#two women met in the deep sea and surprising each other | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xxxsweetdreamzxxx · 3 years

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warnings/tags: dom!Jaehyun sub!reader, fanfic, smut; cursing, hook up, fingering, cunninilingus, unprotected sex, cream pie

summary: a chance meeting while shopping for bathing suits turns your summer vacation a little hotter

word count: 4.4k (help)

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this was interesting to write as the beginning and ending are based off of separate dreams this time, so hopefully I was able to link them in a way that made sense. please enjoy!!

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"How does this look?" You asked your friend Jamie, holding a skimpy neon bikini set to your body.

It was the first full day of your annual summer beach trip with your bestie, and you'd arrived in the seaside town you always traveled to late last night. After eating a mediocre breakfast provided by your hotel, the two of you had headed to a nearby mall to buy new swimsuits. She'd had luck finding one relatively quickly. But the reason you were still there, on the second story of a large department store several hours later, was because you had yet to.

She made a face. "No offence, but it's not really your style..."

Sighing, you put it back on the rack. "I know."

Rounding the stand that contained the bikini you'd just put back, you briefly glanced over at the neighboring section, which had swim trunks. Movement had caught your eye, caused by three guys walking through. You barely even paid attention to them at first glance, but the one in the back caught your eye, and you did a double take.

At this second glance, you saw they were all young, probably close to your age, and very attractive. 'Are they models?' You wondered. But again, it was the one behind the first two that really made you look on in awe. He had muted fluffy purple hair that covered his forehead, and dark eyes that shone like diamonds even from this distance. His soft features and perfect skin made you wonder if he was an angel. His thin white shirt hugged what was probably toned muscle underneath. When the taller of his two friends said something funny, he smiled and oh my God, he had the cutest dimples.

At that moment, he shifted his eyes up and saw you standing there, staring. Like a deer caught in headlights you froze, embarrassed as fuck you'd been caught. But his smile only widened, and he gave you a slight nod in greeting.

Ripping your gaze away, you acted like nothing had happened and tried to return to shopping.

"Oh wow y/n, you saw those guys right?" Jamie exclaimed, following you. "Now that's what I'd call eye can-"

You interrupted her, face flushed, by holding up a pale blue gingham bikini. "What about this?"

Before she could answer, her eyes focused on something behind you, mouth falling open slightly. A deep voice then responded to your question. "I think it looks cute."

You whipped around, only to come face to face with the man you couldn't keep from staring at. Your eyes widened and you gulped, startled. Up close, he was simply breathtaking. Literally; you felt your breathing become strained as your heart pounded in your chest.

"Th- Thank you, um..?" You stuttered before taking a deep breath.

"Jaehyun." He answered.

"Ah, Jaehyun." Damn, even his name was cute. You gave him a shaky smile. "So I should get it?"

"Definitely." He encouraged. He then looked to Jamie, who'd been speechlessly watching the exchange. "What do you think?"

Turning around, you waited to see her response. After looking between the two of you for a couple of seconds, she grinned and gave a thumbs up. You weren't sure if she was approving of the bathing suit or...

"Hey, what are you guys doing the rest of today?" Jaehyun asked.

"Oh, not much." You replied quickly, not planning to elaborate.

"We'll just be at the beach!" Jamie said louder and at the same time, speaking over you. "Wanna come with?"

You gave her a look, trying to shut her up. She looked back at you as if to say 'what?'

He smiled. "Sure. Let me ask the boys if it's okay with them."

He beckoned the two of them over, who didn't hesitate to comply. Jamie introduced you and her to the group, as you were still majorly distracted by the million thoughts running through your head. The tallest of the three then introduced himself as Johnny, a friendly guy with a round face and sculpted arms that were on full display thanks to the tank he wore. The other was Mark, who shyly said hi to you and Jamie. He had a boyish and youthful aura about him that made you immediately assume he was the youngest. They both readily agreed to head to the beach.

Still not fully registering what had just happened, you walked to the check out in a near trance and bought your swimsuits. Then you exited the mall, and made your way to the parking lot. Jaehyun went to get his car while the rest of you waited at Jamie's. When he pulled up, the guys got in. After quickly entering her car with her, Jamie pulled out of the parking lot and followed them as they lead the way to the beach.

"Y/n, you okay?" She asked, taking her eyes off the road for a split second to glance at your face. Your prolonged silence had prompted her to speak.

You removed yourself from your racing thoughts. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just surprised."

She grinned. "Well, today's not gonna be boring, that's for sure. It'll be a lot more eventful than if we'd hung out at the beach by ourselves."

You nodded in agreement. You knew there wasn't much harm in doing this - there would be plenty of people on the beach around you - they couldn't try anything. And besides, you didn't even get those vibes from them. That wasn't what made you uneasy. It was the thought of spending a day at the beach with such attractive guys that made the tips of your ears turn pink and your heart rate increase. You just prayed you wouldn't say or do something utterly embarrassing.

Jamie drove into the public beach parking behind their car, parking a few spaces away from them. Exiting the car, you and her first made your way to the bathrooms to change. This beach was well maintained, a stone walkway lead to them and then continued on and up to a wide bridge that arched over the barrier dunes and then down onto the sand. Palm trees provided shade, which was made good use of as it seemed wherever a tree cast a shadow there was a cool bench to sit.

Locking yourself into a stall in the women's bathroom, you undressed and then pulled on your brand new swimsuit. Thankfully, despite not being able to try it on in the store, it fit extremely well. The gingham pattern, pale blue color, and small ruffles on the waistband and straps made you conclude this was the cutest bikini you'd ever seen. Exiting the stall, you briefly peered into the mirror above the sinks to pull your hair into two low pigtails.

Turning back around, you found Jamie standing there in her new suit, smiling at you.

"Ready y/n?" She asked.

You took a breath before replying. "Yep."

Arm in arm, you walked out to meet the boys, who'd already changed and were standing there waiting, beach bags in hand. Johnny got excited as he spotted you both and practically ran towards beach, Mark trying to keep up with him. Jaehyun looked unbothered as he stayed behind to walk at a normal pace with you. By the time you'd crossed over the sand dunes and strolled onto the beach, Mark and Johnny had already found a good place a little ways away to set up. They'd brought two large towels, big enough for multiple people to sit on, and had spread them out over the sand.

Jaehyun sat down on one, then patted the ground next to him, motioning for you to sit next to him. After a few seconds of contemplation you complied, folding your legs to the side as you still kept a couple feet of distance from him. Jamie sat down with Johnny and Mark on the other towel.

For the next hour or so, the five of you talked about various topics in an effort to learn more about each other. Gradually, you loosened up as you got used to their company. Johnny and Mark were college friends of Jaehyun's, who'd came into town a few days before you to visit him where he now lived on the coast. Funnily enough, the two boys were staying in the same hotel as you and Jamie while they did so - it was the closest to Jaehyun's apartment.

Noon came and went, and the air continued to heat up around you until it was unbearable. You looked out at the ocean water longingly, but didn't want to leave by yourself, and the others seemed to be having such a great time...

Glancing over at you, Jaehyun made a suggestion. "Who's up for the water?"

Despite your assumptions, the agreement was unanimous. As one, you all rose and ran towards the rolling sea, chasing each other. Diving into the waves, you ran out until the water was up to your waist. Johnny swam out farther than any of you, while Jamie and Mark stayed in slightly shallower water.

You heard the sound of someone sloshing around in the water directly behind you. Spinning around, you were met with his chest - his white shirt was now wet and you could see some of the muscles through it - as your eyes widened and you looked up into Jae's eyes. He smiled down at your face, less than a foot away, dimples on full display.

"Hi." He said in a way that made your heart melt. Then: "Feel better?"

"Y- yeah, it was really hot before." Your words betrayed your body - being in the water wasn't cooling you off at all anymore.

You stood there for a few awkward moments in silence, not knowing what to say.

"Um-" You began.

"Woah y/n look out!" He cut you off, sudden panic on his face as he closed the small distance between the two of you.

Suddenly, a large wave crashed into your back. It pushed you straight into the only thing that would keep you standing - his body. Instinctively, you gripped onto his shirt tightly so you didn't fall, tugging it towards you. He didn't hesitate to wrap his strong arms around your waist to steady you. Only after the wave had passed did you realize what you'd done, quickly releasing the fabric from your hands. But he didn't let go.

"Are you okay?" He asked, worry in his tone.

You nodded, heart pounding loudly in your ears. However, you were shaking slightly.

He began leading you back towards the shore, not convinced. Stumbling onto the hot sand, he guided you back to the towels, sitting you down once you got there. Getting a smaller towel, he wrapped it around you so you could dry off, then he sat down next to you.

You looked at him, embarrassed. "You can go back if you want, I'll be fine here."

"No, I'm good." He leaned back a bit. "I'm not much of a swimmer anyways."

He then lifted his arm and ran his fingers through his damp hair, brushing it back off his forehead. You gulped, incredibly bothered by the motion.

He looked at you with a slight smirk. "Thirsty?"

"Yeah." You replied.

Smirk widening, he handed you an unopened water bottle. You drank, trying desperately to calm down.

Jamie ran up to you, Mark following close behind. "Y/n are you okay?" She asked, confused and concerned. "What happened?"

You explained without including the details that made you blush when you thought of them. She sat on the towel next to you, deciding not to go back out. Mark followed suit and shortly after Johnny joined you again when he realized everyone was out of the water.

After a bit, you began to get hungry and got up to try and find some food. Luckily, there was a food truck nearby with some cheap lunch. Returning to the towels, you ate in relative silence as the sun moved slowly west overhead. The rest of the afternoon was spent walking, playing with a frisbee, and sunbathing. You noticed Jaehyun seemed to be keeping you within a few feet of him the entire time, never leaving you alone or with the others. Even when you went back out with Jamie into the shallow water, he followed - even though he tried to appear like he wasn't.

.•°•. ♡ .•°•. ♡ .•°•. ♡ .•°•.

Once the sun went down, everything was packed up and taken back to the cars. You threw back on your shorts from earlier before heading to a nearby bar, open to the sea and cool night air. It was already crowded with many tourists, and once you entered you quickly lost sight of the others, later catching a glimpse of Jamie talking to Johnny off to the side with a drink in hand.

Seeing the bar, you made your way over to it by yourself and sat on one of the barstools. You beckoned the bartender over to order your drink.

"What can I get for you?" She asked, polishing a glass.

"A margarita please." you answered.

She then looked at the seat next to you. "And you sir?"

"A margarita for me too, thanks." A familiar voice answered.

You turned around in your seat to face Jaehyun, blinking at him.

He smiled and nodded in greeting, those adorable dimples reappearing on the corners of his mouth. Feeling your face heat up, you quickly turned to look at the bartender as she made your identical drinks.

You cleared your throat a little. "So... you like margaritas too?"

He chuckled softly at your attempt to break the awkwardness. "Truthfully, I've never tried one. Thought tonight was good first time."

You could feel his eyes on you, boring into your soul in an attempt to get your attention. When you couldn't take it any longer and tilted your head to look at him, his eyes immediately met yours. A slight smirk spread across his lips.

When your drinks were served, he was the first to take a sip, eyes not leaving you for a millisecond. You drank and shifted in your seat, fully aware of how he was checking you out as his eyes began to roam. You wondered if maybe you should've put on a shirt over your bikini top to cover yourself better. But that thought was quickly dismissed as a new one took its place. You liked it - the way his attention was focused on no one but you. There were plenty of other hot girls there that night, but he paid them no mind.

The hours drifted by as those around you melted away and it felt like you and Jae were the only two in the entire world. The music and voices of patrons were only a buzz in the distant background as you focused on his soft words. You found you enjoyed each others company - he made you comfortable with the idea of spending as much time in it as possible.

When the clock struck ten, you could feel the beginnings of fatigue creeping into your mind. An incoming text made his phone buzz. He checked it, relaying the message to you after briefly lifting up his eyebrows in surprise.

"Your friend's heading back to the hotel with Johnny and Mark, she's driving them there."

"Oh!" You replied in surprise, glancing around the bar but finding them already gone. You knew what was probably going to happen to Jamie, but you didn't voice it.

He looked at you for about a minute before speaking again, slowly. "Do you.. wanna come to my place?"

You met his eyes again, heart and mind racing at his invitation. The implications of his question didn't slip by you, they were fully realized. Still, it didn't take you long to make up your mind - in fact, you'd already made it before he'd asked.

"Yes." You replied.

He smiled wide and grabbed your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. You quickly slid off your barstool and exited the bar, making for the car. You giggled as he pulled you along. The moon shone down on you from high overhead, lighting the way. Once reaching the car, he opened the passenger door for you and you hopped inside as he then closed it and rounded the car to his seat. Getting in, he started the car and drove out onto the road towards his apartment.

Your mind raced as you made the silent drive to his apartment, listening to the low sounds of the radio coming through the speakers. It only took a few minutes before he was parking, getting out, and coming around to help you out of the car. Grasping your hand tightly again, he lead you into the building. The lobby of his apartment had only dim lights on at this time to illuminate the room. No one was around. Jaehyun took a left after guiding you through the main doors.

"This way." He practically whispered, taking you into the elevator.

He hit the three and the doors closed, leaving you alone in the small space with him for a few moments. He didn't waste any time in turning you around to face him, closing the gap between you. Locking his lips with yours in a heated first kiss, he backed you up into the elevator wall, driving you up it slightly with his strong arms. You instinctively wrapped your limbs around his body to steady yourself and kissed him back. You could taste both him and the drink he'd had at the bar - the mixture was heavenly.

A ding signified your arrival at his floor, forcing you to part. Thankfully for the both of you, his door wasn't too far away. Pulling you down the hall quickly, Jae stopped at his door and took out his keys, fumbling with them for a few seconds as he tried to rush. When the door was unlocked, he pushed it open, letting you both walk through before harshly closing it again.

For the few seconds it took for him to throw the keys on a small table next to the door you glanced around the dark apartment. Through a cracked door to your left you could make out a bathroom. A small kitchen stretched across most of the right wall from the door, a long bar separating it from the rest of the room. In this main room was both his living area and bedroom. His bed was pushed up against the farthest wall, which was taken up entirely by two giant windows. The moonlight shone through them, illuminating a balcony on the other side that looked out into the night and the street below, where palm trees waved back and forth in a light breeze.

The sudden grip of his large hand on your waist from behind made you jump. He spun you around, and gave you that soul piercing stare that made all your self-control fade away. You leaned in this time, seeing a smirk spread across his face right before you closed your eyes. As soon as your lips brushed against his again, he picked up were you'd left off, kissing you relentlessly and leaving you breathless. Slowly, he backed you up further into the apartment until the backs of your legs bumped up against the edge of the bed as you struggled to bring air to your lungs.

He lifted you just enough to clear the mattress and sit you down on top of it. Climbing onto it himself, he gently laid you down onto the sheets underneath him. He kept himself up with his knees, one on each side of you as he started to move his plush lips down to your neck. He proceeded to mark you, painting several dark spots onto your skin that would surely be there the next day.

"Ah, Jae." You moaned out for the first time, when the tenseness that had been building between your legs became too much to stay silent.

He paused. "What is it princess?"

"I need..." You began, heating up at the petname.

"Yes?" He asked patiently, waiting for your commanding words. He smiled down at you, raising a hand to your cheek to stroke it soothingly.

"You." You finished, meeting his gaze. "I need you."

He smiled wider. "Sure thing."

Removing his hand from your face, he moved it down to the waistband of your shorts. Unbuttoning them with both hands, he slipped them off and down your ankles with ease. Placing his strong hand on your upper thigh, he spread it away from the other and began moving his fingers closer to your heat. Shivering at his touch, you sunk deeper into the bedsheets. He let his fingertips get to the edge of your bikini bottoms, but stopped there, teasing you.

"Hey-" You breathed, scolding him when you realized what he was doing.

He looked down at you, hair messily splayed around your head as your chest rose and fell beneath him. Your skin was beginning to glisten with perspiration, your eyelashes fluttering slightly every time you blinked your half-closed eyes. "Hm?"

You took a moment to respond. "Touch me Jae."

He smiled a dark smile as he brushed your bikini bottoms to the side. The first touch of his fingertips against your slick clit had you lifting your hips up off the bed, curses falling from your lips. He forced them back down, pinning you to the bed with his body. He quickly resumed his actions, running his fingers back and forth over your folds as you moaned at the pleasure. He then suddenly inserted a finger into your dripping core.

"Ah-" You gasped in surprise as he continued, using his thumb to trace circles across your clit. It was all too much for you to handle. He watched as you gradually lost control beneath him, writhing about in pleasure. The dangerous combination of things he was doing to you quickly brought your first high like a rising wave that crashed into the beach before it.

You didn't have time to warn him before your walls clamped down on his finger and your juices spilled out onto his hand, sheets, and down your legs. He let you ride out your orgasm and calm all the way down before removing his finger and sitting up, licking every last bit of you from his fingers. You peered down the bed at him, watching in fascination as he lapped it up like a man starved.

"Shit, you taste good." He complimented, making your face feel flushed.

When his hand was clean, he bent down and stuck his head between your legs. A second later, you felt the flick of his tongue on your inner thigh. He left a trail of wet kisses up it, making his way back up to your heat. Without warning, you felt his lips brush against your folds as he proceeded to use his tongue to clean you up as best he could. His hot breath against your pussy made you squirm and draw your legs up closer to your chest. Once satisfied he sat up again, licking the last of you from his lips.

He then repositioned himself above you. Removing his swim trunks, his hard member sprung free and stood erect, precum trickling from its pink tip. Slipping a couple of fingers into the waistband of your bikini bottoms, he pulled then down your legs, leaving them with your shorts at your ankles. Lining up with your entrance, he held himself up with his strong arms, caging you in. You looked up at him, his faded purple hair messy across his face. He gave you a reassuring smile - dimples and all - before pushing into you with ease and rolling his hips down onto yours. Matching the pace he set, you pulled his face back down to yours to kiss him again, softer this time. He complied, kissing you deeper and slower as he pushed further into you with each thrust.

When he bottomed out, he speed up the movement of his hips, gripping yours to bring them closer to his. The lewd sounds of sex filled the apartment, combined with both of your increasingly loud moans.

"Jae." You moaned out, breaking your kisses. You felt the tenseness building in your abdomen again.

He groaned as you felt him twitch inside you. "Fuck, you sound so hot saying my name like that."

He then hit your g-spot with the tip of his cock, pushing you over the edge. You came undone all at once, flexing your walls around him, gasping for air. Seconds later, hot strings of his cum shot through you, spilling out onto the bed along with your own. Riding out your orgasms simultaneously, your heavy breathing gradually quieted until he pulled out and sat up on the bed beside you. Watching him slide off the edge and stand up, your eyes followed him as he made his way to the bathroom entrance, ducking in for a second and returning with a towel.

Climbing back onto the bed, he leaned over you and gently cleaned you up with the towel, being extra careful around your sore clit. When most of it was wiped up, he discarded the towel onto the floor and laid down next to you. You rolled onto your side to look at him in the moonlight.

His skin had a visible sheen to it and his hair was a fucking mess - it stuck partially to his damp skin. But that only made his perfectly sculpted features more beautiful. You felt him wrap his arm around your naked waist, holding you to his body. Brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face, he spoke for the first time in minutes.

"Let's do this again tomorrow."

In your fucked out state, you couldn't respond with much else than an excited nod as you snuggled up to him. He gently kissed your swollen lips, happy.

Brushing your nose with his, he whispered: "Night y/n."

You replied by kissing him back, closing your eyes, and drifting off to sleep in his arms.

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queenshelby · 3 years

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A NEW WORLD – PART NINE

A QUIET PLACE 2 FANFIC

Pairing: Emmett x Fem!Reader

Warning: Angst, Gore, Death, Murder, Attempted Rape, Aliens, Violence, Movie Spoilers, SMUT, etc…

DAY 764

‘Say Good Morning Mumma’ Emmett said holding up Charlotte as you came walking out of the bedroom.

‘I didn’t hear your get up. Why didn’t you wake me?’ you asked as you were still not used to Charlotte sleeping in a different room to you ever since Emmett cleared out the study room and put up a toddler bed for Charlotte.

‘I thought that you could use some extra sleep’ Emmett said as he took one of the wooden blocks away from Charlotte. You were up with Charlotte for two nights as she was teething and last night you finally managed to sleep five hours straight.

‘Not in your mouth, remember?’ Emmett said and Charlotte pouted at him, trying to get the wooden block back with her tiny little hand.

‘I asked Jeremy to pick up some children’s paracetamol and a teething toy on his run to the mainland today. Also, one of the women on the island found a baby monitor packed away in her garage. I will try and get it to work today. You might feel a bit less anxious about Charlotte being in another room if you can hear her through the monitor’ Emmett suggested as he handed you a cup of instant coffee.

‘Thank you’ you said with a warm smile and some guilt. You still haven’t told Emmett that he is Charlotte’s father. Yet, you could see an instant connection between them.

Emmett has never asked about Charlotte’s father and you never told him much about her and her birth. It was more that you could handle at the time especially since you thought that he was in a relationship with Nancy.

‘How come you and Nancy don’t share house?’ you eventually asked as you were making breakfast.

‘It’s complicated Y/N’ Emmett said, causing you to raise an eyebrow at him.

‘So, you aren’t in love with each other? Is that it?’ you asked curiously.

‘I don’t have feelings for her if this is what you mean. In fact, I believe that love in a world like this is a dangerous thing. It’s not worth it’ he said before putting his empty bowl into the sink and excusing himself.

It was obvious to you that he didn’t really want to discuss his relationship with Nancy.

***

Later that day you were invited to Nancy’s house to play cards and have some wine.

Reagan had kindly offered to babysit Charlotte that evening as Lucas and Marcus were out in the woods for the night, hunting animals for the community to eat alongside Emmett’s friend Morgan.

You had the feeling that there was something between Morgan and Evelyn, but didn’t dare to question it.

***

‘This is so strange’ you said as you took five cards from the deck and a glass of wine from the ones Nancy had poured and placed in the middle of the table.

‘Being here, on the island, you mean?’ Nancy asked and you nodded. You still struggled with the idea of being safe, of not being hungry and of having access to clean water simply to have a shower. The strangest of it all was that Charlotte’s father was with you now after you had expected to never see him again.

‘I think you just need to accept the fact that God chose you to be here. To keep you safe. It’s that simple’ Nancy said and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

‘I am sorry Nancy but I find it hard to believe after all the shit that has happened to me and my family and friends. I had to kill people to get here. I put a knife in the head of a close friend so that she would no longer suffer when she fell ill while we were at the bunker. I was almost raped by two men when Emmett saved me. Was all of this God’s plan for me?’ you sighed as you had lost faith many years ago.

‘Let’s not talk about faith, shall we’ Evelyn said and you all nodded in agreement quite quickly. After all, faith and believe had become a difficult topic and some people struggled more with it than others since the invasion.

‘Where is Emmett tonight?’ Adrian, one of the others, asked and Nancy rolled her eyes in response.

‘Who knows. He said that he needed space. He’s been acting strange ever since he got back from the mainland and my best guess is that he’s down by the old beach shag. That’s where he usually goes when he wants to be alone’ Nancy sighed somewhat disappointed. Clearly, Emmett has not let her into who he was and to who had become.

‘Hmm I wonder why that is?’ Evelyn said as she sipped on her glass of white wine while looking over at you with a smile.

You were surprised by the look Evelyn gave you. Did she know about you and Emmett you wondered?

***

After two games of cards, you helped Evelyn to take the empty wine bottles back to the kitchen in order to get some refills for everyone.

‘You need to tell him Y/N’ Evelyn said calmly as she started opening two more bottles of wine.

‘What do you mean?’ you whispered, looking at Evelyn with wide open eyes.

‘That Charlotte is his daughter’ she then went on to say.

‘How do you know?’ you whispered in a panic. You never had this conversation with her.

‘Lucas told me Charlotte’s birthday and he also told me that she came four weeks early and he had to help deliver her. Apparently, he is still a little freaked out about seeing his sister’s vagina’ she laughed before continuing on. ‘Emmett told me about you six months ago, about the night you spent together and how he could never tell Nora who the woman was he had been with that night. He still feels guilty about it all’ Evelyn whispered.

‘I remember when he called me the day after, telling me that what happened between us was nothing more than a mistake. But of course, he feels guilty towards Nora after all the crap she put him through that year’ you sighed, remembering how bad their relationship had become before the night in question.

‘No Y/N’ Evelyn said as she put one of her hands onto your shoulder. ‘The guilt he feels is towards you, for pushing you away the way he did after the night he had spent with you. He loved you. He probably still does’ Evelyn whispered with a smile.

‘He’s got a funny way of showing it. He had more than a month to say something to me before these things invaded our planet’ you huffed.

‘The morning after you had spent the night with Emmett, Nora called him from the hospital near her sister’s house. She was diagnosed with cancer that day. Her prognosis was good at the time but she never got the treatment she needed following the invasion. He chose his family Y/N. He had to’ Evelyn said with both of her hands on your shoulders.

‘I had no idea’ you said as your chin dropped and small tears began to form in the inside of your eyes. Emmett had never given an explanation to you as to why he acted the way he did and you immediately felt awful about what him and Nora must have been through.

‘I know. That’s why I am telling you now. You need to forgive him for what happened between you and let him be a father to Charlotte’ Evelyn said and you nodded in agreement.

There was nothing to say and, as soon as you returned to Nancy’s living room, you excused yourself.

You explained to the group that Charlotte was teething and that you were tired and wanted to get some rest. But the truth was that you had to see Emmett and clear things up once and for all.

***

As you arrived at the top of the hill which led down to the beach and the old beach shag, you could see Emmett sit on a large towel in front of a small fire place, starring at the sea.

Quietly and slowly, you made your way down the hill in between the bushes and approached Emmett from behind.

‘You scared the shit out of me Y/N’ Emmett said just after he startled as you tapped him on the shoulder.

‘I am sorry’ you smiled before kneeling down next to him.

‘What are you doing here?’ Emmett asked and, without words, you caressed his face with one of your hands and drew his lips closer towards yours.

‘This’ you whispered before your lips met in a passionate kiss.

‘Y/N, I am so sorry for…’ Emmett tried to say as your lips finally drifted apart.

‘Sshh. I know’ you said before pressing your lips back onto his one more time, even more desperate and passionate than before.

‘I love you’ you whispered after you had silenced him with your lips and, just as they parted again, he told you that he loves you too.

‘Didn’t you say that love in a world like this is a dangerous thing?’ you asked in between kisses and while your hands began to roam over each other’s bodies.

‘It is and I am afraid of it, but sometimes you can’t help it. I have loved you for years Y/N’ Emmett said, his deep blue eyes gazing into yours.

‘Oh Emmett’ you sighed, before you climbed onto his lap and pressed your lips against his again.

Your lips parted slightly, allowing his tongue to enter your mouth and start dancing with yours all while he began to unbutton your blouse.

‘We are on a public beach Emmett’ you giggled as his eyes wandered over your breasts which clearly had gotten larger.

‘No one ever comes down here’ Emmett assured you before guiding you off him and pushing you onto the towel beneath him, covering the sand.

After taking off his own t-shirt, Emmett rubbed both his hands along your thighs up towards the hem of your skirt. Then he moved his hands underneath your skirt and then back down towards your knees. As his hands made another pass over your legs and under your skirt, he reached all the way to the top of your thighs and his fingers felt around for your panties. Not finding any, he looked up at you and raised his eyebrows in a playful manner.

‘Shortage of underwear on the island’ you answered his unasked question with a little smirk and a flirtatious look in your eyes.

Emmett then started exploring you with his fingers. Finding you wet and aroused, he pressed one of his fingers easily into your opening and then slid it back out and rubbed it along your pussy lips and towards your clit. He repeated this process over and over again and you let out a soft moan every time his fingers made this journey along your body. Your eyes met and you bit your lip as he continued fingering you.

‘Oh my god, that feels so good’ you whispered to him and he smiled back at you.

You certainly didn't want him to stop, but you also wanted more.

After a few more minutes of this pleasure, you pulled him on top of you and your bodies were pressed up together. You could feel Emmett's hardness straining through his jeans against your thighs and you could help but moan at the sensation.

He then pulled your mouth to his in a passionate embrace. Your breaths were shallow as your kiss deepened, his mouth practically enveloping yours.

It wasn’t long until Emmett reached between you and unzipped his jeans before pulling them down along with his briefs.

‘Fuck I want you so badly’ you whispered as you pushed up your skirt and spread your legs widely, allowing Emmett to line himself up with your soaking entrance.

‘Fuck Y/N’ Emmett moaned as he thrusted his rock-hard cock into your very wet, swollen, and ready, opening.

You let out a long, low moan as he entered you. His cock felt so good inside you; like two puzzle pieces fitting together. You squeezed your muscles on him in response, sending a shiver of intensity through your body. With your left legs wrapped around him, he was pushing deep into you. With every hard and fast thrust, you would yell out, not afraid of making your noises heard on this darkened and empty beach. As he pounded into you, your hands slid, scratched and grabbed all over his body, along his back, onto his shoulders, and then down to his ass. You gripped his tight ass cheeks and pushed him in tighter on each thrust.

‘Don’t come inside me’ you barely managed to say and Emmett simply nodded as he kept thrusting into you deeply.

With all the thrusting, you eventually arched your back, changing the angle of his entry, and now his cock was hitting your very sensitive g-spot.

Your moans now turned to loud "fucks" and "oh gods" and you were soon pretty close to an explosive orgasm. Knowing that you were close to climax, Emmett sped up his thrusts which sent your over the edge.

‘Oh god, oh god, oh god...Emmett…fuck’ you moaned as a powerful orgasm rippled through your body and Emmett’s palm quickly came down on your mouth.

‘Shh’ he smirked as your pelvic muscles contracted and pulsed, tightening around his cock and then released. Spasm like shivers moved up to your shoulders and through your body and you let out a very long, satisfied exhalation.

‘Holy Fuck’ you said to Emmett, with an exasperated laugh in your voice once he finally removed his hand from your mouth.

He smiled back at you, then scooped his arms up under your back and lifted you to sit facing him. Still catching your breath, your mouths came together for a kiss, but you simply exchanged warm breaths into each other's mouths before your lips met.

As your body calmed from the orgasm, you brought your hand down to his cock. He was wet and sticky from your fluids, so you leaned down, bringing your lips to his cock, tasting yourself on him and began sliding your tongue all along his shaft, adding the lubrication of your saliva to him.

Your tongue made broad strokes along the underside of his cock and then tickled the tip and then back down again, adding more and more moisture to his cock with every lick. Now slippery with your moisture, you brought your hand to his cock and began moving it up and down, giving your mouth a break. As you squeezed your fingers and twisted your wrist on his cock, he brought his fingers back to play with your pussy. Still highly sensitive from the orgasm you had just experienced, you gasped at his initial touch and your muscles involuntarily squeezed and clenched.

He inserted his pointer and middle fingers into your wet opening, then dragged them out and up along your lips to your sensitive clit. You let out a loud groan as he did this, while your hand continued its work on his cock. Slowly, he continued moving his fingers along your wetness, along your lips and then he started finger fucking you, slowly at first and then faster and with more intensity. You matched his intensity with your hand on his cock. Faster and deeper he plunged into your warm tunnel, and faster and tighter you moved on his manhood. He took in a deep inhalation and let out a gasp and you knew he was close to release. His fingers were now rapidly pounding into you and you were moving your hand faster than ever on his cock.

‘I am close’ Emmett moaned, barely managing to speak and you quickly dropped your head down onto his swollen cock and he let out a loud, guttural exhalation as his warm and sweet cum released into your mouth.

‘Hmm’ you moaned out, squeezing his cock with your lips and sliding them up and down as he pulsed out more semen into your mouth. Once he was complete, she licked your tongue on his cock, before removing your mouth and swallowing.

You had never really enjoyed sucking off a cock and swallowing cum before, but with Emmett it was different and you were somewhat truly delighted in satisfying Emmett this way.

You sat up and looked at Emmett. His head was leaned back, his eyes closed, and a look of complete pleasure on his face.

‘Fuck…this was something else’ he whispered to you, followed by a deep sigh and a little contented laugh.

You smiled in return as he fluttered his eyes open.

It wasn’t long until your lips met again and, just as you heard some noises in the bushes besides you, Emmett quickly pulled up his pants while you buttoned up the blouse which never left your body.

Then, Emmett quickly put his t-shirt back on and, to your relief, two rabbits jumped out of the bushes making you both laugh and fall back against the towel which was barely covering the sand from the beach.

‘Emmett?’ you said as you rested your head on his chest while your eyes were gazing into the fire.

‘Hmm’ he said as he was holding you tight.

‘There is something I need to tell you’ you murmured.

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nikethestatue · 3 years

Text

La Dolce Vita

Summary: Elain Archeron and Azriel - in love, in lust, in Italy

Modern AU *slight TOG crossover. If you read my stuff, you know it’s LONG

Warnings: bad language and THIS IS NSFW (not kidding, this is a story, not just sex, but there is a LOT of explicit material here. You can still read the story, but if you are sensitive or underage, skip the naughty bits)

Comments are always appreciated/wanted/needed. Anon or not, just do it! Obviously, reblogs are appreciated.

Part I (Flowers)

La Vie En Rose

De l'homme auquel j'appartiens (Of the man to whom I belong) Quand il me prend dans ses bras Il me parle l'a tout bas (He speaks to me softly) Je vois la vie en rose (And I see life in pink) Il me dit des mots d'amour (He speaks words of love to me) Des mots de tous les jours (They are every day words) Et ça m' fait quelque chose (And they do something to me) Il est entré dans mon coeur (He has entered into my heart) Une part de bonheur (A bit of happiness) Dont je connais la cause (That I know the cause of) C'est lui pour moi (It's only him for me) Moi pour lui dans la vie (And me for him, for life)

Now

Riding in a Ferrari, being enveloped in its supple, buttery leather, gulping in the cypress and cedar-scented air of Tuscany was everything that Elain Archeron had ever wanted. She never knew that this is what she wanted, because riding in very fast, very expensive, sleek Italian cars wasn’t on her ‘fantasy radar’, but now that she was in one, she suddenly came to the realization that this was perhaps one of the best experiences of her life.

The whole thing, so far, has been the best experience of her life.

Well…maybe not the best-best.

Her happiness was deeply intertwined with and caused by the man in the driver seat of the said Ferrari—Azriel. Azriel Archeron, as he loved calling himself. Even if this wasn’t his last name, he preferred using it over his family name, for a variety of personal reasons. There was nothing better, more sublime, more beautiful and more loving than Azriel. The perfect male specimen, if she could say so herself. No one would argue with her assessment either.

Elain

They were introduced by her sister’s then-boyfriend Cass, who was giving her a lift one afternoon, and then suggested that they stop by Azriel’s car atelier, because he needed to pick something up.

Elain’s heard of the mysterious Azriel from her sisters, both of whom had claimed that he was the most handsome man that either one of them had ever seen. Elain chuckled at the exuberant praise, doubting its truthfulness. There was no such thing as the ‘most handsome’ man. Beauty was in the eyes of the beholder.

She wasn’t sure what a car atelier was, and when Cassian pulled up to a modern-looking building, she said that she’d stay in the car and wait.

“Come on, petal, don’t be shy,” Cassian urged her, holding the car door open for her in a way that indicated that she’d have to get out and follow him.

They entered the foyer, a vast space with racing stripes painted on the polished cement floor, and a sea of model cars dropping from the ceiling. Behind a wall of glass, Elain spied a row of gorgeous cars, none of which were familiar to her. Some unique European models, fit for James Bond’s consumption. There were also neat antique cars, probably from the 50s. She immediately had visions of Grace Kelly and Cary Grant riding in one of these along the Riviera coast.

“What’s this place?” she inquired, looking around at the mid-century modern building that resembled a spaceship.

“This is Az’s baby,” Cass explained vaguely. “Conceived, conceptualized, restored, outfitted—all by the brilliant mind of one Azriel Bagarat.”

“Are you bragging?”

A deep, sensual voice, that could only be called ‘midnight’ sounded behind them, and Cassian’s handsome, tanned face broke in a mischievous smile. “Only about you, brother!”

When Elain turned around, her breath was knocked out from her lungs.

She didn’t know that it was possible, to be actually stunned by someone’s beauty, but there she stood, gaping, feeling the world slow and move in a different manner for a few moments.

Standing at a towering 6”4 or so, the man was at least as tall as Cassian, and Cassian was the tallest man Elain’d ever met. She was just as muscular, but not as bulky. Clad in all black, from expensive, well-tailored Diesel jeans, to a soft t-shirt that stretched over his sharply cut torso, emphasizing the thick muscles of his arms and shoulders, and the narrow waist, true to her sisters’ word, this Azriel was simply exquisite.

Cassian draped his heavy arm around her shoulders and nudged her forward, just a bit, and said,

“Petal, say hello! This is my brother, Azriel. Az, this is my soon-to-be-sister-in-law, the one and only Elain Archeron.”

At the words ‘sister-in-law’ Elain whipped her head to Cassian, who grinned maniacally at her, nodding and answering her silent question.

“When? What are you talking about?” she exclaimed, Azriel momentarily forgotten. “What do you mean? You’ve only been seeing each other for like three months?!?”

“Baby girl, I don’t need three years to decide…Nes is Nes and she is the one for me.”

He shrugged with his usual ease, acting like they were discussing the weather or a good burger that he just ate.

“If Nes hears even a whiff of this, I will know it’s you, petal, and well, I am not sure what I will do,” he decided upon reflection, but then pleaded, “please, don’t tell her. This one,” he nodded towards Azriel, who was standing still, green eyes peeled to Elain, “I can trust. He hardly ever talks,”

“That’s because you talk for all of us,” noted Azriel with a smirk.

Elain chuckled, and turned back to face him.

He extended his hand to her, with an odd, tentative movement, and when she looked down, she saw old, mottled scars that covered his palm and part of his wrist and forearm. A vintage Patek Phillipe on his wrist.

“Beautiful,” she murmured, and he gave her a surprised look, unsure of what she was referring to.

“It’s always a pleasure to meet another Archeron sister,” he said with a soft smile, which made Elain lose her ability to speak for a good few moments, because she was finally able to take in that face that defied description. The sharp cheekbones and the mesmerizing amber and emerald eyes, almond-shaped and slanted hinted at a varied heritage, and unfairly, the man also possessed a perfect nose, and a full, sensuous mouth. He was the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome, with skin of burnished bronze, which was so in contrast to his bright eyes and raven-black hair, cut in a fashionable undercut. The physique, as she already noted, quickly skimming over the body, matched the face.

“Yes, me too,” she said stupidly.

Graceful, like a courtier, he offered her his arm and said,

“Would you like me to show you around?”

She didn’t want to be impolite, though she suddenly felt sweaty and nervous, and completely out of her league. But she threaded her hand through his arm and lightly squeezed the firm, alarmingly thick bicep.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

She wasn’t sure what she was thinking him for, so she added, “yes, I’d love to see it.”

“Why haven’t we met?” he inquired, those green eyes watching her with such intensity that she felt almost undressed, bared under the gaze. It wasn’t unpleasant, because it wasn’t lascivious, and he didn’t strike her as someone who’d be disrespectful to women.

“I’ve been busy for the past half a year,” she explained.

“Doing what?”

They walked down the wide passage, past all the cars, which Azriel pointed out with a wave of his scarred hand, and dropped names like Pagani, BMW I8, Bugatti Divo, Bugatti Centodieci, Lamborghini Veneto, Koenigsegg CCXR Trevita and so forth. Elain might not have known a ton about cars, but she was not so unaware not to know that a Bugatti and a Lambo were expensive cars.

Cassian fell behind, gawking at the display.

“I was opening my own business,” Elain said, her head thrown back, looking at an entire toy racetrack mounted to the ceiling, with cars zooming by, and somehow, not falling on patrons’ heads.

“What sort of business?”

“Flowers,” she said absently, once they reached another space—a two story-restaurant, bar, and a patio outside as well.

“Flowers?”

“Oh, a flower shop,” she explained at last. Then muttered, awed, “this is really incredible!”

“A car enthusiast?” he smirked.

She didn’t know how it happened, but somehow, her hand migrated from the crook of his arm to his hand, and now, they walked along the walls lined with Ferrari posters, memorabilia and expensive everything. Walking and holding hands.

“I wouldn’t call myself one,” she admitted, “but I find cars aesthetically pleasing…Never got to ride in anything fancier than a Mercedes or a Lexus,”

“Well, we should remedy that at once!” he decided easily and then said, “pick you up on Friday at seven?”

That sobered her up a bit and she turned to face him. They stopped at the long, chrome-lined bar, and he said, “An espresso?”

“Um,”

But before she could respond, he was behind the counter, playing with a very fancy coffee machine that required a PhD to operate with all the levers and hooks and buttons, and in a few minutes, he poured her a tiny cup of coffee, thick with natural foam, and heady with its enticing scent.

He chugged his own in one go and she followed him, gulping her espresso in two sips. It was better than anything she’d ever drunk in her life.

“Like a date?” she finally asked, truly confused by the offer.

“Would you like it to be a date?” he leaned on the bar, biceps flexing, his arms covered in tattoo sleeves that reached all the way to his fingers. They were quite beautiful, the tattoos, the placement and the design, and Elain recognized the style, since Cassian and Rhysand wore the same kinds of tattoos, if not so extensive.

“Did you draw these?” she asked bluntly, touching her finger to a thick snaking black line, which was shaded with cobalt.

He looked down, at her hand and his arm and nodded, following her finger with his eyes.

“I did. For the three of us. When we made Navy Seals,”

“You are a Seal, too?” she exclaimed.

He smiled and nodded, “Well, we all grew up in foster care—not all, Cass and I,”

“I heard,”

“Until Rhys’s parents adopted us. But we weren’t the…best of boys,” he chortled, “so to get our heads straight, we were sent to the Navy after school. We figured we’d only stay a bit, but we stayed for a while.”

“So, you are retired?”

“We are vets,”

“How old are you?” she blurted. Then blushed and said, “I am sorry. I am usually not so impolite,”

He laughed, “I figured. But that’s alright. I’ll tell you on Friday, though. If you don’t mind?”

“I mean, I don’t mind,” she murmured, her eyes dropping to her espresso cup, “but,”

“How about this—I take you on a drive in one of these fancy cars—and then you can brag to everyone that you’d driven in a,”

He paused and rubbed his chin,

“Any preference?”

“For what?”

“What car you’d like to go in?”

“I don’t know,”

“Throw something at me,” he urged, eyes glinting with feral delight.

Elain, blush deepening, finally said, “Do you have a Ferrari? I’ve always wanted to drive in a Ferrari.”

“Ahhh, a Ferrarista at heart!” he nodded with approval, folding his arms on his chest, “stick with the classic and the best. And yes, gorgeous, I do have a Ferrari or two.”

Gorgeous.

Azriel

The girl who’d arrived with Cassian, was not Nesta, but there was something vaguely familiar about her. The girl who’d arrived with Cassian was the most gorgeous creature that Azriel had ever seen. Gorgeous and completely unaware.

Women like her, if they were smart and cunning and ambitious, used their beauty for all things good and terrible. But this exquisite creature that Cassian was so blatantly hugging and teasing wasn’t one of those women. Azriel was all too familiar with the types—the maneaters, who hounded him like sharks. He was wealthy, and good-looking, and a decent person, if not exactly a saint. He hobnobbed with celebrities who came to order his cars, which he designed and outfitted based on their specifications and desires.

He was finnicky when it came to taste though. No matter how much rappers asked him to clad their Maybach in gold or some vapid Gucci print, no matter how many heiresses pouted and asked for a bubblegum or Barbie-pink Ferraris, he did not betray the essence and soul of the vehicle. Modify, define, sharpen, stylize—he did it all with precision and skill which was unparalleled. But Azriel Bagarat was known for rejecting even the juiciest of offers, if the request did not coincide with his aesthetic or the history of the car.

He was at his shop—that’s what he called it, though atelier sounded infinitely better and more expensive—that afternoon, knowing that Cassian was going to drop by and select a car for his grandiose proposal to Nesta. There was some concern that Cassian would not fit his 6”5 form into an Aston Martin or a Bentley, so they needed to make sure that the car was appropriate for the occasion and the occupant. Cass insisted on a British vehicle, feeling that Nesta would like something classic and timeless. So be it.

What Azriel did not expect to see that Tuesday afternoon was a girl--because he hesitated to call her a ‘woman’, since she looked so lovely and perfect and innocent--who took his breath away.

His breath had been taken away only once before, by Rhys’s cousin, who strolled like a ray of sunshine into their broken lives.

However, Morrigan chose Cassian. And then Cassian promptly impregnated her, causing a great discontent and strife between everyone. Morrigan, or rather Morgana d’Adda, though she anglicized her name, even if Morrigan d’Adda sounded funny, was just about disavowed by her family for tumbling, and being so stupid and blind as to get knocked up by a hulking nobody mulatto, as her father Keir called Cassian. Rather, sneered, at Cassian.

Even if Azriel didn’t impregnate anybody, he somehow got looped into the family bullshit and once he and Cassian turned 18, they were both shipped off to the navy. To the dismay of the entire Darling clan, Rhys followed them, tossing away his guaranteed admittance to Brown. An Ivy League school for rich stupid heirs. Only Rhys wasn’t stupid. Neither was Cassian a hulking nobody mulatto. And Azriel wasn’t just the ‘fucking weird kid, who might be a serial killer’. They served and they passed the insane Navy Seal training, and they proved themselves.

Nowadays, Cassian now ran security for the Darling conglomerate, while Rhys took over the reins when his father was killed in a car accident. Azriel found his own path, though the association with the Darling name certainly helped his exposure and in building relationships and meeting all the right people. And meeting all the women. The three brothers had gone through their share of wild times, but in the past 3 years, things began to calm down for them.

It began with Rhys meeting Feyre Archeron at an art gallery, where she was exhibiting some of her pieces. Azriel had tugged along with Rhys to see the exhibit, because Rhys was looking for some art for his new office, and he trusted Azriel’s taste and knowledge, and wanted a second pair of eyes.

Rhys followed Feyre like a dog throughout the evening—Azriel was there to witness the pathetic display—and then they ended up at a bar, doing shots and feeding Feyre virgin Cosmos, since she wasn’t even 21 yet. They went to some dance club, Azriel playing the third-wheel and ‘chaperone’, though by the end of the night, Rhys and Feyre disappeared together and weren’t heard from for the next three days.

… “What if he killed her?” proposed Cassian for 100th time, pacing back and forth, running his fingers through his long black hair. “Or what if she killed him?”

“I thought that I was the serial killer among the three of us,” drawled Azriel, sprawled on a sofa, watching a game. He wasn’t as concerned, having seen Rhys dripping with intense lust at the sight of the brown-haired teen. It was unusual, since at that time Rhys was almost 25, and Feyre only 19, and the three of them typically tried to avoid teenagers like the plague. But Rhysand Darling seemed genuinely enthralled.

“No, you are the guy with the sex dungeon,” corrected Cassian.

Azriel rolled his eyes, “serial killer with a sex dungeon, huh? Sounds like an interesting story. Alas, much as I’d like to, I don’t have a sex dungeon.”

“Aren’t you building one? In that new garage of yours?” Cassian shrugged.

“Only cars. No sex toys,” sighed Azriel, looking like that might have been an omission on his part.

“Gents, I think I am in love!” the door burst open and a wild-eyed Rhys appeared, his normally pristine hair in disarray, his cheeks flushed, wearing only a white t-shirt and jeans.

“Where the fuck were you for three days?” growled Cassian, showing considerable relief at the sight of his brother.

“Falling in love,” crooned Rhys, falling into a chair, a stupid, dazed look on his face.

“You look like Audrey Hepburn in ‘Sabrina’,” noted Azriel.

“I feel like Audrey Hepburn!” exclaimed Rhys. “She is perfect. Feyre is perfect.”

What the fuck? Mouthed Cassian in confusion.

“Feyre Darling,” whispered Rhys with delight, eyes closed, tasting the sound of the name on his tongue. “Feyre Archeron Darling. Or Feyre Darling Archeron?”

“You alright there, buddy?” Cassian frowned. “A little early to be talking last names?”

“She’ll be my wife,” announced Rhysand with his usually unwavering confidence.

And that was that.

Now, the ‘society wedding of the year’ was coming up in three months. Rhysand Darling and Feyre Archeron, the toast of the town, the power couple, the young and beautiful billionaires.

Now, Azriel stood in front of the most stunning female he’d ever seen and for once, he felt like Rhys. His brain turned into a soupy mess, and he found himself tongue-tied and concentrating was suddenly difficult. He wanted to be a gracious host and a confident, formidable man, who had a reputation to uphold—though he wasn’t sure if Elain was aware of his reputation—but inside, he was a mess. All his insecurities, doubts and self-hate rose to the surface at once, and he hesitated to extend his hand in greeting to her. His mangled, horrible, revolting hand, which was sullied beyond its extensive scars. A hand that killed, and touched way too women, some of whom he probably shouldn’t have been touching at all.

“Beautiful,” she murmured softly, that gorgeous blush spreading over her rose-petal cheeks.

He was so taken aback by the comment, he was nearly flabbergasted when she didn’t pull away, didn’t frown or grimace in disgust, didn’t display any of the usual signs of revulsion that most women did when they saw his hands. Perhaps it was the Patek Phillipe, he tried to convince himself, but deep down he knew—she called his scars ‘beautiful’.

And then she took his arm, her hand strong, surprisingly calloused, if light, and small.

And from that moment on, Azriel became obsessed with that touch.

His body heated and as he led her to the bar, and showed her around his pride and joy, watching for the subtle reactions, for the gleam of wonder and appreciation in her eyes, he couldn’t release…wouldn’t release her hand from his. She asked questions, took in all the memorabilia and gawked at the cars, and then the guest area, and finally, when he sat her down at the bar and made her a coffee, he stepped closer. Trying not to scare her, or seem obnoxious, he couldn’t help invading her personal space, and stood next to her, pretending to take interest in his drink, while hoping that her arm would brush against his own. Skin to skin.

She didn’t pull away. Didn’t shy away.

He didn’t expect himself to ask her on what amounted to a date, because he wasn’t even sure how dates worked. His usual ammo consisted of a brief introduction, an even quicker seduction and then a hook up. That’s how he liked it. He preferred no-strings-attached approach to his involvement with women, and it’s been working rather well for him. He never had to sleep with anyone in the same bed, he never had to make anyone breakfast, there was no room for idle chitchat, and usually no second or third dates. It was so easy.

This fucking girl, with her caramel-brown eyes, her golden-amber curls, her soft lips and that damn blush on her cheeks—she was driving him veritably insane with her unique mix of immaculate beauty and a friendly, almost naïve, strangely innocent disposition. And he wanted to go on a date with her. Without an ulterior motive, because at it stood right now, he didn’t care to even get her in bed. That would come later. He was absolutely determined to have this happen later. But…later.

Cassian

“Alrighty, I think I am going with the Bentley,” Cassian sidled to the bar, and interrupted.

If Azriel was annoyed, he didn’t show it.

Cassian spied them at last, making his way through the cavernous entrails of the garage, with all its gleaming cars, the beautiful patrons who were discussing options with no-less beautiful sales people, and even on-premises tattoo shop, which specialized in Azriel’s sketches and catered to those who didn’t have money to actually outfit their Bugatti to their heart’s desire, but could at least claim that they got a Bagarat tattoo inked on their skin.

Elain and Azriel were standing side by side, somehow melding together nicely, her pretty dress and high-heeled sandals and piles of loose hair in drastic contrast with Azriel’s all-black ensemble, his massive height and the span of his shoulders. But she did not balk from him. Cassian also noticed that she didn’t react to the scars, which Azriel was very self-conscious about, and seemed genuinely interested in the garage.

It was inevitable that the two would eventually meet, especially with the wedding coming up and all the wedding related brouhaha. However, Cassian wanted to have the dibs on gloating down the line, and reminding the two of them, forever, about how it was he who introduced them. Yes, Azriel fucked a lot of models and rich girls, for whom he, strangely, was a riff on a ‘bit of rough’, while being hardly ‘rough’ at all. Azriel was elegant and possessed excellent taste in everything, and he probably had the best manners out of the lot of them. But the tattoos, the cars, the aura of brooding mystery about him, and his generally quiet ways were like honey to the throngs of women who lusted after him.

About Azriel, Cassian had no doubts.

Cassian knew Azriel probably better than anyone alive, and even that wasn’t saying much, but he was very aware of Azriel’s ‘secret type’ of woman. Basically, it was Elain. Everything about Elain Azriel would like—of that Cassian was certain. Elain was the elusive ‘ideal woman’ of whom Azriel dreamt, but never actually pursued. Slightly unconventional, soft, kind, generous—lovely, would be a good word—Elain was everything that Azriel never had with any other women.

Cassian could already see the hunger and flicker of completely besotted adoration in Azriel’s normally cold eyes.

He was less certain about Elain, having never seen her with a boyfriend. When he had asked Nesta about Elain’s situation, Nesta shrugged and said that Elain was beautiful, but naïve, dreamy and rarely dated.

“A Bentley it is then,” Azriel turned around, though his elbow still touched Elain’s arm. “You’ll fit, big boy?”

Elain giggled.

“I am not Rowan,” Cassian muttered. “I am human sized.”

“Only just.”

“You are the same height,” Cassian reminded him coolly.

“I am a little more human-shaped too.”

Cassian rolled his eyes and said, “Come on, petal. While I love to stand here and listen to his insults, we gotta go.”

Elain’s face dropped into a sad frown only for a second, but she recovered immediately. Cassian noticed it, nevertheless. His petal of a girl didn’t want to leave his brother’s side.

“Bye Azriel,” she said, taking his hand in hers again, of her own volition, and squeezing it lightly. “It was very nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he said. His fingers wrapped over her palm, and he said, “I’ll walk you two out.”

So, his brooding brother didn’t want to release the newfound petal of a girl.

How interesting.

Once they were in Cassian’s Jeep, Elain looked out the window, a dreamy look on her face.

“Oh-oh,” Cassian chuckled, as he navigated the narrow NYC streets.

“What?”

“I know that look,” he winked.

“What look?” she frowned.

“The ‘oh gods, Azriel is so handsome!’ look. Oh, he is so gorgeous look. Oh, he is so sexy look.”

“He is handsome,” she agreed blandly, knowing that arguing would be silly.

“I hope that you gave him your number,” he said. “Because if you didn’t, I will.”

“It’s none of your business,” she crossed her arms on her chest, and Cass howled loudly.

“You are welcome, by the way,”

“You are ridiculous,” she muttered. “I don’t know how Nesta tolerates you!”

“Oh, Nes tolerates me and then some,” and winked again.

Now

“My love, slow down a bit,” Elain requested, as the road zigzagged among rows of cypresses.

“I thought that you wanted to make it to Florence before traffic hit?” Azriel squeezed her fingers and brought her hand to his lips.

“Seeing that we are already running late, we might as well enjoy the drive,” she shrugged.

A honey-coloured strand of her hair fell out from under the gauzy wrap that she wore around her head a-la Grace Kelley.

“Good.”

“Good what?” she turned her face to him and knocked him out all over again. By the Mother she was superb in every way, and she was his. He couldn’t believe his absurd luck. Things like these didn’t happen to him. Elain was not meant to be his. Yet, here she was, his lovely gentle girl, who loved him with incomprehensible passion and devotion. His.

The hefty, borderline outlandish ring on her finger was proof of that.

He’d worked hard on that ring, designing it himself, wanting to incorporate everything that he loved about her and about the two of them into the design. The result was this stunner that glittered madly in the Italian sun, sitting on her manicured finger, the skin of her arm kissed by a golden tan.

His beautiful girl loved flowers, and she loved him, so her ring, in its platinum setting was a remarkable rose, reflecting Elain’s green thumb and life’s work. He selected the diamond himself, and the amethysts that comprised the petals, even the tiny onyx inserts, to signify him and the black ink of his tattoos. The ring was both extravagant—especially in carats—but intimate as well, a flower that spoke of his eternal love for this woman.

“I am going to take you somewhere, which I think you’d like,” he teased.

“Where?”

“How does lots of flowers sound?”

She smiled.

Azriel

For gods’ sake, he was nervous. Azriel was not prone to nervousness or panic or discomfort, but this date, or whatever it was, filled him with dread.

He shouldn’t have asked her.

He was stupid and blinded by her beauty, by her deliciously voluptuous body, by the long, slender legs, by her shy, sweet smile. Those blushes. For the love of everything, those fine, adorable, sexy blushes.

She was part of the family network—both of his brothers were now in love with her sisters. It was cliché and unrealistic and unbelievable that she and he would end up in the same boat. Besides, he wasn’t so lucky as to have someone like her accept him. So, he was making a huge fucking mistake. If this was all going to go sour—which inevitably it would, of that he had no doubt—he’d mess up the delicate balance that existed between the Darling, Bagarat and Cavalhe brothers and the Archeron sisters. She’d reject him and then it would be awkward. Awkward for the upcoming wedding, in which he and Elain were supposed to couple up and be together in the wedding party. Rhys said, ‘fuck it’ and asked both him and Cassian to be best men, while Feyre had both of her sisters as maids-on-honour. There was no escaping it. Therefore, it would be awkward for the wedding, and then for Christmas and all the summer BBQs and pool parties and…well, he might just have to find excuses to never attend anything, ever.

But here he was, standing in front of an old-fashioned, cute corner storefront in the Village. Flower displays spilled on the sidewalk, and the windows, along with the marble edifice reminded him of Paris. This was exactly how he’d picture Elain’ store—slightly whimsical, elegant, classic, but modern. Au Nom de la Rose – The Name of the Rose—perfectly appropriate for Elain’s store name.

She wasn’t waiting for him outside, and he circled the block three times before, by some miracle, finding a parking space and leaving the silver Ferrari, and then made his way back to the store, arriving 4 minutes late, which was completely unacceptable. The store was technically closed at this hour, but he knocked and heard Elain’s voice telling him to come in. Some internal pressure inside of him released at the sound of her voice.

He entered and whistled,

“That’s a lot of flowers!”

Yep, definitely a glamourized 50’s Paris vibe.

“Azriel, I am so sorry, I am not ready,” Elain came from behind the counter, looking a bit frazzled.

“It’s alright I will wait,” he assured her, but she shook her head and said,

“No…I just received a huge order. An emergency order for an anniversary party. Azriel, it’s my biggest order ever!”

“That’s excellent!” he found himself feeling genuinely happy for her, if not for her concerned expression. “What’s up?”

“I…I,” she stumbled. “Feyre or Nesta would usually come and help out if I need them, but Feyre is in LA, and Nesta…” she swallowed, “Nesta is indisposed.”

Nes is on her period and is feeling like crap, read Cassian’s text from earlier today. I am going fishing. Care to join? Or are you busy romancing a certain Archeron sister?

Nesta was indisposed indeed, though Azriel didn’t feel like he needed to know the details.

“It’s a 25th Anniversary, and I have to make 25 bouquets and 15 centerpieces. The couple’s original florist fell through and they contacted me, in a panic, and I agreed,” she babbled, tugging on her long braid nervously. “And it’s for tomorrow,”

“Alright then,” he shrugged, “what’s the problem then? I am here.”

She looked up at him, her gaze both hopeful and confused.

“You? What are you going to do? I am sorry, Azriel, I am so sorry, we’d have to postpone,”

“We’d have to postpone our drive, but I am here. Use me.”

“Use you?”

“Use my body,” he chuckled, and she giggled an amused laugh.

“I appreciate the offer,” and when he thought that she’d continue rejecting his offer of help, she did the right thing and was a smart girl, nodding at last, and said, “will you truly help?”

“I am not a flower expert,”

“I wouldn’t have guessed,” she grinned.

He removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and said, “Teach me, Archeron. I am an apt pupil.”

He was. Elain showed him model bouquets and thankfully, he wasn’t dumb or clumsy enough to screw them up, once he began copying the originals.

Night fell, and they ordered pizza and he went to get a bottle of wine from the store across the street.

Sitting on the floor of the store, surrounded by piles of flowers, vases, ribbons and twine, they ate pizza, laughing throughout the evening. She stretched her long, bare legs in front of her, crossing them at the ankles, and he couldn’t get enough—the pretty toes, the pale golden skin and the sexy pink nail polish. He didn’t want to seem like a creep, but he snuck more than a few glances at her feet when she wasn’t looking.

It was well past midnight when they were finally done.

He stretched on the floor and tucked his arm behind his head.

She kneeled above him, at his side, and said, “Azriel, thank you. I can’t, honestly, thank you enough. You saved me. Maybe my business too!”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he retorted gently, “but this was fun…and educational.”

“How can I repay you?” she asked.

“Well, well,” he drummed his fingers on the floor, pretending to think. “So many possibilities,”

At that, she flushed, and he licked his lips, loving the sight of that pink on her cheeks.

“Let’s make a bargain,” he proposed at last.

“A bargain?” her brow furrowed.

He nodded.

“For my exceptional assistance during your time of trouble and despair, you will agree to an outing with me, of my choosing. To do whatever I want.”

Elain stared at him, biting her plump lower lip.

“Are we going to do something bad?” she finally asked uncertainly.

He grinned and without thinking, cupped her cheek.

She didn’t recoil.

He drew his thumb over her soft skin and she leaned into his palm just a little bit. Gods it felt good. So good. So good to have her so near, so receptive, so unafraid. But he dropped his hand.

“You think I will take you to knock off a couple of 7-11s?”

“Well, if I am entering this death bargain with you, then who the hell knows?” she shrugged.

He laughed, “Death bargain? A little dramatic, are we?”

She was still sitting there, biting her lip, and all he wanted to do was drag his tongue over it. Kiss her large, brown eyes. Fist his hand around the thick mass of her hair, tilt her head and kiss her until she was breathless.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He never acted like this!

He never thought like this.

He was a rational, controlled, some said, cold man.

Not to say that he wasn’t able to find a woman immediately attractive, or want to fuck her, but this was different. This was unknown.

“Fine,” she shrugged.

“Fine?” he repeated, smiling.

“Don’t make me do anything bad,” she warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” he promised. “I wouldn’t lead you astray. But,” he sat up, draping his forearms over his knees, “where do you live? Let me take you home,”

“I can take an Uber,”

He gave her an incredulous look and she nodded without further arguments.

“Where do you live?” he asked, once they were outside, somehow internally thrilled that perhaps, she’d invite him inside. He wouldn’t expect anything, obviously, but it would be nice see where she lived, what her private space looked like. So far, he couldn’t pinpoint her style with any accuracy, an interesting mixture of vintage and modern, of flowers and thorns.

“Just two blocks down,” she said, as she locked up the shop.

He gave her his arm, and it seemed like she almost expected it, because she immediately thrust her hand into the loop and he smiled softly.

The little white shorts and the flowery top did things to him, and he was glad to walk side by side, so to prevent himself from staring at her long legs and her neat, lush ass. He was already a mess over her legs, over her bending and squatting in front of him for the past four-five hours.

It was dark and quiet on the street, and they walked in a comfortable silence, each thinking of something of their own.

And then,

Elain sprawled face down on the pavement.

She cried out, landing on her knees on the asphalt, just barely having the time to brace herself on her hand, and ripping the skin of her palm.

Azriel was instantly on his knees in front of her.

Tears glistened in her eyes. Possibly from pain, because as she flipped on her butt, they saw that her knees were torn and bleeding, as was her palm, or maybe from shock, as well as embarrassment.

“Shhh,” he cooed gently to her, “are you okay?”

She shook her head. A lonely tear spilled from her eyes.

“Tissues?” he asked quickly, surveying the damage. Bruises were already blossoming on her scuffed kneecaps, all around the wounds.

She wordlessly handed him her bag, allowing him to rummage through it and he found a packet of old tissues, which he gingerly pressed to her bleeding knees.

“My ankle hurts,” she muttered, reaching down to inspect it.

“Let me,” he took her legs and looked over her ankle. She glared questioningly at him, still in some sort of stupor, not understanding what had occurred, and why she was now sitting on the ground, bleeding.

“You broke your heel,” he nodded to her foot and she glanced down, finally realizing that her heel caught in a crack in the pavement. The impact was so strong, it actually fully detached from the sole of the shoe.

“I am sorry,” she mumbled.

“You should be,” he chuckled, “you gave me quite a scare. I thought you were shot; you went down so quickly!”

She pushed at his arm, half laughing, and have crying.

“Stop making me laugh!” she ordered, sniffling and giggling. “Auuu, it hurts...”

He was lightly pressing on her ankle, and then said, “it’s just twisted. You’ll need ice, but it should be okay…”

“Ok, Doctor Azriel,” she even rolled her eyes slightly and he laughed, flicking her nose.

“I am trained on how to treat combat wounds and catastrophic field injuries, I’ll have you know,” he said and then gave her his hand. “On your feet, soldier! Let me see if you can stand.”

Moaning and groaning, she managed to stand up, but putting any weight on her foot caused a yelp to escape her lips.

“Alright, come on now,” he stepped and opened his arms, “jump in.”

“Jump in where?”

“Jump into my arms, of course.”

“What are you planning to do? Swing me around?”

“I could swing you around, but I was planning on carrying you home, and then making you an ice pack and disinfecting all your cuts.”

Without waiting for her to decide, he scooped her off the ground and she gasped, and he wasn’t sure what the little huff meant.

“But it’s like two blocks!” she protested feebly, and unconvincingly, “I am heavy.”

“Ooohhh,” he groaned dramatically, hefting her to his chest, as they started off. “Sooo, so heavy!”

“I am the fattest of my sisters,” she argued, and even in the darkness he saw that she was blushing realizing how silly her comment was.

“Well, considering that Nesta is like 90 lbs. and Feyre 110 lbs., that’s not saying much,” he assured her.

She was soft and warm in his arms, and when, without prompting, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him, he felt utterly at peace. Because the pieces of them fit. She fit him.

Blood still dripping, and her arms thrown over his neck, Azriel walked steadily, cradling her to his chest, until they finally reached a pre-War building, and she said, “There is no elevator.”

“Don’t tell me you are on the 6th floor!” he laughed, looking up.

“The third.”

“Guess I will have to haul the fattest of the Archeron sisters to the 3rd floor!” he sighed, and she smacked his arm, protesting,

“You can’t say that!”

He was laughing and she began to laugh as well.

“You said it first,” he reminded her.

Her apartment was small, but she’d arranged the furniture in such a way that everything seemed more spacious, and orderly, without unnecessary frills. Mostly grays, turquoise, cobalt and creamy-white. For some reason, he thought that there would be much more pink and general fluff. This though, this he liked.

He sat her down on the sofa and went to the bathroom to find bandages and plasters and other items. She called out from her spot, telling him where to find things and he finally emerged and began working on all her wounds.

“Haven’t lost a soldier yet,” he told her with a chuckle. He kneeled in front of her, and his touch was firm, but surprisingly gentle, as he thoroughly washed every scuff and tear, and then disinfected and decided what needed bandages and what didn’t.

Elain remained mostly silent throughout the procedure, watching him from under her lashes.

“You are nice,” she said suddenly.

He looked at her and smirked.

“Not with anyone.”

“Everyone just says how handsome you are,” she lay her head on the back cushion, watching him. He gave her a painkiller, and it was making her drowsy. It was also late. She rarely stayed up this late. “But you are also very nice,” she added.

Elain

She woke up that morning, and was struck by the unfamiliar environment. And pain.

Her knees ached and screamed and hurt, as did her palm.

Light poured through the windows; the curtains still open.

She found herself on her sofa, haphazardly covered by a throw, and with her legs resting on Azriel’s lap.

Fuck.

He was here. With her.

He never left after last night’s debacle.

She was a clumsy cow, as always, but the incident was unusually embarrassing, even for her. She always spilled or dropped stuff on herself, tripped, stumbled, and fell on her ass at inopportune times, but last night…By the Mother!

The man was gosh darn saint. Not only did she screw up their evening plans, made him work and make bouquets with her, which, probably wasn’t the most exciting thing for him to spend the evening on, but she also almost ate the pavement, and then he carried her for half a mile! And cared for her when they came here. And spent, what must have been a horribly uncomfortable night in a half-seated position, with her, no doubt, pushing at him with her feet.

Yep, she was never going to see him again.

Good going, Elain. Fine job you did of this ‘relationship’. Now, for the rest of her life, she’d be forced to see him at family gatherings, probably with some stunning model of a wife, and he’d always remember her as the girl who tore her heel on the pavement.

She wanted to cry.

Not that she ever, even for a second, believed that this would go anywhere. Her and Azriel. That wasn’t possible. Things like these didn’t happen to her. She was strange and solitary and even if others claimed that she was pretty, going so far as to call her ‘beautiful’, she never felt like that. When Nesta got mad at her, she’d call her a ‘petty idiot’ and Elain felt like that more frequently than she cared to admit. And Azriel…he was cut from a different cloth. He was…

She looked at his face, still perfect, but ever so slightly relaxed and softened in sleep, his eyelids heavy and enviably long, thick lashes fanned over his golden-brown cheeks. He was funny, with a quick, dry sense of humour, intelligent and interesting, and when they talked last night, she couldn’t get enough! He told her fascinating stories from his time in the Navy, about his dream, which resulted in the creation of his beloved garage. It took him three years to open the place—conceptualize what he wanted, how to deliver it, the items to showcase. The result was not just the ‘garage’, but also the popular bar, and recently, a restaurant as well.

Scarred fingers touched her hand and he opened his eyes.

“Good morning,” he whispered, squinting at her. “How are you? How’s the pain?”

“Azriel,” she murmured, not even knowing how to thank him, but she attempted, “I want to,”

“Pancakes?” he asked eagerly.

She glanced at him with incomprehension.

“May I make you, or us, pancakes?” he proposed. “I’ve been sort of thinking about this all night. How I’d like to make you pancakes,”

“I want to thank,”

He lifted his finger and shook his head,

“No, no. My Italian mother would tell you that you should never thank anyone for providing medical help,”

“Why?”

“According to my psychotically superstitious Italian side of the family, the remedy or healing won’t take, if you offer thanks. Imagine, I was forbidden from ever saying ‘thank you’ to a doctor,”

She chuckled.

“So, you are Italian?”

“Mom’s side is half Neapolitan and half from Lazio—near Rome.”

He sat up and rolled his neck.

“Can I at least say that I am sorry that you had to be so uncomfortable and sleep on the couch?” she asked.

“It’s alright. Not the best night I’ve ever had, but not the worst one either. The company was nice too,” and he patted her legs.

A tiny flare of hope lit in her belly.

But she didn’t allow herself to have it take root.

Maybe not until he gathered her legs together on his lap and drew his fingers up and down her calf.

“But really, how is the pain?” he asked at last, watching her with his intense, warm eyes. The eyes didn’t warm frequently, it seemed, but when they looked at her—

He was different somehow.

Kind. Approachable.

“It’s fine,” she waved her hand, not wanting to burden him any longer with her dumb injuries.

Those long, scarred fingers glided over her skin, and a small smirk touched his lips, “May I kiss it better?”

She blinked at him.

“I hear that I am very good at making pain go away,” he added proudly, and then, his lips descended on her scuffed and bruised knees. She kissed each one, tenderly, and then took her hand and brought it to his lips, and pressed his mouth to the inside of her palm. Her breath hitched and she stared at him, wide-eyed, as he watched her, unblinking, gaging every minute reaction. He kissed her hand, inside and then out, and then kissed the other, even though it wasn’t injured, and then returned to her knees and kissed them again.

At last, “Better?” he asked.

She only mooed incoherently.

…Azriel, by the stove, flipping pancakes was the sexiest thing Elain had ever seen in her life.

Clad in dark slacks, in his white shirt from last night, with sleeves rolled up and the tattoo sleeves on full display, he stood in her kitchen, barefoot and flipped pancakes like a pro.

“You cook too?” she asked incredulously.

He laughed.

“Too? In addition to what?”

“I don’t know,” she was still perched on the sofa, like an invalid, but after she washed her face and brushed her hair, he ordered her to sit and not make unnecessary moves. “Everything?”

“My repertoire is limited, when it comes to the kitchen, but what I know how to make, I make well. Cassian is a better cook.”

“Cass?” she smiled.

“Nesta is lucky to have him,” Azriel added, somewhat wistfully.

Elain looked at him and nodded. “I think so too.”

“He is a good man. Maybe the best man I’ve ever known. Where my own family failed, he stepped in, though he is a year younger than me. But he taught me…how to be. Accepted me. Unconditionally. Taught me how to swim, how to ride a bike, how to fight.”

“And you?”

“I? I helped him with his reading,” Azriel rubbed his chin, his stance a little tense.

She didn’t say anything, waiting to see if he felt like sharing more.

“It was neglected,” he said at last. “His reading and writing. So, we sat together, late at night, at our foster parents’ house and read.”

He then asked, “coffee?”

The moment of reminiscing was over, and Elain did not press.

She nodded to one of the cupboards and he pulled out a tub of coffee and grimaced.

“This is what you drink?”

“Hey, it’s good coffee! I buy it at Trader Joe’s!” she laughed defensively.

“Baby, we are drinking Italian coffee in this house,” he decided, and there was no arguing with that logic.

That’s how Elain became Azriel’s ‘baby’.

In their house, they always drank Italian coffee.

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

“Thanks Nu,” Azriel greeted a lanky, very thin, very tall girl, who handed him two packages and then winked at him and disappeared wordlessly.

“My assistant, Nuala,” he explained, showing Elain two packages of Lavazza coffee. “This will do for now.”

Elain hobbled to the small butcher block island that she’d restored from a console that she found at a flea market. “You text someone and they just appear?”

He grinned and shrugged innocently.

“I know a guy.”

“Of course you do. Are you in the mafia?”

“First of all, rude,” he placed a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of her and then poured her coffee, “second of all, I just know a guy.”

“Who knows where to buy Lavazza on a Saturday morning?” she wondered, tucking into the pancakes.

“I have a network of spies,” he winked at her.

She sipped on the coffee, perhaps not as good a cup as he’d made her at his garage, but glorious nevertheless. “Are you in the CIA?”

“Not in the mafia or the CIA. Just a lowly car guy.”

“Uh-uh.”

They toasted with their coffee cups and Azriel said, “not bad for a first date. Blood and flowers. Very romantic.”

It was that morning, that sunny Saturday morning, over a plate of pancakes and some Italian coffee that Elain Archeron fell in love.

She fell in love completely.

Utterly.

Irreversibly.

And forever.

Now

Azriel turned off to some side road and how he knew where to go, Elain had no idea, but she just enjoyed the scents and warmth of the day.

“You know,” she laughed. “We are literally under the Tuscan sun right now!”

“All your dreams are coming true,” he ran a loving hand over her bare arm and she tore her gaze from the scenery around her.

“My dreams came true when I met you,” she confessed. “That was the day.”

“So easily impressed!” he teased, but she saw that her words touched something in him. His face softened with happiness.

“Az, slow down,” she whispered, an almost painful pull to kiss him spreading over her. “I want to kiss you.”

He looked at her, eyes hidden behind his Aviator shades, but slowed down and she leaned towards him and planted her mouth on his cheek.

“Lips,” she murmured with audible desperation.

“Baby, I don’t want to bust up this nice Ferrari,” he laughed. “And you, who is riding in it.”

Pouting, she ordered, “Then pull over so I can kiss you!”

He laughed louder, throwing his head back, his gorgeous tanned neck annoyingly desirable.

She wanted to bite his vein, lick the salty skin of his neck, and then sink her teeth into his shoulder. Elain was a biter. And a scratcher. Good thing that Azriel was a benevolent lover, who didn’t care if she left his body marked with her love, and didn’t mind the pain. In fact, he encouraged it.

His heavy brown hand lay on her knee, under the hem of her summer dress and he said,

“Why don’t I do something nice for you… then you can kiss me…”

“But I want to kiss you now,” she frowned playfully.

His hand slid a little higher, up her bare thigh, and he pressed his scarred palm into her thin, tender skin, rubbing slowly, indulgently. This was just as much for her as it was for him.

She threw her head into the back of the seat, eyes closed.

Until she yelped softly, when his wicked hand slipped higher and higher, pushing her dress up as well.

“Azriel Bagarat,” she murmured, “what am I going to do with you? And your love for public nudity and lovemaking…”

He shrugged oh so innocently and said, “firstly, it’s Archeron to you, and,”

“Not just yet,” she wiggled her ring-clad hand in front of him, “not until we got the paper and all, to make us official,”

They rolled their eyes at the same time and then laughed.

“And secondly, who can blame me?” he leaned and kissed her shoulder. “You are very hot. And I sort of want to fuck you all the time.”

His long, very experienced fingers made their way even higher, until he drew them along the cotton of her underwear, lightly pressing into the cleft, teasing ever so lightly. She shifted against the fingertips, her thighs falling apart in silent encouragement.

Elain was a giving and a receptive lover, innately knowing what he wanted and accommodating both of their needs thoughtfully, and easily.

“What do you want, baby?” he murmured.

“To kiss you,” she insisted stubbornly.

He huffed his amusement, and then pushed his finger deeper, firmer against the cotton, whispering,

“How about this?”

“This is nice, I suppose,”

“Only nice?” he withdrew his finger in warning and she grabbed his wrist, and thrust it back in place.

“Maybe a little better than ‘nice’, huh?” he teased.

“A little,” she agreed, gasping when he cupped her fully, swiping his heel of his palm against the length of her folds, feeling the dampness against his skin. Bold, as he always was, he moved the strip of cotton to the side, and hiked up her dress ever higher, exposing her to his exploration.

He snuck a glance at her perfectly peachy, pink pussy, bare and succulent, like a ripe fruit dripping with its sweet juices.

He groaned and then hissed, “I am stopping, right now. I want you coming on my tongue in the next four minutes,”

“So confident, ombre?”

She took to calling him ombre or ‘shadow’, when, early in their relationship, he kept materializing in front of her out of nowhere, stepping out of the shadows. He laughed, but didn’t mind the endearment. What’s more, it became a private thing between the two of them—he’d call her ‘rose’ and she’d call him ‘ombre’. It wasn’t nauseatingly sugary sweet and could be used in public without making people gag. Unlike, for example, the Darlings, who, for whatever reason called each other ‘my darkness’. Or Cassian, who sometimes went with ‘schmoopie’, braving Nesta’s wrath.

Azriel laughed, while incessantly dragging his finger back and forth over the wet slit, without doing much else, and making her gasp and squirm.

“That I can make you come on my tongue in 4 minutes? Fuck yeah! Want me to prove it?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” she shook her head, “you don’t get to just do whatever the hell you want, when you want it. If I don’t get my kiss, you don’t get to,”

“What? Lick your pussy? I feel like the punishment is unreasonable,” he protested.

She gave him a sultry look, a look that only he was privy to, and then murmured, spreading her legs a little wider for him,

“Maybe I want to lick something of yours?” she proposed, her voice husky, pouring like honey over his ear.

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” he choked out, finally parting the soft cushions of her folds and dragging his knuckles over the wet spread of her. The intoxicating scent of her arousal, mixed with the Italian sunshine and the smell of grass, flowers and cypresses was so heady, he almost swerved, stopping only quick enough to grip the steering wheel tightly in his left hand.

Gods, if he was going to make it to their next destination, he would be impressed with himself. But it was close.

Azriel

Elain loved getting fingered. That was the first thing he learned about her sexually—kissing and fingering.

In the privacy of their world, he fingered her constantly.

It was almost an obligation on his part by now, to have her wake up, tucked into his side, while gently, but thoroughly pumping her soft, indescribably tight center. No matter how many times he’d been inside of her, she remained tight, as tight as the first time. That was a blessing, but a curse as well, for all he could typically think about throughout the day, was sinking into that glorious tightness.

When she was finally semi-awake, she rolled on her back and spread her legs in front of him, so he could finger her in earnest. Two fingers first, nice and deep inside of her, as he knelt in front of her and watched her come undone before him. And then, there was always a moment when her eyes flew open, and her back arched, and he slipped the third one in. The plush, warm walls of her sex stretched and pulled to accommodate him, but he went slow and deep, only grazing the sensitive spot in her, making her moan low and begging, the pressure of his hand steady and firm.

She cried and cried into the pillow, head thrown back in utter extasy, her hair a tangled halo about her. She wasn’t permitted to move her hips, his only order in that early-morning game of theirs, therefore she was wholly dependent on him for her pleasure. If she ever did begin a sensual undulation of her hips around his hand, he’d allow her to continue for a few moments, aware that she was lost in her own pleasure, before cruelly yanking his hand out of her.

“Was my girl allowed to do that?” he’d ask simply, and amidst her disappointed panting, her pleading for more, her sweet, innocent “sorry. I am sorry,” she’d beg him to fill her again.

Then she’d lay still, eyes wide and pleading, her little opening vibrating at the loss, before he placed her feet on his shoulders and thrust in her anew. This time, his scarred, rough, brown, inked fingers disappeared in her completely. She buckled and let out a wild moan that reverberated from the very depth of her, because all four fingers were inside, and his thumb finally, finally began a gorgeously slow torment around her clit. She just lay there, tense and unmoving, watching him, the slurping, obscene sounds of his hand inside of her filling the sleepy morning air around them.

Elain came quietly. She moaned and twisted and gasped as he rubbed her clit, but when the waves finally descended upon her, when he felt the tight, silky flesh grip and pump all four of his fingers, which were now pressing up into her perfect spot, the exhale was soft and intimate. Only for him.

Now

“Don’t wreck the car,” Elain muttered, eyes barely open.

“Will this be the second one?” Azriel asked, while Elain wrapped her hand around his wrist and forcefully jammed his hand inside of her.

Four.

Four orgasms daily. That was his promise.

He’d provide her with at least four daily orgasms. So far, he typically exceeded expectations. It wasn’t particularly difficult, because he often played with her at odd times—when they were watching TV, he’d slip a finger onto her clitty and rub her slowly and leisurely, until she melted from the stimulation. She enjoyed it when he bent her over counters or sinks, and sunk his fingers deep and hard into her perpetually ready hole.

Elain, to his complete delight and fascination, was always just a bit aroused. Always, always just a bit wet, just a little damp for him. He’d make an unscheduled stop at her shop and if it was empty, he’d step behind the counter with her, and soon, she’d be splayed over the counter, his hand between her legs. Yes, they’ve been almost caught plenty of times, but Azriel had the ability to disappear into shadows as soon as he sensed someone coming. Sometimes, when someone would walk in the store, Azriel even pretended that he was a customer, buying flowers, watching her patiently, while she got his bouquet ready for him. Never mind that his hand might have been soaked with her slick, or that he smirked, watching her press her thighs together, while she wrapped the flowers, as she avoided eye contact with him, and handed him the bouquet which he’d inevitably bring home for her.

When he was around her, she jokingly complained that she was of constant need for him, and it was his very enviable and pleasant task to soothe the ache inside of her.

Azriel

Their friends, family, found their relationship perplexing. But Elain kept her sisters firmly at an arm’s length when it came to the discussion of their sex life. No matter how they tried to pry, she gently, but firmly rebuffed them. Nesta complained and said that they were too obsessed with each other. That Elain was too in love and that Azriel was too dependent on Elain’s love for this to be normal. Elain only shrugged and didn’t argue.

“It’s not normal!” seethed Nesta, watching Elain and Azriel wrapped around each other on the dance floor, Elain’s body shimmying and swaying around her, arms raised in the air, her hips swooshing to the beat, bumping into his pelvis.

“You think they are gonna do it right on the dancefloor?” Cassian contemplated quietly, not sure if this was outside the realm of possibilities.

“He would!” she spat and gulped down her Aperol spritz aggressively. “I am surprised he is not bending her over…more surprised she isn’t agreeing!”

“They never argue,” Cassian nodded.

“They never—never—argue. It’s not normal!”

The way Cassian saw it, as long as the two were happy, he had no right to judge.

Nesta was a hot pepper. Feyre, an apple—solid, tasty, dependable. Elain—whipped cream—a delicious topping over anything, but especially Azriel.

Nevertheless, the word got around.

One day, Azriel, Rowan and Cassian were sitting in Elain’s flower shop, toiling diligently over a huge order of flowers.

They wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not to each other, or their women, but they quite enjoyed hiding in that flower shop and arranging flowers. They claimed that they were doing it for Elain’s sake, to help her out, so she didn’t have to hire additional help just yet, but,

Well, they liked it.

At first, Elain wasn’t sure if Cassian was cut out for the task, because the very first try was a little rough.

“Cass, these are not your enemies that you are about to smite,” Elain instructed gently, prying his fingers from the stems of irises, which he was clutching like he was about to throw a lance.

“Pfff, you look like you are about to choke a chicken,” Nesta teased. And promptly realised her mistake, biting her lip.

Cassian cocked his brow and murmured seductively,

“What chicken am I choking, sweetheart? My own,”

“Oh no,” Elain stepped in between them, hands on her hips. “No. No. No. Absolutely not.”

“Lainey, don’t allow Cass to choke his chicken in front of us,” begged Azriel, working quickly and deftly, and soliciting an envious look from Cassian, whose flowers were in complete disarray, compared to Azriel’s neat piles and methodical assembly line.

“Yes, no one is choking chickens, penises or each other in here,” ordered Elain sternly, while Nesta and Azriel were laughing silently.

“Hehe,” smirked Cassian, “Elain said ‘penis’!”

“Take your dirty talk and deeds,”

Dirty deeds done dirt cheap, dirty deeds done dirt cheap

Cassian began rocking to his own singing, imitating the gravel of Brian Johnson’s voice rather successfully, headbanging over his babybreath, bluebells and irises.

Chicken choking forgotten for a moment.

As Cassian fussed over a vase, working on each stem and arranging them just so, wearing a little white apron no less, he asked casually, “So, brother, four?”

Azriel was in his own headspace, and he didn’t even hear Cassian, as he was busy with his own flower arrangement.

There was, expectedly, a competition going on—who’d complete the most arrangements in an hour. Rowan, a veritable giant, and Cassian’s best friend, also wore an apron, but a long one, like a butcher, and was significantly ahead of the pack. That bothered Azriel more than he cared to admit. So, he was re-strategizing his strategy.

“Four what?” Rowan inquired, not taking his eyes off the flowers, working like a machine.

“Ask Az here,” Cassian suggested. He was catching up to Azriel with an alarming speed.

Azriel had never lost, so far. He wasn’t going to lose today.

“Stop speaking in riddles. What are you talking about?”

“Word on the street is that our Az here provides the flower girl with a minimum of four orgasms on the daily,”

Azriel started and finally tore his eyes from the flowers.

Both Rowan and Cassian were watching him, smirking.

“I guess it’s true then,”

“Fuck off.”

“If that’s true,” Rowan drawled, “good for you, man. Though you are putting us to shame with this ridiculous offer of yours. How do you keep up?”

“Easily,” Azriel shrugged. “But it’s freaking me out that you two are talking about my sex life so casually.”

“But fucking four? Daily?” repeated Cassian, shaking his head.

“Yeah, Elain, man,” Rowan rubbed the back of his head, mussing his silver hair, “who would’ve thought?”

Cassian nodded, “No offense, brother, but Elain doesn’t strike anyone as particularly adventurous in the bedroom,”

“And that’s where you’d be wrong,” Azriel said simply.

“Very beautiful,” offered Rowan pacifically, “but…you know…Kind of like Elide, I guess. You wouldn’t know it, looking at her,”

Cassian was nodding. “Yeah, she looks like she eats macaroons and reads Jane Austen,”

“Macarons,” said Azriel.

“What?”

“It’s macaron. Not macaroon.”

“What the hell is the difference?”

“One is a French biscuit, made with almond flour and filled with a creamy filling. The other, is a coconut concoction that one usually eats at Passover.”

Rowan was chuckling. Cassian was shaking his head, grunting, “you would know. So, does she? Eat maca--,”

“No, she doesn’t even like macarons. And she doesn’t read Jane Austen. She reads espionage novels. She likes Daniel Silva. Any more stupid questions?”

Elide. Of course. He should’ve guessed.

Elain and Elide met through Rowan and it was friendship at first sight.

Azriel couldn’t argue—the two women were similar in many ways. Both were on a quiet side, polite, well-mannered. Elain—a ray of sunshine, tall, slender and curvaceous, smiling and affable, with piles of golden-brown locks and warm brown eyes. Elide—the opposite—small, pale, with perfectly straight, silky black hair and dark, midnight eyes. Both—crafty in the ways of the world, charming, when needed, capable of getting into everyone’s good graces, and therefore, getting what they wanted.

“No, no more stupid questions,” said Cassian. “Just don’t know how you two grumps attracted such lively girls,”

“Lorcan and I aren’t ‘grumps’. We just talk when we need to and don’t have the need for instant gratification or to be the center of attention. Something I can’t say about you,”

“It’s not about me,” Cassian protested, but Azriel stopped him, by raising his finger,

“Now, if you are not going to shut the fuck up about my woman and me, I will spread a rumour amongst your women, that it’s not four, but six. Daily. Let’s see how you measure up then.”

Silence fell.

Azriel won.

His 36th win.

Now

“Yes, the second,” Elain nodded with a satisfied smile.

Azriel

Naturally, today, he woke her up properly, as he always did.

They stayed in an adorable little villa, near Montepulciano. It was everything a Tuscan villa was supposed to be…

including the dust that settled in its 800-year-old walls. And Elain coughed and coughed and coughed, surprisingly not coughing up a lung.

“We can’t stay here,” Azriel said, frowning.

“Where are going to go? We are in the middle of Tuscany and it’s 10 pm,” she reminded him.

Ever resourceful, he dragged the mattress off the antique bed and plopped it down on the floor of their small balcony.

“We sleep here. Under the night Tuscan sky.”

It was a lovely, if chilly night, and Elain would’ve enjoyed it if she didn’t fall asleep almost immediately and slept through the night.

She was still asleep, when the birds began their morning song and Azriel positioned her on her hands and knees, and carefully removed her nightgown, baring her to the dry, cool morning air.

“Someone will see us,” she murmured sleepily.

She tucked her hands under her cheek, and followed the direction of Azriel’s hand on her hip, rising her butt high up, and arching her back for him.

Azriel loved having sex out in the open. Especially if she was completely naked. He wasn’t overt about it, but the thrill of being found out, the titillating desire to be watched was always present. She knew it. She indulged his fantasies.

“I don’t think anyone would mind watching you,” he whispered hotly in her ear and lightly bit the apple of her cheek. “But it’s also like 4:15 in the morning. So maybe they are still sleeping.”

He settled behind her and she felt his hands on her back, smoothing over the sharp cut of her tight waist and then the soft curve of her hips.

“Spread your legs for me, my love, I want to play with you a little bit,” he guided her, and she followed his direction, squatting inelegantly on her knees, thighs wide apart for him. He cupped her fully in his palm and then pinched her clit, hard, twisting it and rubbing it between his two fingers, until she bit her forearm, trying to stifle her cries of instant pleasure. He pinched again, then again, rubbing tightly, while he bit her buttock playfully, but hard enough to leave a pink mark.

“Mmmm,” she groaned, when he nibbled on her flesh again, tugging on the swollen clit with relentless dedication. She managed to twist enough to kiss his knee and whispered, eyes still closed, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, my beautiful girl,” he leaned forward and kissed her wet, stretched opening, dragging his tongue around and around the rim, “and you are so nice and wet for me in the morning. My good girl, what do you want?”

“Only you,” she vowed. “Only you, my Az.”

“Let’s fill your pretty little hole then,” he licked on it again, and then slid one strong, long finger inside. As he began to pump her slowly, he proposed, “When I fill you with my cock later on,”

“Uh oh,” she moaned dreamily, smiling a loving smile, enjoying his finger to the fullest.

“I think I’d like to add a finger or two as well. What do you think?”

“I’d like that, I think,” she complied easily.

Elain was not a particularly imaginative lover, but Azriel was the opposite—he had too much imagination when it came to everything. Especially Elain, and what he liked to do with her sexually. What was absolutely fantastic, and he thanked all the gods for this phenomenon, was that Elain was willing to try anything. She was an absolutely willing and eager lover, who learned from him and learned of her body with readiness and joy. He dominated her completely, but that was the nature of their relationship, and they easily fell into their roles, from the very beginning. She was submissive, loved praise, and loved being guided and told what to do. More than anything else, she loved pleasing him. There was never any pull and push, no competition, no power struggles. Elain was made for him, created and carved from something that was innately his, whether it was his body or his mind, and they lived and loved harmoniously. He complimented her perfectly: her temperament, her needs, her wants. He treated her with admiration, gentleness, adoration and respect, and while his own expectations were high, she met them all with ease. She took control when she needed to. Received what she wanted from him, however she needed to. And he gave and gave.

Some, or many, called them soulmates.

Perhaps that’s what they were. Or maybe, they were even more than that.

Azriel stretched his legs on either side of her curved body and then added another finger inside of her sopping, slippery opening, reaching deep into her and pumping her firmly.

“Auuuu, babe, it’s good…” she squealed, “it’s so good.”

Unable to wait any longer, he pulled her buttocks apart with his available hand and swept his tongue over the tiny opening, causing her to seize with surprise and pleasure. Instinctively, she moved her hips against his tongue, pushing her backside into his lips. He licked the little hole in earnest, dragging his tongue back and forth between both of her openings, making her tremble and shudder every time his tongue reached one or the other.

As he sat to the task of licking and sucking her tight hole, he thrust a third finger into her dripping passage, feeling her shift against his face to accommodate the stretch. It was a lot, and she whimpered and moaned from the pressure, but he knew that she could take four, though he wasn’t in a hurry, and worked her diligently and steadily, his tongue laving the other hole just as eagerly.

She was shaking between his legs, her toes curling beneath her, rapid pants escaping into the morning mists, her hair draping the tiled floor in front of her, even spilling through the balcony rails.

Somewhere they heard sheep bleating and Elain laughed softly, before arching her back even further, not caring how splayed she looked. There wasn’t a part of her that he hasn’t seen, hasn’t touched or licked or kissed, not an inch of her that wasn’t caressed by his rough hands, not an orifice that he hasn’t penetrated with his magnificent cock. He’d burrowed inside of her so deeply, so wholly, he possessed all of her and she knew what it’s like to truly be part of another person, to be loved with egregious passion.

He fed another finger inside of her and she cried out, trembling and grunting, as she grabbed and squeezed his foot with mighty strength.

He tore his lips away from her bottom and grinned,

“Love, when you are in labour with our baby, I am fully prepared for the fact that you will break my fingers, maybe even my hand.”

“I am sorry,” she laughed, and kissed his foot, dragging her tongue over his toes.

There wasn’t a part of him that she did not love, did not worship with everything she had. No part of his body remained un-kissed, un-touched, un-caressed. A lazy Sunday, especially if the weather was crap and they had no plans to go out, was her favourite time—she could spend the day loving her Azriel. On those days, she pleasured him. And if she spent hours with his cock buried in her throat, or his balls between her lips, or her tongue in his ass, she was only too happy.

The tips of his fingers crawled into that hidden spot inside of her, curling just so, so he could massage and rub her into a frenzy. He stilled for a moment, to allow her to adjust to the fullness and the stretch, as she bit his foot, trying to stifle her screams. She leaked slowly over his hand, as most of it was situated in her clutching, hungry tightness.

“Very good, my baby,” he praised, kissing her buttocks and then giving her anus a few approving licks, “taking all four inside of you,”

“Oh my god, oh,” she groaned, “it’s so tight…Az, my love, I am so full,”

“I know, love,” he coaxed evenly, his hand beginning a steady, firm barrage of deep, pounding thrusts, “but it’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Yeess,” she only managed, voice thin, pleading. She could barely hold herself up, so he wrapped his arm around her hips, keeping her ass up. She grabbed the balcony wrought-iron spindles, squeezing them tightly, forehead pressed into the mattress, as he pumped her harshly, keeping her on the verge of constant climax, but pulling back just so, for her to moan and beg him in a never ending litany.

“Baby, you want to come?” he teased, still busy with her butthole, which softened under his furious sucking and if they had more time and privacy, Elain would be ready to take him anally soon enough.

“Yes,” she grunted, “yes,”

“Ask nicely, and maybe,”

“Ugh, you are such a horrible tease,” she complained, biting his foot in spite, and he laughed, before slapping her firm, soft buttock.

“Biting a person who is making you come so nicely?” he slapped her again, and she yelped with pleasure, wiggling her ass, silently asking for more.

The walls of her passage clenched desperately over his fingers, and she made a choking, frantic sound in her chest, now beyond pleading or even moaning. He sucked, and slapped, and bit, and thrust, pumping her open, the sounds of the wet and the skin inside of her completely obscene, and music to both of their ears.

Azriel noticed a man, either a delivery guy or a grounds keeper, watching them wide eyed and shocked from a distance. Probably not something he expected to see at 4:40 in the morning. Not that he made a move to leave.

Azriel opted not to alarm Elain, who was coming violently on his hand, her body trembling and jerking, her beautiful, quiet orgasm sweeping everything in its path. His girl deserved a proper wake up, deserved and needed her climaxes, and deserved to be watched, because she was so beautiful. Her teeth and tongue clamped tightly on his foot, his toes, as she bit and licked, completely undone, turned inside out by his expert hand.

He still worked her hand in her, his thrusts shallow and not as strong, when she collapsed on the mattress at last, eyes closed, panting.

He smiled and finally slipped on the mattress alongside her, though he kept a finger between her folds, rubbing soothingly. She’d bite his head off if he removed his hand from her this quickly.

“Good morning my love,” he whispered at last, kissing her cheek.

“Mmmm, good morning,” she sighed with satiated pleasure.

“Some guy caught an eyeful,” he whispered, but she only snuggled to his chest.

“I don’t care…As long as you were watching me, that’s all that matters.”

“I wouldn’t mind sliding into your little bum right now,” he confessed, stroking her hip and her curvy backside.

“Do you want to take me?” she offered sweetly, eyes fluttering open.

He kissed her head and smiled, “So tempting, but not here and not now. Let’s jump in the shower and then be on our way. We’ve got a decent amount of driving to do today.”

She nodded.

“Did I tell you that I love you?” she stroked his cheek, the sharp, angular cut of it, the dark bronze skin.

“You did, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

“I love you, Azriel.”

“I love you, Elain.”

Elain

Their day was long.

They had their cappuccino and cornetti at some café on the road.

Their trip had a purpose—they were actually driving to Maranello, to the Ferrari headquarters where Azriel had 3 days of business meetings.

When Az told her that he was thinking of going to Italy, it was no brainer to say ‘yes’.

It was the first time she was going to leave her business, her shop, for an extended period of time, but Feyre promised to oversee the operations, while Cerridwen, whom Elain recently hired as a full-time employee and who was Nuala’s sister, was going to be responsible for the day-to-day.

The last time Elain’s been to Italy was when she was barely 10 years old. A few years before everything’s went to shit. Back then, her father completed a very lucrative business deal and there was a lot of disposable cash, so the family decided to take a grand trip to Italy.

Little Feyre who was only seven screeched and begged to go to Disneyland, while Nesta and their mother voted for Italy. No one asked Elain, assuming that she’d go wherever she was told.

The trip was extensive, almost four weeks, and they hit all the glamorous Southern parts—the Amalfi coast, with their headquarters in a rented villa near Positano. Then they went to Portofino, and their father rented a yacht for a few days, the trip culminating in Capri. It was a whirlwind on sun and the sea, of lemons, eating grilled squid, at which Feyre stared in horror, though she liked the taste, amazing fruit, endless pastries and gelato. Even their mother yanking a few pastries away from Elain, hissing that she ‘grow fat and not find a husband’ didn’t mar the experience. Elain, always the plumper of the sisters, was used to the warning by then.

This time around, Elain could eat as much pastry as she wanted.

They landed in Rome, spent four days there, since she insisted on going to the Vatican Museum twice, hear Mass at St. Peter’s, and she didn’t know if she annoyed Azriel with her endless excitement and tales of art, artists, and biblical stories, but she couldn’t help herself.

She was an Art History major in NYU, receiving a full scholarship to attend. She loved it. Didn’t like college all that much as a whole, but loves studying. When everyone was partying, drinking, fucking and skipping classes, she went to the Met and to MOMA and learned and enjoyed herself. She loved history of religion, of other cultures and though not at all religious herself, none of them were, her knowledge on the subject was thorough.

Azriel, it seemed, liked her passion, her excitement, and listened attentively when she went on long explanation of what this or that Saint did and what grizzly death they’d suffered. And what was the significance of the painting or sculpture of the said Saint. Obviously, he was very artistically inclined as well, though his preference lay in design and industrial art, but he enjoyed listening and discussing. They spent hours and hours meandering the halls of the museum, and of the cathedral, and both spent a good half an hour in front of the Pieta, staring in silence and quiet contemplation at the sculpture, holding hands.

It was when they were sitting at a café, sipping some bitter Campari cocktails and watched the sprawling vistas of Rome that Azriel confided to her. Told her of his childhood. She knew some of the details, but he never talked about his childhood, and she opted not to pressure him. It was clear enough that it was horrific in many ways, and bringing up all those memories didn’t make sense to Elain.

Told her how his father, who was rich and vicious, won custody of him from his mother, not because he wanted his son, but out of spite, to torment the mother. And then it was years of solitude and loneliness and emotional and physical abuse. Azriel’s only reprieve was drawing, making designs, sometimes with chalk on the pavement, sometimes on scraps of paper. His stepmother threw everything out as soon as he made it. He languished in his father’s world for 8 years, until a catastrophic event took place—his stepbrothers doused him, his hands, in gasoline and lit him up. They didn’t call the paramedics either, and simply stood there, watching, as he burned. Finally, the neighbors heard his screams and police and ambulance came at last.

Because he was young, he recovered most of the sensations and feeling in his hands, but the skin was permanently scarred and his father refused skin grafts.

He’d met Cassian at the hospital, who came there having been beaten so badly by his foster father, that he had a concussion, broken ribs and a punctured eye socket.

Mrs. Darling, Rhys’s mother, who was one of the biggest benefactors of the children’s hospital where they were recovering, heard their stories and thankfully, her wealth opened every door. Her influence and wealth were no match for Azriel’s father. Hence when she decided that she wanted to adopt the two boys, little could be done to dissuade her. Azriel and Cassian still spent some time in foster care, while the documents were being processed and all the formalities legalized, but at the end, they ended up with the Darlings, as their adopted sons.

Elain wanted to cry for him, for his destroyed childhood, for his tormented youth, for his injuries, for the lack of love in his life. For his sake, though, she didn’t.

Sensing that he needed her support, she didn’t release his hand for the remainder of the day.

And she told him how much she loved him and how happy he made her.

They left Montepulciano, and then drove for a few hours and stopped at Orvieto, and explored its unnecessary enormous Duomo, which was situated on the hill, amidst the Umbrian lushness. The tiny town did offer spectacular views and great wine, which they enjoyed with lunch.

Now

Azriel worked his fingers into the supple warmth of her damp pussy and looked down, before ordering, “wider, Lainey”.

She spread her legs wider, her knit dress folded haphazardly over the belly.

“Wider,” he said and she placed one foot on the seat, exposing herself completely to him.

It was never wide enough for him, for he liked to see everything, liked to spread and open and pull her wide apart for his eyes, for his exploration.

He pressed his thumb to her plump pink clit and began to rub.

She whined impatiently and he smiled,

“We are almost there…”

“I need you,” she moaned, kissing his shoulder through his shirt.

“I need you too, my beauty,” he nodded, “but I think once we get there, you’ll forget all about me.”

She tsked and announced, “I don’t know if anything will impress me as much as your cock in my mouth,”

He started at the blunt words, her amused grin and then burst out laughing.

“Naughty.”

In a few minutes, he rounded a small green hill and Elain’s breath caught in her throat.

“Oh, gods…Az…”

He was smiling.

He’d never been here before, but he’d done his research, finally finding the right spot.

A tiny hidden valley, nestled between a few rolling Tuscan hills, with a small turquoise lake sparkling in the late afternoon sun. In the distance, a mandatory Tuscan villa.

And poppies. Fields of poppies, stretching as far as the eye can see. A blanket of ruby-red poppies, gently swaying in the pine-scented air.

This place was a damn Walmart painting come true, and Azriel loved it for its kitsch, its predictability.

“It’s gorgeous!” she gasped. Then chuckled, adding, “Like one of those mass-produced paintings,”

At that, Azriel roared with laughter, killed the engine and they got out of the car.

“My thoughts exactly!” he nodded vigorously.

She ran into the poppies, brushing her palm over the petals, “But it’s worth it! No painting can ever do this justice! Az…it’s so beautiful!” she twirled in the field of red, her white dress a stark contrast to the vibrancy of the colours around her—the cobalt of the cloudless sky, the emerald green of the hills, the blood-red of the poppies.

He folded his arms and said, “I am glad you like it.”

“Like it? I love it!”

She inspected all the wildflowers that bloomed among the poppies, picking a few purple ones and a daisy and tucking them behind her ear. Another daisy she brought to him and tucked it into his hair.

“There is a blanket in the trunk,” he jerked his head towards the car, and unbuttoned his shirt almost to the navel, “if you want to picnic,”

“I want to picnic!” she squealed and ran to the car to get what she needed.

Soon there was a blanket on the grass and a few bottles of wine in a basket.

He slid down, stretching on the blanket, toeing off his shoes, rolling his shoulders. This was nice. He also relished her happiness, how her high ponytail bounced about as she ran through the field barefoot, and then began twirling, arms outstretched and singing loudly,

The hills are alive with the sound of

Griswold, he helped out.

“Are you coming here?” he called out, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“No,” she yelled, “I am picking flowers!”

“They’ll wilt,” he muttered reasonably, but she didn’t hear him.

Azriel dozed off, surprising himself. But the pleasant heat, the sunshine, the breeze, the birds—all lulled him into sleep. He stirred only when he sensed Elain near, and when he opened his eyes, he was treated by a lovely surprise. He propped himself on his elbows and watched his beautiful girl walk towards him completely naked, with a heap of flowers in the crook of her arm. What she did with her dress he didn’t know and didn’t care. But he drunk in the slim, curvy silhouette of her body, the long, slender legs and the toned thighs. Her smooth, pink sex glistened just a bit with her usual arousal, and full breasts bounced with every step. Her hair flowed behind her, unbound.

“I got hot,” she announced.

He grinned.

“I can see that. I like it when you get hot like this.”

She stood over him, her delicious slit taunting him and he made to touch it, but she dumped all the flowers on him instead and said, “get up”.

“Why?!” he frowned. “I am so comfortable.”

“I can make you a little more comfortable,” she promised, “but for that, you have to get up.”

With a groan, he got on his feet, only to have her slide on her knees in front of him. She looked up and murmured, “by the time you are done with me, I only want to have gelato to soothe my throat.”

He swallowed audibly, watching her unbutton his trousers and then his shirt. She removed the pants completely, but left the white shirt on, before placing a few soft, loving kisses on the thick slabs of muscles on his stomach. The well-defined outline of his Adonis Belt she traced with her tongue, inevitably making her way from his hip towards the final destination.

“And I want my knees bruised,” she added with a wicked smirk.

He flicked her nose and shook his head, “such filthy words coming from this pretty little mouth.”

She licked her lips with impatience, hungrily watching him fist his member and give it a few rough, preliminary strokes.

“Gods, your cock is gorgeous,” she gasped with admiration, watching him work himself with practiced determination.

“You like my cock?” he drew the thick, smooth head of it over her full lips and she whimpered with anticipation, nodding, kissing it affectionately, with slow, open mouth kisses, as he continued to pump it lazily.

She admitted, “more than anything. Az, Az,” she begged impatiently, as he smeared a trickle of liquid that dribbled from the tip over her lips, “please,”

“Please what?”

She rested her hands on his thighs, kneeling close enough so that her breasts brushed against them, “I want it in my mouth. Please.”

He lightly smacked the thick girth of his shaft over her half-opened mouth, making her shake with anticipation, smiling down at her. Her eyes burned with raw, overwhelming desire.

“But I like it when you ask me, baby. Tell me more,”

“That your cock is gorgeous and ridiculously huge?” she chuckled, relishing in his rubbing the tip insistently over her lips, as she licked the little slit.

“Keep going,” he encouraged.

“That I love you and can’t wait to suck it?”

“Alright, babe,” she nodded at last, “I guess you’ll just have to suck my huge dick,” and with that, he slid between her lips.

She smiled around him and pulled on it deeper, dragging her tongue over and under the thick shaft. It was always just a little too big for her, so she gasped, as he filled her mouth more and more, sliding in steadily. She eased her throat as much as she could, accepting the thrust and feeling the smooth head dip down, brushing the back of her throat. He was watching her intently, every bob and swallow of her throat, making sure that she was comfortable enough to hold him in. “Big?” he murmured. Her eyes teared up, but she managed a small nod. Her hands squeezed his thighs nervously, tightly, stroking the backs of them, while he began to pull out slowly, before sliding back in.

Nothing was more exciting than Elain’s ability to mould her throat around his shaft, while those big brown eyes blinked at him, seeking approval. He put his hand over her head, stroking it, then caressing her face, her hollowed cheeks, while giving her mouth a few exploratory thrusts.

She readied herself and pulled back, releasing the cock with an audible pop, and then licking the underside, from the balls to the tip.

“Just like that, my love,” he nodded, watching her tuck her face in the crease of his hip and slide her tongue up and down the sides of his cock. “Is that good?”

“It’s the best,” she vowed, “I love licking!” she added enthusiastically, proceeding to do just that.

He always remembered that she was very innocent and whatever she knew, no matter how sensual, erotic or even perverse, it all came from him. He taught her—gently, firmly and thoroughly the art of the bedroom and whatever they did, he was completely assured that she enjoyed and wanted every moment of it. Thankfully, she was so innocent that she didn’t know how to pretend or fake anything, especially when it came to sex, and didn’t know how to play games. She was eager and loving and excitable because what they did together, with each other, pleased her, and for no other reason. Azriel cherished this level of honesty more than anything.

Therefore, when she said that she loved licking, she showed him just how much she enjoyed it, licking up and down voraciously, over the sides, watching him unblinking. He cupped the pouch of his balls in one hand and carefully eased it into her mouth.

“You are so good to me,” he groaned, as she wrapped her lips around the ball and began to suck eagerly, not caring if she was loud, smacking her lips, tongue working non-stop, caressing the flesh. She hummed appreciatively around the balls, sending a pleasant shiver down his thighs, her mouth completely filled with him. “That’s good, my girl,” he stroked her head, “just like that. Keep going,” his head fell back with satisfaction, and she swallowed hard around his balls, almost moaning at the sight of his neck, the expression of pleasure written on his face.

“Can I tell you a story?” he muttered huskily, looking back down at her, his eyes dark and his face tense. Elain nodded. He gripped his cock and then slid it back in her mouth, almost to the hilt, making her choke and gag at once, watching her eyes widen.

She was drooling, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the pressure of her member in her throat, or from the visual display of his stunning body above her. The thick pectorals, adorned with black and blue ink twitched as he began to pump in and out of her mouth, hard and steady. He held the back of her head, but the clutch of his hand was light and casual, only keeping her in place, as his narrow hips flexed with each deep push. A delicious bead of sweat ran down the cobbled network of his abdominal muscles, slowly making its way to the deep V etched into his hips, towards the thick cock that he was currently ramming into her mouth.

She drooled. She licked and laved and lapped. She didn’t care how messy or ridiculous she looked, because her man loved her and loved her on her knees in front of him.

“I couldn’t stop watching you talk,” he grumbled, “the first time I saw you. Your plump lips…Oh fuck, baby, you feel so, so good,” he rode her smoothly, with deep, expert strokes, “you wore that rose-tinted lipstick…and all I could think of afterward was those lips wrapped around my dick.”

She smiled over his member, lightly shaking her head, as much as her current position would allow.

“I am sorry, honey,” he smiled at her, “this pervy mind couldn’t think of anything else but getting my dick down your throat.”

And demonstrating just that, and the resolution of his dream, he pushed further.

“Alright?” he asked, carefully holding her jaw. She blinked her approval. He was unable to take his eyes off her, her lush lips wrapped tightly around the dark mass of him, her beautiful eyes tearing from pressure. He wiped the tears with his thumbs and then gave a brief nod, “give me those flowers, baby.”

Obviously, she couldn’t glance down, so she blindly grabbed a handful of flowers and handed them to him, her expression amused, a little surprised.

“What’s more romantic,” he murmured, stroking her hollowed cheeks and then pulling out a little, before pushing back in, “than putting pretty flowers into my Lainey’s hair,” and he plucked a small poppy from the heap, and pushed in into her hair, “while she deepthroats me?”

He was heavy and thick in her mouth, salty, delicious and familiar, and as he began thrusting firmly, the thick head hitting the back of her throat, Elain settled in for a ride. She wasn’t kidding when she asked for her throat to be raw by the end of it—she liked being sore somewhere in her body from him, at all times. Between her legs, inside her rectum, in her throat—it didn’t matter, though it was nice if it was everywhere, but she loved being marked by him in some way.

The hum and rumble in Azriel’s throat, that of masculine satisfaction and some kind of primal dominance made her so wet, she leaked down her thighs. But he didn’t tell her to touch herself, so she didn’t. He just fucked her throat steadily, the audible sound of her choking and sputtering around his cock and the satisfied snarls emanating from him, the only sounds around them. His hips rocked hard, pumping deep, as he garbled endearments and praise to her, “is that so good, honey? You feel amazing…”

She squeezed his thighs in affirmation. As he worked on her, he kept putting flowers in her hair, admiring her sucking and his work, “so gorgeous, baby. My beautiful girl…Good cock?”

“Mmmm,” she only managed, saliva bathing her chin and chest, her eyes rolling back with pleasure and exhaustion.

“Can you handle a little more?” he begged, “I don’t want to come yet, my love,” another flower in her hair. “I love you on your knees with my cock in her mouth.”

He set a brutal rhythm, muttered, “choke, baby…” and she did, gagging and panting over his member, the lack of oxygen making her pliant and obliging, her mouth existing for his pleasure. When they played a little rougher, he could request to squeeze her throat a little with his hand, while he choked her with his cock, but today, he was feeling romantic, as was she.

Her hair dripped with flowers of all kinds, as he fashioned her into some kind of Summer Lady. Or maybe a Dusk Lady, since the sun began its descent and shadows spread over the pretty little valley.

“Fuck me, you are so beautiful,” he grunted, looking down at her. “My flower girl, with my cock in her mouth. Bob a little, love, show me how much you like it,” he encouraged and she immediately began to bob her head up and down on him, drool sliding down his shaft, her eyes pleading for his approval, which he gave generously.

He gently, kindly stroked her face, her throat, feeling his cock deep inside it, moving in her, rubbing at the indentation with his thumb. Then, he cupped her face between his large hands and murmured, “open up”, thumbs brushing over her damp cheeks, as tears slid down when he started to thrust intently, battering her throat. “My girl is sucking so well,” he was relentless now, pounding and pounding, an Elain thought that she might just pass out from the sensation, feeling lightheaded. Azriel had inhuman stamina when he was between her legs, but that also translated to when he was in her mouth, which meant he could ravage her completely. “I’ll feed you all the gelato myself, if you can suck a little more,” he promised with a smirk, pulling out completely. “Breathe,” he ordered, and she gulped in some air, before he thrust back inside, “are you tired?”

She shook her head ‘no’. She was never tired for him. She moaned, though his cock pushed down all sound with brutal, excited enthusiasm, as he cupped his balls tightly in his hand, readying to finally come. “Fuck, baby, you suck so well,” he squeezed her shoulder, stooping over her, the muscled of his abdomen twitching and tensing, his balls tight against her chin. Grabbing her shoulder with one hand, he cupped her under the jaw and kept her head still, as he exploded in her mouth. He poured down her throat with a pleased, blissful moan, throwing his head back, pumping harshly and erratically, filling her mouth over and over. She sucked and drank, swallowing quickly, gluttonously. Azriel always tasted heavenly, but perhaps it was something about being in Italy and all the fruit and wine that they’ve been consuming, but she couldn’t get enough of him now. He shot rope after rope down her throat and she lapped it all with pleasure. He dropped on his knees, exhausted, his cock still in her mouth, and she stroked and caressed his body soothingly, swallowing the last of him.

“Gods, Elain,” was all he managed, as he finally withdrew in an endlessly long pull from her lips.

She gasped, and licked her lips, before placing a loving, playful kiss on the pink, wet head of the shaft.

“Did you have fun, my love?” she cooed tenderly, as Azriel slumped on the blanket, head her on her lap.

“Baby, why do you spoil me like this?” he moaned, reaching for her bare plump breast and cupping lightly.

“Probably because I love you more than it’s prudent,” she smiled, her voice hoarse. “More than anything. Love you like I didn’t know I could love anybody. Also,”

“Yes?”

His chest constricted from her simple admissions, from the pure earnestness of her words, from the love that was shining in her brown eyes. He was undeserving of this woman, of her overwhelming love for him, of everything that she gave him so selflessly. But he listened and listened, because everything she told him was like a balm on all the wounds of his soul, and music to his heart.

Her lips were gorgeously, obscenely swollen, and he dragged his thumb over their plumpness. She added, “you are very hot.”

“Ahhh,” he chuckled. “So you are using me for my body?”

“I’d be stupid not to use you for your body. You got one hell of a body, my mysterious, shadowy Azriel.”

“Well, flower girl, you go ahead and use my body as much as you want, for anything you desire. It’s yours.”

He kissed her hand. Then, reached up and kissed her pretty pink nipple.

“As is my heart,” he added softly. “Anything you want. It’s all yours.”

She lay next to him, both of them sprawled in the blanket of flowers. She picked a poppy and stuck it behind his ear.

“Pretty boy Azriel.”

He propped his cheek and turned to face her. She was still covered in flowers, from all his handiwork.

“We are good together, aren’t we?” she murmured, laying her hand on his neck.

“We are. We are very good together, Lainey.”

She bit her swollen lip and then said, voice quiet, a little uncertain,

“Maybe you want to marry me?” she proposed.

He stilled, waiting for more.

She squeezed the back of his neck a little tighter and continued, no stopping her now, “I know we were thinking later, maybe next y-,”

“Yes,” he nodded, “yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, Elain, I want to marry you now.”

She gasped, tears of joy moistening her eyes, “In Florence?” she begged.

“Yes. In Florence,” he cupped her face in his. “Let’s go get married!”

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rowanaelinn · 3 years

Text

Fire on Fire - Chapter Three

Chapter two // Chapter four

“My head’s gonna explode,” Elide Lochan sighed before she drank two big gulps of water as if she had been thirsty for days. Aelin knew the feeling. She’d been working for two hours now but it felt like ten. The bar was so hot and the music so loud, she couldn’t wait to go home and come back to the silence of her room.

Today was her first day and of course, it was a Saturday night, the busiest night of the week. The uniform, which was basically only a tight white shirt and a pair of black booty shorts, was one of the other reasons Aelin decided she hated this job but only stayed for the money. Aelin had been lucky today if you can call it that, but unfortunately, that luck didn’t extend to Elide.

Some douche-bags slapped her ass when she served him his drink, and of course, all his friends howled with laughter. As if sexual harassment was some kind of joke. The moment Elide mentioned this incident, Aelin had wanted to slam the guy's head on the table but Elide stopped her. The customer was always right and both Aelin and Elide needed this job too much.

They had decided not to tell their co-worker Manon about that, Aelin and Elide had already worked with her before and Aelin knew where Manon was, violence usually followed. It was something Aelin loved about that woman, and she also found it hot as hell. Okay, maybe she had a bit of a crush on the white-haired woman. But in Aelin’s defense, Elide did have a crush on her too. It was like a general experience.

“Do you think we’ll be fired if we don’t go back?” Aelin put her cold bottle of water against the back of her neck, in an attempt to cool her down.

“Definitely, Rofle is a dick. I mean have you seen this outfit?” The brunette turned on herself and gestured to the more than revealing clothes. Aelin agreed, if her cousin saw her in this outfit he would have a heart attack. She was suddenly glad this bar opened last week, at least Aedion didn’t know this place. Yet.

“Girls,” Nesryn interrupted them. “Break’s over. Go back to work.”

Aelin undid her ponytail, a forbidden hairstyle in this bar apparently, and went back behind the counter. She wore her best fake smile and ignored the lingering looks on her breast or her backside, winked and flirted back when clients thought they had a chance of taking her home with them. Aelin hid her disgust of these men pretty good, she was proud of herself for it.

She would quit if she wasn’t low on money lately. For hell’s sake, Aedion was paying half of her rent. It had been a very long discussion between them, Aelin would rather live on the street than depend on someone. Aelin got convinced when Aedion made it clear if she didn’t accept he would call her parents. So Aelin put her pride aside and accepted, at the only condition Aedion let her pay him back whenever she could. He had argued but accepted. The Ashryver family wasn’t very good at compromise, but at least they tried.

“Aelin, go take the order of table nine,” Manon yelled at her over the background noise. Aelin gave her a thumb up as she kept pouring alcohol in the shaker.

When Aelin was done making this cocktail she wiped her hands and walked toward table nine. She looked down to grab her little booklet and pen she left in one of the pockets of her apron as she said, “Hi, welcome to the sea dragon, what can I-” She stopped as she took in who was sitting in front of her. Lorcan Salvaterre, Fenrys, Connall Moonbeam, and of fucking course, gods-damned Rowan Whitethorn. She took a deep breath and smiled, but she knew her fake smile wasn’t as convincing as it was minutes before.

She focused on Fenrys and Connall, the only ones she could stand at that table. “What can I get you?”

Fenrys had an amused look on his face, accentuated by his smirk full of wickedness. “So this is your new job?” He asked, and if she didn’t know him the look could be considered genuine.

“You knew it, Fen. I told you hours ago.” Rowan’s head whipped to Fenrys, and Aelin’s face suddenly mirrored Fenrys’s. She didn’t know what the blonde had in mind, but if it annoyed Whitethorn, Aelin was on board. Rowan’s head turned back toward her and he narrowed his eyes. “Got something on my face, Whitethorn?” She couldn’t help it, she had to always argue with him.

“Yeah, all that make-up,” his eyes roamed over her body, it took everything in her not to move under the weight of his gaze. “What’s that outfit anyway?” His disdain was quite obvious.

“My uniform, dumbass.” She tightened her grip around her pen and notebook so much that her knuckles turned white. “Be careful, it almost sounds like you care.” It was one of the most sarcastic things she had ever said in her life, the look in his eyes was enough proof.

“Why would I care about you when you’re dressed like a stripper?” He crossed his arms and Aelin had to force herself not to stare at his muscles and at the tattoo on his arms. He was a handsome bastard and it made him quite hard to hate.

“So, no respect for sex workers, Whitethorn? Why am I not surprised?”

“No, actually I respect them a lot. You’re the only person I don’t respect.” It took everything in her not to punch him in the face right now, but that’s what he was waiting for. It was like he loved to see her lose control.

“I’m going to enjoy spitting in your drink.”

“Do that and I’ll have a nice chat with your boss, good luck to find another job, princess.” He was getting angry, Aelin loved that, it meant she was winning their little game.

“Feel free to do it, it just means you’ll have to share that splendid bathroom with me longer.” She winked at him and wiggled her brows. Rowan clenched his jaw, another sign of his anger.

“Can you two stop for a minute? I’m thirsty.” Lorcan Salvaterre interrupted them and Aelin rolled her eyes. She wasn’t exactly on friendly terms with Lorcan either, but instead of always arguing as she did with Rowan, they just ignored each other.

“Who are they?” Elide asked as Aelin prepared her roommates’ order. The four of them wanted a beer, classic.

“Two of them are the bane of my existence and the two others annoying but very pretty.”

“I want him in my bed,” Elide said as she bit her lip. Aelin whipped her head toward the guys, trying to know which one she was talking about.

“I have no idea which one you’re already planning to get naked but one of them is gay and the other three aren’t good options.”

“Great, I don’t want good and I don’t want to be good. And It’s the tall one.” Elide winked and left before Aelin could say anything. Of course, Elide would be attracted to Lorcan. Alein went back to their table, accidentally spilling a little bit of Rowan’s beer on him when she accidentally tripped. He swore at her but she decided to ignore it, instead, she pushed him so she could sit next to him to be right in front of Lorcan.

“You,” She pointed at Lorcan, with her smile full of mischief.

“Don’t look at me like that.” She shook his head and she heard the twins laugh.

“What’s your type of woman?”

“Everything you aren’t.”

“I’m gonna look past that insult because I am an amazing woman,” she was cut off by Rowan’s snort. “You shut up, you’re thirty and still single.” She looked back at Lorcan but heard Rowan correct her on his age. His highness was still twenty-nine for three months. “What about 5”2, brunette, very very scary. She’s also one of the prettiest women I’ve ever seen, but unfortunately, she doesn’t have good taste. I’m not her type but you are.” She winked at him. Rowan muttered something that sounded a lot like “We aren’t teenagers anymore” but she ignored him.

Lorcan furrowed his brow, Aelin could see him hesitate. “Where?”

“Want to see her dance?” Aelin didn’t wait for the answer and walked back to the bar.

Rowan was mesmerized.

The moment Aelin Ashryver Galathynius started dancing was the moment he lost his mind.

He hated her for it, hated her for being the first thing anyone looked at when they entered a room. Hated her for being the most attractive woman he had seen in a while.

She had been raised to become this. Well, not to become a barmaid in a piss-poor bar in Doranelle. But to become the type of woman everyone looked at, everyone wanted.

With Evalin Ashryver as her mother, how could Aelin become something else? Her mother was an incredible actress, and one of the most famous ones. She was also known for being cunning, ambitious, and beautiful as a sin.

And with Rhoe Galathynius as her father, Aelin knew how to captivate an audience. Rhoe was a legend of football. Whenever he played, all eyes were on him. He was smart and as cunning as his wife, a perfect match if you listened to the papers. That’s probably why he was a coach now, and that’s also why his team almost always won.

So Aelin was born with amazing genes, a talent to bewitch everyone who looked at her, and a bank account bigger than anyone should have. That’s why he didn’t understand why she would be working here and living with five guys instead of just having a big apartment in the richest part of town. But Aedion had told everyone to never mention her parents, so they all listened. Everyone was careful to do just that, maybe because Lysandra had threatened to cut their favorite body part and to make them eat it if they ever mentioned Rhoe’s or Evalin’s name. All that the day they met her when she was one month away from turning eighteen.

Now this she-devil had him under her spell. He couldn’t stop looking at the way her hips moved perfectly on beat with the music, at the way her hands wandered over her stomach, the side of her breast, and then lifted her hair in the air. Or even at how close she was to her friend, the one who is apparently interested in Lorcan. Both of them were giving a show, and when Rowan finally looked away from the blonde it was to find almost every man with their eyes on her. She knew what she was doing, he knew she did. It made him want to yell at her, even at work she couldn’t help but want attention.

Aelin turned her head, and their eyes met. Rowan sat straighter, swallowing. Her sinful mouth turned into a smirk and she accentuated her hips’ movements, aware of Rowan’s eyes on her. It was also something they did, along with arguing. They caught the other checking the other out, but wouldn’t call them on it. They would never bring it up, it was like a secret between them. He shouldn’t find the idea of sharing something with her so exciting.

She never stopped looking at him as she danced, sometimes she would bit her lip, sometimes her hands would wander on her breasts. He had to stop himself from growling as his cock hardened. Aelin was a sin.

Who did she think she was? He hated her, he made that clear. She hated him, and she had also made that clear. Why did she feel the need to tease him? She was trying to mess with him, and it was working.

The bubble broke when one of Aelin’s coworkers interrupted her, telling her and her friend she was dancing with to go back to work. Rowan couldn’t help but stare at her ass as she walked back behind the counter. He would have felt bad for it, wasn’t it for the slight sway of her hips and the look she threw at him when she started serving people again.

“I want her.” Lorcan almost grunted, and against his best wishes and even if they weren’t talking about the same girl, Rowan agreed.

Aelin wasn’t tired, no, tired wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what she was feeling. It was almost three in the morning and her shift ended in one hour, thank god she wasn’t supposed to close the bar today.

A customer asked for another sex on the beach, his fourth of the night. Aelin smiled as she prepared it but decided it would be his last of the night. Rofle didn’t want his barmaids to stop clients from drinking because more drinking means more money. But all the money in the world wasn’t worth the customers’ life. She would never forgive herself if someone had a car accident or became an alcoholic because of the drink she served. She gave the drink and took the man’s car keys, saying she would call a cab when he wanted to leave.

Aelin’s phone started ringing and when she saw who was calling her she sighed. If she was tired now it would be worse by the end of the night.

“Hello,” She answered as she got into a cupboard to find some quiet.

“Hi, you’re Aelin Galathynius?” A deep male voice asked. From the tone of his voice, the man must be as exhausted as Aelin was.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Aelin already regretted picking up this gods damned phone.

“I’m sorry to bother you but a guy’s at my bar. He’s tall-”

“Yeah, I know exactly who it is. Let me guess, he is drunk and absolutely refuses to call a taxi because taxis are disgusting. He also told you to call me, didn’t he?”

“You got it all right.”

“Okay.” She sighed. “Where’s your bar?” She nodded when he told her the address and told him she would be here in half an hour.

Aelin went to Elide, apologized, and asked her to cover the rest of her shift. Elide understood, it wasn’t the first time Aelin had to leave for the same reason. Elide was pissed but not because she had more work, but because she didn’t want Aelin to go.

Aelin took her car and drove, maybe a little slower than she should but it was night. Roads were dangerous, especially on a Saturday night. Aelin parked right in front of the sidewalk. She took her phone and wanted to text Aedion to tell him she would be late but her phone was dead. Amazing.

Aelin walked into the bar and realized she didn’t take time to change clothes, she was still in her uniform. She crossed her arms, trying to cover her chest as best as she could. Even if she had liked to have Rowan Whitethorn watching her tonight, she didn’t want anyone else to look at her this way.

It didn’t take long to see who had called Aelin, she walked toward him, the bartender looked relieved someone would come to pick him up. “I’m gonna take that.” She told him, and he gave her the car keys. Aelin turned her head to grey eyes watching her body, of course, he would notice her lack of clothing. “Let’s get you home,” Aelin said, trying her best not to let her anger out, it’s not going to help tonight.

“Hello, darling,” Arobynn purred.

tag list:

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#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fic #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass #fire on fire #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #aelin galathynius

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marvelsmylife · 3 years

Text

About fucking time

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Plot: the reader is the quiet agent Steve’s had his eye on since she joined the team. He’s always wanted to ask her out but hasn’t because his nerves get the best of him. During Valentine’s Day party hosted by Tony Steve notices the reader standing by the bar. With the encouragement from both Bucky and Natasha steve finally makes his move.

Steve Rogers was unlucky when it came to love. The first girl he was really interested in pursuing a relationship with was Peggy Carter. She was a prominent agent of the SSR and Steve was in love her the minute he saw her. Sadly before anything could happen between them steve sacrificed himself by flying the plane that had an infinity stone into the ocean.

Then there was Sharon Carter, she was the first girl he was interested since he was out of the ice. Of course, when they originally met she went by the name Kate, a nurse who lived next door to him. They would playfully flirt with each other but Steve never made a move because he was still hung up on Peggy. It took a late chat with Natasha for him to actually entertain the thought to ask “Kate” out on a date.

Unfortunately for him, that was the night an injured fury was in his apartment. Right after fury got shot Steve was surprised when “Kate” barged into his apartment revealed she was actually a Sharon Carter, a shield agent assigned to keep an eye on him. Steve felt so betrayed that she lied to him that he decided to not only not pursue a relationship with her but stopped talking to her altogether.

That changed Steve was face to face with Sharon at Peggy’s funeral. He saw it as a sign that he should pursue a relationship with her. He knew it was messed up to think that at his first loves funeral but he remembered Peggy told him to not wait until it was too late.

Steve thought he was finally going to get the girl after he shared a kiss, Sharon. His heart broke when she revealed that she was engaged to a man named Henry and the kiss they shared was more of a closure kiss. Since that day Steve swore he was destined to be alone, that was until you came along.

When you joined the team Steve and Tony had just made up and the entire team was on good terms. You were hired by tony to help design new weapons for the team. You were a quiet person who only spoke when you were spoken to. The only person who was able to pull a conversation out of you was Natasha and that was because she was persistent. She was determined to be your best friend and after six months she succeeded.

The only problem Steve had with the friendship was that Natasha kept setting you up on dates knowing that he had a crush on you. He knew she was doing it to get a rise out of him and give him push to ask you out but he never did. “So what are you going to wear to the party tonight? Do you want me to get you a date for the party?” Steve felt his heart slightly break when he overheard you and Natasha talking.

Steve knew the day Tony announced he was throwing Valentine’s Day party Natasha was going to try to get you a date for the party “I don’t know what I’m going to wear and no nat I don’t want you to find me a date for the party. All of the guys you’ve set me up with have been sleazy.”

“Ok, what if I find you a man to sleep with? You gotta have sex with someone on Valentine’s Day” Natasha looked directly at Steve as she asked.

That caused you to roll your eyes and responded: “You know I don’t do one night stands”. A small smile appeared on Steve’s face at your answer. He loved that you weren’t loose like the other woman in this era. You actually respected yourself and didn’t feel the need to sleep around.

Natasha was about to respond to your comment when tony waltzed into the room with pepper by his side “ladies and gentlemen, remember that tonight’s party is mandatory. I will have Friday inform me if one of you guys doesn’t show up. Oh and capsical please don’t stand in the corner like you do at every party.” Tony pointed to Steve and caused everyone, including yourself to look over at him.

There was a scowl on Steve’s face because of Tony’s comment and earned a few chuckles from everyone in the room except for you. You just sent him a sympathetic smile before you got up and walked out of the room. Natasha followed you but just as she was about to pass Steve she whispered into his ear “I’m going to make sure she’s dolled up for this party so you better compliment her when you see her at the party” before she left.

The party was in full swing by seven and as expected Steve was in the corner watching everyone partying and having a great time. There were dozens of women who approach him and asked for a dance but he kindly declined. He explained that he was waiting for you before he’d look away from them and started to search for you in the sea of people.

When he did finally find you, you were standing at the bar and holding a can of sprite. He thought you looked gorgeous with you flawless makeup that matched you modest purple dressed that hit you at your knee. A frowned when he noticed a guy walking up to you and started whispering something in your ear. That frown quickly turned into a smile when he noticed the man's head lowered and walked away from you. “I suggest you go talk to her before another guy tries to talk to her again or one of Tony’s female friends tries to talk to you.” Steve heard Bucky’s voice behind him. Steve didn’t pay attention to him due to the fact that he was still staring at you. It wasn’t until he heard “Hurry, one of them is coming this way” that he began to panic. Looking over to his left he spotted a brunette with an orange tan and a dress that is too short walking over to him.

“Don’t worry grandpa, I got her” Steve heard Pietro's voice. Patting Steve’s shoulder lightly Pietro walked over to the girl with the bad tan and all of her friends. After a few minutes, Pietro turned and gave him a thumbs up before left the party with six girls he was talking to.

“Now’s your chance, go talk to her.” Bucky shoved steve in your direction and earned a glare from him.

Taking a deep breath Steve walked over to you and shouted “hey y/n” over the music.

“Oh hey Steve ! ! ! !” you gave Steve a side hug before you looked over at Natasha and raised your empty can “can you please give me another one?”

“Sure thing sweetie” Natasha took your empty soda can and replace it with a new one.

Steve had an amused look on his face as he watched you open the soda and took a sip “Sprite?” Steve pointed to the can of sprite you were holding.

“Yeah. I don’t like the taste of alcohol.” You gave him a small smile. There was a long period of silence after you answered Steve’s question. It was mostly because you were waiting for Steve to speak again but he never did so you turned away from him and stared at the people dancing.

Natasha wanted to shoot Steve for what just happened because she noticed you were waiting for him to continue the conversation. She thought Steve blew his chance until she heard a slow song playing so she motioned for Steve to go to the other side of the bar before grabbed Steve by the collar and whispered: “ask her to dance before I kick your ass” into Steve’s ear.

Knowing she would actually do it Steve walked over to you and tapped on your shoulder. “Would you like to dance!” Steve's voice cracked when he asked.

“I don’t know. I’m not really a good dancer” you got nervous at his invitation.

“Neither am I but I’m sure we can fake it out there.” Steve gave you a lopsided smile that caused your heart rate to increase.

“Ok” you responded. Abandoning your drink and took his hand as you followed him to the center of the dance floor “I apologize in advance if I step on your feet” you apologized in advice while you placed one of your hand on her shoulder and the other intertwined with his.

Steve held you close and whispered, “it’s ok if anything I’m sorry in advance if I step on YOUR shoes.”

Surprisingly neither one of you stepped on each other’s toes. You felt like you were gliding on the dance floor as Steve spun you around and occasionally dipped you which earned some glares from the females in the room. The women watched with envy as Steve held you close to him and danced along to very cheesy slow songs. They wanted to cut in but every time they tried a member of the team would step in before they got close. They all knew about Steve’s crush on you and they’d be damned if a girl in a cheap dress would try to ruin this moment for him.

After a few slow songs, the music changed to a really raunchy song that caused you and Steve to scrunch up your faces in disgust “do you want to ditch this party and go up to my floor? I have two tubs of ice cream and a packet of Oreos.”

“Yes please ! ! !” Steve grabbed your hand and ran towards the elevator. From the corner of his eye, Steve spotted tony smiling and raising his glass.

Once you guys got up to your floor you told Steve to wait for you while you got the junk food from your kitchen. When you entered your room you spotted Steve laying on your bed with his shoes off. Placing the junk food on the bed you walked over to your DVD collection and searched for a movie to watch. You let out a yay when you found ‘perks of being a wallflower’ and popped it into the DVD player. “Perks of being a wallflower is one of my favorite movies of all time. I hope you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will” Steve replied and got one of the tubs of ice cream before you pressed play on the movie.

Three hours after ditching the party you and Steve were laughing hysterically. The movie you put on was long forgotten as Steve told you about the shenanigans he got up to with Bucky when he was in the 1940’s. Steve felt totally at ease sitting next to you and having a full-blown conversation with you. “I can't believe I‘ve so scared to talk to you.” Steve rested his arm on your shoulder.

“What you mean? Do I come off mean or something?” You gave Steve a confused look.

Steve replayed what he said in his head and he immediately started to apologize “no no no I’m sorry that’s not what I meant to say. What I meant to say was that seeing you don’t talk a lot when we’re outside of the workplace and I was scared that if I went up to you wouldn’t want to talk to me.”

“I’m so sorry I made you feel that way” you apologized “when was little I was told by my parents that I needed to stop talking because I got on people's nerves. At first, I ignored them because I thought they were having a bad day but then I overheard some girls from my class say they couldn’t stand me because I talked too much. From then until I started working here I just kept quiet and only spoke when someone would ask me a question.” A wave of sadness washed over Steve as you continued to talk “when joined the team I had every intention to continue being quiet so I wouldn’t annoyed you guys but Natasha being Natasha was very admitted on befriending me.” Steve suppressed a laugh because that sounded exactly like Natasha. “As our friendship grew I told her about why I was always quiet she got upset. She promised she wasn’t going push me to talk to the team outside of work hours but she was going to help build the confidence that I lost when I was a kid.”

There was a moment of silence between the two of you as Steve started to think of what to say. That’s when he decided it was time for him to reveal his feelings for you “you are amazing. What you do for the team is amazing and if you would allow me to be your boyfriend I’ll spend every day telling you how amazing you are.”

“Are you being serious? You’re not just asking me out because you feel bad?” you bit your lower lip.

“Of course I’m being serious, why wouldn’t I be serious?” Steve reached over and touched your jaw.

Avoiding eye contact with him you responded: “because there are girls that are ten times prettier than me.” Steve couldn’t help but feel sad because you thought you weren’t pretty enough for him.

“You might not think it but I think you are the most gorgeous gal in the world and I would be honored to call you my girlfriend.” Steve moved his hand from your jaw to the back of your head.

There was tension in the room as you stared into each other’s eyes for several seconds before Steve leaned in and kissed you. It was a slow but meaningful kiss, a kiss you would remember for the rest of your life. But just as the kiss started to get heated you felt your dress getting wet “Fuck”. When you looked down you noticed the melted ice cream in your tub spilled on the bed. “Let me clean-”

“I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time, we can clean this up later.” Steve placed the ice cream tubs on the nightstand before he leaned in and kissed you again, this time the kiss was twice as passionate.

Meanwhile, at the party, Natasha had Clint take over bar duty so she could search for you in the sea of people. “Have you seen y/n?” Natasha shouted at Bucky who was also looking around the room.

“No. Have you seen Steve?” Bucky shouted back. When Bucky notices Natasha shaking her head no he grabbed Natasha by the hand before they went somewhere quiet “where do you think they disappeared to?”

“Mr. Rogers and ms. Y/l/n are currently up in ms. Y/l/n room.” Friday informed them.

“Hey, Friday do you know if they are having sex in there?” Bucky asked and earned a punch from Natasha.

“Their heart rate is racing but not enough that would suggest they’re having sex,” Friday informed Natasha and Bucky. “My guess is that they are kissing.”

“About fucking time ! ! !” Bucky laughed “you also seem happy about them getting together. Do you want to tell me why?” Bucky asked when he noticed a smile on her face.

“I’m happy my girl is finally going to be happy.” Natasha replied “but if Steve does anything to hurt her I’ll chop his dick off and make him eat it” she threatened and caused Bucky to laugh harder.

#avengers imagines #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers x reader

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hunflowers · 4 years

Text

Golden

Word Count: 15.3k

Requested? I don’t remember, but you always can here :)

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A/N: Lord, have mercy SHE’S FINALLY HERE!!!!! My baby Golden is finally out to the public and can I just say how fucking relieved I am to post it. I love her, I hope you do too <3 little warning: there are mentions of panic attacks in here, and a heart condition (that i did my best to research on) so if you’re uncomfortable, pls don’t read.

special thanks to my soul baby @stylesloveclub for being my biggest support system with this, she’s dedicated to you <3

for anyone reading this, please reblog! it really helps us writers out. okay onward friends!!! lemme know how i did and if you like it *nose boops*

Water. The ocean. Waves. The tide.

Symbolic of life, birth. Can be used to wash away even the most troubling of sins.

O’ahu, Hawaii, home to some of the best surfing destinations in the state, in the country, in the world. Also home to one of the best surfers in the state, in the country, in the world.

Y/N didn’t coin herself that. Not that she’s complaining about it, but she doesn’t surf for the title. She surfs for the freedom. She feels the most alive when her toes dig into the sand as she runs towards the warm, salt oblivion, her novelty yellow and blue surfboard tucked under her arm.

Her whole life she had been surrounded by water. When she was a baby, she always wanted a bath. When she was a toddler, she always wanted to stay in the kiddie pool. And then she got into surfing, and well, the rest is history so-to-speak. Her parents never got themselves involved in the sport professionally but more as a recreational activity. And it was even how they met, so really there was no stopping surfing from flowing through Y/N’s blood.

Her backyard was the ocean, so growing up, it was really the only thing for her to do. It’s what all the kids were doing, and Y/N was no different. She met her best friends on the beach when they were five years old, practicing the basics of surfing, like getting up on the board and finding their balance with the Earth.

Kalani and AJ, two of the best surfers Y/N will ever meet, and two of the purest souls to ever grace her life. They’re madly in love with one another. Have been for as long as they’ve been friends -- so coming up on sixteen years. Y/N is in awe of their relationship, she really is, but being a third-wheel isn’t exactly something she signed up for. Though, she kind of expected it when growing up.

They tried countless times to set her up with someone, but time and time again their matchmaking skills have failed, and Y/N is tired of them pitying her. No, she may not be in a long term relationship, but she hardly has time for a relationship anyway. Especially with competitions coming up, she needs to keep herself focused on surfing rather than some boy who will probably end up breaking her heart.

Well, that was her intention anyway.

October 27th, the first day of the best months out of the year.

And it started just the same as every other year. Y/N woke up at the crack of dawn and threw on her lucky white bathing suit before throwing an apple down her throat. Her surfboard was perched up against the back patio railing, and she swiftly tucked it under her arm as she made her way down the shore, being greeted by the luminescent sun that was swarming the sea in a shade of tangerine and lemon.

Jogging knee deep into water, Y/N sunk her hand just below the surface, swaying it back and forth, taking a deep breath as she felt the cool texture swarm her body. Exhaling slowly, she threw herself down onto her board, paddling onward into the great unknown. The familiar sound of the crashing waves causing her to flinch for a brief moment before comforting her ears as she watches the restless ocean ahead of her, a smile washing over her face as she could basically see her future ahead of her.

Today marks qualifying day, and obviously if she marks as qualified, she moves forward to the Vans Triple Crown. She’s been training all year, her body practically a prune with how much she’s been in the water. But, a minute can’t go to waste, so up until the very last second where she has to head to the north shore, she’s gonna remain in the water and build her intuition with how the day is going to go.

Last year, Y/N had to cut her time short when she was hospitalized the night before the first competition. So, she was all more determined to win the championship that is rightfully hers. Well, in the women’s division at least. Last year was ripped from her right when it was under her nose and she refuses to have a repeat of it.

After her hospitalization, everyone was convinced she’d never return to the water. Despite the ocean being her second home, everyone figured she would turn away -- avoid the embarrassment last year brought upon her. But, it only made her stronger and more determined to prove everyone wrong. No matter how frightening it really was.

Her first wave of the day had her coasting along smoothly, starting her out easy as waves progressively got bigger with the tide. When she got out into the water, the sun had just broken past the horizon line, yet by the time she left, the sun was nearly at its peak in the sky. Her skin felt raw, yet her body was running on adrenaline as she scoffed down the lunch her mom had made her before they banded into the family van and headed to Sunset Beach on the north shore.

Y/N’s heart raced in her chest, her leg bouncing subconsciously but furiously as she watched the landscape pass her by through the window. Her typically calming music wasn’t even working as she ran through multiple scenarios in her mind of what could go wrong today and how her day, her week, month, even year could be ruined.

Once outside of the van and on the beach, her parents pulled her close into a tight, warm hug, whispering words of encouragement in her ears, knowing just how important this was for her. Surfing and competitions had always been important to Y/N, but following last year’s downfall, this day was going to make or break whatever is left of her both physically and emotionally.

“Y/N!” she heard her name being called from the distance, the three of them immediately letting go of one another as they exchanged sheepish smiles.

“Y/N!” Was called out again, causing her to turn around and see Kalani running straight for the three of them, waving her arms in a drastic manner to gain her best friend’s attention. “Oh my -- I ran so fast, wow, I need to calm down,” Kalani breathed out, closing Y/N into a firm embrace.

“Save your energy for the waves, babe,” Y/N laughed, wrapping her own arms around Kalani’s frame. The two of them were never inseparable, it was kind of like they were actually glued to the hip together ever since they were children. And a lot of people were surprised they remained best friends through the years, what with both of them always competing in the same surfing competitions battling for the first place spot. And they knew this could be a strain on their relationship, but they decided ever since they were seven years old that they weren’t going to let surfing get between them. No matter what, they were always proud of each other for everything they’ve accomplished and are each other’s number one fans.

Thing is, Y/N tends to snag that first place spot a lot of the time, and Kalani always just misses her, earning her the second spot, right beneath her. But, Kalani has grown to accept that Y/N is better at the sport, and that’s nothing for her to be ashamed of. She’s managed to get a few of her own first place wins, and in her eyes, that’s good enough. She can’t live her life being jealous of her best friend because that’s not healthy, and anyway, surfing is much more Y/N’s livelihood than it is her own, so she’s fine with being second best -- despite what others may think.

Tugging her board off the top of the car, Y/N tucked it beneath her arm as she walked hand-in-hand with Kalani to wherever her family had set up camp on the beach. “Where’s AJ?” Y/N wondered, as she looked out into the water and saw no one out in it.

“The boys are starting soon, so he’s with Nav,” Kalani said, finally stopping in front of her parents and younger brother, and AJ’s older brother.

“Y/N!” They greeted, getting up from their chairs to kiss the girl on the cheek before greeting her parents. “It’s so great to see you back here,” Kalani’s mom smiled, pinching Y/N’s cheek before plopping herself back down under the sun.

They all began to catch up with one another since it’s been awhile they’ve all gotten together, all of them falling into old habits as if it hadn’t been months since they were last together. Y/N tried to engage in as much conversation as possible, but her mind tended to wander off as the guys started lining up in the water and making their way out. Her throat dried up and her palms were sweating -- and not from the heat -- as her nerves kicked in. Her memory began to cloud her vision as she stood abruptly and quickly walked away from the group, her heart picking up again.

Her breaths shortened as her mind blurred, and all she wanted was to curl up on her bed and calm her mind. She felt someone’s hand on her back, and immediately she could tell it was her father by the smell of his cologne. Once she was far enough from people, Y/N could feel tears well in her eyes as short images flashed across her eyes, cutting each inhale of breath in half -- which caused her to panic even more as she couldn’t breathe properly.

Last year ruined her, and she absolutely despises that this is considered her normal day-to-day routine now, her body shaking with fear as she feels herself collapsing from the inside, out. “Y/N, honey, can you hear me?” She thinks she hears her father say, but is undetermined with the intense white noise that’s swarming her ear drums.

“Count with me, c’mon, backwards from ten.”

But, all her mind could focus on was her body sinking lower and lower beneath the surface of water.

“Ten… Gotta count, c’mon you can do it, nine.”

“Eight,” she murmured, reaching out to grasp her dad’s shirt tight in her fist, just to make sure that he was really in front of her. She needs to be reminded that last year is her past, and that no matter how forward it is in her mind, it’s not her present anymore and she’s not drowning. “Seven.”

He took her hands and held them to his chest, “Six, keep going.”

“Fi-” she gulps, swallowing the lump in her throat, “..five.”

She makes it all the way down to zero, her body visibly relaxing and mentally as she hesitantly looks around to see no one watching the little event. “Do you want to go home?”

Y/N looks up to her father, shaking her head in response as she sniffles her nose and brushes away the one stray tear that has cascaded down her cheek. “No… I can do this.”

He cocks his head to the side and purses his lips, slowly nodding his head. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he turns them back in the direction, walking with her slowly as she continues to gather herself. “You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone, Y/N. Everyone knows you’re an amazing surfer.”

“I think I just need to prove it to myself,” she stated, dragging her feet through the sand like a child so it slowed their arrival time back with the group. She can only imagine that her mom had informed everyone already of what was happening, and the last thing she wants is their sorry eyes and pathetic spouts of pity that she knows she’ll wish they just kept to themselves.

Y/N knows she’s broken. She’s not the same girl everyone knew this time last year, but she doesn’t need to be reminded of it every time she steps into a room. What happened last year was serious and she understands that people are worried; But all she wants is for everyone to forget about it. Including herself. She thinks the thing that’s causing her the most trepidation now -- rather than in the morning or all year long -- is the fact she’s now back in front of a crowd again, eyes trained on her like hawks watching prey, waiting for something awful to happen again.

The only thing missing is the popcorn as they watch this free entertainment.

When they finally came back to everyone, Y/N noticed the guys had started paddling out. Everyone was talking amongst themselves, dismissing her presence as she sat herself down back in the sand, and a breath of relief escaped her lips. The tension was there, but everyone ignored it for her sake, and Y/N couldn’t be more grateful.

“Go, AJ!” Kalani cheered, pumping her fist and shouting a few hoots and hollers afterward. Dom, AJ’s brother, let out a few ear screeching whistles, the kind with the fingers in the mouth, joining in on rooting for his brother.

Watching the guys out there solidified to Y/N how real this really is, and soon her veins were pumping with excitement again instead of dread as she cheered on her best friend. He was going to qualify, they all were and they knew that, but it's always fun to get excited about the possibility of moving forward and winning the titles and earning the trophies.

All the other faces that surfed alongside AJ were mostly familiar, their names ringing bells as the announcers spoke of them, but there was one that Y/N hadn’t ever heard before. It’s the same cycle of people every year, yet this guy was fresh. And the only reason she’s curious as to who he is, is because he’s good. Like, really good.

Kalani can’t exactly remember if she’s heard of him either, shrugging to Y/N’s wonderment, “I don’t know. Maybe AJ knows.” His pink surfboard and pink wet shirt stuck out as he was a sight for sore eyes, and Y/N grew a little resentment towards him as he pulled out a few advanced maneuvers, gaining everyone’s undivided attention that used to be on AJ.

“Who is that?” Y/N’s mother questioned, looking around to see that no one knew the answer.

He was a mystery yet he radiated this vibrant energy as the guys finished their rounds, walking off with grace in his step as he laughed at something Nav -- one of the three’s friends -- had said. The girls bid their goodbyes to their families as they headed over to where the guys were before their rounds. AJ immediately came running over to them, hugging Y/N and Kalani simultaneously before giving his girlfriend a quick kiss on the lips. “You did great,” Kalani smiled, keeping her arms wrapped around his center.

“Alright, not in front of me,” Y/N grimaced, looking away from them. Immediately her eyes landed on the new surfer, still talking to Nav, and she was quick to turn back to AJ to ask who he is. “Hey, who’s the new guy?”

Looking over his shoulder, AJ saw who she was talking about before realization dawned on him. “Oh, that’s Harry. He’s from England. A really nice guy, I bet you’d like him,” he winked, causing Y/N to look at him with squinted eyes and pursed lips.

Kalani nudged his side, giving him a weird look. “What? I’m just saying.”

Then, speak of the Devil, Nav and this Harry guy came walking over, joining the three as they stood around waiting for the announcement that the girls could head out. Y/N wasn’t exactly paying attention to her surroundings as she continued to calm herself down for the impending near future. It wasn’t until Harry had stood in front of her, that she was knocked out of her own thoughts.

She looked up at him, making eye contact and briefly getting her breath caught in her throat. When he was far away, it was hard to make out his facial features or what he exactly looked like. But being right in front of him, she was merely astonished at his beauty, but more so his green eyes that reflected the perfect amount of sunlight. His wet, brunette hair rested against his forehead and seemed to be drying a bit curly.

His head tilted slightly, an amused smirk inching up his face as he watched her reaction. Something tells her he’s used to this kind of reaction. “M’Harry.”

His hand came between the two of them, waiting for her to grasp it in a firm grip. Y/N was hesitant at first but finally took his hand and shook it gently while greeting herself before dropping her hand back down to her side. “Y/N.”

This is insanely awkward. Especially because her friends are just watching the exchange silently, as if they weren’t allowed to speak while the two introduced themselves.

Harry has heard of Y/N. It’s hard for anyone involved in the surfing business to not have heard of her. Aside from the jarring news from last year, she’s an excellent surfer and her name is always spreading around like wildfire. She’s part of the reason Harry decided to delve more into the professional surfing world, because he’s been itching to meet her.

Y/N is attractive, anyone with eyes knows that, but Harry wanted to meet her only because of her expansive skills in the water. Standing in front of her, he can’t deny her undying beauty -- and if he weren’t such a gentleman he’d probably be trying to woo her this very instant. But, her looks aren’t what draws him to her, and he decides to not think with his dick for once.

Before he gets the chance to say something else to her, they get notified that the girls should start heading out for their rounds. Y/N and Kalani grab their boards and tuck them under their arms before bidding their goodbyes to the boys and scurrying off to join the rest of the girls.

“Whipped already?” Nav jokes, wrapping his arm around Harry’s shoulders and leading them to the sand where they’ll watch.

Y/N steps her toes into the water, basking in the cool feeling wrapping around her toes and surging up her body. She rolls her neck feeling it crack softly before rolling her shoulders back and taking in her umpteenth deep breath of the day. Her and Kalani looked at each other, nodding with smiles on their faces before they walked deeper in the shallow water until it reached the middle of their thighs before dropping their boards down and paddling out.

At the sight of a small wave heading toward her, Y/N dipped herself beneath the water just to wet her hair. It felt refreshing again to feel the salt coax her skin for the second time that day, as if it never left. When she greeted the air again, she could immediately feel the rays of the sun bouncing off of her skin, illuminating her in a heavenly glow, like the star she is. The spotlight is on her as she aims herself for the peak of the impending wave, nabbing the first ride of the girls’ round.

Back on the beach, her mom’s fingers were crossed, her dad’s breath was caught in his lungs, and Harry’s eyes were fixated on her figure as she jumped up on the belly of her board. Her legs kept her balance against the rough matter below her. Due to the steep wall of the wave, Y/N had to act quick and rational in order to keep control, and started off with an off-the-lip, which kept her parallel with the wave before she moved herself down and carved herself back into the energy zone.

Because it was a smaller wave, she could only go on for so long before she tipped herself off the board and fell down into the water. Everyone waited with bated breaths and kept their eyes on the area she sunk beneath the blue, before sighing in relief to see her head pop back up. Harry could see the joy wipe over everyone’s faces, replacing the worry that was once there as they hugged one another. He could tell Y/N has such a good support system, and it only urges him more to want to be a part of her life.

Of this life.

❊ ❊

“You guys did so good! We’re so proud,” Y/N’s mom gushed as she pulled her into a warm embrace -- a hug that holds more meaning than just being proud. Her mom was relieved. Grateful. Happy. She’s able to hold her daughter one more time, and that’s all she could ask for. “It’s going to be a good year for all you kids.”

Y/N felt like she was on cloud nine. She was elated, overjoyed, ecstatic, riding such a good high. Her comeback couldn’t have gone any better and she’s just so, so happy. Arriving at the beach she was nervous and anxious and was two seconds away from caving to her fears and running away. Now, as she walks arm-in-arm with her best friend away from the water for the night, she’s laughing a genuine laugh and her veins are currently pumping excitement rather than nerves.

AJ locked his arm over her shoulders, the three of them linked just like they always are as they head towards Y/N’s family van. But, instead of like other times, this time they have a tag-a-long trailing behind them. It’s sort of like a tradition where after every competition, all of the families join together and head to dinner at their usual restaurant. Nav couldn’t come because he had his own family matters to attend to but Harry was more than willing to accept the offer. He says he came to Hawaii alone and that he had nothing better to do, but his intense stare on Y/N when he accepted the offer says that’s not the only reason he was so quick to join.

It was also part of the tradition that they ride together in the van, 1) because it was the most spacious vehicle where they were able to ride together and 2) because Y/N’s parents are pretty fun to be around. They blasted the best music and made the best jokes, causing not one dull car ride. When they filed in, AJ and Kalani pushed themselves to the back seat, leaving Y/N and Harry to sit in the separate middle row chairs.

“Oh! Harry, I’m sorry, I forgot to ask. Does your family want to join us? They’re more than welcome to,” Y/N’s mom looked over her shoulder in the passenger seat.

He cleared his throat, looking up from his phone and sitting up a bit in his seat, an uncomfortable look on his face. “M’here alone, actually.”

Before anyone could ask any questions, AJ clapped Harry’s shoulder, saying, “We’re your temporary family now, man.” Despite being competitors, it seems the two of them really hit it off and AJ genuinely meant what he said about being Harry’s family. Though, everyone knows the main reason he said it was to diminish the rising tension.

“Thanks, mate,” Harry returned, fist bumping AJ. And during the little exchange, Harry caught eyes with Y/N, catching her eyes wandering around his profile and facial features, causing her to look away quickly and look out the window as if the view was something spectacular. She could hear him snicker quietly, and just when she thinks the coast is clear, she slyly looks back at him just to find out he’s already staring at her.

They really love staring at one another apparently.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Y/N and Harry were pushed to the back of the group -- not really by choice but somehow it ended up that way -- and neither of them really made any moves to break the silence between them. Y/N because she was nervous, and Harry because he wanted her to be the first to speak. And it just so happened that when they were sat at a table, they were left with the last two remaining chairs that also happened to be right next to each other. Y/N couldn’t figure out if they were doing this on purpose or it was by coincidence, but she can tell Harry doesn’t mind.

She’s not one to be nervous around guys, but there’s something about Harry and how he is so blatantly interested in her that makes her wary of talking to him. Kalani sat across the table from her, and when they made eye contact, they had a silent conversation about how Y/N should grow the balls and actually talk to him. Of course Y/N refused, which earned her a kick to the shin in retaliation, which then caused her to let out a yelp of pain and made everyone look at her confused and worried.

“Sorry, hit my knee on the table,” she brushed it off, glaring at her best friend the moment everyone turned away and continued with their own conversations.

Being as slick as possible, Kalani directed her eyes to Harry when he wasn’t looking so Y/N could see her, before turning to AJ and talking to him about something completely irrelevant. Again, Y/N and Harry were stuck in this silence. She’s not exactly sure why she can’t just start a conversation, but he’s kind of intimidating and she’s afraid of embarrassing herself, especially in front of her family.

Pursing her lips and looking down to her lap, Y/N finally turned to give Harry her attention, noticing how he was staring into space, looking completely lost in this foreign setting. “So, uh, where exactly are you from?”

Harry was quick to turn his head to Y/N, waiting and waiting and waiting for the moment she would say something. “A small town in Cheshire. Northwest of London, if that helps.”

“That’s a pretty far trip to take alone,” she nods, licking her bottom lip before gently biting down on it. As much as she thinks of herself as an independent person, she’s also an extreme homebody and could never imagine going anywhere without anyone by her side, whether it be family or friends.

He merely shrugs in response, “M’better off alone.”

Y/N cocked her head to the side while looking at him, letting his words sizzle inside her mind as she tries to overanalyze him in the mere hours she’s known him. She turned her gaze down to her hands that were intertwined in her lap, mulling over her next words to say. She doesn’t know him, but she knows the feeling of being alone. And being alone, no matter how appealing it could sound, never works out in the end. People aren’t meant to live alone. It goes against the natural order of life, and just hearing him say he prefers being alone breaks her heart just the tiniest bit. “No one’s better off alone. Everyone needs someone eventually.”

Little does she know, is that she is his someone. Or, at least that’s what Harry’s hoping. He thinks he’s crazy for being so enthralled by someone so suddenly and so strongly, but Harry’s always been one to trust his gut. His plushie but toned gut was screaming at him that this girl is just meant to be in his life. Maybe meant to be his, but he won’t push his luck. “Guess we’ll have to wait an’ see.”

They both smiled softly at one another, a small blush creeping up Y/N’s cheeks for the umpteenth time that day. “I guess we will.”

❊ ❊

It had been a little over two weeks since qualification day. Her days hadn’t changed much in regards to her schedule; Waking up at the ass crack of dawn and heading straight into the water and staying in practically until the sun was set. But, there was one slight shift in her day, and that was the now familiar face of Harry popping in everyday, either physically or in her mind.

It was safe to say Harry was quickly adapting to the three friends, merging with them seamlessly; As if he had been part of this little group since he was a child. It’s not like any of them minded, especially AJ because he was happy to get another guy around. Their friend Nav wasn’t exactly a permanent part of their little group because he belonged to everyone and no one, but Harry stuck around them like glue and AJ was so grateful.

Y/N’s grateful because now she isn’t a third-wheel.

Harry and her aren’t exactly buddy-buddy, but it definitely helps having someone else around for movie night so Y/N isn’t stuck watching her best friend’s all cuddled up together and hearing the occasional kiss they would share.

Though, Harry has made it known time and time again that he really wants to be buddy-buddy with her. And Y/N’s not exactly sure why she won’t give him what he wants, but for some reason she loses all comprehensive skills and becomes a blubbering, nervous mess around Harry whenever he brings up his interest in her. So, she’s successfully avoided all buddy-buddy conversations with him by bringing up mundane things instead. Like, why she decided to paint her nails blue, or why she absolutely despises white socks.

She thought she was doing a pretty skillful job too. But, after the first two times she avoided giving a yes or no answer to going on a date with him, Harry purposely would ask her just to hear what other obscure distractions she could come up with. He loved hearing Y/N talk, and without her knowing, he was getting to know her piece by piece, inch by inch, and he was loving it.

Though, a guy’s ego can only take so many rejections before he gives up completely. And just when he was ready to call it quits and accept that she wasn’t interested in him like he was her, the unexpected happened.

Y/N agreed to a date.

Well, kind of.

It was time for the Hawaiian Pro. The official first event of the Vans Triple Crown. It was taking place at Ali’i Beach Park in Hale’iwa, one of the most intense surfing spots filled with waves of many different faces. Of course, this is when Y/N’s nerves really started to kick in. Qualification day isn’t anywhere near as filled with people as the actual events are, and her nerves have seemed to kick it into high gear. It doesn’t help that the Hawaiian Pro is when her life changed a year ago. She could hear people whispering about her, wondering if she’s going to wipe out again or if this time she’ll stay under the water. Her mind was already frenzied enough, but nothing completes the cycle like a panic attack and the embarrassment of many on-goers witnessing said panic attack.

She almost backed out. How is she meant to be the best when her body is afraid of taking its final breath? The tide was high and the waves showed no mercy. How is she meant to challenge that? How is she meant to control the water beneath her when she can’t even control her own thoughts?

It was getting to be too much for her. This entire time leading up to the Triple Crown she’s denied her fear and her anxiety, telling herself she’ll get over it. She’s been doing good all year, so what makes now any different? But it is very different. The calm atmosphere of her backyard is no match for the rambunctious setting of the Triple Crown. And she’s a fool for thinking differently.

So, she was panicking.

Y/N couldn’t even get up from her seat in her parent’s van because she was so shaky. Her father held her close, easing her back to reality and away from her tortuous mind. Of course, he offered to drive them back home and away from the competition, telling her again that she didn’t have to prove herself to anyone. But, she declined again. Because she needed to prove it to herself. She’s stronger than her mind lets on, and she needs to make sure she knows that.

When she slid off her board and sank her toes back into the warm sand after a very successful first round, landing her in the lead spot, she was finally able to breathe again.

People congratulated her on her comeback, astonished to see her doing better than ever before. Her parents embraced her with love and elation, so beyond happy to see her laughing and smiling and enjoying herself now that she’s progressing forward. Kalani of course is her number one supporter, practically jumping on her and screaming in her ear about how happy she is for her best friend.

Everyone was making their rounds hugging Y/N, and then it was Harry’s turn. They didn’t exactly embrace like the rest of them had, but he threw his arm over her shoulders and pulled her to his side, squeezing her to him softly before looking down at her and saying, “Absolutely wicked, love. Gotta teach me some of y’fancy moves.”

“You sure? They’re really only meant for the pros,” she teased, biting at her bottom lip to conceal her laughter as he scoffed.

“”Ey, no one likes a narcissist,” he shoved her shoulder softly, rolling his eyes as her laughter rang through his ears. “But, whaddya say? M’gonna need a good teacher if I wanna make it to the big leagues.”

Y/N simply shrugs without really thinking much into it, “Sure.” Her mind didn’t exactly process what she had agreed to until later that night, before she dozed off into her temporary slumber. Her eyes shot open and her body sat upright as an over dramatic gasp was inhaled into her lungs. Her mind had been all over the place with the competition that she didn’t realize that she had agreed to being alone with Harry for the first time since they'd met. Immediately she texted and called Kalani, to which she got laughed at in return.

“Kalani, this isn’t a laughing matter!”

A few miles away, Harry was snuggled into his bedsheets, a bright smile stretched across his face as he reveled in the idea that he finally was going to be alone with Y/N since the first time they’d met. His heart was jumping and his stomach was fluttering as he envisioned her pretty face behind his eyelids before he drifted off into his dream with her.

“It so is! C’mon, Y/N, what have you got to lose? You have the same interests, he’s funny, he’s hot, and he clearly is into you. Enjoy something outside of surfing for once.”

Enjoy something outside of surfing for once.

That’s the thought that stuck in her mind, lingering around as she finally fell asleep, and then when she woke up, and when she was eating breakfast; And doing her chores; And hanging out with Kalani; And eating dinner; And then falling asleep again. Y/N didn’t even realize she had spent so much of her past year focusing on her career and health that she hasn’t done much of anything else.

She’s so grateful to be alive, but she’s hardly given herself the chance to live again.

Before her accident, she was always up for adventure and was always the life of any party. After her accident, she hasn’t even been to a party. She hasn’t been in a relationship in years, she hasn’t gone on a date in a long time, and she can’t even remember the last time she’s had sex or kissed a guy. She’s been so focused on her redemption, that she can’t remember the last time she was genuinely happy.

Going on this date, but also not a date -- but also clearly a date -- with Harry just may provide her with that. And she owes it to herself, to her past self, that her accident isn’t going to shape her life anymore.

Plus, she really enjoys Harry’s company. And even if she doesn’t show it so bluntly like him, she really likes him too.

The next day, Y/N and Kalani had gone out shopping, enjoying a nice girls day out. They had bought a few new varieties of swimsuits (as if they didn’t have enough) and a few other types of clothes, got some lunch, and even found time to watch a movie. And they did all of this right up until the moment Y/N decided it was time to text Harry.

She wasn’t sure how to go about this, because she’s never really asked anyone on a date before, or followed up with plans (?) about a date. Kalani kept urging her to just rip the bandaid off and to get it over with, saying something along the lines of, “You’re not getting any younger. Plus, I think he’d slip right off his board at the sight of you in that new yellow suit you got.” It was just a simple bikini, but it showcased the majority of her skin that essentially left little to the imagination.

But, the thing is, whenever Y/N gets into the water around people, she can’t help but cover her torso with a wet-shirt, insecure of the imperfections that lined her skin. It’s rare she can bear to look at her skin, so she only assumes no one else would want to either. So, she’s not so sure he’ll fall off his board at the sight of her, but the thought is nice.

Y/N pulled out her phone and hovered over his contact for a good amount of time before Kalani grew impatient and snatched the phone from her friend’s hand. They wrestled around with each other to try and gain custody of the phone, but finally in the end Y/N was able to hold her phone tight in her hands before declaring, “Okay! Okay! I’m texting, I’m going.”

Kalani peaked over Y/N’s shoulder as she watched her type the allusive message to Harry, a proud smile carving over her lips as she watched her break down a barrier she had subconsciously put up. It isn’t by any means important to be in a relationship or to have a boyfriend, but Kalani knows deep down that Y/N was wishing to have that special connection only a relationship could provide -- a connection outside of the realm of friendships.

“There,” Y/N huffed, shoving the screen of her phone in her best friend’s face.

hii, if you’re still up to learn from a true professional, I’m available tonight :)

It wasn’t even ten seconds later that she got a reply.

Shit, I’ll be your best student, babe. I know a perfect spot, I’ll be at yours in an hour.

It was kind of amusing to Y/N that he said he knows a perfect spot, as if she hadn’t been living on this island all her life and practically knows it like that back of her hand. But, that miniscule thought was pushed to the very depths of her mind as panic coursed through her as she realized what she was getting herself into. She’s going on a date, not a date, but also a date with Harry, and a small hour wasn’t enough time to gain her composure.

Fuck.

❊ ❊

It’s no surprise to Y/N when Harry shows up to her house a minute early. She’s half convinced that he had been waiting outside of her house for the past fifteen minutes until he finally stepped up on to the porch of her house, knocking rapidly on the door. It wasn’t an emergent knock that caused some sort of panic, but it was a frantic knock that screamed ‘let’s get the show on the road.’

When she opened the door, both of their breaths were robbed from their lungs. Y/N essentially looked like she always did but something about her glowed differently to Harry; maybe it was because she’s his for the night. For his eyes only. Just him and her. He was awestruck.

Harry essentially looked like he always did but something about him radiated differently to Y/N. The same little smirk was nestled in its usual spot, but this one held a different meaning. It looked the same, but maybe it was different because it was just her and him tonight. He’s hers for the night. For her eyes only. Y/N was nervous.

Y/N left her board out on her porch so she wouldn’t have to walk around back when he got here, but she was silently wishing she didn’t so she’d get just a couple more seconds to get herself together. She just kept chanting, “It’s not a date!” in her head, in hopes it would make her feel better.

It didn’t.

Harry saw her board and tucked it under his left arm as he threw his right one over her shoulders guiding her his mode of transportation. It also wasn’t a surprise to Y/N to see Harry rolling up in a light yellow Jeep; the top down and the doors off, typical of any surfer dude, no matter where they originate.

“Her name’s Betty,” he smiled, walking around the back and giving her a quick tap on her rear end before stepping up to straddle Y/N’s board safely and securely.

Sliding through the empty passenger door to take her seat, Y/N was greeted by a familiar smell, a smell she could only associate with Harry. And even if she could never admit it, she loved it a lot. It was mouth-watering and intoxicating, and simply put, it was Harry. Even with the open atmosphere of the car, it was still drenched in this specific smell, and Y/N can’t help but giggle at the image of Harry spritzing whatever cologne into the car before arriving at her house.

A few moments later, Harry slid into the driver side, placing the sunglasses that were sitting on the dash over his eyes, shoving the key into the ignition and starting them on their journey to whatever beach he had envisioned. On the ride there, over the course of a few right turns and lefts and different exits on the highway, Y/N surprisingly had no idea where they were going. Did she think maybe he was gonna murder her? A bit. But, she felt comfortable around Harry. So, she felt it in her gut that she was going to come out alive from this… event.

When they got to the beach, it was about thirty minutes from Y/N’s house, and she had no idea where they were. They had to walk a short path to meet sand and ocean, but once they made it past the clearing, Y/N was in awe of the site ahead of her. People could think that seeing the ocean every day ruins the peaceful and magical aura surrounding it. But, Y/N never gets sick of greeting it. The sun was beginning to set, and the water was glowing with a yellow-pink hue by the horizon that blended into a bright blue by the shore. The cliff sides around them guarded the little alcove, feeding into the tranquil atmosphere.

“How did you find this place?” Y/N wondered as she kicked off her sandals, and shimmied her shorts down her legs before kicking them over her sandals. The yellow bottom of her bikini was visible, and she turned her head just as Harry took a large gulp at the sight of her in front of him; Just for him. Her blue wet-shirt stayed on though.

It piqued Harry’s interest as to why she never took off her shirt. He understood for the competitions, but even when it was just a casual outing, just him and her, or them and their friends, she always kept it on. It wasn’t his place to ask, but he wished she would’ve broken this barrier down just this once. Just for him. “Tha’s a secret for me to know and you to maybe find out.”

Y/N let out a giggle - why? she didn’t know - and turned her attention back to the boy that brought her here, her eyes nearly popping out of her head as she caught Harry taking off his white t-shirt, now only clad in his little pink shorts next to his little pink board. His skin looked extra dewy, and his tattoos seemed to glint under the setting sun. Before she could devour him with her eyes, she picked up her board and took it with her, running down to the water and shouting, “C’mon slow-poke, gotta get in the water before the sun sets!”

It wasn’t a surprise to Y/N that this didn’t keep on track of a teaching lesson. Harry doesn’t need to be taught, he’s amazing on his own. He pulled off his own tricks that Y/N didn’t even know the name of, and she was asking him to let her in on his little secrets. He locked his lips in return, throwing the imaginary key somewhere over his shoulder, “Y’think I’m g’na tell you? I’m far too narcissistic to let you beat me at my own game.”

“Who said I’m gonna beat you?”

“Have you met you?”

There’s a reason Y/N’s name circulates throughout people’s brains, why her name is common in any Hawaiian household, why Harry was itching to meet her. She’s good at what she does. Insanely good that it’s kind of concerning. Not everyone can come back from a life-altering experience, but Y/N took those stereotypes and crushed them beneath the tail of her infamous yellow surfboard. She reveled in the doubts and came back stronger than ever. Of course she would beat him at his own game. She’s the only one who could.

There wasn’t any telling how long they had been riding wave after wave, in the water with no one else but just each other. But, the sun almost halfway past the horizon line was a good giveaway. They were probably nearing the two hour mark, and they knew they couldn’t stay out here all night, but Jesus, how they wished they could. Y/N wasn’t expecting to be so content, thinking this would be some strange, awkward, uncomfortable time they would want to forget about the moment they left each other’s sides.

It’s the opposite.

Just for him. Just for her.

They both laid on their boards, limbs sprawled out and dangling into the water as their bodies shut down in exhaustion. Y/N can’t remember the last time she went so long without taking at least a ten minute break. Her body was most definitely not used to it as she felt her back mold into her little yellow board, accepting the relaxation. When she finally opened her eyes back up, she turned her head to the side, admiring Harry’s profile as his arms were pulled over his head, the skin of his torso being stretched, which also stretched the ink that adorned him.

Y/N got lost in the mirage that is Harry, that she didn’t even realize he had turned his head and caught her ogling. It wasn’t until he cleared his throat that her eyes snapped to his, heat traveling up through her body and rushing to her cheeks. “M’eyes are up here, love.”

“Uh- right. Yeah, I know.”

“Cool. Hey d’y’wanna play twenty questions?” He asked, sitting up to straddle his board and paddling himself around so he was facing her.

Y/N squinted her eyes, “Are we children?”

“I mean, I guess not. Doesn’t stop my five year old humor though,” he smiled, kicking his foot up to splash her with an inkling of water as his childlike, petty comeback. “You ask first.”

Y/N pushed her hand through the water to spray him in an ounce of sea salt before turning her head back to the sky, contemplating her first question. “Mm… favorite color?” She already knew the answer.

“And you asked me if we’re children? C’mon, darling, know you wanna know more than tha’. Pink. What was your first impression of me?” He wiggled his eyebrows, even though she couldn’t see his face. This has been one of those things that’s been nagging at the back of his mind ever since they first met. Their first encounter wasn’t awkward per-se, but the fleeting moment of introduction wasn’t exactly one worth remembering either. But, Harry was always going to remember it. And depending on Y/N’s answer, he hopes she will too.

At this, she turned her head back to Harry, hand covering her eyes as the sun glared at them over the reflective water. It was a sight to behold, seeing Harry glow in the golden hour light. “Intimidating. But, also unique,” she began, moving to sit herself up and paddle her board around so she was now facing him. “You remind me of a singular cloud in an otherwise clear sky. You’re not meant to be there, yet you’re not out of place.”

Harry sat for a moment, staring. Completely in awe. Head over heels. Never would’ve guessed those words to be the ones tumbling from her lips. It was the way she didn’t hesitate in her sentence, as if those words had been formulated a while ago and just now was she able to spew it from her wordbank. Just for him. “Fuck, that was beautiful. Your turn.”

“Do you really think you’re better off alone?”

Harry pursed his lips, looking off into the distance for a brief moment before shrugging, “I do. But, I don’t. If it comes down to going back to my family and friends from home or being alone, I’ll choose being alone.” And he wanted to sprinkle in the little bonus that he doesn’t feel alone when he’s around her, but something tells him that’ll just turn her away. “What’re you so afraid of?”

It’s a brash question Y/N wasn’t expecting to be thrown at her so suddenly. She has a mix of answers, and there’s a specific one flashing in her mind like a bright, neon yellow sign, but she’s not certain how comfortable she is with telling him yet. Though, she notices that whatever question she could throw his way, he’d answer it truthfully, not scared of opening himself up, just for her. She wants to be brave like that, and maybe she can be, but she’s not sure how.

It comes as a surprise to her when she does say, “I’m scared of going through everything that happened last year all over again. Everyone’s afraid of dying, or at least most people are, but experiencing death… there’s really no coming back from that. ”

“Experiencing it?” He looks at her wide-eyed.

“What, you haven’t heard of what happened last year?” She looks at him, eyebrows scrunched.

“Only know you had some accident. No offense, but I didn’t really bother myself with reading the fine print,” he shrugs, running his pruney fingers through his salted hair. He didn’t know if he wanted to read it, especially not with the sudden news that apparently this very alive, lively girl in front of him… died? He doesn’t think he could stomach reading about that.

Y/N hasn’t met a single person who hasn’t heard about what happened to her. Or at least the details of it. In reality she doubts anyone outside of Hawaii knows of her existence, but in her world it was the biggest news to affect the state in a while -- aside from, like, actual serious matters, her accident was up there on the news.

She evades his second question though, not wanting to cough up the traumatic details of her past; not yet at least. “Well, it’s my turn anyway. Why surfing?”

“I could just look it up, but I get it; you’ll tell me when you’re ready,” he gave her a playful look, pursing his lips while giving her a pointed stare. “It’s different. England isn’t known for surfing. It’s known for rain and football. But, with every possible detail of m’life, I wanted to make sure I was different. My dad wanted me to become a professional footy player, so I said no. M’mum wanted me to go and get a degree and a real job. I didn’t want that. So, I turned to surfing,” he swung his arms around, gesturing to the vast sea and the board below him.

“Plus, it’s given me an excuse to leave home and come here. And y’know, so I could meet you.”

Y/N felt a small blush creep up her skin again, her eyes shooting down to her lap and her feet that were distorted under the water. Harry’s infatuation with the girl isn’t a secret, but anytime he purposely makes it known, it’s like a little secret that she’s unsure if she’s supposed to know or not. “Meet me?”

Harry kicked his foot up again so water would splash at her. “Uh-uh, my turn,” he laughed, shaking his head. He knew she thought she was slick at the way she bit her lip, containing her laughter. If she wants to play by the rules of the nonsensical game, then so will he. “Sunrise or sunset?”

“Sunset. Favorite song?” She wanted to reel back from the serious talk for a moment.

“Too many to choose from. Favorite movie?” He wanted to know every nitty-gritty detail about her.

She pondered for a moment, “Mamma Mia.”

“No shit! Me too!” His mouth dropped in shock, his hand flying up to his chest.

“Really?”

“No,” he shook his head, immediately blocking the massive splash he sensed coming.

Y/N rolled her eyes, huffing at him whilst crossing her arms over her torso, “Are you always so insufferable?”

“S’my middle name, babe. You hungry?” He laid himself down on his board on his belly, paddling himself to face the beach, ready to make a head start for the beach. Y/N hummed a response, following in suit and settling her stomach against the belly of the board and pushing herself to land. “Cool, let’s go get something to eat then I’ll take you home.”

Y/N’s legs felt weak, yet appreciative back on the sand. It felt like she was walking on Jell-O as she went to pick up her towel and clothes. Looking down to her shirt, she knew it was out of the question to let him see her take it off. And she could turn her back so he wouldn’t see her front -- whether or not it’s clad in a bikini top -- but even then her heart raced at the thought. She held her t-shirt in her hands and thought it over for a moment before blurting, “Could you turn around please?”

Harry looked up from checking his phone quickly, tilting his head in confusion before looking down to the shirt in her hands. The dots are connected and the bright neon pink sign in his head is telling him to listen to her, and not to question it. So, he doesn’t. Just for her. It’s still unbeknownst to Harry why she never takes her shirt off, but he knows better than to think with his dick, and accepts her wishes, turning his back to her.

Y/N lets out a small breath of relief, grateful he didn’t question her on it. She’s quick to rip off her shirt and pat dry her wet skin before hastily throwing on her dry one, giving Harry the OK to turn back around.

“Sorry, I just… I’m not comfortable with anyone seeing my, uh, my scar,” she mumbles, nervously moving her hair from one shoulder over to the other. Harry shrugs in response, picking his board up from the ground and wrapping his arm around her shoulder as they began their walk back to his car.

“You don’ have to explain yourself to me, babe,” he smiled down at her, squeezing her to his side softly.

Y/N looked up at him, and she’s sure that if she could see herself right now, her eyes would be twinkling in delight, with adoration. Just for him. “Thank you.”

They didn’t say anything else for a few minutes, walking the distance to his lonesome Jeep in peace. The silence gave Y/N time to think and to mull over all of the gushy feelings she was feeling inside about the guy beside her. She had no reason not to like him, realizing it was only fear that was pushing her away. But, this night displayed a soft side to Harry that she fell head over heels for. His smooth, easy-going approach to life, mixed in with respect for her, and a hint of witty humor was enough to tell her how she truly feels about him. And she’s scared, not because she’s afraid, but because she’s not.

Y/N can find herself easily opening up to Harry quicker than she has anyone else because she trusts him. She can just tell he’s got nothing to hide, so in-turn she wants to be the same. She doesn’t want to cower away, but revel in happiness. Because she deserves it.

Harry quickly secured the boards back into their previous spots before sliding into the driver side and whisking them away from their little getaway. The wind swept through their hair and chilled their still slightly wet skin, causing goosebumps to trail up Y/N’s arm as chills raked through her body. This time around in the car they both were more laid back, not singing along to the songs playing on the radio but rather just listening and taking in the blissful atmosphere they’ve created.

There’s been one question dancing across her mind though ever since he brought up the little game of twenty questions. It was the first one to pop up in her mind when she was thinking of something juicy to ask. She didn’t want to ask it though, in fear of what his answer would be. But, now she’s not afraid. She’s curious though.

“Is this a date?” She queried, turning the volume of the radio down a bit so he could hear her and vice versa.

Harry glanced at her through his peripheral, one eyebrow cocking up on his forehead, “Is the sky blue?”

“I mean, right now it’s like orange-blue,” she retorted, looking at the newly sun-ridden sky that blended shades of orange into the usual night blue.

“Brainiac. There’s your answer. It’s however you want to look at it,” he digressed, reaching over to pat her thigh - in more of a friendly manner rather than sensual.

She appreciated his answer, absolutely adoring the fact that he wasn’t putting pressure on her about anything. It was hard to comprehend just how nice he truly is, and how someone could be so perfect. She couldn’t see a flaw in his looks or his personality or his morals, and all she could wonder was how someone like him could possibly like someone like her. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you, Harry.”

He side glanced at her again, this time raising both of his eyebrows in puzzlement, “I’ll take tha’ as a good thing?”

“It’s good. It’s… it’s a good thing.”

❊ ❊

The two of them had discussed where they wanted to go, neither of them wanting to decide and going back and forth with one another, saying, “No, you decide,” “No you.”

Y/N was never good at decisions, especially mundane ones like where to eat. She always lets Kalani decide because she could eat anything, and it’s her friend that’s the picky one. But, Harry is the same way. Whatever is put in front of him, he could probably eat (except for pickles, he absolutely hates pickles).

They settled for pizza. And it was going to be Harry’s first time trying a slice of Hawaiian.

Y/N hates Hawaiian slices, finding the sweetness of the pineapple and the savor of the ham unsettling atop her pizza. It sends her taste buds into shock and her mind into a meltdown. But, she insisted he try it, because how could someone be in Hawaii and not try its state-named slice?

They sat at their little table in the corner of the restaurant that was alongside a window, giggling to themselves as they played a little game of eye-spy, waiting for their food. For some odd reason, Harry was really good at this game, always picking the hardest of objects to point out, always stumping a frustrated Y/N.

“You’re cheating.”

“How the fuck am I cheating?”

“Dunno, you just are.”

And in retaliation to her accusation, Harry pointed to her shirt, stating she got a little soda on it, causing her to look down to her chest and see nothing but finger as he flicked her nose. “Too easy. Sore loser.”

Y/N huffed, sticking her tongue out at him. The playful banter between them was the best part of their days lately. Before Y/N even realized her feelings for Harry, she always looked forward to what they would bicker about -- in a friendly matter of course. Now, she constitutes that to just wanting to see him because she really enjoys his company, and him.

It’s been a long time since she’s felt this way about anyone, and she’s sort of glad she gets to feel this way about Harry. He’s an enigma, but a good one. She’s totally transfixed by him and she never wants this euphoria to end. He radiates this bright and bubbly energy that lifts her mood whenever she’s around him, and she’s afraid of losing that. But, she chooses not to dwell on the what-if, instead completely basking in the present and his gooey aura of happiness.

When the food finally came out, they both were quick to stuff their faces, their stomachs practically turning inside-out from how hungry they were. It came to no surprise to Harry that he was absolutely in love with this Hawaiian slice, already looking forward to ordering two more.

Y/N looked at him a tad worried. He was scoffing down three slices as if there were no tomorrow, all within a matter of two minutes. She was slightly worried he was going to reach over and take her dinner, because that’s how hungry he seemed to be. But, he should know better than to get between Y/N and her food. Like the one time he tried to take some of her fries, to which she punched him in the shoulder and then took them back.

“Hey, y’gonna eat that?” He points to her not yet touched slice of pizza, earning a glare that could kill in response. “Cool, you are, just making sure. Can’t let precious food go t’waste. It’s my turn for a question right?”

Y/N thinks back for a second to determine if he’s right or not, remembering she did ask a question last. She nodded her head before biting into her little piece of heaven.

“Was it hard getting back in the water?”

She brought her napkin up to her mouth to wipe away the drop of sauce she felt on her cheek, mulling over her answer. “Kinda. I knew I had to eventually because it’s all I know, it was just a matter of when. My parents were terrified, and I mean I was too but I can’t let that dictate my future. I love surfing and nothing is going to take that away from me.”

Not even something as horrifying as death could take her away from her true love. Not until she’s truly six-feet under, riding silver waves in the silver palace.

“Do you think you’re going to stay here? In Hawaii?” Y/N wondered, taking a sip of her Coke.

“Got nowhere else to be,” he shrugged, mindlessly tapping his fingers on the table in an arrhythmic pattern. “Home is where the heart is, right? Well, think mine’s here right now.” Across from her. Just for her.

Home is where the heart is.

“Does it count if my heart isn’t mine?”

Last year, Y/N was going about her day like she always did. She was fine, in tip-top shape just like she had been for the past twenty years of her life. The bright sun was out and shining over all of the surfers and onlookers, and it seemed just like every other regular day. She was paddling out into the water, and the perfect, golden first wave was approaching her. She pushed herself up onto her feet, balancing her body, in tune with the wave, executing a nearly perfect opener. Then, she felt her chest tighten and her body suddenly felt weak. Breathing rapidly grew difficult, causing her to instantly panic. She fell off her board, plummeting into the water, trying to gasp for air but choking on the sea that swimmed down her throat.

Feeling herself sink as her chest was on fire was the last she remembered. The baby blue sky blended into black and that was it. Her life was over.

Kalani was the one who went in after her, screaming for help as her best friend was blue in the face and not moving.

Y/N suffered a heart attack. Apparently, she had a condition called hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, that went unnoticed all her life. On this day, her heart had thickened extensively, making it difficult to pump blood to the rest of her body. The strain on her heart caused it to give out, right when she was feeling the high of riding a solid wave. She was pronounced dead for a total of forty-five seconds before EMT could revive her. Supposedly she’s lucky to be alive, because if not treated basically instantly, there’s a slim chance of survival. But, she was able to stick it out until the hospital.

Her heart was in brutal shape, so she was sent to the top of a donor waiting list. Y/N and her family are forever grateful for the team of doctors and nurses that stuck by her side, knowing she wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for them. Or her sheer luck.

Y/N felt a little crazy for feeling so comfortable spilling all of this information so suddenly to Harry, but at the same time she didn’t. And the best part about it is that none of it seems to freak Harry out. Nothing about who she is or how she is scares him. And that’s what makes her feel so comfortable. “My scar, it’s from a heart transplant. I had a heart condition all my life apparently. Then suddenly one day, it couldn’t handle it anymore, so it gave out. A girl named Shauna’s heart is keeping me alive right now.”

Harry didn’t blink for a whole minute.

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, trying to come up with something, anything to say to the girl across from him. But, he had nothing. He didn’t know what to say.

His silence was a little concerning to Y/N, making her wish she could just be swallowed whole by the ground below her. Was it too soon to drop the HT bomb? He was bound to find out eventually, and she figured it was best to rip the bandaid off on her own time rather than someone else telling him or him looking it up on Google.

She’s kicking herself over it.

Harry cleared his throat, taking a sip of his water before licking his lips and leaning back in his chair. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Y/N merely shrugged, “Don’t be. Shit happens. Who knows, if it never happened we may not be here now.”

Harry raised his eyebrows, his signature small smirk back on his face in its usual spot. He raised his glass, leaning it forward a bit toward her, stating, “Cheers to that, babe.” She raised her own glass and clinked it against his, a smile on her lips as she sucked up the remaining bit of her soda through her straw. She’s happy he didn’t turn and run away.

Cheers to that, babe.

By the time they both filled their guts to the point of feeling overstuffed, mindlessly chatting and spending time together, it was already past ten o’clock. The time had passed them by like it was nothing, but they weren’t necessarily complaining. The older couple next to them were though. Y/N had to pull Harry out of the restaurant before he bit the woman’s head off for how rude she was. That’s when they knew it was time to skedaddle.

Then they just drove around for another hour before Harry figured it was time to bring her home, much to his dismay. But, when her head lolled against the passenger seat headrest and her eyes would softly shut in exhaustion. He wanted desperately to reach over and tuck the loose strand of hair that fell out of her ponytail, behind her ear. He wanted to reach over and place his hand on her thigh as they drove down the highway, softly squeezing her skin before teasingly inching up towards her hidden gem.

Is it too soon to be in love?

It was like a slap in the face when Harry parked in front of her house. Reality stuck its nose into their little wonderland bubble, and unfortunately, they couldn’t push it back out.

Harry hopped out of his seat, unfastening her board from the trunk and tucking it under his arm as they walked side-by-side to her front door. He gently placed it down where he had initially found it earlier on, tucking his lips into his mouth as he stuck his hands in his pockets.

“I uh… I guess this is it. I had a really ni-”

“I’ve got one more question before you leave me,” he interrupted her little speech, stepping impossibly closer to her, barricading her between him and the banister on her porch. It wasn’t hard to notice the long stares at her shiny lips that glinted in the dull yellow glow of the light by the door. He purposely took extra time to rake over the features of her face before finally meeting her eyes.

Y/N swallowed nothing but air as she softly bit at her bottom lip, “Yeah?”

She already knew his question.

“Can I kiss you?”

He already knew her answer.

Y/N slyly looked at him, bringing her hands up, a bit hesitant to rest on his shoulders. “I thought this wasn’t a date.”

“Sky’s blue.” Y/N looks up at the sky and notices it’s dark blue hue, twinkling stars layers on top, surrounding the fullest, brightest moon. It was a beautiful sky, perfect to share a first kiss under.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers as his hands came up to her hips. Her eyes fluttered shut, waiting for the climactic moment to overcome them, the air of the night chilling up her spine.

But, then she felt fiery, red hot as their lips locked together in a soft kiss. It was as soft as they felt towards one another. This giddy, slow paced, admiring kiss that had their insides melting but their hearts pounding. This kiss is exactly how Y/N images Harry. A pale yellow that’s not harsh on the eyes, that resonates happiness. Harry imagines it as a hot pink, one that takes his breath away and captures his mind.

It wasn’t long before it turned heated, Harry’s tongue sweeping into her mouth, and one of his hands travelling further south to grab hold of the flesh of her behind. Y/N let out a soft moan into his mouth as her hands tangled into his mound of curls, tugging softly on his roots.

Then the disturbing image of either one of her parents opening the front door at any moment flashed across her eyes, causing her to pull back, kissing his bottom lip softly before trailing her thumb over the swollen skin and opening her eyes to look into his gaudy, green ones.

The sounds of their breaths mingled together as tired smiles adorned their faces, little giggles leaving each of their mouths as they basked in what just happened. All Harry could think was, ‘It’s about damn time.’ All Y/N could think was, ‘Why did I ever push him away?’

“My turn,” she spoke after a few moments, standing up straighter and fixing her shirt around her body. “Pick me up tomorrow?”

A wide, shit-eating grin spread out across Harry’s face as he ran his hand through his mangled curls. “Sunrise. If y’not in this exact spot in the morning, m’knocking the door down and dragging you out by y’hair.” He hopped down off the porch, completely skipping the steps as the adrenaline of their first kiss kicked into his system.

“Sunrise,” she agreed.

He hopped back into the driver’s side of his Jeep, throwing his hand up in a goodbye wave as he sped away, already counting down the seconds until he would see his golden ray of bright and bubbly sunshine again. He’s not so sure if he’ll be able to fall asleep.

Y/N didn’t have that same problem. The moment she landed on her bed, her eyes shut faster than the speed of light, her last conscious thought being of Harry. Her smile never leaving her face.

❊ ❊

Meeting at sunrise had become part of their routine. Not always to surf, but just to be together. Sometimes they surfed at their little alcove, other times they would watch the sun from her backyard, snuggled up in blankets on the beach. Or, they would surf, get breakfast, then fall back asleep in his bed until a more decent hour of morning.

But, their day always began at sunrise. It would be the equivalent to say that it also ended at sunset, but sunset was always too soon to part ways.

This wasn’t an everyday occurrence, mostly at random. Except for Sundays. Sundays are specifically their day, as per request of Harry. How could he be in love with a girl that coined yellow as her color, that had a smile as bright as the huge burning star, that claimed golden hour was prime sun time, and not deem Sunday as their day? He didn’t put any second thought into it.

Despite their sort of fast paced first date, they’ve been taking things slow, truly getting used to the feel of one another over the course of the next couple of months. It wasn’t until a month later that Harry popped the question, officially making Y/N his forever buddy-buddy. Well, not necessarily forever, but they both know it’s basically forever.

Harry never wants to be alone again.

It wasn’t until the night after they became official that Y/N finally took her shirt off in front of him. She was going through one of her episodes, and Harry was the only one around who could help her. He managed to calm her down and bring her inside her house - that was empty because her parents had gone out for the night - and get her to the bathroom so she could take a shower.

Initially, he was going to let her get in by herself, knowing her boundaries in regards to her body and not seeing it. But, when he saw how worn down she looked, he whispered words of reassurance in her ear, asking her permission to help get her in the shower. He wasn’t thinking with his dick, he just wanted to help the girl that didn’t know how to help herself.

Y/N looked him in the eyes, nibbling softly on her bottom lip before averting her attention to her chest for a few moments. She trusts him, and if they’re bound to work out, she needs him to be comfortable with seeing all aspects of her both mentally and physically. Which includes her scar.

So, she nods her head in agreement.

She lifted her arms and allowed him to remove her shirt, immediately feeling self-conscious. She couldn’t look him in the eyes as she stepped out of her shorts and underwear, going into the shower to avoid any lingering stares. Harry was quick to follow behind her, shutting the curtain after him. That’s when Y/N turned around and completely broke down, the tears that have been building behind her eyes finally pouring out. Harry wrapped her in his arms, letting her cry her eyes out for however long she needed.

When she stopped, Harry washed her hair, washed her body, washed away her bad thoughts, then washed himself as fast as he could so he could get her into her bed for the night. She snuggled up to his side, enjoying the warmness of his body that contrasted her cool ones.

That night when her parents came home, they spotted Harry’s Jeep in front of their house. Though when the house was eerily quiet, and found the door to her bedroom slightly ajar, they peeked inside and saw the two of them fast asleep. Parents usually would get angry at the sight of their child in bed with someone of a different gender, but not Y/N’s parents.

Over the last two months, they saw their daughter break back out of her shell, slowly returning to her former self, and all because of Harry. They saw how happy she became whenever he was around, or they’d overheard happy she was when just talking about him to Kalani. How could they ever get angry at the fact that Y/N was happy?

With the blossoming of their relationship taking place at the same time as the Vans Triple Crown, word got around fast and soon enough they were the star couple leading the ranks in their respective divisions. The world -- or really the surfing world, because no one really pays attention to professional surfers, was in awe of them. They were the hype of the news, of the town, of the state. Rightfully so, because they’re awfully cute.

It came as no surprise to everyone when the two were crowned the champions. The press went wild with this one, stating there was some scam happening behind the scenes, because what were the odds that this new star couple could both win? Or, how could Harry, a newbie, shoot his way up to the top in just one year? Or, how could Y/N dominate with her physical ailments?

There wasn’t a hoax and there wasn’t any cheating. They both were just that good.

The day of the final competition, they may have worked just a little harder to land the championship title. Harry had picked Y/N up and they traveled to their secret hideaway bright and early in the morning. After being out at a party the night before, the two were in no shape to get in the water already, opting to snooze under the shade of a cliff on the beach for a little while.

They didn’t sleep for very long before they got wrapped up in one another, indulging in a morning session of intimate love. They slept for maybe an hour before Y/N was ready to get her swim on, but Harry was the biggest sack of lazy mush that morning. He didn’t want to get up for nothing. He was laying down on his surfboard, completely comfortable under the shade. Y/N tried tugging on his arms to get him up, but he wouldn’t budge, a half-sleepy and dazed smile on his lips.

At one point he tugged her back, causing her to land on his lap, legs straddling his hips as her face crashed into his chest. His arms wrapped around her back, securing him to her as he said, “See? Isn’t this so much better than physical activity?”

“C’mon tubby, we got shit to do,” Y/N giggled, but Harry just held onto her tighter and nuzzled his cheek to the top of her head.

He hummed, “S’comfortable here.”

Y/N didn’t know what else to do, so the only maneuver left was bribery. Harry’s no different than any guy in the sense that once sex is brought into the mix, his ears perk up and his dick stiffens. So, Y/N was going to use that to her advantage. “If you get up, you can fuck me all night tonight.”

Harry was quick to sit up, her still in his lap, eyes squinted in suspicion. Y/N bit her lip to refrain from laughing, but she was mentally patting herself on the back. His hands shifted down her back to grab onto the flash of her behind, pulling her center closer to his and building up a bit of friction. “How about right now and tonight?”

“I can’t be exhausted for today, H,” Y/N rolled her eyes, moving to get herself off his lap, but he kept her grounded.

“You don’t ‘ave to get in the water now. You’ve practiced, you’re prepared, you got this. The championship is practically in your hands already,” he disclosed, peppering kisses up the side of her neck, a few across her jawline, and then landing on her lips.

Even if that may be true, she doesn’t want that to stop her from putting effort and time into winning. “Harry…” she started, getting lost in the feel of his lips suckling a lovebite right in the crook of her neck, her most sweet spot. He lifted his hips up slightly, pushing against her heat, eliciting the smallest moan from her mouth.

“Bet y’soaking your suit. Can I see?”

They only have a limited amount of time before they need to get to the Northshore at Ehukai Beach Park for the competition. It was about a forty-five minute drive alone. But, Harry’s lips and fingers were way too persuasive, so Y/N nodded her head.

“Good girl.”

He lifted her up so her back was now against the belly of his pink board, her legs immediately wrapped around his broad shoulders as he placed a chaste kiss to her clothed core. She whined as he hooked his fingers into her bikini bottoms, dragging them tortuously slow down her legs. His eyes immediately attracted themselves to her glistening slit, her wetness practically inviting him in. “So fucking pretty, baby.”

Harry’s hands pushed her legs as far apart as they would go, licking a fat stripe up from her little hole to her sensitive clit. Y/N threw her head back as he focused his attention on her clit, swirling his tongue around the little bud before sucking it into his mouth. She was a whimpering mess, but that earned her a smack on the ass and a first warning from Harry.

“No one’s around. Let me hear you loud and clear,” he gave her a pointed look, keeping their eye contact as he went a little further south, pushing the tip of his tongue into her cunt. Y/N tried closing her legs around his head but Harry just pushed them open further, keeping a firm grip on her thighs that were bound to leave bruises. Bruises just for her.

Her jaw fell slack, moans tumbling past her pink lips louder and louder. Her nails dug into his shoulders, most likely leaving scratches he’ll find later when they’re stinging in the shower. Just for him.

Y/N was growing restless as he inserted his middle and ring finger inside of her, pushing and pulling them at an intense pace that caused her toes to curl in the sand by his hips. When he managed to push his index finger in alongside the other two, Y/N began to see stars at the stretch of her walls.

“So tight f’me. Imagine it was my cock instead. Would feel so good and full, but you’d be too exhausted for later, hm?” He cooed, letting her adjust to the extra digit inside of her before fucking her harder and faster than before. He kissed up her tummy that was visible from under her shirt before landing his forehead against hers.

His free hand grabbed a hold of her jaw, making her face him which caused her eyes to open up quickly, locking eye contact with one another. “S’a shame. M’so hard, like a fucking rock. But you’ll be too tired.”

Teasingly, Y/N nodded her head in agreement, earning a hard glare from her lover. At this, he stopped the movement of his fingers, slowly pulling them out of her. Y/N’s mouth opened wide, her eyebrows scrunching in confusion as Harry sucked his fingers past his lips, indulging in her sweetness that tasted like a little sliver of heaven.

“Wh-wha…?”

“Close y’mouth, Y/N. Gonna catch flies,” he smirked, reaching over for her bikini bottoms and sliding them back up her legs until they were nestled against her soaking wet, throbbing pussy. “Said it y’self. Can’t be exhausted for the finale today, gotta be quick on your feet and coasting the gnarliest waves. C’mon slow poke, gotta get some practice in.”

So, Y/N was pissed off to say the least. And because of this, she was extra determined to push herself as far as she could to come out on top today. Harry on the other hand, well he was just mad that he had an insane hard-on that his own girlfriend didn’t want to tend to. He should’ve expected his little stunt wouldn’t go over nicely, but the look on her face when he stopped was absolutely priceless.

When it was announced that Y/N and Harry had won in their divisions everyone was beyond elated at the news, cheers and hugs and kisses spread all around the group. Though when it was their turn to congratulate each other, they looked at each other, small smiles on their faces before they turned to make conversation with someone else. That didn’t stop them from reaching for one another though, slyly interlocking their hands together.

They were whisked away quickly for pictures, holding their trophies high in the air, the biggest smiles on their faces. Y/N’s parents were cheering them on, more specifically her because they were so proud she was able to take her life back. Y/N could cry at the sight of her mother being a blubbering mess, and her dad’s admiration sparkling across his eyes. Though, with the support of her family, Y/N’s mind couldn’t help but wonder about Harry’s family, and how they couldn’t support their son with what he loved.

With this, Y/N squeezed his hand harder, and despite the cameras around them, she leaned up on her tiptoes and placed a kiss to his lips, the clicks of the cameras and the chatter of the crowd increasing. But, neither of them cared as they looked at one another, full of love.

Because that’s what this was. Love.

It didn’t matter that they had only met a little over three months ago, only dating for two months. They were in love. And that’s all that mattered.

Going out to dinner that night, they hardly left each other’s sides. They were being that obnoxious clingy couple that no one likes being around, but they didn’t care. Because they both knew they were in love. An unspoken love that didn’t have to be announced because the whole world knew, and so did they.

“Cheers to the love birds! And for the love of God, could you stop looking at each other like that,” AJ gagged, causing everyone to laugh before they clinked glasses.

When they left the restaurant, Harry and Y/N hopped into Betty, driving around for a little while before they decided to stay at his for the night. It was when the wind was blowing in her hair again, the moon shining above them and shining through her hair, his hand gently on her thigh, squeezing softly in contrast to that morning, that Harry truly felt it. This love that he has for this girl. Love that’s meant just for her. Her, and only her.

This gushy feeling was put on hold for a little while though the moment they walked through the door of his apartment. Y/N was bent over the arm of his living room couch, her one leg bent and on the armrest beside her while the other was trying its best to keep her steady on the ground. Harry’s fist was wrapped up in her hair, proving to make it more difficult for her to keep her balance. Though she wouldn’t want it any other way.

“What’s the matter, babe? You said I could fuck you all night.” Harry’s hot breath coated the shell of her ear, “Y’tired?”

She gasped at a particularly hard thrust that felt like it had hit against her cervix, trying to get the word No out in between her moans and whimpers.

“Hope not. Had me aching all day for your tiny cunt. M’gonna need a few hours to really appreciate it.” She could feel his menacing smirk against her skin as he again thrusted so far deep inside of her, her one leg gave out. If it wasn’t for Harry holding her up, she would’ve fell right over, too weak to even try and get back up.

They went twice on the couch before Harry helped her get to the shower, where they did it again. And then when they finally cleaned themselves, they got into bed, where they did it again, but this one could be classified under love-making. It was slow and sensual and sweet, just like them. Harry paid extra attention to her scar, trailing down the tissue with soft kisses as they softly climaxed together.

It was a little past midnight at this point, and they were both extremely tired. Y/N was on the brink of dozing off into dreamland before Harry interrupted her exhaustion.

“We never finished our game of twenty questions, did we?” He murmured, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Y/N lazily opened her eyes, shaking her head, “Don’t believe so.”

“Think it’s my turn,” he hummed. “Do you love me?”

There was silence for a brief couple of seconds, making Harry think Y/N had dozed off before answering his question. But, Y/N just needed those seconds to collect her mushed thoughts inside of her mushy brain before giving him a coherent and valid response.

“Yeah. I do.”

Harry smiled, probably the biggest he’s ever smiled, leaning down and taking hold of her face and smashing their lips together in a ceremonious kiss.

“Sick. Ditto, Sunshine.”

#it would mean so much if you tell me what you thought #harry styles one shot #harry styles au #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles #one direction fanfiction

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doubleleoenergy · 3 years

Text

iii. Cola, Lolita Series

My pussy tastes like Pepsi cola. My eyes are wide like cherry pies. I gots a taste for men who are older. It's always been so it's no surprise

Series Masterlist

Pairing: bestfriendsdad!Andy Barber x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, drinking, age gap (22 vs early 40s), oral (male receiving)

Words: 2419

Summary: Y/N calls Andy from the club and gives him a new lease on life.

Andy Barber is enjoying the most mundane adult evening of his life. It’s a Saturday night, the boys had all decided to go on a camping trip, guys only of course. Y/N was nowhere to be found when he got home from the gym, and he honestly enjoyed the thought of having a quiet night to himself.

He had taken a shower and afterwards had cooked himself a meal for one: steak, baked potato, and a salad. He washed it all down with a glass of wine, one of the aged bottles he had kept when Laurie was moving her stuff out. Andy had sat down on the couch, comfortably sprawled out watching some new action film that Jacob had recommended.

Not a thought ran through his mind as he sat and watched the first half of the movie, and honestly it was nice. He was tempted to turn off the movie and call it an early night, his plans interrupted immediately when he felt his phone buzzing in the pocket of his sweats.

He pulled the phone out and stared at the screen, his heart racing in his chest as he looked at the name displayed. “Hello?” He answered on the third ring, holding the phone up to his ear.

“Hi boss-man Andyyyyy.” Y/N sing-songed on the other line, Kendrick Lamar’s ‘Humble’ blaring loudly through the speakers behind her.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Andy questioned; concern laced in his voice.

“M’not.” She giggled, holding her phone out to yell at some dude that was trying to ask her to dance. “I went to the club downtown with a friend tonight and she left. What a bitch, right? Anyhow, can you pick me up pleaassseeee Andy. An Uber would be like sooooo expensive.” She moved the phone from her ear to shout out some of the lyrics to the song before coming back to the screen.

“Uh, yeah. Send me the address and I’ll come get you. Are you drunk, y/n?” He stands up, walking to his bedroom and shimmying out of his sweats to put on a pair of dark jeans and a black t-shirt.

“Not drunk, just a bit tipsy, ya know? I’ll be waiting for you on the dance floor!” She screams, and before Andy can protest, she’s hung up the phone, a loud sigh leaving his lips. So much for his mundane adult night at home.

It didn’t take Andy more than fifteen minutes with Google Maps on to get to the club, having a valet at the door park his Audi for him before waiting at the door for the bouncer to let him in. The minute Andy walked inside he was met by flashing lights and a DJ spinning a popular Dua Lipa song. He pushed his way past the crowd of people, eyes scanning for any sign of y/n.

She had mentioned she would be on the dance floor, and the closer he got the harder he looked for her. Finally, after a few moments and mistakenly touching the shoulder of someone with the same hair color and length as her, it was as if the sea of people had parted as his blue hues locked on her. She was obviously gorgeous, every outfit looking stunning on her, but this was something else. It was like the breath was knocked out of his lungs, the two-piece black bodycon skirt and cropped spaghetti-strapped top revealing every curve of her body. Where the seams would normally be sewn on each side of the thin fabric there lay open strips of rhinestones. The rhinestone strips left the sides of her top open to reveal a healthy amount of sideboob, the skirt revealing the curve of her ass, no panties or bra underneath.

Andy couldn’t help but watch her sway to the music. She looked so carefree, minus the occasional guy that she shooed off with a flick of her wrist. After the second guy had approached and left defeated, Andy walked up, tapping her on the shoulder. As soon as she saw him a huge smile spread across her luscious lips.

“Andyyyy.” Her eyes traveled up and down his body, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. She was devouring him with her eyes.

“Hey, y/n, let’s go.” Andy nodded towards the door and y/n let out a huff, grabbing his wrist and tugging him towards her.

“C’mon, dance with me.” She purred, trying to tug him further into the crowd with her.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, y/n, besides you’ve had one too many drinks.” He contested, y/n’s eyes rolling back into her head.

“M’not messed up, I’m fully aware of my actions. I even drank some water before you came. Now.” Her tone is filled with lust, motioning him towards her with her finger. “Are you gonna dance with me or what?”

Andy’s head is screaming logically to not do this, she’s Jacob’s friend from school and he was also older than her, and her boss. But before he can protest his feet have a mind of their own and follow her deeper into the crowd on the floor.

He’s not sure what to do, standing there awkwardly as he watches her body shimmying in front of him. The song quickly changes, the new hit by Lil Nas X ‘Montero (Call Me By Your Name)’ blaring out of the speakers.

“C’mere.” The chorus of the song comes and y/n grabs Andy’s hand, tugging him closer to her until she turns so her back is flush against his chest. She moves the hand she’s holding to her waist, tugging the other down to the opposite side before grinding her body back against him.

Holy shit. This is really happening. Andy’s heart is pounding in his chest, rocking his hips forward into her, his hands gripping firmly against her waist now. He can hear her screaming out the lyrics to the song as they dance, tugging at the nape of his neck, craning her own so that she can meet his gaze finally.

Their eyes stay locked as the song ends and another starts, and Andy can feel his painfully hard cock in his jeans. Her eyes move to glance down at his lips and then back up again to his face.

“Come with me.” She whispers, grabbing his hand again and tugging him out of the crowd of people towards the back of the club. Andy is blindly following her, his cock still pressing against the front of his jeans. God, this was so embarrassing.

She snakes her way around the throngs of people until they reach the back wall, the bathroom sign hanging above their heads. The line for the women’s restroom is long, the men’s restroom door a few feet down a separate hallway with not a single soul in sight.

Glancing back at Andy she tugs him towards the door of the men’s restroom, looking inside and under the stalls to ensure that it was completely empty. She pushes open the door fully, motioning him to come in with her.

The heavy door closes behind them, y/n immediately pushing Andy until his back gently hits the wall beside the door.

“I see the way you’ve been looking at me. It’s hard not to notice.” Andy’s expression is a mix of both shock and excitement, his eyes trailing down to meet hers.

“We can’t…” Andy trails off, y/n shushing him with one of her fingers.

“We’re both adults here, and I can make my own decisions. And this is my decision.” Before Andy can protest again, y/n stands up on her tippy toes in her high heels, crashing her lips against his fervently.

He’s confused at first but quickly gives into the kiss, her lips tasting like rum and Pepsi-Cola. His lips melt into hers, moaning into her mouth as she parts her lips, his tongue exploring further. Her hands are roaming first through his hair, tugging lightly as they continue their kiss before roaming them down the taut muscles of his arms.

Finally, she presses her body against his, feeling how hard he is through the denim. She breaks the kiss, eyes wide like cherry pies and lips swollen from their actions.

“Get in the stall.” She commands, nodding her head in its direction. Andy’s breathing is ragged from their kiss, but he does as he’s told, walking into the stall as y/n follows behind and locks it after she enters.

“Have you been thinking about me at night?” She asks, moving to stand in front of him and slowly undoing the buttons on his jeans.

“Wait, what?” He questioned, his cock twitching as the tension of his jeans were removed, y/n pushing them down along with his boxers, his hard cock springing free against his chest.

“I said.” She gripped his cock in her hand, looking up at him. He was definitely way bigger than anyone she had ever been with, which made sense considering Andy was all man, nothing about him being boyish.

“Have you been thinking about me?” She asked again, his breath hitching as she started to pump his cock in her hand, barely being able to grip it.

“Y-yes.” Andy stammered, a groan escaping his lips as she continues to pump him.

“Tell me you want this Andy, and I’ll get down on my knees right now and give you release.” She met his gaze, a choked-out moan escaping his lips.

“Please.” Those were the only words she needed to hear before she dropped down to her knees, the cold tile soothing the heat coming off her body.

“Wanna taste you.” She preened, taking Andy’s cock into her hand and lapping gingerly at the tip. He could’ve come just from the sight of her before him, but he wouldn’t, he wanted to savor this moment.

Y/N held up his cock, licking a stripe from the base to the tip before suckling on the head, eliciting a groan from deep in Andy’s throat. She tasted the precum leaking from his tip, her thighs clenching together. This wasn’t about her pleasure; this was about Andy’s. And she wanted to show him just how seductive she could be.

Her lips curl around his girth, bobbing her head back and forth along his length. He’s not just thick but long, and she struggles to take him down, eyes watering as she brings her face closer and closer to his pelvic bone.

Her eyes look up to meet Andy’s as she pulls off him with a wet pop. “Is this what you wanted? To see my mouth stuffed full of your cock?” She pursed her lips, her core dripping underneath her skirt.

“Yes, god you look so pretty down there. My little Lolita.” He praised, keeping his gaze on her. Her lips curl into a seductive smirk, batting her lashes at him.

“Want you to use me, I know you’ve thought about it. Want you to cum down my throat.” Her words urge him on, his hand grabbing a tight fistful of her hair and guiding her back down onto his cock.

Andy’s not going to last much longer, bucking into her mouth and listening to the sloppy sounds of her gagging on his cock. It’s a beautiful song on her lips and he watches as some of the saliva from her lips runs down her chin and onto the floor.

“Fuck, y/n, m’gonna cum.” As soon as the words leave his lips he’s steadying at the back of her throat, holding her on his cock as he cums deep down her throat, giving her no choice but to swallow. Y/N takes it in stride, swallowing all the sticky substance and milking his cock before letting go of him. She stands back up, taking her thumb and wiping against the corner of her lips, rubbing it across her bottom lip before straightening her outfit.

“It’s late, we should head back.” Y/N turns to unlock the door of the stall while Andy pulls his clothes back on, her eyes meeting a man who she hadn’t heard come into the restroom, standing at the urinal with his jaw agape.

After leaving the bathroom Andy and Y/N burst out laughing about the man in the restroom, walking towards the front door of the club and out to the valet where they waited for his car. As soon as the man at the valet brings his car back, y/n slinks into the passenger seat, tousling her hair with her fingers.

“That was…” Andy trailed off, roaring the car to life and starting down the road towards home. Y/N leaned her head back, looking over at Andy. “That was a one-time thing.” She stated, looking back out the window.

“Are you sure about that?” He quizzed, stopping at the red light on the street and looking back at her.

“Guess it depends on if you’re worth it or not. You’ll have to wait and see.”

Andy didn’t know why, but he wanted more. He wanted much more with her. She made him feel alive, feel young again. She made him feel wanted, something he hadn’t felt with his ex-wife in such a long time before their divorce. He glances at her out of the corner of his eye, noticing her shivering in what little fabric that covered her skin. Bringing his hand into the backseat, he reaches out and pulls out one of his buttons up work shirts, handing it over to her.

“You’re cold, put this on.” She silently thanks him, pulling the shirt on and buttoning it halfway, the shirt smelling strongly of his cologne. They sat silently for the rest of the ride home, y/n looking out the window as they drove.

After about five minutes of silence they arrived back at the house, walking through the door in the garage and into the house. She knows things are complicated now, but she doesn’t care. She’s lived her life free as a bird, boys wanting her but never acquiring her. What would be the difference now?

“Thanks for coming to get me.” Her voice is soft and honest, turning to look up at him. They’re inches from each other again, Andy closing the distance this time to kiss her lips, y/n pulling back with a smile.

“Goodnight Andy.” She heads towards the stairs, turning back to look over her shoulder one last time at him. “Oh, and feel free to jerk off to thoughts of me any time.”

Tagging those who may be interested. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list: @midnightf @my-divine-death @saamwilsonn @fierylibraa @fuckandfluff @rattlemyb0nes @rootcrop @goldenboysteve @turtoix @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @ccmarvelxx

#doubleleoenergyseries: lolita #DLE Series: Lolita #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x reader #andy Barber x reader smut #andy Barber #andy barber smut

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matchamorphosis · 3 years

Text

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞

𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 | ღ | 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || what seems to be a normal rich summer morning with the women who lives across the honeysuckle boulevard from his cottage lies something else. a buttery rich feeling that spreads deep within Bucky’s heart as he takes his neighbor, alongside Alpine to the farmers market for coffee.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 || fluffy fluff! ➳ part one

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 || retired!bucky barnes × neighbor![black//woc]reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 3K ➳ 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 || @firefly-graphics

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || if you think long walks with bucky and alpine in the sunny countryside are warnings then so be it but there is lots of food mentioned. ღ also reader owns a flower shop, not a warning thought just some info!

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 || this version of cherry wine by hozier ღ this version of mystery of love by sufjan stevens ღ

𝐰. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 || eeeeep!!! so this is my first bucky with alpine fluff and i’m very glad to have it be the first for my fluffy mini series that i’m doing for this month! ღ I don’t describe reader too much throughout the story but what is clear is that I don’t specify on skin tone but yes the person in the moodboard is a woc! ღ anyways I hope you cherubs enjoy reading! ღ

+ p.s || do not repost, republish or plagiarize my work on any other fanfic platform such as: wattpad, ao3, tumblr, etc or steal my work all together. do so and i will rip your spine from your scumy asshole and shove it down your talentless throat. ♡♡♡

it was a lavish affair when Bucky found himself tangled with you in the bed of a million perennial petals.

clothing falling and bodies twisting themselves against each other in not lust but emotional apprehension. the soft petals of rose, carnation and violet keep pouring like blissful rain, entangling in his hair and in the crooks of your body.

enough to suffocate but enough to make him feel enveloped in the fantasy- the divination of you you you and only you.

for you are butterscotch benevolence that he will let pool like ambrosial nectar in the cavernous hollows of his collarbones. your tears of seventh heaven euphoria trickling onto his skin forming constellations- like the paint speckles on the forlonged artists canvas of his naked soul.

you are honey sunlight oozing from the basin of the candy floss sky, lacing with the shedding petals that continue to powder in their divine scent and morality. his fine pink sheets soft and silky as the rose petals of Heliogabalus, he’d sigh in heavenly pleasure to be buried alive in petals if she was drunk of the love he has for her.

he sees her playing, singing, dancing and bringing her virtuous spring song deep within the glossy shine of her honey hive eyes. love seeping in the melancholy streams leaking through the old creeky floorboards of his home and straight into the chambers of his heart.

so promising yet so grandeur as he feels his chest warm with her very touch, the ivory bow encased in the virtuous flowers of her emblem garden in his hands- he’d think that he was Cupid but oh how he’s been struck by his own arrow in great surprise. straight into the once extravagant chamber of his heart.

the spiraling golden arrow destined to pierce and rip through the tender muscle of breast to the beating vessel that writes a tragic tale of eternal ravishment in the movements of lyrical beats. muttering with languor-glazed lips, he’d keep her love like a an old locket against his chest for it’s what reminds him of home whenever he feels the cold element on his skin.

there are pieces of you scattered in the wonderous arteries of his heart.

nestled in the folds of the beating muscle, take heed.

for that is his home.

y/n is his perennial feelings left unsaid, exquisite pain yet ethereal serenity. his soft bed of roses and his deadly golden arrow, all meant to give his heart hope.

that he was- however it seems the bed of roses and all the lovely elements it holds have come to a staggering pause.

now as the sun hits the past super soldiers eyelids that dream of flower petals and the heavenly vision of you disappear. they flutter open to meet the single stream of sunlight that has slipped past the slit of the sheer bedroom curtains. brightening up the somewhat clustered space of the room with its single golden string.

Bucky sighs in defeat, this is the fifth dream he’s had of you in a month and he was barely pushing past the second week of May. before he didn’t mind the dreams, they calmed his mind while he layed in slumber during the thunderstorms of April but now they were resilient. it wasn’t no regular thing to dream about the women across the boulevard in the haven of flower fields and maple trees.

Bucky knew this but he couldn’t help but not treat these dreams sweetly. they were the definition of sweet torture, you never hurt him in those dreams as he did to himself but it was a pain to know that you probably don’t think of him the same way. for goodness sake ever since he and Alpine moved the only interactions he had with the maiden were just acknowledgments as they passed each other on their daily errands.

he shouldn't be this infatuated with someone who he's only met.

the soft hum of a purr finally awakens Bucky, his cats paw brushing against the half covered skin of his fleshed bicep. it takes a pat or two to make Bucky open his eyes to find Alpines blue hues staring back at his and he gives his furry friend a crooked smile. a chorus of meows welcoming him to another sunny morning in the peaceful and harmonious countryside.

“morning pal, ya slept well?” Bucky smiles as he lazily lifts his hand to scratch the right spot behind Alpines ear.

stretching out of bed till his feet touch the cool wood flooring, following the simple path from the bedroom to the kitchen he pours Alpine his dish of cream and gets started on his own breakfast. whisking hen eggs his neighbors from afar gifted him the day before and toasting the freshly baked loaves of bread he bought specially from the market yesterday.

Bucky normally didn’t take any gifts from anyone, he wasn’t that type of person to feel comfortable with those sort of things but as the days gone by the cheerfulness of the communities welcoming energy towards him has soften his doubt.

eating his simple breakfast paired with coffee, Bucky bites into his buttery egg toast whilst quickly scribbling down his to-do list for the day. of course there isn’t any tasks that the hundred and ten year old man has to get done but there were things that Bucky did look forward to ever since he settled in a month ago. the country was a lovely peacefulness he had forgotten about ever since he was a boy.

traveling to his grandparents farm away from the city for memorable childhood summers in the sun and fields. turning his head to meet the white linen sheets that draped over the kitchen panels, Bucky can see the herd of brown and black spotted cows from the distance. tapping the pencil against the shiny polish of the kitchen table he bites his lip on what else to add on.

his head lifts up to see through the other window that casts its lovely light against his paper. blue eyes meeting the toffee cobblestone path that led to her cottage, hidden amongst the shrubbery of acorn trees and flower budded bushes. hearing from lots of locals in the cobblestone village near the sparkling sea that she owns a little orchard of peach and cherry trees, a few strawberry patches amongst the vegetation.

it made sense why he sometimes finds a large wooden basket of those ruby fruits at his doorstep from time to time. a card inviting him over for some tea that he would agree to yet he would always call you the next day a stuttering mess canceling it over some important errands. nonetheless it made Bucky's heart swell how understanding you were, sweet just like the ripe fruits you pluck for him on Sundays.

Bucky would make copplers and sometimes pies out of them and if he wasn't so scared of the possibility of being too attracted to you he'd head over to your place so he and him would eat them in your gazebo. but of course he can't do everything his heart implores him to do. was it bad to want to get to know you and imagine what it would be like to befriend you?

maybe do lots more than just befriend you...

sometimes he would find a glimpse of your form in the distance as he headed for the lake neat the lavender fields up north to fish something for dinner. humming while you cared for your flowers, singing to them as you danced along the vintage radio. Bucky could see himself singing and dancing alongside you. caring for your precious tulips, primroses and other beautiful flowers that you sold.

those pretty flowers sweet and divine just as her lips and voice when the two first met, when he arrived in the too expensive car that stood out amongst the scenery. arms occupied with bouquets upon bouquets of trimmed flowers that practically shielded her face, his body ran straight into yours when he got out of his car. flower petals falling with the impact and him apologizing one thing led to another and he helped her with her bouquets all while being stricken when he got a clear look at her.

a clear look at you.

lovely in your sundress that flowed beautifully against your bodies soft planes, there was something about the sparkle in your eyes that made him start to stutter. something about you that made his heart bloom in a recherché flower he still can’t understand because he can still hear the velvety tone of your voice speaking your own name when giving each other’s your introduction.

from there on out a glowing ember of clustered stars burned in the pit of his belly when you spoke his name and he spoke yours. it was soft and innocent as the flowers in your arms but the introduction was cut off far too short for Bucky's liking but he promised you a coffee when he was completely settled in. having to do something so he could see you again cause oh how he wishes to hear you speak his name again and again and again till the flowers sprout, bloom and decay with each coming season.

maybe he should pay you a visit and bring up that coffee...

the music from the radio filling the bright cottage kitchen sweetly alongside the birds singing their song outside. Alpine takes his seat across from him, yawning over the new day that brings nothing but lazy laps and baked fish treats. forking a few honey drizzled raspberries in his mouth, Bucky walks to the front door and just in time the daily paper plops down on his feet from the passing paper boy whipping through the grassy roads on the shiny steel of a ringing bicycle.

bending down to retrieve the newspaper, he passes through the sidewalk of petunias and violets till he reaches his mailbox. the wood creaky and the metal rusty but the daisies that sprinted around the opening was a pretty site to see before Bucky grimaced at people from the outside world wanting to invade his privacy. grabbing the letters before smelling the sweet daisies, Bucky looks through the letters one by one. ripping some that had no use for to be used as fire food for his fireplace, grunting that even though he’s away from the tabloids and cameras there are still people eager enough to want something from him.

a soft voice from the distance pulls him out of his annoyance, it makes his eyes lift from his dreaded mail to the women a mile away singing her song as she reaches her mailbox. Bucky can’t help but look at her from afar; and maybe Alpine knows this to as he watch his lovesick owner admire the maiden from the kitchen windowsill.

with some obscene fortune he notices you checking your mailbox as well. heart pacing in his chest, he wishes he didn’t go outside before showering and at least brushing his hair for your waving to him from the distance.

“hello hello Bucky!” your sweet voice exclaims and it just adds onto the heaven that is the morning it makes his cheek hurt from how much he’s smiling.

“hello hello to you y/n. how is the shop coming along?” Bucky shouts and his heart sinks when you wave him over to you.

despite his mind telling him to not pursue closer his heart makes him walk his way to you standing next to your Valentine shaped mailbox. his worries slipping away when there's a underlying comfort in your posture and aura, alluring like the bees are to the flowers. welcoming and warm and he can't help but feel that way every time he's near you.

speaking of you, its reassuring to also know he wasn't the only one to wear pajama's out since your still in your blue silk nightgown. matching silk slippers adorning your feet, you sip from your tea cup as you read what he believes to be a Cosmopolitan.

“it’s coming along great, thank you! a bit slow the first week but that’s how any business starts but I just received my tenth loyal customer and i’m more than certain i’ll be selling lots of flowers today.” you spoke as you smiled to yourself then up at him.

checking your mail, Bucky’s surprised that you have quite a handful of letters and boxes. all written in lovely cursive and packaged nicely, almost like love letters and gifts. it makes Bucky’s heat sink, knowing that he might not be the only one who’s fallen head over heels for you. by all means you probably have the whole village under a spell with just the way you smile alone but he wants to see that smile the most.

he wants to be the reason for that smile.

“that’s sounds wonderful y/n, maybe I could stop by and pick a pretty bouquet or two," you only smile wider upon those words and much to his excitement you even brush your hand against his.

"oh really? have a special someone in your life who needs some loving?" you perk as you open an envelop but the question makes Bucky's throat dry on how he should answer.

you seem like the type of maiden who loves an honest man- yes, he should be honest.

"well... there is this one special lady." Bucky lingers and that makes you snap your attention away from the letters in your hands. voice dying in your throat at those words and heart beat hitting pause.

"I always thought Alpine was gonna be the only one to get to my soft spot- we sleep in the same bed together," he stops to laugh a bit, rubbing the back of neck with his metal arm and you laugh along with him.

"how is Alpine? i'm noticing he's getting into a routine with sleeping in my chamomile beds in the afternoon," you smile and bring your tiny tea cup to your lips. "would you care for a cup Bucky? this just so happens to be chamomile,"

"Alpine is doing good and thank you for bringing that up I was beginning to wonder where that rascal has been leaving for. will have an important talk to him once I get home and- I was going to ask you something," Bucky speaks while admiring how your thick lashes curtain your honey hive hues as you sip the steaming golden liquid.

no one should look that beautiful just drinking tea yet here he is, breathless on the simple action. if he truly wanted a cup he'd wish to drink from your tiny cup, to press his lips upon the porcelain rim where yours once brushed against. drink the sweet sunshine to experience the closest thing to your honey kiss...

"don't worry it's alright! I love looking over at him when I have tea at the back patio, he's quite a lovely guest. very well mannered, and yes Bucky is there anything I can help you with?" you cannot deny that your heart is practically skipping beats in your chest, fast and lively like the flutter of a butterfly wing.

Bucky runs his fingers through his hair, for someone who has done the simple thing of asking someone out for couple hundreds of times a hundred years ago from now it’s a disappointment that he’s lost his touch. however you don’t seem to notice or care but that doesn't mean he should give up. not when you're right here glowing in your morning dew radiance, anticipating the next words to slip past those lips.

it's now or never.

"h-how do you feel about that coffee I promised? today? I have a few errands to run in town and I was wondering if you would accompany me- on my errands... if that doesn't bother you,” Bucky rambles to a stop and he's thankful you're still smiling that closed lip grin against the porcelain of the cup.

"yes Bucky I would love that! there's a coffee cart near the shop I work at but what about your lady? she wouldn't mind us going out for coffee, would she?" you speak as you gather your letters in your arms. glancing up at Bucky to receive some conformation and Bucky bites his lips.

"I don't think she'll mind. in fact... I think she would love me to go out once in a while. I have a habit of only going out when necessary, coffee with you wouldn't hurt,"

"that's perfect, i'll see you at twelve then Bucky. you can help me open shop to," you smiled and Bucky returned an even warmer one back.

filling your heart with a rush of liason, like a tea cup filling with tea. something meant to be full and warm, embraced with someone's touch and lips as they drank each fluttering honey glazed sensation they have for one other.

something that seems to be happening right now before they break their strong eye contact, wiry- crooked smiles still embellishing their sun-freckled faces.

you wish you could kisses each one off his clean shaven cheeks right now, slightly rosy but oh how it would feel like peach skin against your lips.

Bucky wishes to kiss yours, the shine of your lips the form of heart shaped clouds and he just can't seem to get his head out of the amorous blue you cast him into.

"i'll be seeing you in an hour Bucky," you draw before walking away with a cheeky wink, your eyes still locking with his before you get to the rosy sunflower porch.

"and i'll be waiting for you doll,"

♡♡♡ thank you for reading part one! ♡♡♡ pretty please like, reblog and/or comment what you think and if you enjoy this join my taglist to be notified of my future works! ♡♡♡

𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || @cloudystevie ღ @steebsbabygirl ღ @honeychicana ღ @afriendlyblackhottie ღ @chrissquares ღ @denisemarieangelina ღ @hevans-angel ღ @drewsbuzz ღ @assoftheamericana ღ @gracechristo ღ @little-baby-vixen ღ @sohoseb ღ @quxxnxfhxll ღ @peachesofcolour ღ @abschaffer1 ღ @sea040561 ღ @afriicanhoe ღ ღ ღ

𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || @burninmatches ღ @lovesguiltypleasuress ღღღ

#brattycherubwrites #♡ bucky barnes ♡#bucky barnes × black!reader #bucky barnes × woc!reader #bucky barnes × reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine

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write-ur-wrongs · 3 years

Text

Of Monsters and Men (pt. 1)

Summary: Geralt and Jaskier travel to a small seaside village after being hired to take care of a monster that has been terrorizing the villagers for months. However when they arrive, Geralt finds that the monster in question isn’t so easy to kill.

A/N: This was getting to be quite lengthy, so I decided to split it into parts. This is the story I wanted to write when I first started watching the Witcher on Netflix and I am nervous and excited to finally be sharing it here!! Like with all my fics, I try to keep my Y/N has physically non-descript as possible, she/her and vibe are the only descriptors. I’ve also not proof-read but will edit errors as I see them post post lol. I hope y’all enjoy this!! Your feedback is always welcome :’)

this is approx. 2200 words and is largely setting the scene. I expect this to story to be told in no more than 3 parts.

_________________________

When Geralt and Jaskier rode up to the quiet coastal village, they were struck by how calm and peaceful it was. The sound of waves lapping against the rocky shoreline, the rhythmic bumping of boats against the docks, and the soft clatter of driftwood windchimes melted together to create an atmosphere that soothed Jaskier to his core. He found himself gaping at the sights that surrounded him in wonder; truly taken by the way setting sun cast a golden glow on everything and painted the cloud-laced sky in rich hues of pink and orange.

“This place…” he sighed theatrically, waving his arms around, “is wonderful! Geralt are you not moved by the sight of it all? Does your soul not sing out! Oh, Geralt! Wow!”

The witcher only rolled his eyes at his friend’s dramatics. Jaskier was always so blown away by the simplest things and it both amused and annoyed Geralt. Yes, the sky and the sea were beautiful sights, but more importantly, they were merciless vehicles of danger, death, and destruction; and Geralt knew better than to romanticize things that were, at their core, dangerous.

Sensing the bard’s eyes on him, Geralt gave him a hum of acknowledgement hoping it would be enough to satisfy Jaskier’s need for collective appreciation. It was, as he dreaded, insufficient.

“Come now, Geralt!” he enthused, “take that stick out your arse for a moment and appreciate the sights and sounds of this charming inlet! Listen to the sea! The chimes, Geralt! Listen to how the wind tickles the –”

“For fucks sake, Jaskier! It’s a fucking port city just like any other. This place is one bad storm away from being wiped out by that scenic sea of yours!”

“Yeesh,” Jaskier said letting out a low whistle. “Was it the stick in the arse bit? Too far?”

“Jask-”

“- because look, you are very stoic but – and I mean this as a compliment Geralt, so don’t get your leather in a –”

“Jaskier!” Geralt interrupted gruffly as he dismounted Roach with a huff. “Will you please shut up! Let’s just find the stables and the inn and get this over with.” Without waiting for Jaskier to catch up to him, he led his mare deeper into town.

Jaskier, refusing to let Geralt’s gruff exterior get him down, dismounted gracefully and lightly jogged to meet up with him, his lute clacking loudly against his back as he ran.

“Remind me again what dreadful little creature brings us out to this enchanting harbor?” he asked, still jogging a little to keep up with the witcher’s long strides.

“Don’t know yet.”

“Oh, ho-ho! A mystery? Always makes for a good song. What do we know so far?”

Geralt stopped and turned slightly towards the bard before speaking.

“Apparently a creature has been killing and dismembering men in town. They are being killed at all hours, bodies found in town, at sea, or out in the surrounding forests. Seems nowhere is safe.” Geralt let his cat-like eyes linger on the bard’s horrified expression for a moment before turning back and keeping on the path into town, shaking his head at Jaskier’s queasiness.

“Yeesh – Geralt! You’re not serious! Why would you bring me with you!?” Jaskier picked up the pace, suddenly wanting to be closer to his friend.

“You invited yourself,” Geralt said, trying to contain his smile, “as always.”

“Of course, I invited myself! You’re far to proud to admit you’d miss me.” Jaskier retorted. “Let’s get these horses to the stables, get rooms, and find food so that you can sort this out as quickly as inhumanly possible,” he said, speaking quickly and with a light waver, trying to pretend the quaint seaside village around him didn’t now leave him chilled to the bone.

“Hmm,” Geralt chuckled, happy to have managed to scare the bard into silence, at least for the time being.

The local pub was busier than Jaskier had expected when they rode into town. Seems the reason the village was so peaceful upon arrival was because everyone had already made their way to the bar. Fortunately, he’d managed to nab them a table by the stone fireplace; after a day of riding alongside the sea, Jaskier was desperate for a cold ale and a warm fire.

“Alrighty then, Geralt,” Jaskier said, holding his hands up to the hearth, “what have we got so far?”

“Not much,” he replied, tearing apart the loaf of bread a barmaid had brought over moments prior, “a couple people stopped me at the inn to ask me if I was here to kill the beast, but they didn’t have any information to offer besides the fact that it was a constant threat.”

“Well, maybe you’ll have more luck here – I mean look around, you’d think the whole town’s come to drink!”

“Port cities, Jask,” Geralt said, letting his gaze scan the room slowly, “the people here either spend their days at the mercy of the sea or waiting for their loved ones to come home. You drink for sorrow and for hope of a bright tomorrow.”

“That was poetic as fuck, Geralt! My influence?” he teased, shooting the witcher a cheeky grin, who merely grunted distractedly in reply.

Now ignoring his still-talking friend, Geralt’s eyes had landed on the two women working behind the bar. One was talking excitedly and kept casting quick glances toward the bard, blushing brightly when she caught his eye, while the other was watching Geralt with inquisitive eyes.

“… I tell you Geralt the more you allow yourself to – oh! Speaking of which, here come a few now!” Jaskier flourished, winking enthusiastically at the blushing barmaid who was making her way towards them sheepishly.

Geralt sat back in his chair and rolled his eyes, already tired of the flirting he was about to witness. To his surprise and great pleasure, Jaskier got up and met her halfway, leaving him in peace with his thoughts.

Having brought his attention back down to the bread before him, Geralt didn’t notice that he had company until she was right in front of him. Sensing her presence, he shot his gaze up quickly, and found her staring at his wolf medallion with a quirked brow.

“Forgive me,” she started, her deep, velvet-like voice washing over Geralt like morning sun after a cold night, “but you’re… a witcher?”

“I am,” he replied, giving her a crooked smile, his own voice, low and gravely and smooth, not going unnoticed by the woman before him. “Geralt, of Rivia.”

“Oh fuck,” she said, with a breathy sort of laugh, “so you’re not a witcher, you’re the Witcher then, aren’t you?”

Geralt let out a low and modest grunt, shaking his head at the comment. He thought himself immune to the scrutiny and awe that came with being the White Wolf, having carried the title for so long, but there was something about the way she was looking at him that left him shy.

“I’m,” he faltered needing to stop to clear his throat, having made the mistake to look her in the eyes, “just a witcher. Really.”

“Well, they don’t send you out for just anything, do they? For you to be out here in our little hamlet…” she squinted at him with a small tilt of her head, “we must be under some kind of threat. Should I be worried?”

“I was hoping you’d tell me, –” he stopped, waiting for her to introduce herself.

“Y/N,” she replied quickly, offering Geralt a warm smile despite the fact that she’d just crossed her arms, “and I mean we do get the odd ruffian coming through town. They always make a mess of things, don’t they? Beyond that, well, I suppose alcohol does breed violence in some,” she gave a light, one shouldered shrug, “but that’s not the kind of crime that would reach your ears.”

Geralt hummed thoughtfully, taking his time to consider Y/N’s words. She seemed almost too friendly, and there was something about her that both drew him in and had him putting up his guard.

“A monster has been picking the men of the village off one by one.” Leaning back into his chair to put some distance between them. “I’m surprised you wouldn’t be aware, considering,” he nodded towards the bar, “your job here.”

“Meaning what?” she retorted, wearing a playful smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Only that you must hear a lot,” he gestured vaguely to the crowd surrounding them, “and see a lot, doing what you do. I would have expected that the disappearance and dismemberment of men in town would be something of note.”

“Well,” Y’N tsked, “I’m sorry to say that you’ve been brought out here on something of a fool’s errand. There’s no monster here; the tale of disappearing men has been told here for months. It started with a woman, too embarrassed to admit that the man who impregnated her left her overnight, telling everyone that a creature from the forest killed him. From there the story grew wilder with every retelling.”

“Hm,” Geralt hummed, watching Y/N carefully with narrow eyes, “I was told dismembered body parts were turning up, consistently, after each disappearance, and that they were being identified as belonging to the latest victim. Besides, I was hired to come here. Why would someone pay me coin to rid a town of ghost?”

“People struck by tragedy will claim to see many things, Sir Geralt,” she replied softly, “not all of them will be true. A dead fish floating at sea, a creature mauled by wolves by the roads, rotten meats abandoned by vendors…” she shrugged, “the mind will twist the truth in order to bring comfort. Who hired you?”

She added that last question quickly, and Geralt could tell it was calculated. Sensing this, he only replied with a quirked brow and a tilt of his head.

Y/N betrayed no sense of frustration when she realized the Witcher wasn’t going to elaborate. Instead, her eyes softened, and she smiled at Geralt with what he perceived as pity.

“Look, the truth is that there is no monster here. Isn’t that right Thalia?”

“Sorry, what?” Thalia, who had just walked back over the Geralt’s table with a tray of ales in her hands, was breathlessly giggling at something Jaskier had whispered in her ear. As she and Jaskier placed four ales on the table, Y/N took a seat across from the Witcher and quickly explained got the two up to speed.

“Oh goodness, that! I can not believe our town’s little lore made it to your ears, Sir Geralt!” She said with wide eyes as she snuggled up next to Jaskier, clinking her tankard with his before taking a generous sip.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jaskier coughed on his ale, “you’re telling me there’s no monster here? That we might actually be able to enjoy a little rest and relaxation here without any horrible monster-killing business? Geralt this is good news!” he exclaimed, smacking his free hand on the table for emphasis.

Geralt only growled out a hum in response, never taking his eyes off Y/N.

“I’ll admit,” Thalia continued, seemingly unaware of the tension between the Witcher and her friend, “it’s scary to think about – you know, murder – but when you actually think about who disappears, it’s not difficult to see the truth.”

At this, Geralt turned his fierce gaze away from Y/N. “What do you mean, ‘who disappears’?”

“O-only that the men who leave aren’t really the type that anyone would miss.” She replied, stuttering a little against her best efforts to not recoil at Geralt’s inhuman eye-contact. “They were mean, violent types. The kind of man that would get crueler the more he drank. Just, awful, evil men, right Y/N?”

Y/N nodded quickly in agreement, taking a slow sip of her ale. “Good riddance.”

“Exactly!” Thalia agreed, clinking her glass to Y/N’s.

“Hell, I’ll drink to that,” Jaskier laughed, before picking his lute up off the floor. “What do you say ladies, a song?”

Thalia cheered loudly and encouraged the rest of the patrons to listen to the bard, letting them all know that he was in fact, the one who traveled with the great White Wolf. Jaskier was positively floating from the adoration as he danced around the pub, pulling cheers and applause after every song.

All the while, Geralt never took his eyes off of Y/N, who had retreated back to the bar after finishing her drink.

Geralt wasn’t sure what to believe. He had a strange feeling about this place from the moment he and the bard arrived, and it frustrated him to no end that even after hours in town, he was no closer to understanding the source of his discomfort. One thing was for certain, something about the story he heard here tonight did not add up, and he definitely didn’t trust its source.

Y/N was standing behind the bar washing glasses, but she wasn’t focused on the task at hand. Instead, her eyes were trained on the crowd before her. Geralt watched her as she scanned the pub with calm, slow-moving eyes that jumped from patron to patron.

The witcher was distracted for a moment when Jaskier sauntered into his sightline, singing a loud chorus of Toss a Coin to Your Witcher. Despite himself, Geralt couldn’t help but smile at the bard, whose face was flushed from the ales and the exertion.

However, as Geralt watched Jaskier twirl across the crowded pub, something in his peripheral vision made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Y/N had turned he head and was staring right at him with a pair of pitch-black eyes.

Like a shot, Geralt turned his gaze to the woman behind the bar – his heart beating loudly in his ears – only to find her smiling warmly at him, her eyes their normal shade.

Instinctively, Geralt brought his hand up to his wolf-head medallion, hoping it would signal the presence of some supernatural evil. But he felt nothing.

He didn’t know what she was, but she was not human.

#the witcher fanfiction #the witcher x reader #the witcher netflix #the witcher fandom #fanfiction requests #fanfiction #fanfic #the witcher series #geralt of rivia #witcher geralt #witcher fic #witcher fanfiction #witcher x reader #toss a coin to your witcher #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x y/n #geralt x you #geralt x reader #Jaskier

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donteattheappleshook · 3 years

Text

There is a Pirate in the Dungeon

Summary:

There is a pirate in the dungeon. All the serving girls are too afraid to go down the steps and bring him his meal. All but one.

This fic is based on a beautiful little story from The Starless Sea that just screamed of Captain Swan so strongly that I couldn't resist.

***

Happy Birthday to @elizabeethan who supported this fic and is just an all around great friend and writer <3

Thanks to @kmomof4 and @the-darkdragonfly for looking this over!

***

There is a pirate in the dungeon. All of the servants are in a flurry over it, gossip filling the halls of the Evil Queen’s palace. They say it’s him. Him who? You know, him, with the hook. The girl pays little mind to it. There is always someone in the dungeon. It doesn’t take much to upset the queen. One foot out of place, one word out of turn.

There are always people in the dungeon. Some are former servants, some former friends, some simply people who had the misfortune of crossing her path on a bad day. In fact, this pirate may be one of the few - if not the only - prisoner being held for any real crime. But the girl keeps her head down and goes about her work. No need to get involved. No need to stand out.

***

The pirate sits in the dungeon. He finds himself bored. It’s a strange emotion to have when facing down one’s inevitable end, but it’s the emotion he feels all the same. He wonders when Death will come. He wonders if this time he will stay, if they’ll meet like old friends, if Death will smile - not in self satisfaction, but in fondness for this game they’ve played so long. It’s only fair. He’s slipped through Death’s fingers so many times, it was bound to be his turn sooner or later.

A key hangs on the wall, six feet away from his cell, a tease of freedom just out of reach. He appreciates the metaphor. The guard is old, and drunk, and asleep most of the time. In a past life, the pirate may have attempted escape, may have hatched some elaborate ruse to win back his liberty. But he is old now - though he does not look it - and he is tired. And so he sits in his cell, bored, and waiting for death.

***

The girl does her best to ignore the chatter, but it follows her everywhere. She hears it in the kitchen, ears catching the whisper of a name, or perhaps a title. She hears it in the hallways, a guess at what he’d done to earn his date with the gallows. She hears it in the small bedroom that she shares with another girl, a rumor of his terrifying reputation, of a man more monster than human. But she isn’t afraid. There’s no such thing as monsters.

***

On the first night of his captivity, a girl comes into the dungeon carrying a tray of food and water. The pirate makes the mistake of standing too close to the bars, of looking over perhaps a tad too suspiciously, too threateningly, and the girl gasps, dropping the plate and running from the dungeon in fear. The guard wakes, and shrugs, and the pirate goes hungry.

On the second night there is a new serving girl. She makes it halfway across the room before the candlelight gleams off his hook and she stumbles. Half the food and water spill from her hands before she sets it on the floor far enough from the bars that he needs to remove his hook and use it to pull the tray close enough to have what’s left.

The third night no girl comes at all, though he hears her retreating footsteps at the top of the stairs. By the fourth night, the pirate has resigned himself to dying of starvation. It’s not quite the death he’d always pictured for himself, but he supposes it’s as fitting as any other.

The guard is asleep again when the girl comes down the stairs on the fifth night, this one also new and more striking than any of the other servants who have fled from him. More striking than most women he’s ever seen and suddenly something that had started to go out in the pirate’s heart begins to stir.

There’s a wariness about her, a hesitation as she approaches, but there is no fear, and it surprises him. As she approaches the bars, she meets his eyes and he watches in wonder as the doubt melts from her features, making way for confusion, relief, and even, he thinks, disappointment. It makes him laugh and he nearly startles at the sound of his own voice after so many days of silence. The girl, however, does not startle.

She sets the tray in front of him and he thanks her. That does startle her. He wonders briefly if it’s at seeing manners in a prisoner or from having become accustomed to never being thanked for her work at all.

The girl studies him, gaze falling over his face and his greatcoat, settling finally on his hook before finding their way back to his eyes. He wonders what she finds there, what she may have been looking for. He takes the chance to study her himself, her long golden hair and bright eyes, the rags she wears unable to disguise a certain dignity with which she carries herself.

He holds her gaze for a long moment, neither compelled to speak as they take each other in and draw their conclusions. Soon, however, his stomach cries for him to eat the bread which she’s brought him and he’s too tired and too hungry to deny it. But as he takes note of the thinness of her cheeks and the smudges below her eyes he feels a certain obligation towards her, a long forgotten sort of duty.

The pirate tears the bread in two and holds one half out through the bars. The surprise returns to her face and he wonders at the fact that it’s kindness that seems to scare her, rather than danger. She watches him, closely, carefully, more curiously than she has yet, and he’s stunned when an older - younger - version of the pirate makes himself known, one he hasn’t seen in years, but that he hopes is still worthy of this girl’s scrutiny, perhaps even of her trust.

She takes the bread from his hand and neither miss the way his fingers brush across her wrist as she pulls back. But she doesn’t recoil. She doesn’t run.

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” the pirate asks, trying to remember the last time his presence wasn’t met with fear or dread.

She considers him a moment before answering, her voice low so as not to wake the guard. “I’ve met scarier men than you,” she says, and he believes her.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her, because he is, and because he doesn’t know what else to say. He himself has met few scarier men.

The girl does not stay to eat her bread. The guard begins to stir and she hurries out of the room before he can ask her name. The pirate cannot chase after her. He would like to, but the bars pose a certain problem. When the guard wakes he finds the pirate with his forehead pressed softly to the iron rods of his prison, a soft, faraway look in his eyes. He does not, the guard notes, look at all like a pirate anymore.

***

The girl walks swiftly down winding steps that lead from the kitchen, which is on the second floor of the palace, deep underground to the damp, carved out tunnels that serve as a dungeon. She doesn’t pay attention to the strange looks she receives from the other serving girls, or the judgemental ones she receives from the men. She is the first to make this trip twice since the pirate’s arrival and it has earned her the distrust of her coworkers.

“Aren’t you afraid of him? Haven’t you heard what he’s done?”

“He’s behind bars,” she answers simply whenever this question is posed. But she knows that the bars are irrelevant. She does not fear the pirate.

She is more concerned with the second question, that of what he has done. The girl, who grew up near the palace and was orphaned near the palace and now works in the palace, has never done anything, not truly, not anything worthwhile or worth remembering.

She wonders how many places outside this palace the pirate has seen. She wonders how many places outside this kingdom he has visited, or perhaps even, outside this realm. She decides that she’ll ask him to tell her about them. The worst he can say is “no” and then her life will be no different than it was when she woke up this morning. She thinks however that if he says “yes”, it could be a little bit better.

When the pirate sees her coming down the stairs he looks surprised, and then relieved, and then pleased. A small smile pullis at the corner of his lips and she feels it makes him look even less the terrifying monster those upstairs believe him to be. He looks young, his eyes which yesterday had betrayed an ancientness of one who has lived many lives, perhaps, more lives than they’d have liked, are now bright and anxious like a boy’s.

The guard is predictably asleep and the girl makes her way to the bars where the pirate waits and hands him his food. He takes it with a thank you, as he had yesterday, and while she’d expected it, she was still not prepared for it and it catches her off guard, her cheeks flushing. Then her cheeks flush at her embarrassment over her cheeks flushing in the first place.

He is handsome, dark hair and dark lashes framing blue eyes and a soft smile contrasted by a strong jaw. But she has seen handsome men before and paid them little mind. She wonders what it is that is different about this one. Whatever the difference, it makes her lose her nerve, and with no other reason to be here, and no question bold enough to ask, she turns to take her leave.

“Wait,” the pirate says, and the girl stops, glancing back. “Will you tell me your name?” he asks. When she does not answer, he speaks again. “If I’m to see you again, I’d like to be able to thank you properly for your service. If I’m not, then I’d like a name to associate with the memory of you.”

The girl is grateful for the darkness in the dungeon, and the distance that hides her stricken expression. “Emma,” she tells him, and he smiles at her in the same youthful way he had before. She offers a clumsy curtsy, and leaves.

When she returns the following night, the girl has slipped whatever extra treats she could find onto the tray. A roll of bread with honey stolen off a table while serving breakfast, meat leftover from the servant’s dinner, and a small, baked good that the queen had sent back. She imagines the pirate must be hungry. She is only sent to bring him food once a day and there are no other servants making trips to the dungeon.

He looks relieved, and then happy to see her. And then something crosses his expression that she doesn’t recognize. Likely, because no one has ever looked at her like that. She finds that she likes it. She hands him the tray, watching a little too eagerly as he notices the contents. He smiles, one eyebrow jumping up, the pull of his lips lopsided, and it spreads warmth through her belly.

“Thank you,” he says, adding “Emma” to the end. It’s the first time he’s said her name, and Emma is surprised at how much she likes hearing him say it.

The guard is asleep, and she imagines he will be for a while, his snores resonating annoyingly through the room. She wonders if the pirate gets much sleep. She imagines it would be hard to sleep with the threat of impending death looming over her. But she imagines it would be even harder to sleep with the guards snores echoing in her ears. Either way, the guard seems unlikely to wake, so she chances stealing a little more time in the pirate’s company.

He watches her as she makes her decision, and when he offers up some of his meal again to share, she accepts it. She feels guilty, taking his food, but it allows her the excuse to step closer to the bars and to brush her fingers carefully against his as they had last night.

When their hands have been touching as long as they reasonably can while passing food, perhaps even a little too long at that, the pirate pulls his arm back through the bars. She notices the hook on which he balances the tray. He notices her noticing it, but says nothing.

After a moment, he sits on the floor, resting the tray against his knee as he picks at it. While he doesn’t ask her to stay, the invitation is clear in both how close he sits to the mouth of his cell and in the way he watches her, waiting. Feeling bold, Emma sits down beside him, shoulders near close enough to touch, were it not for the bars between them. They sit silently, letting the guard’s snores fill the quiet that would be filled by their words. After a long time, Emma speaks.

“They say you’re a captain,” she tells him, wondering if any of the gossip is true.

“Aye, that I am,” he answers. “Or… was,” he corrects, acknowledging his current predicament. Can a captain be a captain without a ship? She takes a breath before speaking again.

“They say you’re a pirate.”

He smiles, mirthful, his eyebrow ticking up again. “Aye,” he says, “that too.” Emma only nods and it seems to surprise him. She wonders if he was expecting shock, or fear, or perhaps even fascination. She gives him none of it.

“Have you been a pirate long?” she asks then, and this time his smile is melancholy as he nods.

“Yes. Too long.”

Emma draws her knees up, holding them in her arms as she gazes forlornly at the floor. “I can’t imagine you could ever tire of being a pirate. Not when there are so many places to see.” When she says it, she’s thinking of the freedom he must have had, the chance to go wherever he pleased whenever he pleased. But then she feels guilty, remembering where he is now.

“I suppose you’re right,” he agrees, offering her an accepting nod.

“And have you?” she asks, breath held in her lungs until he answers.

“Have I what, love?”

“Been many places.”

“Aye. More than you could imagine.” She can imagine quite a bit, but she supposes he’s probably right.

“You must have many stories,” she suggests, and he smiles at her the same way he had when she’d asked him about being a pirate.

“As many stories as there were places,” he promises.

“Will you tell me some of them?” She looks at him when she asks and is met with eyes that are both old and young all at once.

Before he can answer the guard starts to stir and she jumps to her feet. The pirate follows suit, hand reaching out to catch at the sleeve of her dress before she can leave. She turns to him and is shocked at the look in his eyes, she can’t quite place this one either, but if she had to name it, she’d call it... hope.

“I will,” he promises. “If you come back tomorrow. And I’ll tell you more if you come back the following night, and more after that.”

Emma meets his eyes and knows he isn’t lying. And the promise of hearing his stories is nearly as powerful as the promise of being able to sit next to him in the dungeon again, with their shoulders just close enough to touch, if not for the bars. She agrees.

***

When Emma returns the following night, there is more food on his tray. The pirate imagines she must have stolen or kept most of it, sharing her own dinner with him. So it feels only right to share some of his own meal with her.

He’d tried to hide his excitement at seeing her come down the stairs, though he’s sure it was written all over his face. And she’s quite perceptive, he’s noticed. It feels strange, to have something to look forward to. He never imagined being excited for or anticipating anything while in this dungeon, apart from perhaps death. He prefers it this way.

“So what would you like to hear?” he asks after he has touched her hand and sat next to her on the dirty floor of his cell. She contemplates his question for a while, putting serious weight to her decision and he smiles. It’s been a long time since someone was so interested in learning anything about him.

“How did you become a pirate?” she asks finally, and his heart settles like a lead weight in his chest. It must show on his face because she begins to apologize. He stops her. He had not expected to have to share such a painful story so quickly, but he tells her anyway. He tells her of his childhood, uncertain why he starts so far back but the more he continues the more he feels it suits the story.

He tells her of his upbringing on Silver’s ship, of his time in the Navy, of his brother, of everything he was and everything he himself wished to be. He tells her of his brother’s death and her eyes fill with tears, the kind that speak of understanding rather than sympathy. He’d learned long ago to spot the difference, to pick a kindred spirit out of a crowd. Tonight, he picks a twin soul out of a dungeon.

When he has finished his story he waits for her appraisal, wonders if he did it justice. He embellished in parts, if only to make himself more dashing or the dangers greater. He could read on her face that she knew what he was doing and it only made him smile, even as she rolled her eyes. That made him do it more.

“I’m sorry,” she says, he imagines in much the same way he had said to her that first night, and he knows then that they understand each other, perhaps in a way nobody has ever understood him before, not really.

The guard is still asleep but he doubts they have much time left. Nevertheless he offers her another story, if only to keep her here a little longer, to watch her eyes light up with wonder and excitement as he spins his tales. Emma considers again, as carefully as she had the first time.

“Will you tell me your name?” she asks.

He smiles. “Killian.”

***

Killian tells her of Neverland, of evil little boys and fairies and mermaids. He tells her of a land covered in snow, of one where sand reaches as far as the eye can see. He tells her of krakens and monsters and heroes and damsels, of kings and knights and pirate queens over the course of the following nights, each tale more fantastical than the last. But he never lies. She knows he doesn’t. He may embellish but his stories are true, and that makes them all the more unbelievable. She begins to pity the guard, who sleeps through such magical stories, but does not begrudge the privacy it allows them.

His fingers tangle in her hair through the bars, as they do every night, playing with each stand before letting it slip delicately between his rings. He likes her hair and she likes that he likes it. He’d made a comment when she asked, about pirates being drawn to gold. She’d rolled her eyes and he’d laughed.

“What tale would you like to hear tonight?” Killian asks, smiling that smile which always makes her stomach warm and her cheeks flush.

She thinks carefully, as she does every night, wanting to ask the right kind of question to hear the right kind of story. With every tale he reveals more about himself, whether intentionally or not. She knows he is brave but also protective, charming, but also solitary. Dangerous, but kind. He’s seen the whole world, known countless people, but he carries a loneliness that breaks her heart in a way her own never could.

There is a story she wants to know, one that she’s held off on asking. In part because it feels rude, because she is unaware of the rules around asking such things. But also, because she imagines this is the tale that everyone asks him, and she doesn’t want to be everybody. She hopes she can ask and still be Emma to him.

“Will you tell me how you lost your hand?” she asks finally and his fingers still in her hair. She fears she’s crossed a line, but when she turns to face him he’s watching her with that same expression he had when he told her the first story. She knows that this will not be a fanciful tale.

Killian nods and his fingers return their attention to her hair, his eyes fixated as he begins to speak. He tells her of a woman, of a great love and a cruel man. Of adventures and romance and the promise of happily ever after struck down by one monster’s hatred. His eyes water and she wants to ask him to stop, to beg him not to continue if it pains him so much to speak of it, even after all these years. But he finishes his story. Nothing embellished, nothing softened. And when he is finished she’s the one with tears in her eyes.

He does not look at her, preferring to watch the strands of her hair slip through his fingers as he brushes it over her shoulder and back again. She wonders if he’s awaiting her judgement, disgust or forgiveness. Neither are fitting. There is only empathy, and anger, and a feeling she has not felt before but is certain of regardless - love.

She reaches through the bars, takes his hook which rests in his lap in her hand and turns so that she can face him. He looks up in surprise as the movement steals the strands from his fingers, and then in greater surprise when she brings his hook to her lips before holding it to her chest, hoping he can read what she cannot say.

He does.

***

The following night is the last night. Killian knows this and while he’d always thought he’d leave this world with no regrets, he is left with one. He regrets not meeting her sooner, regrets time, not having enough of it, having wasted too much of it. For the first time in a century he fears death, resents it, because death will steal her from him and he is not ready to let go. But the gallows await him in the morning.

The guard is, shockingly, awake when Emma arrives, and he flatters himself that the redness around her eyes is because she knows as well, because she will miss him as well. His heart tightens, loathing that their last night will be cut short, impeded by the presence of the guard who will prevent her from staying. But he should have known to expect more of her.

Emma smiles at the guard, offering him something from the pitcher she carries on the tray. She imagines from his enthusiasm that it is wine or rum and he supposes he was to be offered a last drink on his last night. The guard drinks greedily and Emma continues to smile that lovely smile until he suddenly falls against the table, face colliding painfully with the wood. Killian looks at her in surprise as she comes to meet him. She shrugs.

“He’s not dead,” she dismisses and he smiles, proud and impressed.

“Perhaps there’s a little pirate in you yet, love.”

She gives him his food and they share it as they always do, sitting side by side yet too far apart to truly be together. Killian is aware of the metaphor here as well, though he appreciates it less than the keys on the wall.

Tonight, perhaps because it is their last night, perhaps because she is feeling the finality of it, the grief for all that could have been and what little was, Emma slides her fingers through the bars and takes his hand, letting her fingers slide along and play with his own and his rings as he had her hair. His whole body warms from his hand, rolling through him like a wave, like the sea, like magic.

“I thought, perhaps,” he starts but then hesitates, fingers tightening against hers. “I thought you might tell me a story,” he suggests. She watches him, eyes still red, thumb stroking along the back of his hand. “I’d quite like to know you before I die,” he admits, his voice more strained than he’d like. He realises it's not death he fears, but never seeing her again, never again touching her hair or holding her hand, never having so much as kissed her. He brings their hands to his lips and kisses her knuckles. It’s a poor substitute, but it’s something.

She nods, eyes watery and lip caught between her teeth. She tells him of her life, of being born near the palace, of losing her parents young, of being left by them, sent to live in the castle before she even had a chance to know them, of having looked for them but only having been met with dead ends and disappointed hopes.

She speaks of growing up in the castle, of the queen’s temper and the constant fear and he can see where her strength comes from, though he believes she may have been born with it. She tells him of a man that she believed she loved, one who left when things became too much. All her stories speak of abandonment, of loneliness and perseverance and hope, despite it all, hope.

When it’s nearly dawn she asks if she can have one final story and he cannot deny her anything so he says yes. She asks him what he did to be imprisoned by the queen. He laughs, because there is nothing else to do. He is not a good man, he has not believed himself to be one for a long time. But he likes to think that his last deed, the one that sent him to the gallows, was. That it was one that Liam could be proud of, and Milah, and Emma.

“I refused to kill someone for her.” Emma’s eyes widen. Clearly, this was not what she’d expected. “The Queen learned that someone in her castle had been placed there by the former king and queen, the ones she overthrew so many years ago, and that she, a girl - a daughter - had the power to destroy her. She wished me to find and kill the girl for her, as she cannot. I refused. I am many things, but a killer of innocent women, I am not.”

The booming of a drum brings his story to a certain, poetic end. It is followed by another and it is only a moment before they recognize them for what they are. The gallows await. Emma turns to him, fingers tightening against his until her knuckles are white, eyes wild.

“No,” she says with all the strength and stubbornness he’s grown to love in her.

“Emma,” he starts, not wanting their last moments to be anger and pain and sadness. But she pulls away, standing and staring at him for what feels like an eternity as she makes up her mind. She lunges for the keys, fingers fumbling as she tries to find the right one, to fit it in the lock. “Emma,” he tries to stop her. “Go,” he warns, fearing what fate awaits her if they catch her trying to help him escape. But she doesn’t listen. He did not expect she would.

When she finds the key the gate is wrenched open and she stands in the open doorway watching him with frantic, panicked eyes. He is frozen in place, unable to move, shaken by the risk she is taking. For him. She frowns at him then, confusion and just enough disbelief and annoyance to make him want to laugh.

“Run!” she commands, gesturing towards the stairs. He knows he could make it, he could run now and get out before the guards catch him. He’s gotten out of more dire situations before. But he can’t. She may save him from death but the result will be the same. Either way he will be without her. Being without her when he knows she is somewhere he cannot reach is far worse.

“What are you waiting for?” Emma demands, voice raising. “Get ou-”

He strides forward, takes her face in his hand and kisses her. He kisses her as though this may be the last time, because he fears it will be, regardless of whether they catch him or not. But once he’s kissed her he can’t let her go.

He’s held the whole of his world in his hand and against his lips and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to let her go. He’s lived a very long time, and been to a great many places, but nothing has felt quite like this. Nothing has felt so much like home.

“Come with me,” he pleads, knowing that if she says no he’ll wait here for them to come for him, because it won’t matter, not without her.

The guards burst in, catching them with their faces still only inches apart and it takes them a moment, registering their own shock before they lunge at them, at him. Emma screams and suddenly there is a burst of white light, a light so bright that he has to shield his eyes against it. When he opens them again the guards are on the ground - breathing but unlikely to wake up anytime soon - and Emma is staring at her shaking fingers.

She looks at him with confusion and fear, helpless he thinks for the first time in her life. He takes one of her trembling hands, kisses it softly, and asks her again.

***

They run. They run until they reach the shoreline, Killian gazing out at the sea, and Emma imagines them on any of the ships out there as he attempts to figure out which he could commandeer most easily. She’s quite pleased with how easily she’s taken to piracy. Or perhaps, she’s just taken to pirates. He hasn’t released her hand since they ran from the dungeon and he still won't. She’s not sure she wants him to, for fear that what happened in the dungeon might happen again.

He’s only just picked a ship and started to pull her towards it when they hear the commotion behind them. The guards have caught up to them. The Queen is with them, fury on her face. They stop only a few feet away and Killian steps forward, attempting to stand between them and her. She attempts the same, and so they end up standing side by side, hands clasped tightly, ready to face whatever comes together.

“Well, Captain,” the Queen says. “I underestimated you. It seems you found her after all.” Emma’s breath catches, putting together the pieces of Killian’s story, of her own. Killian’s fingers only tighten around hers and she realises that he must have put it all together much sooner than she had.

She calls for her guards and this time Killian does stand before her and the Queen has him on his knees without even taking a step, sick pleasure in her eyes as the man Emma loves gasps for breath. She screams and she cries and she begs but the Queen doesn’t stop. She won’t lose him. It’s not a question or a choice but a fact. She refuses to lose him, not when they’re so close to freedom, not when she’s only just found him.

She isn’t sure how she does it, but before she has time to question how she does it now, or how she did it then, a light bursts from her fingers and she only just has time to see the fear in the Queen’s eyes before it engulfs them. It flows out of her. Like magic. Like love. And she’s certain that’s what it is, at least, that’s what it feels like.

She helps Killian to his feet and he takes her hand as he had in the dungeon, thanking her. She asks if he still wants her to come with him, warns him that if she is who they think she is, the Queen will never stop hunting them. He smiles, that same smile from their first night. His fingers find her hair, slipping through the strands from her ear to the ends and letting them fall around her shoulders.

“I’ve been hunted before,” he says. “And for far less valuable treasure.”

Someday, her parents will find her. Someday they will defeat the queen and they will ask her to come back with them. And she will, for a while. But she will always go back to him, to the adventures that wait for her in far off lands, and to the love that waits for her aboard a ship. But that is only someday. For now, the pirate takes the girl’s hand and asks her to follow him as he will follow her always, to the ends of the earth, or time.

The End.

*****

@kmomof4 @snowbellewells @teamhook @resident-of-storybrooke @stahlop @hollyethecurious @artistic-writer @gingerchangeling @bubblegum1425 @jackieorioncat @darkcolinodonorgasm @xhookswenchx @lfh1226-linda @searchingwardrobes @winterbaby89 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @xsajx @thejollyroger-writer @elizabeethan @carpedzem @spartanguard @tiganasummertree @demisexualemmaswan @itsfabianadocarmo @courtorderedcake @yasbio2015 @the-darkdragonfly @klynn-stormz

#captain swan #cs #cs fanfic #cs ff #captain swan fanfic #cs au

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ppersonna · 4 years

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little surfer girl - jjk

little surfer, little one. made my heart come all undone. do you love me, do you surfer girl?- little surfer girl, the beach boys

summary- every summer you watched jeon jungkook turn into a perfect, professional surfer. every summer, you wanted him more. this summer, you were determined to make him yours.

rating- R/NC17

word count- 9.8k

pairing- jungkook x reader

genre- surfing!au, surfer!jungkook, fluff, smut, tiniest bit of angst in the form of pining and jungkook being bad at talking, background namseok, background vmin

warnings- penetrative sex, oral sex (m/f receiving), slight dirty talk, creampie, cursing, recreational alcohol use (of legal age), public sex, marking, nippleplay, finger sucking

There was nothing that you loved more than the ocean.

The smell of sea water, the salty taste, the sand clinging to skin, the warm sun toasting around the edges.

You loved the call of the birds, swooping up and down the shoreline for scraps of whatever the tourists left. You loved the sound of the waves crashing against the tall beams supporting the pier.

You loved the sunbathers, the smell of coconut sunscreen, the chiming of bike bells. The beach was your home, and you loved everything about it.

However, the best part, by far, was Jeon Jungkook.

You loved watching the black-haired boy stroll down the long stretch of sand, clad in either a wetsuit, or just some skin tight board shorts, long surfboard under his arm.

Sometimes, he would arrive at lunchtime, shoving a burrito into his mouth as he suited up. Sometimes, he would be there at 6 am, when you arrived to start your shift at the lifeguard station. Sometimes, he would come right at the edge of evening, sun slowly dying beyond the horizon of the Pacific Ocean.

Sometimes he came with his friends, Hoseok and Jin. They would aimlessly roam around on their boards, laughing if one fell and trying to outmaneuver each other, laughter echoing down the expanse of water and sand.

Jeon Jungkook loved the beach as much as you did. And you worshiped him for it.

You often watched the boy for hours, as he attempted to move through each wave perfectly, gliding against the water like it was glass. He was graceful, so impeccably poised on the top of each crested wave.

It wasn’t fair that he could be so perfect in and out of the water.

It wasn’t fair that he rarely gave you a passing glance.

“You’ll catch flies in your mouth if you keep staring at him like that,” Taehyung spoke, saddling up next to you and leaning against the wood of the lifeguard shack.

You shook your head and quickly closed your mouth. You didn’t know it had opened in amazement as you stared at the lithe surfer.

Taehyung chuckled, rolling his eyes at his best friend. “You’re ridiculous.”

You elbowed him and turned away from the shoreline, focusing your attention directly on your best friend and most certainly not on the tall, handsome, fit surfer gliding over the waves.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you sniffed. “I was monitoring the shoreline for potential dangers, Kim Taehyung. That is my job as a lifeguard.”

He laughed again, his low baritone comforting. “Sure, babe,” he sighed. “Definitely not drooling over Jungkook, I believe you.”

Taehyung knew all about the crush you harbored on the surfer ever since you first saw him 3 summers ago at the start of your lifeguard career. You remembered your first day with your best friend.

“Who is that?” You had asked, watching the man shoving at his friends jokingly, and paddling beside them through the water. Taehyung had only laughed in reply. “Really?” He asked, surprised. “That’s Jeon Jungkook. He’s going professional soon, most likely.”

Your eyes never once left the boy again, always seeking him out along the shoreline, missing him when he took a day off from his practice and training.

Since that day, Taehyung made it a point to tease you about your unrequited crush on the boy, and always in not-so-subtle language told you you deserved better than the fuckboy surfing god.

You weren’t naïve to the fact that wherever Jungkook went, a gaggle of bikini-clad gorgeous women followed. You weren’t foolish enough not to notice the smirks and winks he shot at them, desperately wishing that it was you.

Taehyung grumbled about the muscled surfer, stating that all he would do is fuck you over and break your heart, and couldn’t you just date someone nice like his cousin Namjoon?

Taehyung seemed to be in such a mood that day, too.

“I still can’t understand what you see in him,” he groused. “Sure, I guess he’s good looking, but he seems like such a player. Jimin told me he saw him take that Jennie girl behind the cabanas last weekend.”

Your heart sagged, feeling defeated at his words. Jennie was beautiful. Tall, thin and gorgeous. Surely, that was Jungkook’s type. Jungkook’s type was definitely not lifeguard’s wearing red spandex one-pieces a la Baywatch, without the ample bosom. Well, maybe some bosom, but nothing compared to the women flocking the young surfer from the shore.

You bit your lip and shrugged at your best friend, ignoring the shot in your heart at imagining Jungkook with someone, anyone, but you.

“He’s nice,” you murmured. Not that you would really know. The man had spoken four sentences to you in the 3 years you’ve worked as a lifeguard, and most of those were asking about where a trash can was. “And he’s so talented. He loves the ocean, you can tell,” you sighed, resting your head on your hand as you watched him from the ledge of the lifeguard shack.

Jungkook was especially in the zone that day, eyebrows drawn tight in concentration as he cut through the curve of the tube of water. He seemed to practice more intently recently, the National Surfing Tournament was quickly approaching. Jungkook was one of the best surfer’s in the nation and had recently gone professional. You were sure he was eager to score more branding deals and secure his spot on the international scene.

“Namjoon is nice! Much nicer!” Taehyung was incensed. “Passionate too, and not an asshole!”

Taehyung was determined to set you up with his cousin, Kim Namjoon. Tae wasn’t wrong, Namjoon was nice. He was shy, quiet, intelligent and sweet. He was passionate about physics, math, science, and had earned a full-ride scholarship to the country’s most prestigious scientific university.

Maybe, if you hadn’t met Jungkook, you’d give Namjoon a shot. Unfortunately for the elder Kim cousin, no one could compare to Jungkook, regardless of how unlikely it was for him to ever glance your way.

“Yes, Tae,” you sighed. “Namjoon is very passionate… about engineering.”

“Hey! Engineering is a respectable profession, unlike professional surfing,” he sneered, as if the word tasted dirty in his mouth.

You patted the brown-haired boy’s arm and smiled at him, not wanting to upset him further about his beloved cousin.

“It’s just a stupid crush, Tae, okay?” You reassured. “It’s not like Jungkook even knows who I am except for the girl who knows where to throw trash away.”

Taehyung nodded and squeezed your arm. “Anyway, are you going to the tournament pre-party next weekend?” He asked, a shy blush spreading across his cheeks. “Jimin asked me to go with him.”

The pre-party.

You had almost forgotten, so focused on the tournament itself and watching Jungkook prepare harder each day. You almost had his moves memorized by how often you watched. The tournament pre-party was a few nights before the big day, a way for the surfers, fans and locals alike to party and celebrate. The entire community of young adults in the area communed on the beach for bonfires, too much alcohol, volleyball, and countless summer frivolities.

“Oh,” you breathed, eyes zeroing in again on the tall surfer of your affections. You knew it was hopeless to think Jungkook would ask you, but you couldn’t help the ache in your heart that desperately wanted him to. “I forgot.”

Taehyung’s eyes lit up. “You don’t have anyone to take you?” He asked an ulterior motive on his mind.

“I had someone in mind…” you sighed. Jungkook appeared exhausted, finally seated on the surface of his board, panting hard. “But, no, no one has asked me.”

Taehyung smirked a devious grin. You barely noticed, because of a cute pink-haired lifeguard appearing on the sand below you.

“Oh, hi Jimin!” You called to the cherubic boy below. “Are you here to see your lover?”

Jimin and Tae simultaneously turned a deep shade of crimson. Christ, they were perfect for each other.

“Hi, Jimin,” Tae smiled shyly. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to bring you lunch,” Jimin’s teeth caught his bottom lip anxiously. “You too.” He smiled at you and held up the paper bag, earning a squeak of delight from your best friend as he tugged you down the stairs to greet his crush and receive his treats.

“Where’s ours, Jimin?” A new voice called.

Three heads whipped around to investigate the voice. It was Kim Seokjin, a teasing grin on his face. He was flanked by Jung Hoseok, and none other than Jeon Jungkook. You felt as if someone had sucked the air out of you with a vacuum.

Jimin blushed again, looking out at the men approaching the lifeguard station, dripping wet, half stripped out of their wetsuits, and exhausted.

“Sorry, Jinnie! I didn’t realize you guys were here.” He hugged Jin with one arm, causing Tae to raise an eyebrow at the exchange.

Jimin seemed to notice the confusion and hurried to explain. “This is Jin! My neighbor! We grew up together.” Taehyung visibly relaxed. “And this is Hoseok and Jungkook, his best friends.” The boys waved at you two, and you prayed your hair looked decent today. A hand reached up to press down on your tresses, just in case.

“I’m Taehyung!” Your best friend spoke, happy demeanor quickly re-appearing as he recognized Jin was not a threat. “And this is my best friend, Y/N!”

You willed your cheeks not to flare red as the men took you in. You wore your standard issue red Speedo swimsuit, accentuating your thicker hips and thighs from years of gymnastics, and clinging to your chest. Fuck, did you look okay? Your one chance to impress Jungkook and you were wholly unprepared. Your arms crossed over your chest, hiding your body behind your arms.

However, you smiled at the men, watching as Jin and Hoseok smirked at you and Jungkook’s face remained impassive.

“Yeah, I’ve seen you around,” Jungkook added. “You guys are always here.”

“Well,” you gulped. “Someone’s gotta… guard those lives…” Really? What the fuck kind of joke was that?

It was silent for a beat, before Seokjin burst into uncontrollable laughter.

“Oh, I like you!” He joked as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “A woman after my own heart.”

Jin’s friends rolled their eyes at the older man’s antics. Jin was known for his lame jokes, Jimin explained to you.

“You guys are going to the party next weekend, right?” Jimin asked the male trio, moving to stand near Tae. Tae grinned at the boy as they linked hands.

The boys exchanged looks with each other. “Yeah,” Hoseok replied. “I’m taking my boyfriend, Yoongi and Jin is taking our friend June.”

Tae smiled back at the group. “Jimin and I are going together!” He was excited, it was palpable. The pair were tooth-rotting cute and the rest of the party smiled at how endearing the budding romance was.

“What about you?” Jin asked, peering in your direction. “Who’s lucky enough to take you?”

You flushed and stammered, unable to croak out the words.

Tae, thankfully, took over. “She forgot about it. She hasn’t found anyone yet.”

Jin’s face lit up, and he nudged you gently in the ribs. “Jungkook doesn’t have anyone to go with, either! You two should go together!”

Your face flushed immediately, and you shot your eyes to Jungkook, who laughed out loud with a blush on his face.

“What?!” He yelped. “No, no!” he stammered. “I uh… I’m going with Jennie!”

You felt your heart rip at the seams, and Taehyung clenched his fist in anger.

Jin narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “You told us she’s a bad kisser, and that she was rude.”

“No!” Jungkook yelled. “She’s great! It’s fine! Oh, uhh… my mom’s here, gotta go!” He tore off towards the parking lot, leaving you in your dust and broken heart.

Hoseok lifted a brow and looked at Jin. “Doesn’t his mom live like… 4 hours away?”

Jin just laughed and shrugged, leaning in to give Jimin a goodbye hug. “Sorry about that! Jungkook is a little edgy.”

Taehyung grumbled under his breath and Jimin moved to quickly cover it up.

“It’s fine!” he assuaged. “No harm!” He chuckled nervously, stealing you a glance. He could tell by the broken puppy dog eyes on your face that there was certainly harm.

Taehyung was irate. “Yeah! She’s going with Kim Namjoon, anyway!” You whipped your head to him, incredulous and confused. He stared back at you, resolute.

You groaned, lowering your head to stare at your sandy feet.

“Oh, yeah?” Jin asked, ears perking up. “That delicious-...err… I mean, intelligent engineer guy?”

Taehyung, oblivious to Jin’s careful re-wording, nodded. “Yeah! He’s totally a catch, and he’s lucky to be going with her.”

Jin nodded and smiled at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Definitely.” He chanced a glance at you, and could tell by the look on your face you felt otherwise. He leaned to your ear and whispered only for you to hear, “If you find out he bats for the other team, will you let me know?”

Jin was good in your book. You giggled at the older boy and nodded, before peering back at your best friend’s confused gaze.

“Well, we better go! Looks like we’ve been ditched for some… mom time,” he motioned towards the parking lot that Jungkook fled to and gazed back at Hoseok. “Let’s head out?”

Hoseok nodded, and you murmured your farewells to both, and laughed silently as Jin winked at you.

“I can’t believe it,” Taehyung kicked at the sand after the duo left. “What an asshole! He was so rude! I knew he wasn’t good enough for you.”

You had momentarily forgotten about the rejection, too caught up in Jin’s obvious interest in your apparent new date to the party. Right. The new date because Jungkook couldn’t even fathom you on his arm; it was laughable to him. Ouch.

Jimin approached you and wrapped you in his arms. “Sorry, love,” he murmured as his date kicked angrily at the sand, cursing Jeon Jungkook’s name. “He really is an idiot.”

Taehyung put himself back together and hugged the two of you tight. “Joonie will be excited to take you,” he replied with a grin wide on his face.

You groaned. “Can’t wait.”

“Jeon Jungkook, what the hell is wrong with you!?” Kim Seokjin shrieked as he walked into the parking lot and found the surfer sitting on the edge at a soft thatch of grass, surfboard haphazardly laid next to him.

Jungkook winced, knowing the lecture would come from his oldest friend.

“I’m sorry!” he started, looking up at the man with pleading eyes. “I just-... I don’t-...” he was at a loss for words, unable to explain his behavior.

He sighed and looked back down at his feet. Why had he reacted so negatively? He barely even knew the girl, but had been so overwhelmed by the sight of her in her red swimsuit and cute braided hair, and Jin suddenly;y suggesting they go to the party together. He was flustered.

“I don’t even know her! I think I asked her once about a fucking trashcan! Why would she want to go with someone she doesn’t know?” He complained.

Jin rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, the picture of motherly scorn. “You could have gotten to know her on the fucking DATE!” he snapped. “Instead, you laughed in the poor girl’s face! She looked like a kicked puppy.”

Jungkook winced and rubbed at his ocean-burned eyes, feeling a headache beginning in his temples. “I’m sorry!” he exasperated. “I’ll apologize sometime! I’ll ask her to go with me!”

Jungkook supposed he really wouldn’t mind having the lifeguard on his arm at the party. She filled out her swimsuit nicely and had a gorgeous smile. She was shy, it seemed, but he supposed that wasn’t so bad. He mentally kicked himself for reacting so harshly.

“Too late,” Hoseok chimed in. “She’s going with Kim Namjoon.”

At the name, Jungkook snapped his eyes to Jin, who huffed. “If he falls in love with her and not me at this party, I’m shoving your surfboard up your ass.”

Spending your days at the lifeguard shack was easier said than done after Jungkook’s blatant rejection. Your eyes followed him constantly, watching as he practiced each turn, tube ride, and off-the-lip. He practiced constantly, nearly 7 hours a day. He only took breaks to come to shore to eat and drink water and occasionally scurry off to the bathroom. You desperately wanted to turn away, the sight of him at all causing your heart to clench. But you were powerless, utterly unable to avoid the magnetism that was Jeon Jungkook.

Your shifts switched between partnering with Jimin and Taehyung, both trying to do anything in their power to lift your spirits. Taehyung chattered away between how excited he was to go with Jimin, and how great it would be to see you and Namjoon together. Jimin avoided any topic of Jungkook or Namjoon and simply discussed what you would wear to the party and flicked through various websites on his phone with you to determine.

Jimin yipped with excitement. “Look at this one,” he swooned, shoving his phone under your nose. “You’d look so good!”

You glanced at the screen, a golden bikini top in the frame. It cupped the model’s chest nicely, allowing ample cleavage, and wrapping around the neck with a halter tie. It was beautiful, shimmery and trendy.

“I dunno,” you sighed. “Can I pull that off?”

Jimin smirked. “I’m sure Namjoon could pull it off you.”

“Oh god,” you snorted. “Not you too! Plus, I think Seokjin likes him.”

Jimin hummed. “Well, I think you should still get it. Wear it with a cute tight skirt!” His face was lit up. You couldn’t deny the boy. “Plus, you’ll make stupid Jungkook regret his decision.”

Your face fell at the name. Jimin internally slapped himself for bringing him up.

“I’m sorry, bub,” he whispered, taking your hand in his. “He really is an idiot for what he did to you.”

You smiled at Jimin, willing yourself not to cry at work. “Thanks, Jimin,” you sighed. “It’s okay. I’ll buy it! It will look great.” You mostly bought it to ensure Jimin didn’t feel too guilty, but also because it would likely make your tits look great, and you could use some revenge on the surfer.

The pink-haired boy happily clicked the ‘buy’ button, and you entered your card information, thankful that the package would arrive a few days before the party.

You and Jimin settled into an easy conversation, discussing his and Taehyung’s date. The lithe little lifeguard regaled you with his grand romantic gestures that he planned to surprise Taehyung and officially ask him to be his boyfriend. It was cute, and your best friend definitely deserved the adoration. But it was acutely making your heart clench in jealousy and sadness.

You glanced at your watch, noting the time. “Hey, I’m going to go walk down the and do shore checks,” you smiled as you grabbed your long white life preserver and slipped ray bans on your eyes. Jimin nodded and spritzed you with sunblock before you made your way out the door.

The walk down the shore was a practiced one. Your eyes scanned over the surface of the water, trained to spot anything wrong or dangerous. You knelt down to apply a band-aid to a little boy’s scraped knee and picked up trash that a seagull would surely choke on. It was easy to busy yourself with minimal tasks and keeping an active eye for danger on the horizon.

The distractions were very welcome, and your mind flittered comfortably around and never landed on the topic of a certain tall, fit surfer.

Until he was standing right in front of you, your body colliding into his.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed. “Sorry!” You stood and dusted off; you had fallen directly onto the sand on your ass. You looked at the large person standing in front of you and felt your heart sink.

“I was calling your name for like...4 minutes,” he said amused. “Aren’t lifeguards supposed to be paying attention?”

You blushed and crossed your arms over your chest, huffing. “What do you want?”

Okay, you were a little short, a little rude. But the man laughed at the idea of being seen with you! He deserved at least a little of it.

Jungkook blanched at the tone of your voice. “I’m- uh,” he struggled to find words. “I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry.” He nibbled at his lip. “About the other day. And for knocking you over just now.”

You crossed your arms tighter against your chest and lifted your sunglasses up your face to rest on your head. “You were an asshole,” you mumbled.

He rubbed at the back of his neck anxiously. “I know, yeah,” he swallowed harshly. “I guess they caught me off guard and didn’t know what to say. Are you still going alone?”

You paused, unsure how to respond. To tell him about your fake date with Namjoon, or not.

“No,” you sighed. “I’m going with Kim Namjoon.”

Jungkook scoffed. “That nerd!?” You felt your eyes narrow. Only you got to call Namjoon a nerd, maybe Seokjin too, but not Jungkook, and not in that tone. “I wanted to ask you if you would go with me. Jennie’s already got someone else.”

“Oh, so I’m the second choice now?” You lifted an eyebrow, and he hurried to explain.

“No! Well, yeah!” He was fucking up, he knew it. “But not in a bad way!” God, Jungkook wished he could punch himself out cold so he could stop this train wreck. He felt like such an idiot.

“How is it not a bad way, Jungkook?” You asked, annoyance and hurt rising steadily.

“Nevermind! It’s fine,” he huffed, angry at himself and allowing it to come out on you. “I was just thinking you’d be eager to ditch the dweeb and be the lucky lady on my arm.”

How in the world did he think that was okay to say? You glared at him for a moment.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” you bit. “I’m the lucky one!? You should feel lucky that I even listened to your shit apology, let alone entertain the thought of going to the party with you!”

You continued your rant and Jungkook wished the earth would swallow him. Why was it so hard to talk to you like a normal fucking human?

“Namjoon is polite, and sweet and smart and not a fucking bully who thinks he’s better than everyone!” you yelled, aware that passersby were watching the scene unfold. A lifeguard yelling at a professional surfer, how charming. “And he’s the lucky one because I’m fucking great!”

“So you can have your fucking apology and go to the party alone, you absolute asswipe!” With that, you turned around and stormed back to the lifeguard tower, stewing in your mixed anger and grief.

You were suddenly very grateful to wear that golden bikini, eager to rub just exactly what Jungkook lost out on in his face.

The weekend of the party came quickly, far quicker than you were ready for. As much as you enjoyed Namjoon’s company, it was still a little awkward. Even more so now that you knew Seokjin, your newest friend, held a candle for the tall genius.

Taehyung sat on your bed as you finished applying makeup, a bronzy yet natural look. Taehyung wore short shorts and a tank, showing off his impossibly toned and tanned arms and thighs. He looked fantastic and knew that Jimin would salivate at the sight.

“You look incredible, bubby,” Tae smiled as he stood behind you and helped secure the necklace you were fumbling with. “Namjoon is a lucky man.”

You flushed, not wanting to burst Taehyung’s bubble regarding your platonic feelings towards his cousin. “Thanks, Taetae.”

You glanced at your finished look in the long mirror as Tae stood behind you and rubbed your shoulders. The golden bikini top wrapped around your body seamlessly, lifting your breasts with ample cleavage and complimenting your lifeguard tan.

You wore a short and tight, high-waisted denim skirt and simple sandals you could easily slip off once in the sand. It different from the 70s vibe of your normal lifeguard outfit. Your hair fell down in curls, rather than held up in braids or a bun, and makeup adorned your tanned features. Not bad, you smirked.

Taehyung hugged you from behind, but jumped as the doorbell rang.

“Oh! That's Joonie!” He quickly scuttled away.

You took a deep breath, summoned every ounce of courage and walked out to meet your date.

Namjoon smiled kindly at you, wearing a sensible pair of knee-length jean shorts and a designer tee.

“You look amazing!” he smiled as you grabbed a sweater in case it got too cold. A bikini only gave so much coverage against wind.

“Thanks Joon,” you replied. “You too.”

Tae sighed as if watching a romantic movie. “Oh my sweet little lovebirds,” you rolled your eyes. “Go have fun! Namjoon, you take care of her!” He wagged his finger in his cousin's face. “I know where you live!”

You and Namjoon laughed at his antics.

“Okay bub, that’s enough,” you hugged your best friend. “Go get your man.”

He kissed both your cheeks and hugged his tall cousin. “Hopefully by the end of tonight, he will be my man.” He winked before slipping out the door.

“He’s too much, sometimes,” Namjoon chuckled. You nodded as you opened the front door for him.

“Don’t blame me, he’s your cousin,” you teased, and the pair of you left towards the beach.

You heard the music of the party before you saw it. You and Namjoon had been chatting easily as you walked the few blocks to the beach. His conversation helped quell the anxiety growing in your stomach. Jungkook would be there. You were still so mad at him, and yet still undeniably attracted to the popular surfer. It frustrated you he gave you every reason not to like him and still, your brain resisted.

“Wow, it looks wild,” Namjoon breathed as you approached the crowd. There were groups of people everywhere, each in various states of beachwear and undress.

You nodded, eyes peering around for any familiar face. You quickly spotted Jin with his date, a cute and petite brunette, along with Hoseok and Yoongi. Thankfully, Jungkook was nowhere to be seen. Jin and his crowd quickly made their way towards you.

“My princess!” He exclaimed as he wrapped his arms around you. He tucked his lips by your ear and whispered, “So, you think I got a chance?” You turned to smile at him and shrugged.

“He didn’t seem to care about my tits,” you surmised. Not that it meant he was gay, but since Seokjin seemed to grasp at straws, so did you.

“How unfair to you!” he faux-gasped. “You could see these puppies from space!” He patted your shoulders and looked at the tall genius.

Namjoon’s eyes were glued to Seokjin, transfixed. Jin stuck his hand out towards him.

“Hi, I’m Seokjin. But you can call me Jin,” he mewled, eyes giving off blatant ‘come hither’ vibes.

Namjoon licked his lips and slowly extended his own hand. “Namjoon,” he replied.

Jin grinned. “I know,” he teased. “You’re the local Einstein.”

Namjoon flushed, and you nudged Jin, asking to take it easy on the boy.

Within a blink, Tae and Jimin joined your group, hands clasped together and giddy smiles on their faces. Namjoon arched an eyebrow at his cousin and Tae merely smiled, one that spoke volumes of love for the pink-haired lifeguard.

“Where’s Jungkook?” Tae growled as he took stock of who was present. Hoseok awkwardly coughed.

“He’s uh,” Hoseok started. “Coming late.”

You pursed your lips, ignoring the fast beat of your heart. Namjoon was still engaged in a staring contest with Seokjin and you smiled at Jin’s date, June. “Do you want to go with me to get a drink, June?” You asked, feeling awkward that the girl’s date was openly flirting with yours.

She nodded appreciatively and walked with you towards the beer garden. “Sorry about the boys,” you murmured. “It’s a little awkward when your date partners flirt with each other.”

June giggled and grabbed a cold cup of beer.

“I don’t mind,” she smiled behind the foam. “Jin is one of my best friends. I’m gay, my girlfriend is just out-of-town so I agreed to come with him.”

You sighed a breath of relief. “Oh thank god, I was worried you would kill me or Namjoon.”

June giggled, she was adorable, and shook her head. “No way. Do you know how many times I’ve had to listen to Jin wax poetic about him? I started to get a crush on him!” she teased.

June was easy to talk to, and you found yourself throwing back a beer and grasping at another before she asked if you wanted to head back towards the group.

“June! Hey!” a voice called out, causing you both to turn around. The source of the voice was none other than Jungkook.

“Oh,” he faltered as he took in your body, your outfit. Fuck, you looked good. He willed himself not to pop a boner, especially since you were less than pleased with him. “Hey,” his cheeks were flaring red.

“Hi Kook!” June exclaimed, hugging the muscular boy. Not that you were looking at his muscles. “Where’s Jennie?”

Your head tilted, confused at the statement. Jungkook was actively aware of your body language. He coughed in order to relieve the tension in his throat.

“She’s just,” he didn’t know where to begin. “With some friends at the moment.”

You sucked at your teeth. “Glad you found someone to go with after all, Jungkook. I would hate for you to have to resort to your second choice.”

You spun around and stormed back towards your friends, leaving June and Kook in your wake.

You avoided Jungkook for much of the night. You danced with your friends, roasted marshmallows with Namjoon, did shots with Jimin and Tae, and walked down the shore towards the lifeguard booth you worked at regularly with your date.

“So,” you smiled at him. “Seems like you hit it off with Seokjin.”

Namjoon’s cheeks bloomed red. “Well, sure, yeah,” he gasped. “He’s… nice.”

You elbowed the man gently. “Joonie, it’s okay. You like him.”

Namjoon paused and looked at you before gazing back at his feet.

“I’m so sorry. I know you like me, and Tae always talks about your crush on me, but I’m… I’m gay. You’re beautiful and all, but I just don’t see you that way.”

You spluttered, laughing with confusion.

“What!? Tae told you what!? Oh, my god,” you laughed. “I thought you were gay, Joon! And I love you as a friend, but I don’t have a crush on you.”

He looked relieved, eyes now locked on yours. “What? Really?” He gasped, then frowned. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

You hugged him tight. “He was so desperate to see us get together he didn’t see the obvious,” you sighed after you pulled away. “Seokjin likes you too. You should go to him. The girl he’s with isn’t his girlfriend. It’s his lesbian best friend.” You laughed at the incredulity of the circumstances of the night.

Namjoon held you tight and smiled. “Sorry,” he mumbled awkwardly. “I’m glad we came together though, I enjoy being with you. As friends.” He added.

You quickly nodded and agreed. “Now go suck his dick! I can walk myself home.”

Joon blushed again. It was easy to get that reaction out of him. He kissed your hands and turned back towards the party, seeking the older man.

You ambled towards the lifeguard station, quickly hopping up to sit on the weather-worn wood planks and watch the waves roll in. It was nice to step away from the party, from the crowds and noise. Being at the ocean at night reminded you of how much you loved it, how you felt as if it rushed through your veins.

“I see you’re lost in your own thoughts again,” a familiar voice called. You quickly snapped at the intruder. Jungkook. Of course, you couldn’t escape him. You wanted him near and wanted him gone all at once.

“I was calling your name again, and you didn’t hear me. Maybe you should see a doctor,” he teased as he hopped up next to you on the shack porch.

You grumbled. “What are you doing out here?” You asked. “Aren’t you like the life of the party? Where’s Jennie?”

He frowned and looked out at the water. “Making out with her ex.”

Oh, yikes. You felt bad for him, regardless of if he deserved it or not.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

“I’m tired of the party. Everyone wants to talk to me about the money and the fame from my sponsorships. No one asks me how I’m feeling about the competition.”

You bit your lip, allowing Jungkook to continue.

“It gets old, I guess. Girls always wanting to talk about my sponsorship deals, and if I’ve met any Olympians,” he chuckled darkly. “Sorry, I sort of dumped that on you.”

You shook your head, staring at the object of your affections. “I get it,” you agreed. “If it’s any consolation, I think you’ll do great at the tournament.” You bit your lip, afraid to continue the compliment. “I’ve watched you, you know. You’re really good.”

“Just really good?” he teased. You poked him in the stomach in retort.

“Yes, Jungkook, you’re really good. You’re the best for a reason.” Your face returned to a thoughtful look. “Are you nervous?”

Jungkook nodded. “Yeah, I am. I’m scared to disappoint anyone. My friends, my family, my coach…” he trailed off. “I guess I’m more scared of disappointing them than I am about losing.”

“You’re not scared of losing?”

“Not really, no.” He let his legs sway in the open air. “If it came down to it, I’d rather lose than disappoint them somehow. But the two seem to be tied together. I can’t lose without making them upset.”

“Do you love what you do?” The question was simple, but held such significance to Jungkook. He looked at you, amazed at the sincerity in your face and questions. God, he could kiss you right now.

“I used to,” he spoke after a beat of staring at your lips. “I liked it when I could do it how I wanted. When I could just surf for fun, and maybe for a prize here and there. But now, I’m expected to win. All the time. Never make your hobby into your job,” he sighed.

You let your hand rest on his thigh. “You can be in charge of your life, Jungkook,” you murmured. “You’re an adult. You can lose if you want to. You could quit all together. What anyone else wants for you isn’t as important as what you want for you.”

Jungkook let the idea roll in his mind. He stared at you, unused to talking so frankly and freely about his life and career and dreams, let alone with a girl he was attracted to.

“I want to kiss you,” he spoke, quiet and confident. Your eyes widened.

“You do?”

He nodded, not allowing any anxiety to roll through him or let him make an ass of himself again. “I do.”

Your heart was beating ten times too fast. It felt as if it might launch out of your chest cavity.

“Okay,” you breathed. “I want you to kiss me.”

Jungkook leaned forward and pressed his warm lips to yours. He tasted like the ocean, salty and earthy. He tasted like beer, bitter and sharp. He tasted like what you imagined was the essence of Jungkook, warm and sweet.

He let his hand rest on your cheek, thumb caressing your cheek as his fingers wound through your hair. He deepened the kiss, tongue swirling into the cavern of your mouth to seek purchase. He wanted you, all of you.

You sighed against his lips, allowing his tongue to explore your mouth as you returned the favor. You each made small, slight and tiny gasps. Jungkook pressed towards you, laying you down on the hard wood of the lifeguard deck as he continued kissing you, fingers combing through your hair.

“I’m sorry I was an ass,” he whispered. “I promise I’m not that big of an asshole, you just get me so flustered.”

You giggled against his lips, pulling him in for another deep caress of your tongue. “I forgive you, as long as you keep that promise.”

Jungkook moved his fingers towards your bikini top, dipping into your cleavage. “I almost passed out when I saw you in this,” he admitted, resting his forehead against yours.

You didn’t need to reply, as Jungkook began kissing the tops of your breasts, sucking gently on the skin of your cleavage. He was definitely leaving marks, and you hoped your work swimsuit would cover the evidence.

You moaned under his touch, sighing as he pulled the top down further to expose your hardened nipples. At the feel of his tongue on one nub, you jolted up, aware of your surroundings.

“Wait! Stop!” You gasped. Jungkook pulled away quickly, eyes boring into yours with confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

“Not out here!” You begged, dragging him into the interior of the lifeguard’s shack. It was measly, with a desk, a chair and a long padded bench, but it would have to work.

Jungkook’s concern melted away and a cocky smile spread across his lips.

“You wanna fuck at work, huh? Kinky.”

You kissed him hard again, ignoring his teasing comments. He quickly untied the top completely and threw it to the ground and allowed himself to revel in the feel of your naked breasts. He easily pressed you down to sit on the bench and stood before you.

“Okay, I know I was joking before about fucking at work, but this is actually really hot,” he groaned at the sight of you, tits out and lips puffy from his kissing.

He knelt in front of you and buried his face in your tits, licking and sucking at the sensitive skin.

You jerked and arched your back into him, allowing your head to bob back.

“Ohhhh, fuck,” you sighed as he tugged on a nipple harshly. “So good.”

Jungkook was encouraged and sucked harder, lifting his fingers to your other nub to twist and pinch and pull. The high whine that left your lips shot straight to his cock.

“Fuck, babe,” he breathed. “You’re so responsive.” He marveled at you, the way the moon shone on your naked body. His hand moved from your breast to your skirt and tugged the denim up.

He hissed at the sight of your bare pussy, no underwear in sight.

“Shit, fuck,” he took a steadying breath to ground himself. “That was so unexpected and so fucking hot.”

You blushed. “Panty lines,” you offered as a response.

“Fuck yeah, panty lines,” he wheezed, knowing his words made no sense and watched your cunt slick your thighs.

He let a finger drag up and down your slit, ripping a loud moan from your throat. Jungkook was about to finger you. Jungkook, the man you had been in love with for three summers was about to eat you out. This must be a dream, right?

“So pretty,” he cooed, eyes glued to your slippery cunt. “Wanna eat you up.”

“Please, yes, fuck,” you babbled. “Please Kook, I want you so bad.”

He smirked and leaned forward and pressed his tongue against your clit, one quick flick against the bud. He pulled back and savored the taste on his tongue. “Mmm, perfect.”

You cried at the loss of sensation, pussy clenching around nothing and nearly screaming in need for the surfer to please you. Your legs spread wantonly, tits out and skirt hiked up around your waist. It was filthy. You fucking loved it.

Jungkook easily slipped two fingers into your tight heat and dropped his jaw in a groan at the feel of your silky wet walls sucking his fingers. You keened your approval and gasped for more. He was staring at the way you took his fingers, hypnotized by the push and pull of your channel.

“Fuck, I could probably cum just from watching this,” he breathed. “I’ve never been so turned on by fingering someone before.”

Your breathing was heavy, panting harshly as you felt his long digits slowly fuck into you.

“Shit, Jungkook, please I’m aching,” you begged. “My clit, p-please.”

He nodded dutifully and lowered his mouth to suck at your clit. You tasted exquisite, like fine wine, and he was thirsty.

Electric pulses danced down your spine as you finally received what you needed, moaning his name encouragingly. You threaded your hands through his hair, gasping for air and squeaking in delight at every swirl of his tongue.

He fucked you harder with his fingers, establishing a quick pace.

“You look so fucking good,” he complimented. “Your pussy fucks my fingers so good. It’s going to feel fucking fantastic with my cock shoved in it.”

You nodded in agreement, eyes shut tight as your fingers tightened their hold on his shiny locks. “Jungkook, fuck! There, right there!! Shit!” You gasped, feeling the beginning torrent of your orgasm.

He obeyed, making out with your cunt and suckling at your clit as he slipped another finger inside you and fucked you fervently. Your body was like his last meal on earth and he would savor every last drop.

“Cum for me, babe. Fuck, I bet you look so fucking hot cumming on my fingers.”

His pumping fingers and punishing tongue speared you into an intense orgasm, cunt walls convulsing around him. You slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle the scream of pleasure as your body shook.

Jungkook had never felt more proud of anything in his life. He had fucked a lot of girls, but never any as responsive as you. You were addictive.

“Jesus,” he gasped, sliding his finger from your spent pussy, dripping in your release. “Suck.”

He pressed his fingers into your mouth and groaned as you sucked obediently, showing exactly what you would do to his cock were the fingers replaced in your mouth with it. His groan of approval told you he was looking forward to it.

“Jungkookkkkieee!” A drunk, female voice hollered out on the beach. You both shot up, attempting to fix yourself and throw your bikini back over your body.

Jungkook ducked out to see who was calling him. His eyes narrowed as he saw Jennie faltering in the sand, drunk.

“Fuck,” he murmured. “It’s Jennie.”

You frowned. “I thought she was with her ex…”

“Me too.”

“Jungkooookie! Where are you?! I’m ready to go home and get fucked like you promised meeeeeee!” She giggled as she fell into the sand, unaware of the couple in the lifeguard shack.

Your eyes narrowed to slits at the surfer. He winced, feeling as if they were daggers in him.

“Look, I didn’t say that-...”

“I get it now,” you snapped as you tied your top back around your neck.

“Listen! Wait!” He attempted to stop you and grab your hands, but you quickly wrenched them away and shoved him from you.

“Fuck you, Jungkook! I’m always the second choice, huh? Jennie fucks off with her ex so you look for your fallback plan.” Your words were dripping in malice, in regret.

“No! I promise! I didn’t tell her that! I haven’t fucked her except once like 2 months ago!” He begged for you to stay. “I don’t want her! I want you.”

“I can’t believe I’m this fucking stupid,” you shook your head and gathered your belongings and stormed out of the shack. He quickly followed behind you, begging you to let him explain himself. You ignored him valiantly, the tears now falling down your face.

“If you’d just fucking listen to me, I could explain-..”

You cut him off by turning towards him and jabbing angry fingers in his face.

“No, you fucking listen,” your voice was dark, and he tracked the tears falling from your face. “I’ve liked you for three fucking years now. I never thought I had a chance with you. And I was fine with that. But you fucking dangled it in front of me. You played me.” You bit your cheek, desperately wanting to slap his stupid, beautiful face, but held yourself back.

“Good luck at the tournament, Jungkook.”

And you turned, and you left, running quickly to find Tae to get home to cry.

—-

“Welcome to the 43rd Annual National Surfing Tournament!” The loudspeaker voice boomed through the beach. It felt like it echoed through your heart.

You sucked your teeth, thoroughly unimpressed with the fanfare.

You were stationed at a makeshift perch, close to the shore. You, along with Tae and Jimin, were the selected lifeguards for the event in case of emergency.

You fought your manager when you saw your name on the list for the event.

There was no way you could be on the same beach as Jeon Jungkook.

But there was no way out, Jimin and Tae just sent sad frowns to you and murmured compassionate encouragement.

So you stood at your position, sunglasses covering your eyes, as you watched the surfers line up at the shore. You avoided looking at the tall, black-haired one. You tried and failed.

He looked tired, nervous. He ran his hands through his hair anxiously and picked at spots on his board.

Whatever. You pushed away any thoughts of care towards the man.

He stole a glance at you, noticing you turn your face away the moment he looked up. He frowned, eyes back at the shore lapping at his feet.

Jungkook readied himself. Within moments, the siren rang, and he tore off towards the water, hopped on his board, and paddled towards the swells. He monitored the competing surfers, wanting to move far away from them to avoid a collision and snag a wave all for himself.

He swam right, leaving the pack of surfers in the center to move closer to the pier beams. It was risky, he could over correct a fall and slide right into a current that would slam him into the huge beams of wood. But the waves crashing there were perfect. Tubular, even.

He paddled harder, eager to get his first run in.

You narrowed your eyes as you watched him move towards the pier. What was he doing? That was a dangerous area, and a grip on your throat kept your eyes glued to the man.

He stared ahead, watched as the swell of the wave started, before turning around and paddling. He kept his eye behind him on the wave, moving to correct himself and hit the wave at just the right spot. He steadied his feet on the board and stood, thrusting his hips forward to propel the board on top of the now-crested wave. His smile lit up his entire body.

He did it; you cheered internally, before scolding yourself. Who cares, certainly not you.

Jungkook balanced and risked a run through the rolling wave. He timed it well enough he could make it before the tube filled with water. With a quick jut of his legs and his hip, he shoved his body and board through the tube, fingers dragging across the glassy surface.

God, he looked gorgeous. The wave encircled him, as if he were the god of the water.

You felt your throat jump high in your mouth.

The tube was closing quickly; the wave dying down. Getting caught in a rip curl was deadly, forcing the victims underwater for too long.

Jungkook pressed his body closer to the board, willing the aerodynamics to take him faster to the end of the tube.

You watched him, crying out loud to encourage him to hurry, as if he could hear you from your perch.

Within seconds, the wave crashed and dragged the surfer down with him.

Jungkook tumbled off the longboard, head cracking hard against the polyurethane surface. He groaned as water overtook him.

Fuck.

You acted on instinct. You threw the life preserver behind you and ran into the water. You waited for the incoming wave to pass overhead before resurfacing and swimming to him as fast as you could.

You were crying, you noticed, tears escaping your body as you swam harder than you had in your life. You could see him swirling in the water, and you panicked. How were you going to get him out? Without killing yourself in the process.

You squeezed your eyes tight and held yourself sturdy as the wave washed over you, ducking under the water to allow it to pass.

As it passed, you resurfaced and found Jungkook still in the water, not moving, with his surfboard still attached by the tether to his ankle. Fuck, was he unconscious?

You pressed towards him, forcing water out of the way to reach him as quickly as possible, knowing the possibility of him drowning while unconscious was high.

A sob left your lips as you reached the surfer and used all the strength in your body to heave his upper half onto the surfboard. He groaned. You breathed out the air you didn’t realize you were holding. He was alive, thank god.

“Jungkook! Are you okay?” you asked, pushing hair out of his face. Your eyes darted around his body. He was breathing, didn’t appear to have any broken body parts yet, but was bleeding profusely from his forehead, likely when he hit his board in the crash.

You held your hand against the wound, willing it to stop with the pressure. “It’s okay, Kook,” you murmured. “I’m here, it’s okay.” You didn’t know if the words were reassuring for him, or for you. Perhaps both.

The sound of a boat drew you from your attendance to his wound. The large Coast Guard speed boat pulled up beside you and threw in a rope ladder for you to climb on, while skilled men lifted the unconscious Jungkook and his board out of the water. You spotted Yoongi at the helm. You didn’t realize he was Coast Guard, and he rushed to you to hug you close. You sighed a breath of relief at the comfort, thankful you and Jungkook were both all right.

Harsh, choking coughs came from the ground and you pulled from Yoongi to see Jungkook spluttering water from his mouth. You cried at the sight of him awake, breathing, and fell to your knees beside him. The medics had placed gauze and a makeshift bandage on his forehead, protecting his wound and stifling the blood.

“You fucking asshole,” you chided as you delicately pulled the man into your arms. He easily wrapped his arms around you, still gasping for air, clinging to you like his last lifeline.

Jungkook sat in the worn room of the lifeguard shack, a towel wrapped around his shoulders, a blanket on his lap.

“You might be in shock,” you murmured, watching him from your knees on the floor.

“You know, when I pictured you on your knees for me, it wasn’t at a time when I almost died.” He tried to lighten the mood and watched your face pull a smile, before looking towards the floor again. You still hadn’t forgotten the night of the party. The heartbreak at feeling like his second choice, again.

“Sorry, that was stupid,” he chastised himself. “I meant to say thank you. Thank you for helping me. What I did was dumb and risky.”

You scooted closer to him and held his hand in yours. “It’s okay, Jungkook. I'm glad you’re all right. I’m sorry you didn’t win the tournament.”

He shrugged. “Honestly, I forgot about it,” he admitted. “It was so fun trying out that stupid move, I forgot I was competing.”

You couldn’t help but smile up at the surfer.

“You lost…” .

“Because I wanted to.” He smiled.

He knelt down to meet you on the floor, face impossibly close to yours.

“I’m so sorry, for everything. I was an asshole, even when I promised you I wouldn’t be. You’re not my second choice,” he whispered. “You’re my first choice. You saved me, not just from a large head wound,” he motioned to the wrapped bandage around his forehead with a wry smile. “You saved me from a life of trying to prove I’m not a disappointment and lose out on what I loved in life.”

Your eyes sparkled with tears. “I’m proud of you.”

“That’s all I needed to hear.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, kissing you as if you were the life preserver pulling him from the churning depths below the surface.

“Jungkook, I swear to god if you don’t let me suck your cock, I will explode,” you whined as you sat on your knees.

Jungkook grinned at you from the office chair of the lifeguard shack. He was still dripping wet from playing in the surf with Hoseok and Yoongi, wetsuit tight on his toned body.

“My, my. Who knew it took me wearing my wetsuit again for my girlfriend to turn into a cock slut? I just stopped by to say hi, and you’re on your knees for me.” He teased, unzipping the suit to his navel.

“You look so fucking good, I can’t help it,” you begged, hands reaching to help him unzip the rest. “And I know you’re naked under here.” The thought of his cock so near was mouthwatering.

He couldn’t help but sigh with pleasure as you pulled the zipper down all the way and released his thick length from its wet confines. “Mmm, you were right.” He smirked as you grasped his cock in your hands, gasping as you pressed a kiss to the tip.

You sucked his cock into your mouth, enveloping the entire length in your throat. He tasted like the ocean, so salty and pleasant. He tasted like Jungkook, warm and sweet.

You bobbed your head up and down his length, groaning at the feeling of his cock touching the back of your throat.

“Shit, babe, you’re so good,” he grunted, allowing his eyes to shut in pleasure.

You continued your journey, sucking and bobbing expertly and adding a fist to help jerk him to completion. He whined, already so close, and tapped your shoulder. “Gonna cum, baby.”

Your hand grasped at his balls, rubbing your hands down and over the sensitive sack, encouraging him to release down your throat.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, fuck,” he gasped quickly. With a few drags of your tongue and throat, he was releasing his load into your mouth. You hummed with pleasure, allowing his cock to fall from your mouth with a pop, and swallowed the load down. You stuck your tongue out to show your clean mouth.

“Good girl,” he cooed. “Now, be a doll and let me fuck you over the desk,” he ordered as he slapped your swimsuit covered ass.

You squeaked and jumped into position, bending over the old desk and pushing your ass out towards him.

“Yes, daddy,” you teased.

He quirked an eyebrow. “That’s new.”

“Thought we’d try it out, daddy,” you emphasized with a wiggle of your ass.

“I don’t hate it,” he shrugged, tugging the strip of fabric that covered your cunt to the side.

“Hurry and fuck me, babe, my break is over in 20 minutes.”

He huffed. “I thought daddy gave the orders, baby,” he frowned.

“Sorry, daddy. Please fuck me, I only have 20 minutes.” Your eyes pleaded with him, giving him the puppy dog stare he couldn’t resist.

With one push, Jungkook was fully enveloped in your slick heat. He gasped at the familiar feeling of your cunt, one he would never ever get sick of.

“Fuck,” he whined.

You agreed with a moan and a jiggle of your hips, begging to start a rhythm.

Jungkook was weak and complied, quickly settling into quick thrusts. He knew he didn’t have much time to drag this out, so he was intent on getting you off as quickly as he could.

You arched your back, gasping at the feel of him filling you. Jungkook seemed to fit perfectly inside you, and you gawped at how quickly he could wring orgasms out of you with his cock.

“You like bending over the desk for me, hmm?” he questioned. “You’re so wet.”

You murmured a low response, straight from your throat. The tendrils of orgasm slowly worked their way around your stomach, threatening to explode as Jungkook nudged your cervix with each push.

“Shit, right there,” you cried, grasping for the edges of the desk to steel yourself.

Jungkook simply went harder, faster, angling himself at the angle you needed. Watching you fall apart under his hands surpassed any feeling. He loved bringing you to your knees.

“Yeah, fuck,” he grunted. “Cum on my cock.”

You threw your head back, moaning loudly at your boyfriend’s ability to disintegrate your core in minutes. It didn’t help that he had worked you up in his wetsuit, and sucking his cock had pleased you more than you thought possible. You were so close, so deliciously close.

“Oh, my god! Baby, I’m cumming, fuck!” You tried to muffle your cries, but Jungkook thrusted harder as your cunt fluttered and convulse around him. He keened at the feeling, swiftly bringing himself to an end inside you. He loved filling you up, seeing his cum slip down your thighs.

You panted hard, gazing back at the surfer standing behind you as he pulled his softening cock from your depths.

“I love you,” you smiled.

Jungkook lifted a cocky grin, hand still wrapped around his cock to stuff back into his wetsuit.

“And I love you.” He punctuated with a kiss on your back as he slipped your swimsuit back into place along your core.

Jungkook was like the ocean. Turbulent, unexpected. Salty and sweet. Relaxing and energetic. And you loved Jungkook just as you did the dark blue waves.

Jungkook loved the ocean, too. He loved spending hours surfing, playing in the water with you, napping on a towel in the sand, chasing you with seaweed, fucking you in the lifeguard tower. He loved everything about the beach and the shore.

But Jungkook’s most beloved aspect of the beach was you.

#bangtanarmynet #bts fics #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts fluff #bts jeon jungkook #bts jeongguk #bangtan bts #bangtan sonyeondan

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h0-e · 4 years

Text

Envy & Desire - Fred Weasley Pt. 2

Part 2/2

Summary: With the Yule Ball coming up you hope that Fred, who you’ve been secretly meeting up with the past few months, would ask you. When he doesn’t it, George, being the only person who knows about your feelings, takes it upon himself to make sure his best friend (you) has the time of your life and his brother realizes his feelings.

Okay so first thank you guys so much for all the love part 1 was shown!!💕 I am still in shock at how many people enjoyed the story and wanted to be tagged in part 2. I really liked this idea and was very excited to share it with others!! This part 2 may not be as long as the other but I will be sure to put as much thought and datails that I put into the other!! Hopefully you guys are happy with this part as well!

flashbacks are bold

Warnings: Making out, grinding(nothing to bad), fluff-ish.

“George, don’t pity me.” You turn around and make your way into the Great Hall. Since the whole Fred and Angelina thing, George has been trying nonstop to get you to go to the ball with him. It had been about two weeks since you heard about the two going together and since then you had made it a point to avoid both of them. Sure, Angelina was a nice person and yes you barely knew her but the thought of her and Fred together made you want to rip your hair out. Fred wasn’t making much of an effort to get your attention anyway, he seemed to have the same plan as you.

“This isn’t pity, Y/N! I’m taking it upon my self, as your best friend, to make sure you have a nice time at the ball. Now if you don’t say yes I’ll be stuck at the dance alone because I spent all this time trying to convince you.” He follows you to the same spots you always sit in at the Gryffindor table.

You gasp at him. “Really now, George! Guilt tripping?”

He smiles at you cheekily as he sits next to you. “Not at all, love.”

As he says this Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Fred all make their way to the table, it was surprising that Fred actually decided to eat with everybody. Since all this had started happening between the two of you, you barely seen him during meals. You notice his confused look at the new seating arrangements, instead of a space on the other side of you for him, it’s now taken by a first year, but he decides to sit across from you. “What about guilt tripping?”

Hermione was the one to ask this, making you and George gain all of their attention. “Noth—“

“Y/N is going to the ball with me. Likes to play hard to get, this one.” George laughs with Ron and Harry as you glare at him. Catching Fred’s eyes you don’t look away this time, trying to see any emotion behind them, only for him to shoot his eyebrows up at you.

“My brother?” He says this only to you as the others talk among themselves. “Angelina?”

He sighs but doesn’t answer and starts to gather food onto his plate.

———

The night of the ball had finally arrived and all week George had been asking you about every little thing, what color were you wearing? What time did you want to arrive? Did you want to meet him there or come together? To be perfectly honest if it were under different circumstances George was the perfect date. He said he would make sure you had a good night, and he planned to stay true to his word.

Rounding the corner you stop at the top of the stairs, looking at all the faces of your classmates who were outside of the Great Hall. Looking through the sea of people you were met with the eyes of the ginger, only it wasn’t your date. Right next to Fred stood George, smiling at you and looking back to his brother who seemed to be stuck in a trance by you. Looking down and making your way to them, you smiled lightly.

“Told you I’d have the best looking date, Freddie.” George nudges his brother with his elbow who barely acknowledges him and looks to you. “You look amazing, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Fred. So do you, and of course you as well, George.” you laugh when George puts his hand over his heart. To be quite fair, the boys weren’t wrong. You went all out tonight and it was much more different then your usual, day to day makeup and hair routine. Plus, the dress you were wearing made you stand out, the way it hugged you nicely and flowed to the ground in an elegant way, making you look much more grown.

“Well enough chit chat, I hear the music and I believe that means it’s time to dance, see you in there, Freddie.” George stuck his arm out for you to hold. Taking a deep breath in you wrapped your arm around his and let him guide you into the Great Hall.

Gasping when you made your way in, you took in the scene around you. They went all out with the decorations, it didn’t even look like the room you ate in every day. “It’s gorgeous in here.”

You look at George who has a big smile on his face as he looks at the decorations as well.

Soon enough the four contestants of the Triwizard tournament had entered with their dates and started the dancing, after them many other couples and teachers started to make their way to the dance floor as well.

“May I have this dance?” George sticks his his hand out to you dramatically and you laugh. “Yes you may.”

Following George into the crowd, you follow his lead but never look away from his twin, who was dancing with his date, for longer then ten seconds. You had to admit, Angelina was beautiful and if you weren’t biased you would say they were a perfect match, their heights went perfectly with each other and they had known each other for years, plus being teammates on the Quidditch team definitely helped them build a nice relationship. But you had to remind yourself of all those little moments you two shared after you confessed your feelings, the long gazes at one another, when he would grab your hand quickly under the table during a meal, or the times you shared in private where you were seconds away from giving your all to the boy.

———

Making your way into the common room you are greeted by the twins and Lee. “Hello, boys.”

They all smile at you from the couch but you’re too focused on the wink that Fred sent your way when you looked at him. You were thankful the other two were so concentrated on the supplies in front of them to notice the blush on your cheeks or the snicker that came from Fred when he saw your reaction.

“Y/N, would you so kindly be willing to try one of our candies?” Lee asked you this in the most polite manner he could possibly come up with, holding out a small candy wrapped in a red and gold foil. You look at the other two, George smirking while Fred shook his head at you. “Depends. What is it?”

“Puking pastille.”

You gasp at the boy and lean away from the candy you were so close to taking. “Why on earth would you offer me that!?”

He shrugged. “Make sure I made it right..”

The rest of the evening was spent laughing and just as you hoped Lee and George were soon telling you two goodnight. You watch Fred as he looks up at the railing above the boys dormitory, making sure the other boys were gone before he made any moves. Once they were out of sight completely he scooted closer to you and quickly directed your face to his, kissing you urgently.

“Missed me, Weasley?” you chuckled at the boys needy behaviour as he pulled back to look at you, still cupping your cheek and a smile on his face. “Very much. You were gone already by the time I woke up today, couldn’t give you a proper good morning.”

Before you knew it Fred was placing you on top of him so that you were straddling his lap while he leaned back against the couch. His one hand on your waist while the other was holding the back of your neck, your hands were running through his long hair, an action that you had grown to love especially while in positions like this one. The kiss was full of teeth clashing and lip biting, while his hands moved down to your hips you gave in to the sudden wave of confidence you were given and grinded your hips into his, earning a groan while he pulled back.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, women.” you took in his rosy cheeks and swollen lips, your hands still running through his hair, allowing it to mess up.

“Believe me when I say the feeling is mutual.”

———

“Y/N?”

You were snapped out of your thoughts by Georges voice, you two were still dancing to a slow song, your feet starting to ache but you really didn’t care, you wanted to make the most of the night even if you weren’t here with Fred.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I must’ve zoned out.” you smile sheepishly at the him. “You were saying?”

George gives you a knowing look, a look that almost says out loud ‘You can’t fool me’. “I wasn’t saying anything but I guess I should’ve considering you were burning holes into Fred’s head.”

You look down at your guys feet, trying to hide your blush in any way but feeling the warmth you knew there was no point. “I’m sorry, George. I’m not a good date at all, you’ve gone out of your way to make sure that I would have a good night but I’m not even doing the same for you.”

He shakes his head, smiling at you. “Let’s take a break.”

He takes your hand and leads you to an empty table, pulling your seat out for you and then sitting next to you. You smile and sit down.

“I knew what I was getting myself into when I asked. I asked you to make sure your night wasn’t wasted when I saw how upset you were at my brother. Plus I do enjoy getting under his skin, I believe he may fancy you too. These last few weeks he’s been so strange and we can’t just ignore when he stares at you from afar, it’s quite creepy in my opinion.” He laughs at the last part and looks over at his twin.

“He’s been acting strange, you say?” you follow his gaze and smile to yourself when you see the mop of red hair bouncing up and down in the crowd as a fast paced song echoes through the room.

“Oh yeah, all before this nonsense happened too. He’d be getting up much earlier then he usually does, that’s saying something and he’d stay out a bit later then Lee and I. Pretty sure he was waiting for you.” you felt the butterflies erupt in your stomach at George’s statement, even though you knew you were the reason for Fred’s strange behaviour, you liked hearing it out loud and from someone else.

You look at George and smile when he turns his head to you. You lean onto your fist and smile lightly. “Can I tell you something, George.”

He nods and turns fully to you, giving you all his attention. “I know why Fred had been acting weird. This little ‘crush’ that I have on him is a bit more then that. He had told me that he fancied me a bit ago and he knows how I feel about him as well. We’ve kept it a secret since, I don’t really know why if I’m being honest, I think it was the excitement and adrenaline getting the best of us. But we’ve had something, not a relationship, but something going on between the two of us.”

You look up from your lap where your attention had been as you told George your secret and see him looking at you thoughtfully. His brows furrowed in thought and his hands clasped in front of him as he leans back in his chair. “George?”

“I owe Lee three galleons now, Y/N.” you are taken back by his statement.

“What?” your question comes out in a laugh, not being able to hold it back you cover your mouth as more laughter erupts from your mouth and George smiles at you. “I swore I would’ve known if something was going on, I didn’t really think you guys could’ve kept a secret for that long. Knowing Fred my whole life and knowing how bad of a secret keeper he is, plus you and your nervous laughter every time you try to lie. I lost the bet!”

He throws his hands up dramatically with a puff of his chest. His playful annoyance is replaced with a smile once again though and he chuckles. “I should’ve kept a closer eye on the two of you..”

You shake your head at the boys comment. “..But you know that means whatever rough patch you two are going through at the moment will be much easier to fix. You guys already know how you both feel.”

George gives you a serious look and leans closer to you. “I promise that once you guys stop with the stubbornness and actually speak it’ll go along smoothly, when my brother is smitten, it’s hard to break that.”

“What about Angelina though?” he waves his hands dismissively and looks at where the two are standing alone with Oliver Wood and a girl from Hufflepuff.

“He hasn’t spoken about her in that way, at least to me. Look at them now anyway..” you follow his gaze where the group is laughing, Fred’s hand holds a cup with whatever drink inside and the other is stuck in his pocket, Angelina is doing the same just a small distance away from him as they listen to what Oliver is saying. “..they aren’t even touching, not even looking at each other. She doesn’t like him like that, at least I hope not.”

Your eyes snap to George and a smile breaks onto your face. “You and Angelina?”

He smirks at you. “Eh, once or twice. Fred knows too, it’s also against the rules to do anything with a girl your brother has done something with, so I mean it when I say you have nothing to worry about when it comes to those two.”

He stands and sticks his hand out. “Now, I thought this was a dance. Why are we not dancing?”

You laugh and as you stand up you look over to Fred who is glancing your way but once he sees that you have caught him he doesn’t look away. Remembering what George said, you smile at him and you let George lead you to the dance floor.

———

The next morning you roll over with a a groan. You didn’t stay out too late, George and you both agreed that you guys were too tired to even sit at a table by the end, so you guys walked to the common room and after thanking him you made your way up to your dorm.

Checking the clock that was on your wall you see that it’s nearly eight. Being a Saturday you knew no one would be awake for at least another hour or two. You thought back to the countless times you and Fred had met up at eight on the weekends, trying to spend as much alone time before the busy castle was awake and you two were off doing god knows what with your friends.

Sitting up you think to yourself. Maybe George was right, maybe you had nothing to worry about at all. Then again neither of you knew what started this situation in the first place. You were hoping to yourself that Fred was sitting down in the common room, lounging on the couch and waiting for you to meet him just like the other times.

It’d be too good to be true...

But then again maybe it wouldn’t. Sighing you slip on some socks and a hoodie, praying that you weren’t being stupid and that the boy you lik— no loved. You loved Fred. Maybe what you had together hadn’t been for long but all the memories you had created with him even before your confessions, you couldn’t remember caring for him any other way.

You step into the common room. Looking around and seeing it empty, you sigh. It was too much to wish for.

You make your way onto the couch and wrap your arms around yourself, staring at the dull fireplace that illuminated the room that you had grown to love over the years.

“Why couldn’t you just talk to him?” you speak out loud to yourself, looking around quickly making sure no one was around to hear your craziness. “It could’ve been over if you just talked to him.”

“Y/N?” you jump at the sound of a deep voice coming from behind you. Standing now in front of the couch you see Fred, he’s dressed in jeans and a long sleeve and he’s standing in front of the archway leading to the boys dormitory. “Fred.”

“What’re you doing down here?” he furrows his brows and starts to walk over to the couch. “What’re you?”

He sits down slowly on the side of the couch and sighs. “Would you believe me if I said I still came here at our times?”

Your breath hitches in your throat and you sit down as well but you make sure to leave some room between the two of you. “Oh.”

“At first I kept coming and hoping that you would come too. After awhile it seemed hopeless but I guess I had the right idea, you’re here now. I hope it isn’t a coincidence.” you see him look over at you but you keep your gaze on your lap. You hear him sigh again. “No, it’s not a coincidence. I was hoping you’d be here too, Fred.”

You finally look at him and expect to see some sort of cocky smile on his face but his face is serious and his eyes are wide, looking straight at you. When he doesn’t speak though, you keep going.

“Why Angelina?” that question there makes Fred pull his gaze from you. It’s your turn to stare at him straight faced, waiting for his response. “I don’t know, love. I guess I wanted to get back at George, I know that’s not a good excuse bu—“

“Woah wait, why George? What did he do?” your shocked gaze makes Fred look at you puzzled.

“What do you mean? Snapes class?” the confused look stays on your face as you think of what he could possibly mean. When you don’t answer he continues. “‘lovesick bubble’”

The realization dawns on you and stand up. “This whole thing started as a way to get back at George!?”

Fred copies your actions and stands too, stepping in front of you and placing both of his hands on your arms. As much as you wanted to push his hands off of you, you couldn’t. You missed the feeling of him too much.

“No, love! When that happened, it was the last time we even spoke just the two of us and when you didn’t show up here the next morning, I jumped to conclusions and figured Snape knew what he was talking about. When we didn’t talk that whole week, I was mad at my brother and didn’t think by doing what I did would’ve hurt you as well. Then when I heard that you were going with him, it just made the situation worse and I thought I lost you for good.”

His hands stay on your arms and lightly start rubbing up and down. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You stare at him for a long while and soon sigh. “Fred, I only went with George because I wasn’t going with you. As for Snapes class, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about because George was trying to call me out for liking you.”

Fred drops his hands to his sides and scoffs. Soon his face is holding a large grin and he laughs. “All this for a minor miscommunication?”

With that you laugh as well, bringing your hands up to cup his face and standing on your tip toes to reach him, you smile softly and nod. “Oh the stress I went through thinking everything was over.”

He wraps his arms around your waist and presses your body close to his. “It can’t ever be over that easily, love. You’re far too important to me.”

He closes the distance between the two of you for a soft and passionate kiss. He pulls away after a few seconds and pulls you closer to him into a hug. “I’ve missed this.”

You run your hands up his back and smile to yourself. “I have too.”

You meet him in another kiss but you’re soon cut off by yelling. “Finally, you two. Causing too much stress around here while I play cupid!”

George looks down at you guys from the opening of the boys dormitory, Lee right next to him. “Ha! You owe me three galleons!”

George shoves him away. “I already admitted it to you last night, you git!”

Fred shakes his head at the boys behaviour and smiles down at you. “So Miss. Y/L/N, would you do the honour of officially being mine?”

You grin at him widely and nod.

“Yes Mr. Weasley, I would.”

———

Oh my gosh! thank you guys so so much for all the love you gave this story! I hope part two was as good as you hoped for and met your guys expectations. I had a lot of fun writing this one and loved how much emotion I could put into it! But I love love love everyone of you who reblogged it or liked it or just wanted to be tagged, you guys really made my day💕😭 also idrk if all the tags went through, i tagged everyone who had asked to be but for some of them it would say blog not found so if this doesn’t work i am so sorry:(

Taglist: @ifilosemyselfagain @thatdumbbitchxx @westyywifee @bunnyboo7 @chanelberlinstark @seducinganakin @arthemis-o-negative @hopethiswillwork @jenniweaslee @levylovegood @bisexualbumblebeeblogs @legili-mens @kinkycalamari @whoreforfredweasley

#fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #weasley twins #harry potter #gryffindor reader #angelina johnson #george weasley #hogwarts

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