each other despite the fact that you’ve literally been waiting nearly an hour for him.

His confusion mounts as he lowers the apple, looking around as if expecting an explanation or to see if he’s in the correct room.

“What time is it?” He suddenly asks, meeting your gaze again.

“N-Nearly six.” You tell him, and his one good eye goes slightly wide.

“Oh!” His lips curl up into an easy smile. “I did not think it was that late.”

His smile makes you feel a little more at ease, but you’re still on edge.

“You’re my meeting.” He tells you, as if you don’t already know that. “Y/N? Y/L/N, right?”

“Yes.” You nod, then before you can stop yourself… “You’re late.”

Thor blinks. Startled it seems or maybe just surprised, but then he smiles again. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“I mean, you can be as late as you’d like. This is your meeting. Sorry. I didn’t…I don’t know why I said that.” You rush to say.

“No, no.” Thor turns to put down his stein of beer and the apple replaced in its bowl. “You’re right. I am late. We were supposed to meet at five, weren’t we?”

When he turns back to you, you nod.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure you have much you could be doing.” Thor says, moving towards you and gesturing at the spot you’d been in before sitting down at the other end of the sofa.

“No.” You confess. “Not really. I’m actually one of the only people that probably doesn’t have much to do. Well, I mean, I could be writing. Or cleaning house.”

“They tell me that you had no knowledge about your lineage before Brunnhilde reached out to your lawyer?”

You nod. “It’s not really important. Or…no. That’s not the right-what I mean to say is that it isn’t significant to my life.”

“Don’t you want to know who your family is?” Thor wonders.

“I know who my family is. I had a mom. And a dad. Both died just after I was born. That’s my family.” You explain. “Apart from getting to meet you, the news that my family was once royalty doesn’t change it in any way. I’m still just as insignificant today as I was before.”

Thor narrows his brow, watching you for a long torturous moment as he considers what you’d just said.

“Tell me about yourself.” He suddenly says, turning to lean back against the arm, his own thrown over the back, right leg bent up onto the sofa.

“There isn’t much to tell.” You admit. “I was born, my parents died in an accident. I was taken to a school for orphans where I grew up and aged out. On the day I had to leave, Mr. Valis found me and gave me my inheritance which is a good amount of money and a small house. I’ve been living there ever since.”

“You didn’t take any additional schooling?” Thor asks, relaxing. “All the other young women I’ve met have made it a point to tell me about the universities and colleges they’ve attended.”

“I took a few correspondence classes.” You tell him, “But I’ve only ever wanted to write, and I didn’t feel that I needed a higher education to do it. I mean, it would probably look better on my resume, but my writing should speak for itself.”

You can’t really tell what he’s thinking with the way he’s watching you, his hand playing with a thread on the back of the sofa.

You take it as a good sign that many of the other women have a degree of some sort. They must want someone respectable with a good education, right?

“How do you feel about political marriages?” He asks, and you’re stunned for a moment.

“Um…”

“Be honest, please.”

“I guess I don’t like the idea?” You admit. “Being forced to marry someone you don’t love because duty demands it? Feels archaic. If you love someone, whether they fit into whatever political standards are being demanded or not should not be a reason to get married.”

Thor sits up, shifting a little closer as he leans towards you.

“If you were asked to go along with a political marriage in every way but the heart, could you?” He wonders, much more interested than before.

“What do you mean?” You ask, confused.

“Well, let’s say for example, you and I were to marry. We’d be expected to have children. You’d be bound to do your duties as Queen of Asgard, but you would not be required to love me. Would you be able to fulfill these requirements?”

“You don’t want to do this, do you?” You realize, seeing the eagerness in his eyes. His shoulders slump. “If you don’t want to get married, why don’t you just say something?”

“I must do what I can to ensure the future of my people.” Thor says, sighing deeply.

“I’m guessing there’s someone else you do love that you can’t marry?”

“Not that I can’t but won’t. She isn’t ready for marriage and I don’t feel right making that kind of demand from her when she clearly has other things she’d like to be doing with her life. And…yes, maybe a little bit can’t. A royal marriage would make the most sense. I need a Queen.” Thor says.

You can’t find the words to tell him how fucked up this all is so instead you sit in silence.

“I know this is not ideal. I’ve tried to find other ways of assuring Earth of my commitment to this planet but nothing I’ve suggested is good enough.”

He needs a Queen. This gives you solace. No one is less of a queen than you are.

“I’m sorry.” You finally tell him. “It’s not fair. But I’m sure you’ll be able to find someone who checks all those boxes for you. I hear the Hungarian princess is pretty eager.”

Thor ignores you, stroking his beard as he watches you. “What do you want from a marriage? Let us say it’s many years from now and you have found someone you love beyond all reason. You two decide to get married. What does that look like?”

You’re a little surprised by the question but you humor him and take a moment to really think about it.

The man you picture has no face. There is no one you care enough about to imagine. So…because he’s the only option, you take Thor’s face and give your imaginary husband a face.

“We’d be partners.” You tell him. “Open about everything important. We would respect each other’s individualities. If something is troubling me, I would like to know that I could turn to him and if he had something on his mind, I’d hope that he could turn to me too.

“We’d be honest about even the unpleasant aspects of our life together. If we disagreed, we would talk about it openly. We wouldn’t hide from each other. We’d spend as much time as we could together and always make time for each other.”

You picture Thor sitting at your island in your comfy cottage. He’s so massive that he’d take up so much space. You’d have to squeeze past him, and he’d turn to wrap his arms around your waist as you pass.

He’d trap you there, not letting you move.

“We’d make breakfast together. Cramped up in my little kitchen, it would turn into play.” You smile. “We’d lounge around the house, reading and listening to music. In the evenings we’d move out to the backyard and watch the sun set then watch the stars until I’d fall asleep on his shoulder.”

As if you’re caught doing something you shouldn’t be, you startle yourself out of your daydream and feel your neck heat up.

You’d crossed from rational marriage into sentimental and you’re a little shocked at the detail in which your mind has gone.

You’re also a little startled by the pleasant feeling that picturing Thor in those situations has given you.

For someone who has never had a crush, you’re startled by the butterflies it gives you.

“But I’ve never been into anyone like that before.” You tell him, looking away from his intense gaze. “So, even if that’s what I picture, it’s not like it’s ever gonna happen.”

“It might.” Thor says, sounding as if he might be trying to comfort you.

“It won’t.” You assure him. “I hope your girl changes her mind.”

There’s a bitter ache in your chest as you say it, and you’re certain it’s only there because of the little fantasy you just allowed yourself to have. You should have picture someone else.

“I hope they relax on the royal blood thing and let you marry someone you love instead.” You hope.

“You say that as if you already know that I won’t pick you.” Thor observes.

You smile wide, laughing even as you bite your lip. “Well, I’m nothing like the girls you’ve met with. I don’t have endless amounts of money. I don’t have a prestigious education or extensive family. I don’t know anything about being royalty. The others have been doing it their entire lives. I’m the least likely candidate. I don’t fit the requirements, except for the bloodline thing.

“I only agreed to meet with you because I knew that the likelihood of you picking me was almost non-existent.”

“Ouch.” Thor says.

“No!” You rush to say. “You’re very…I mean, you’re kind from what I can tell and honorable. You’ve saved Earth a couple times and you’re a little self-centered but only in a superficial way that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a good man.

“I honestly don’t know why your girl won’t marry you but I’m not right for this.” You nod. “I wouldn’t make a good Queen for you.”

Thor nods slowly, thinking for a minute before he straightens up and turns to rise, slapping his hands on his knees before he moves back towards the table of fruit and beer.

“You’re probably right.” He agrees, and for some reason, you’re disappointed.

Not so much that he isn’t picking you, but rather that he sees you aren’t enough. You’re lacking in some way. Which you already knew but…knowing he thinks that makes you feel a little lousy despite that being something you wanted.

“I suppose I’ll just have to pick someone more suitable. Someone who knows better about ruling a people. All the same, thank you for coming.” Thor says, dismissing you.

He picks up his stein again and turns to look at you as you rise.

“It was a pleasure to meet you.”

You nod, “Likewise.”

After a moment of hesitation, you give him a wave and move for the doors, trembling hands reaching out to yank the doors open and make your escape.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been weeks since you met with Thor and you’ve completely forgotten the whole thing. Life has gone back to normal and even though you now know that you’re from royal stock, nothing, as you expected, has changed.

The only plus that has risen from this whole situation is that you can now picture marriage a little better, however inexperienced and cliché it might be, you can make something up now.

Your little fling with the idea of Thor had given you fuel to slip a little romance into your writing and your fingers are flying across the keyboard of your laptop as you type up a new and promising mystery about a set of lovers and the body they discover in the attic of their new home.

You hate to be interrupted during a writing session, but you must have forgotten that about yourself because your phone starts to ring.

Normally you mute it before you even sit down to write.

With a growl you reach over and take a quick look at the number.

David flashes on your screen and quickly you swipe to answer.

“Hey, can I call you back in like an hour? I’m in the middle of a chapter and I’m on a roll.” You plead, fingers still flying across the keys.

“Y/N, Thor chose you.” David’s voice says and your fingers freeze.

There’s a pounding in your chest and your head is full of white fuzz. Your legs are numb, and your stomach is swirling with both flutters and nausea.

You can’t have heard that right.

“What?” You ask, voice shaky.

“Thor. He chose you. I just got off the phone with Brunnhilde and she wanted to let me know so that I could call you and let you know that she’ll be by tomorrow to pick you up.”

This can’t be happening.

“She said to pack only what you absolutely need. Everything else will be provided for you.”

“David…I…I can refuse, right? I don’t have to marry him.” You plead desperately.

“Y/N…” David sighs. “You agreed to this before you went to see him. I’m afraid the time to back out has come and gone.”

“But I can just not do it.” You argue. “They can’t force me to do it.”

“The government will seize your assets if you refuse.” David explains. “They want this done. I’m sorry, Y/N. There’s no backing out of this now.”

“But…But he loves someone else.” You tell him and even though your mind knows that this should be the last thing to concern you, it should not be the first reason you can think of why marrying Thor is a bad idea, it is.

As your eyes focus on the little blinking line of your word doc, your heart gives a painful ache knowing that your husband will be loving someone else.

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