#I saw someone in my country sell it second hand and told him about it
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From Thief To House Husband Part 1
Sometimes, life just deals you a shit hand. My parents both died when I was young, and I had been on my own since then.
I survived by being a petty thief. I’ve been caught a few times, but it’s all that I can do. I know the Holidays are times where stores step up their security, but I needed to steal some things to sell just so that I could make this month’s rent. I chose a high end mall where boring rich people shopped, knowing their security would be a bit more relaxed due to the usual clientele. I found a decent department store that sold a ton of knickknacks and chose the gems.
Everything was going well, until Mr. Suburbia found me…
He seemed to be some boring house husband shopping for his kids. He kept cracking jokes to the staff that seemingly knew him well and caught me stuffing my bag. He pointed it out to a security guard who quickly stopped stuffing his face with homemade candy and started to approach me. This would be my last strike, and they’d charge me for a felony!
I quickly dug through my bag and found a familiar black case. Inside of it were five vials filled with a dark blue liquid. One day, a guy traded me these for some stolen goods. Said that he was working for some shady company as a lowly janitor. Allegedly these would allow you to push your consciousness out of your body and into someone else’s, taking control of them. I tried pawning them off immediately and failed, so I kept them around for emergencies. In a panic I took a vial and tossed the case aside so they couldn’t take it with me. I locked eyes with the stupid dad who ratted me out, deciding that becoming my body would be a fitting punishment for making me abandon this one. I popped the lid open and drank it in a hurry before I collapsed…
…then woke up seconds later, watching security swarm around my old, now empty body. I looked down and saw the tacky penguin button-up and knew that it worked. They knew this guy well though, which meant that I had to get out of here before they noticed I wasn’t acting like him. I scurried over to where the case dropped, sliding it in my pocket and quickly rushing out the store, leaving his cart behind.
When I was in the parking lot I pulled out his wallet, finding a picture of him alongside his wife and college aged kids. “Rick Smith…what a boring name for a boring man. But it’s mine now I guess.” I sighed and pulled his phone out, using Face ID to unlock it. I checked his planner and sure enough, it was filled out with his agenda for the day. In fact, it has the entire family’s!
His wife was out of the country for business, and his sons away with friends for the day. He was getting his shopping done apparently, but I didn’t really care since I didn’t feel the love for these people he did. After finding a pic of his car I searched for it and got in, driving to the address on his phone.
I gasped in shock at the mansion I drove up to. Just yesterday I was trying to get my landlord to fix the lock on my shitty door, and now I had a house that looked like it could be worth billions!
I parked the car and rushed inside, heading to his bathroom first and stripping down to take a look at my new body. “Kind of basic, but there’s a certain fatherly charm you’ve got going…” I said and grinned as I looked at myself.
I was about to get to know my new body when the doorbell rang. I sighed and rolled my eyes, not bothering to get the rest of his clothes on and walking down to the door to open it.
I was greeted by a good-looking young man around the age of my body’s youngest son.
“Hey Mr. Smith, I’m glad you remembered-“ he cut himself off as he saw me standing in my underwear. “Remembered what?” I smirked a bit, looking him up and down. “T-that we were going to discuss Blake’s Christmas gift…are you sure you remembered? You told me you’d put a bunch of fake things in the family planner so he wouldn’t know I was coming…” Well, what a lucky coincidence.
“Of course I remembered, come on in, stud.” I winked at him, earning a quick blush. I sauntered towards the living room, making sure he got a good look at my body’s likely virgin ass. He followed slowly, trying to collect himself. “So as I was saying earl-“ I cut him off, “You know what I think, cutie? I think my son just wants to see his Dad happy. He’s that good of a son to me. And do you know what would make me happy?” I asked, spreading my legs open. He gawked, tugging at his collar. “N-no, sir…I’m not sure…” he said bashfully. “A good pounding.” I said simply, but confidently.
“I-I’m sorry?”
“A good, honest-to-god pounding. Like I used to get in college back before I got tied up to the missus.”
“O-oh…”
“So come here, and give my son his gift by making his Dad happy.”
The boy slowly came over, placing a hesitant hand on my thigh. I just chuckled and pulled him in, kissing him passionately and hungrily. Within seconds he dropped the shy act, stripping all of his clothes off and pulling my underwear off. He got on his knees, placing my legs on his shoulder and dragging my hips towards the edge of the couch. “I’ve wanted this for so long sir! I just thought you would never want this, you seem so happy with Misses Smith!” I grinned from ear to ear, petting his hair. “Well, I put on a good act. Speaking of good, you better get to it. If you can eat my ass well enough I’ll let you skip the prep and start pounding right away!”
That was all he needed to hear. He leaned in and slid his tongue into my hole, starting to swirl and move it ravenously. He ate me like he was starving and needed this to survive. My new voice’s moans filled the room as I titled my head back, enjoying the sensations of my sorely neglected hole feeling a pleasurable touch for the first time. My cock stood rock hard at 11 inches, surprising me. “Good for you, old man…” I muttered under my breath, the boy too enveloped in fulfilling his fantasy to notice.
Soon I had gotten all I needed, grabbing him by the hair and pulling him up, making him lay over me. “Now give it to me, boy. No holding back!” He smiled from ear to ear, a dopey look in his eyes. “Yes sir! With pleasure!” I saw his cock fully hard now, standing at a girthy 10 inches. What was in the water here? He shoved himself in eagerly, earning a loud moan from me as he leaned down, starting to kiss over my neck and slide his hands all over my body.
As I enjoyed the pounding all I could think about was the fact that this son of a bitch would absolutely hate this if he could see what was happening. His body getting fucked by one of his son’s good friends, defiling his marriage right in the living room! And most of all, some dirty poor thief holding his life in his hands!
“Harder!” I commanded, enjoying the pounding immensely. The boy was already sweating and panting, practically a dog in heat as he pounded into me, defiling his friendship with my new son. Both of us were sinners, and both of us were getting lost in pleasure. Soon enough he found my prostate and earned a piercing cry of pleasure for me. Like a dog with a bone he continued to pound into it, determined to impress me with his performance.
We lasted for a half hour this way until I finally came without ever touching my new cock, all over my chest and even getting a few splashes on my face. He didn’t last much longer after that and tried to pull out, but I quickly moved my legs to his waist and forced him to stay inside, moaning in another wave of ecstasy as I felt him shoot a load into me. Once he was done cumming I released him and pushed him out of me, chuckling and panting. “Mm…good job boy, you’ve made his dad very happy. Now…don’t tell a soul about this, and get the fuck out of my house. Send me an Amazon link to whatever he wants and I’ll get it, money is not an object.” I smirked as I laid there, inside of Rick Smith, a loving house husband now painted in and dripping cum from a man half his age in the house he raised his children in.
The boy was shocked by the new side of his best friend’s father, but obliged and quickly got dressed, fumbling his way to the door. “W-will do sir! Thank you, I hope we can do that again!“ he said before rushing off, leaving me to lay in ecstasy.
“Ohhh…thank you for reporting me, Rick. I never knew using those vials could bring so much pleasure. I wonder what I’ll get into next with your body. Or should I say who…”
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The fair lady
The fair lady has passed away. That information reached in the ears of even someone like you who was tucked away in this mansion for many years. You felt heartbroken when you first overheard the news from the maids. Rosalyne was a mesmerizing lady just as her code name implies. And surprisingly, she has was very kind and gentle with you in the rare times that you have met her. Even though you have never leave a foot out of this mansion after your marriage, you have known the stories from all around Teyvat due to the letters she sent without your husband knowing. You never saw her side where people fear and shake in terror. The Rose you knew was one without thorns, sweet and kind and loving. And your husband once said that she probably turns back to the Rosalyne-Kruzchka Lohefalter before she faced the tragedy. However, you have no idea why this change occurred. You were planning to ask her if there is a chance but now… you will never know the answer. When you are drowning in sorrow for your friend’s sudden departure, you heard someone knocked the door. So, you quickly wiped away your tears and calmed yourself down. You cannot let anyone, especially the maids, know you shed tears for La Signora because they will no doubt report it back to your husband.
“The lord is coming back. I was told to inform you.”
“Huh? Why so soon? Normally he is always so busy at the bank until it was midnight. It is only noon, isn’t it?”
“Haven’t you heard the announcement, my lady?”
“What announcement?”
The maid looked exasperated for a second before changing her face into neutral look again.
“Every work in Snezhnaya is to be stopped for half a day in honor of the harbinger, La Signora.
Well then. If you will excuse me.”
She left as abruptly as she came.
It is clear to see that the maids and the butlers in this mansion does not favor you. In their eyes, you were someone who married the lord only because of money and still had the audacity to be ungrateful to him. Well, it is true that your parents did not think twice about selling you out to the richest man in Snezhnaya when their company went bankrupt. However, in the back of your mind, you know that even that bankruptcy was orchestrated by your now husband.
In your defense, you tried your best for things to not turn out this way.
You warned your parents not to trust the smiling man too much. You advised them not to invest too much in that project. You ventilated them to live contentedly by opening a bakery or something even after you lost all of your wealth. However, your words held no power over them as your family is as prideful as they are shortsighted.
On the other hand, it can be said that your husband value your opinion and view on various issues. Except for your wish for freedom that is. Otherwise, there is no way he would confide you about the deepest secrets Teyvat has in hold. Maybe that is why he was interested in you in the first place. You are kind but not naïve. Being born in the higher society, you know how wicked a human being can be and you can hold your ground against their scheme, sometimes going as far as to revenge them. But you still had your inner child and your pure eyes that glitter with delight at everyday things. It was irony in a sense that you held power in decision that can change the country and even the whole Teyvat yet cannot say a word in the decision of your own life.
“What have you been thinking so deeply that you did not notice your husband coming back, darling? I thought I made sure you were informed.” He said, smiling the same charming and creepy smile that he always adorned.
“I am not sure. Maybe I am thinking about running away from you.” You answered pointedly.
“Well then, I guess you are doing well. I thought you would be more devastated considering your girlfriend died recently.”
“What do you mean my girlfriend? Wait? You knew about the letters?!”
“Of course, I did. I can’t manage the northern bank if I am an ignorant man who doesn’t even know what is going on in his own house. I just pretended not to know because the content of your letters were innocent enough. Also, unlike your ex-boyfriend’s case, I wasn’t able to move carelessly considering she is a fellow harbinger. So, I am really grateful that the Raiden did the job for me.”
“You heartless ***!!! She was your comrade!”
“Weren’t you taught that a respectable lady shouldn’t say such vile words? And who is the heartless one? Are you sure you don’t notice what she had done in Inazuma?”
“Whatever she did, she did it for our country. She did it in the name of Tsaritsa. Moreover, whatever she did, she did not imprison a girl and treat her as her prized doll. Maybe you shouldn’t do vile things if you don’t want vile words to come out of my mouth.”
“Are you sure you should be saying things like that?” He slammed you against the wall and put his hands around your frame, effectively caging you between his body and the wall. “Your red knight, the only one who had a chance of saving you from the big bad monster is off dead, you know? Do I also need to remind you that it was your own parents who sold you to this devil. No matter how heartless they are, I am sure you wouldn’t want them to die of hunger in the cold nights of Snezhnaya mountains.”
Yes. He is right. All the luxury your parents are living in now is his. You hate to admit it but he actually bought you off so you are rightfully his, just like his various treasures. You were so shaken by your one true friend’s death that you let it slip off your mind.
“No. I am sorry, Pantalone-sama. Please forgive me.” It took every ounce of your muscles to vocalize those words.
“I understand, my dear. You were just so shocked by Signora’s death, right? I will forgive you THIS TIME. In exchange you have to promise me – no more pen pals, ok? I can’t be sure I will be as patient the next time.” He threatened, using the tone a teacher soothing an elementary kid and you hated it. But what you hated more was his smile, that damn smile that is never leaving his face. You wished you could ripe it off.
But you said what is the polar opposite of your mind.
“Thank you for your benevolence, Pantalone-sama.”
A drop of tear escaped your eye and you only noticed it when it wet your cheeks.
You didn’t have time to figure out whether it is for your friend or for yourself as the Regrator in front of you quickly wiped it away.
#yandere genshin impact#yandere genshin x reader#yandere regrator#yandere patalone#yandere pantalone x reader#yandere regrator x reader#signora x reader#yandere patalone x y/n#yandere pantalone x you#yandere harbinger#pantalone x reader#pantalone x you#regrator x reader#regrator x you#I wrote
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Part two of this:
When they pulled into forest hills park Eddie was shaking, someone had hurt Steve. Someone had hurt the man Eddie loved and he needed to be calm.
He went and opened Steve's door holding his hand as they made their way into the house, Steve pressing into his side, he walked them to the couch and sat, pulling Steve to his lap like it was second nature.
"Shhh, angel, I'm here, I'm right here. It's ok, it's ok, just let it go. I'll be here the whole time." He ran his hands up and down Steve's back who was crying again, his face buried in Eddie's neck.
After a while Steve's shaking stopped, his own hands playing with the curls closest to him.
"Eddie?" He said quietly, his face still burrowed in Eddie's shoulder.
"Yeah, sunshine?" Eddie's arms tightened around Steve just a fraction.
"I…went to the hideout tonight to try and forget. Not about the upside down though…my parents." A shaky inhale, "they came home earlier then I thought they would. I had just walked in and saw my dad with my journal, so I turned and ran. I went to town, and ran into someone. This guy I'd known from the country club growing up, his name is Scott. Well, Scott offered to take me out tonight, and I was so lonely I went. I didn't think…I didn't think he'd.." a hiccup as fresh tears fell, "he'd always been so nice to me. So when he asked what was wrong I told him about the journal. About how my parents had found out I was bisexual, and he, Eddie, he was still being nice and I just went to the bathroom. That's a normal thing to do.. he'd followed me. He cornered me and started telling me how he'd always known I was a slut. I'd always been a cock tease with my little running shorts, and tight shirts, that my pouty mouth was..just made for… eddie he tried to force me. I told him to stop and he choked me." Steve was fully crying again. His body shaking.
"Steve, you didn't deserve that. You never asked for this. What he did is on him, it sounds like he'd always been looking for an excuse and used you coming out to him as that reason. You deserve sunshine, and love, butterflies. Not this, never this." Eddie hugged him closely, "not every man you meet will see you that way. There's men who would go to war for you. Men who would sell their soul just to be able to tell you how perfect you are. As for your parents, you're not going back there." A gasp, "No, Stevie, you're going to stay here. For as long as you need, if you choose somewhere else that's fine, but this can be your home. I'll never let anyone hurt you."
Steve clung to him, his breathing hiccuping as the words washed over him.
"You'd keep me? Even knowing I'm not straight? You'd keep me?" His voice was hoarse and so hopeful.
"Baby, I would keep you forever if you'd let me.."
#steddie#stranger things#eddie munson#steve harrington#steve harrington x eddie munson#steddie ficlet#sprint fic#hurt and comfort
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MERCEDES VARNADO X ZENDAYA LOVE STORY SMUT WARNING ⚠️ PART 7 of the continuation of the after hours love story
Chapter 24
The footsteps got louder and quicker behind me which caused me to start to pick up speed and I wanted to get out of this alley and into sight of someone quick "zendaya says Lauren as she asked in a concern voice "I said I was sorry please don't be mad at me anymore says Lauren "Lauren I may need you to call the cops says zendaya as she whispered into the receiver "what says Lauren "of this phone goes dead, call the cops as I warned her maneuvering my way passed a tight corner that was mostly blocked by a garbage container "well what's happening says Lauren as she asked crunching whatever snack food she had at the time and I was almost out of the dark area when a hand grabbed my arm making me gasp loudly for the fear of what captured me
"It's me ,it's me chill says Masi, mercedes cousin said softly and my heart was able to rest a little easier knowing it wasn't some random kidnapper who would try to sell me off in foreign countries "fuck as I coughed out before realizing I was still on the phone bringing it back to my ear and I spoke to Lauren "lo I'm gonna call you back says zendaya "are you okay says Lauren "yeah I am ill be home soon as I said blankly before pressing the end button "what are you doing here says zendaya "don't you know you can get mugged in California allies especially Southern Cali says Masi as he smirked cocking his head to the side confidently and I crossed my arms at him and glared "I'll put it this way ,why are you stalking me says zendaya
"I wasn't says Masi as he chuckled rubbing his fingers over his chin "I was over there with my friend Tay and I saw you walking, what are you doing out here this late says Masi and I shrugged and leaned against the brick wall that was cornering us in "had to get away I guess says zendaya "well have you talked to mercedes says Masi "that's a dumb question, shouldn't you know, you see her almost every day now says zendaya and he smirked at my sassiness and nodded "you're right but you should text her actually do it right now says Masi "why says zendaya and he shrugged "I dunno maybe because she told me you two had a falling out apparently you kissed your hot friend says Masi "mercedes called Lauren hot says zendaya
"No, mercedes called her a pale ess ho but I just assumed that meant your friend was really pretty so m got jealous says Masi as he told me "she called my ex ugly and she was fit to a t says Masi "fine as I said so he wouldn't continue telling me details about his fit ex girlfriend "for sure says Masi pulling me in by my waist for a slightly tensed hug "after what you and mercedes did to keep this from us, you're family says Masi "how does this make me family says zendaya "cause family can be sneaky and shady as shit ,you two were pros at it says Masi as he laughed realigning his backwards snap back
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I put down the keys after walking in through the kitchen and Lauren and camilla were in each other's arms making out like there was no tomorrow and fir a second I watched them just because I never get to catch people doing something naughty and with my friends I'm always the one getting caught and I cleared my throat loudly making the two split apart and rub their swollen lips like they hadn't been doing anything that whole time "thanks for finally making it back home says Lauren as she mocked flipping her long thick hair to one side of her head "sure thing as I responded blandly as i turned the corner to enter her bedroom and crash face first on the bed and I was still so numb about mercedes, I just wanted things back to the way they were before like when I was in high school
**flashback**
Ms mercedes had just told us that she assigned us to read a new book and she came around the class with a box and put a book on each students desk and at the time, her and I were on a hot streak and couldn't keep our hands off of each other when we were alone and she placed a book on my desk but I noticed something different about mine and there was something in the middle of it and I slowly opened to that page to see a folded piece of paper with the words 'open quietly' on the outside and u turned my head to see Lauren staring intently at the book already starting to read it to herself like ms mercedes had told us to and I used my fingers to quietly open the note that she obviously placed in there for me
I don't know if you heard me but you made me gasp when I saw you walk into the room today, God damn baby girl you look good, better be here for tutoring after school because those clothes will probably look better on my floor, prepare yourself ;)
-mercedes
P.s rip up this paper when class ends ,thanks babe and I looked around the room to see if anyone was watching me and my cheeks started heating up and I decided to look at the front of the room to see mercedes smirking and staring straight at me and she quirked her brows up and smiled with her teeth before rolling her chair all the way up to her desk and began grading papers with a red pen
**end of flashback**
"You can't be asleep, it's only nine says camilla as she whined jumping on the bed beside me and Lauren took it as a courtesy and jumped on top of camilla and I causing me to groan out in pain because her elbow hit a soft spot on my back "that definitely woke her up says Lauren as she laughed rolling off onto the other side of me and I turned over groggily and looked up at the ceiling "what's drug dealer Harry doing now, have you heard says zendaya "still selling drugs says Lauren as she responded burying her face into her own pillow "interesting as I said mentally noting to myself to text him, if anything I need him now more than ever "nuh uh, not in my house says Lauren as she warned "what if I share says zendaya
"You know I'd be down zendaya says Lauren as she frowned "but my dad knows the landlord and if that guy smells weed coming from my apartment then my ass will be grass says Lauren "you can't smell what I'm going to buy says zendaya "no way in hell are you getting cocaine says camilla as she spoke up "pigs will fly out of Donald trumps ass-face before I will let either of you do that says camilla "I was joking says zendaya as she defensively replied "but I won't do it here lo, don't worry as I sat up on the bed and pulled my phone out of my hoodie pocket and I hurried to scroll through tons of insignificant contacts to find 'Hazza'
Zendaya: you're a wizard, Harry
Hazza: ha ha, very funny, not like I haven't heard that about a billion times 😒
Hazza: but what's up fam, long time on talk
Zendaya: yeah I found my way stuck in Cali again, I was just wondering if I could buy a gram or two off of you and we could chill
Hazza: more than down, you wanna meet me at that mini mart down my street
Zendaya: see you there in 30
I took a stand on the ground and looked at Lauren "I gotta go meet Harry says zendaya and Lauren reached out for my hand and pouted "please don't go, you promised you would come home and stay says Lauren "camz can keep you company as I told her pulling away "I just need to figure out what I gotta do and maybe this'll help me clear my head so I can do that says zendaya and Lauren nodded looking down at the floor sadly "just text me when you're on your way home says Lauren and I turned on my heel and headed towards the door not really thinking about what would happen next
Chapter 25
I sat in Harry's driveway waiting for him to answer me because I didn't want to just sit in his driveway if he was out making a deal, Harry and I have an interesting past. He's the crew, the underground squad one of few and I had taken some easier courses with some lower level kids not grade level just ability level to want to do shit in school or fuck around and let it pass me by and I decided to choose the second choice when my family decided to start to take weekends long trips to Vegas and back continously and i began to just move around with them all the time but Harry was an excuse for my parents to let me stay out with a good person instead of going back and forth places
I had made a joke that Harry should pretend to be my boyfriend so they wouldn't really realize I was bi or even curious for that matter, Harry could tell that about me before I could and his ex boyfriend Louie and him used to be the best of the best in the misfit gang, inseparable, in the simplest terms, they supplied what we call 'the underground' which were places we would hang ,on the underground of the school was where teens were bent on a little bit of drugs, a little bit of pills and a little bit of alcohol and they would have semi big kickbacks and only few people would know about them mostly because they were in abandoned places that we could get fined for so we didn't want to cause too much attention to ourselves
They fought a lot while Zane and I fought, Harry and i always stuck it out together and he always promised to protect me from Zane if he was around our fights and he did and ever since then, we've just had this strange past because that's what that is, the past and for some strange reason we just got busy and stopped hanging out for a while and then a while turned into weeks then to month then to years and he would occasionally sell me weed off and on but Louie got to where he hated Harry's dealings not allowing him to go out and deliver anymore and at some point Harry grew tired and told Louie to get lost which shocked even me and Louie was Harry's first friend when he first moved here in the 7th grade from the Uk and I thought they'd be together forever
Ever since then Harry and I had flirted but we never really did anything about it, we had a very long past together, spilling war stories from times we had troubles with our men and that's all it was and he was only my drug dealer and peer for a while but when he started to date ally we got along a lot better again and I pulled my phone out of my pocket and pulled up mercedes number thinking this is the best time I could have to talk to her
Zendaya: hey
Baby varnado: wassup fool
Baby varnado: haaaa nah I'm just playing, how you doing babe
Zendaya: ha I'm good, I ran into your cousin on the street a little while ago
Baby varnado: which one? 😂😂😂
Zendaya: Masi
Baby varnado: 🙄 oh 😒
Zendaya: what's that supposed to mean
Baby varnado: did he hit on you 😒 I'll kiss his ess I swear fo God, he's always tryin to rally up that pussy and it's annoyin as fuhh
Zendaya: lamo are u high, I love your texting
Baby varnado: ugh no sorry, sometimes when I hand out with my family I get the Tongan spirit back and since I've been around them a lot
Zendaya: reppin oc I see
Baby varnado: frfr well what did he say
Zendaya: he told me to text you because you obvi miss me plus he said you called Lauren a pale ess ho, is that true
Baby varnado: 🙊
Zendaya: I'll take that as a yes but next time watch your mouth, that's my friend
Baby varnado: I can say and do whatever I want
Baby varnado: especially to you
At this moment, something deep inside of my stomach turned in a impure way and everything we had ever done with each other intimately flashed through my head and I knew exactly what she was trying to do
Zendaya: you know me so well
Zendaya: take me back to Seattle already, what's taking so long
Baby varnado: it's complicated, just give me a little more time
Zendaya: fine 😩 well i gotta go because I have a meeting with my drug dealer 😂😂
Baby varnado: ugh lamo fine ,bye, love you 😘
Zendaya: I love you too 💕
Just as I ended the conversation with mercedes, Harry's garage opened and he was standing in the middle with a brand new tux on, he actually looked really chill and stunning, it was a new sight to see considering the fact that he's a t-shirt and jeans hind of guy and I stepped out of my vehicle to walk up and hug the grinning man, his chiseled jaw could make any girl swoon and he knew he looked fly and couldn't be prouder "how you likin my new style says Harry as he asked keeping his grin "I like to call it edgy couture, it's my senior year and the freshman are looking fit this year says Harry "more than likely, each new shipment of freshman gets better every year as I joked nudging his arm to pull him into his own house so we could start smoking
"Go on upstairs says Harry as he told me guiding me towards the staircase by putting his hands on the small of my back "start loading and I'll get you your grams sats Harry "for sure as I replied taking big steps to get to his room by the loft and I opened the door and the smell of dank smacked me in the face and I ventured further and closed the door behind me to take a seat on the couch next to his alignment of jars of weed and Harry only had one rule and it was to stay In front of that desk at all time and he was the only one allowed behind it and he had a strapped gun underneath if anything was sketchy and Harry entered with a baggie filled up halfway with weed in one hand and two water bottles in the other and he handed a bottle and the baggie to me
"Uhh as I nervously said "I was just here to get twenty dollars worth, I can't afford this says zendaya and he smirked "no problem love, it's worth $20 to me anyways, the new job I got has enough money to carry me until I'm 81 says Harry "damn, can I get in on that says zendaya "only if you move back to Cali which we both know won't happen since you've got your boo bear to live with says Harry as he mocked taking a seat behind his desk to pull out a ashtray and some rolling Papers and he picked up a jar and smelled before picking out a nug and feeling its density and he shrugged and grabbed a dark blue grinder to start and crush the nug into fine pieces of weed "how is the girlfriend anyways says Harry "it's complicated says zendaya "I have time says Harry
I crossed my legs and leaned back on the comfortable couch "well we came down to visit family while we were out on break and mercedes had the great idea to properly introduce me as her girlfriend to her family and a month or so before this ,mercedes had complained about having headaches so I told her to go see a doctor, well when she told her family, they weren't really accepting and that was the last straw for her because it stressed her out so much that she had a stroke says zendaya and Harry stopped licking the paper and looked at me "so what happened to her says Harry "oh she's fine now says zendaya as she smiled "gods lucky miracle I believe but we broke up because her family hates that she dated a girl actually that she lived with a girl and dated her at the same time says zendaya
"Little homophobic says Harry "a lot homophobic, her mom called it a lifestyle that she wanted nothing to do with as I rolled my eyes at the stupid word choice her mother used and u watched as Harry pulled a lighter up to the joint and began lighting it before putting it in his mouth "it's a shame that people are still so against love says Harry and after a long drag, he spoke up again "a damn shame says Harry and he handed me the joint and I took it happily, quickly hitting the weed to let the weed envelope my lungs before I exhaled fully "it is but I'm trying not to worry about it right now says zendaya
"Right says Harry as he spoke in a deep voice relaxing his body and creating that devilishly fine smirk "sorry ,we won't talk about it, let's talk about something more exciting says Harry after retrieving the joint from me and he placed his hand on his chin and thought to himself "did you see the weekends new music video says Harry "yeah i heard he's getting sued says zendaya "why says Harry and zendaya shrugged "copyright infringement says zendaya "of fuck says Harry as he gasped "that sucks says Harry "yeah says zendaya as she laughed "but I doubt that'll stop him at the rate he's going right now says zendaya "at the rate everyone's going, I don't think there's a reason to stop says Harry as he laughed "especially me ,do you realize how many pounds I sell every month says Harry
"You're still hard-core dealing as I laughed sitting up a little in excitement, I thought that part of his life was over and he made it obvious that selling little dime bags was enough for him and he nodded "yeah, I converted my old shed in the back into a weed house says Harry "you better not get caught up says zendaya "I'm British says Harry as he smiled "they'll take one look at my dimple and listen to my accent and they'll be putty in my hands says Harry "you're a cocky son of a bitch as I laughed taking another hit of the joint "just like always says zendaya "some people choose not to change zendaya, you always got to keep that in mind says Harry
Chapter 27
"It's already lit says normani in an excited voice pulling me into the loud frat house, people were already standing around with red solo cups in their hands pairing up for the end of the night festivities and normani yanked me through the house to find the kitchen full of alcohol and I leaned against the counter while she started to fill up a cup and I felt someone tap my shoulder and I turned to see a happy ally with a cup in her drink "ally you drink as I exclaimed extremely amazed "no says ally as she laughed at zendaya "it's water, I have to be the dd for you and normani says ally and normani handed me my cup and walked over to pull the shorter girl in a hug "she's a good Bae huh says normani and she was about to lean in to kiss the shorter girl when I groaned "oh God, I'm leaving, I don't want any normally pda tonight says zendaya
I turned around and started to venture through the crowded house being pushed and pulled by drunk people dancing all over the living room and at some point a guy walked up to grab my arm and yank me towards a corner put of the sight of everyone and I pulled away as hard as I could and yelled at the mysterious guy "what the fuck is your problem dude, I'm not interested says zendaya "that just means you need to drink some more says the guy in a deep voice that almost pierced my eardrums when I recognized his voice "how are you doing love says Zane and my eyes widened towards the familiar guy still unsure if it was the Hennessy in my cup or real life "Zane says zendaya
"In the flesh says Zane as he smiled crookedly down at zendaya "how have you been babe says Zane as he placed his big hand on my hip and sipped on his drink and I finally unclasped his hold on me and growled "do you know what the girls would do to you if they see you talking to me says zendaya "you didn't answer my question baby girl says Zane "that's because I'm not your baby girl anymore as I rolled my eyes deciding to take a sip of my cup "but I've been alright, how about you says zendaya and he shrugged looking out at the party "I'm good, my life has mostly consisted of this says Zane "seems like nothing has changed then says zendaya
He pushed me against the wall, pressing his body extremely close to mine so I couldn't move almost in a possessive way and his hand held my cheek as his thumb caressed my skin "seems like you haven't changed either says Zane "hey fuck boy as someone yelled over the loud music barely audible but it was loud enough to make him and I turn our heads towards the girl yelling at him and Lauren stomped up with camilla quickly trailing behind "get your fucking hands off of her before I beat your ass again says Lauren and Zane smirked and looked back at me and he slowly pulled his hand away from my face but grabbed my hand and brought it to his lips to kiss the top of my palm "till next time my love says Zane and I shivered uncomfortably and watched as he started to walk by the girls to go deeper into the house
Lauren and camilla watched to make sure Zane walked away before Lauren tip toed up to me with a smirk "guess you better thank me for saving the day once again says Lauren "I didn't need saving lo as I shook my head at her "we were just talking says zendaya "that wouldn't have been just a 'talk' for long says Lauren as she sipped on what I'm guessing was her cup of jauregui and I didn't want to deal with drama or anybody being protective tonight and I just want you drink and forget my one name, that's what normani and ally promised me anyways and I plan on keeping it that way and I shook my head and pushed passed her to walk out of the room and into the kitchen to quickly refill my cup before I decided to leave the frat house
I didn't want to be surrounded by sweaty boys with polos or horny girls who forget to wear clothes and I wanted to take a walk down a familiar street through a familiar park to find mercedes old apartment and hallway to the park, someone called my phone. Incoming call from: normani and I flicked my finger over the glass to answer the phone while I kept trekking towards my destination and at this point the Hennessy was starting to do it's magic "hello says zendaya with a gravely voice "where are you girl says normani as her smile was obvious through the phone "the party has just started and no one has seen you since we got here says normani "I'll be back in a little bit Mani as I told her stepping onto the soft dew grass "I just had to take a walk says zendaya
"You sound less than sober says normani as she giggled but quickly straightened up after she realized I wasn't really up for the small chit chat "well I want you to meet someone when you get back okay says normani "Mani I'm not really ready to date yet, I just says zendaya "baby girl, Don't get ahead of yourself, trust me, you're going to love her says normani as she continued to one-up the blind date she had set up for me "she's tall, thick but fit and her hair is gorgeously laid says normani "sounds like a keeper as I told her scratching the back of my neck nervously "but ill have to take a rain check as I realized I was getting closer and closer to my destination and I didn't know what I was going to do when I got there but I figured that it wouldn't hurt to pretend like I did
"No can do boo boo says normani as she teased zendaya "come back as soon as you're done with your little walk and you will be happy you returned says normani "yeah sure Mani, I'll see you in a bit as I hurried to hang up the phone and sip a little bit more of the alcoholic drink in my plastic cup
----------
15 minutes later I was standing at the doorstep to her apartment complex and I was just staring at it ,I couldn't go in or do anything but it was such an amazing deja vu moment, the tons of times she'd relentlessly drag me here because it was too sketchy to spend time together at school started to pile up in my mind. This is the place where it all began before I knew it I was in love with her and that made me feel defeated and I sloppily sat down on the first step with the drink in my hand and started to take bigger swigs to get a good buzz going and I know I'd have to make it back to the house sooner than later before a few drunk girls start a search party but I knew that it wouldn't hurt until I finished my drink
For a moment, I looked at the brown liquid in my cup to mentally prepare myself to chug it all and I exhaled deeply then brought the rim up to my lips to start gulping the disgusting drink down my throat and in the middle of scarfing down the unneeded nightcap, I heard someone clear their throat and I slowly tipped the cup back down to keep the rest of the liquid inside so I could see who was in front of me although I never would've expected to see her in a million years "so you didn't want to meet me like normani asked you to huh says mercedes
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look what my boyfriend got me for Christmas 🥰
#this goes to the anon who said my bf lied to me when I said he joined a hetalia group on Facebook to send me memes#riva.txt#hetalia#I saw someone in my country sell it second hand and told him about it#but the seller didn’t take down the post so I thought I wouldn’t get it#i love it i love it so much#it’s in flawless condition and even that plastic cover and everything is still there!#let me know if theres any character you want to see cause theres are of almost any of them#aph germany#aph italy#aph japan#hetalia axis powers#aph
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ATEEZ Hongjoong: Tame (Part 1)
Genre: Fluff, angst, smut, mafia au.
Pairing: Mafia!Hongjoong x OC (written in 2nd person)
Word Count: 17k in total, 5k in this part. (Part 2, Part 3, Final Part)
Warnings for all parts combined: Mafia themes such as torture, abuse, violence, human auctions, murder, drugs, guns. Mentions of rape, human trafficking, sex slavery, organ trafficking. Unprotected sex (pulling out), facesitting.
Other than Ateez, all other names are fictional.
"Where have you brought me?" you questioned, looking up at your uncle in pure detestation when he pushed you into a dark room and took off your blindfold.
"Change into that dress quickly," he replied, ignoring your question, pointing to a red dress lying on a chair. "It's time for me to make some good money." He smirked, giving you a look before leaving you alone in the dimly lit room.
You don't know why your uncle had brought you here. Your father recently went missing and now you were certain your uncle was behind it.
You rarely saw your father since you lived with your uncle and his family. Your mother passed away when you were a newborn and you have no siblings.
You glanced at the red dress your uncle told you to wear. It was quite short and had a deep V-neck. You sighed as you quickly wore the dress, looking into the dirty and damaged full-length mirror to see how it looked on you.
A woman dressed in a similar dress came inside the room. "I'm getting sold too," she said softly, making your eyebrows furrow in confusion.
"Sold? What do you mean?"
Before she could reply, two built men came into the room and grabbed you by the arms, forcefully dragging you out.
"Where are you taking me?!" you yelled, struggling to get your arms out of their strong grasp.
"Shut the fuck up if you don't want a bullet in your head," one the men said nonchalantly.
You could hear the familiar voice of your uncle and you assumed he was talking through a mic. You were thrown onto a stage, bright lights shining on you that blinded your vision.
Once your eyes adjusted to the light, you could see about a hundred people in the room, staring at you from head to toe.
"So who would like to buy this beauty?" your uncle yelled. All the men and even some of the women started yelling while raising their hands. You shivered, realizing that you were in some sort of human trafficking auction. Your eyes immediately teared up. How cruel could your uncle be? How cruel could all these people here be, selling humans like that?
You looked around, checking to see if there was any way to escape, but there were way too many guards, so you decided to go with the flow for now.
"We're starting from 50 million won," your uncle stated after the crowd calmed down.
You saw someone in the crowd raise a sign with their name and a number on it. "50 million!"
"70 million!"
"140 million!"
"250 million!"
"400 million!" a man yelled, causing everyone to keep quiet.
"400 million... going once, going—"
"500 million!" another man yelled. You could hear whispers all around you. You couldn't even believe how rich these people were, all their money obviously obtained through illegal means.
"500 million... Going once... going twice... sold!" your uncle said cheerfully and started clapping. "Congratulations, Mr. Byun! She's all yours!"
-
Two of Mr. Byun's men took you away and made you sit in a black car while their boss made his payment. They were really handsome and dressed in suits. You were actually terrified, but you tried to act normal.
You saw a man with long hair and thick bushy eyebrows approach the car. He was wearing spectacles and had a thick moustache. He got into the car, looking at you as he sat beside you. You noticed that he had a gun in his pocket, making you wonder what exactly he does for a living, albeit you had a fair idea already.
"Start driving, Mingi," he said in a mellifluous voice to the red-haired man who was sitting in the driver's seat. Mingi nodded and started driving immediately while you kept quiet and looked outside the window, pondering about how you could escape.
"Take that shit off, hyung. It looks hideous on you," the other guy with blue hair said, grabbing your attention.
Mr. Byun took off his spectacles, fake moustache and eyebrows, and the wig. You didn't even realize that he was wearing a disguise before.
Your eyes widened when you saw him. His features were sharp and absolutely perfect. He looked like he was going to shoot for some fashion magazine. He seemed to be around your age; so did the other two guys.
You didn't realize that you were gawking at him until Mingi chuckled. "Someone is shocked."
You blushed in embarrassment, instantly looking away. You cleared your throat. "I was just wondering why Mr. Byun was wearing a disguise."
"Oh Byun is just a fake name he used," Mingi said. "His name is actually Hongjoong."
And that's when it hit you.
"Hongjoong? As in, Kim Hongjoong of Ateez?" you blurted out, making all the three men's eyes widen.
Hongjoong quickly reached under the car seat, pulling out handcuffs before swiftly handcuffing you. He took his tie off and used it as a blindfold for you.
-
Your hands were handcuffed to the armrest of a chair. You really hoped these guys weren't Ateez. But after seeing the other five men once they removed your blindfold, you knew it was really them: the eight most feared men in the crime world in the country.
You were so fucked; especially since you were in an interrogation room with an unconscious bleeding man in the corner.
"How do you know me? How do know Ateez?" Hongjoong asked coldly, a small hint of panic in his eyes. You regretted opening your mouth before.
You averted your gaze from the bleeding man. "I... overheard my uncle talk about you," you answered honestly.
"Hongjoong, let San take care of this," one of the taller guys with black curly hair said.
"No, Seonghwa, I've got this," Hongjoong said, his eyes not leaving you.
Seonghwa only rolled his eyes. "San."
Another guy with pink hair nodded before approaching you. Hongjoong sighed in frustration before moving to the side, letting San replace him. You could easily tell that Hongjoong had a short temper.
"I'm going to ask you a few questions so please cooperate," San said with a sweet smile, letting his dimples show. You would've melted for that smile if you didn't know that he was extremely dangerous. "So tell me, what is your name?"
"Kiah... Moon Kiah," you replied.
"How old are you?"
"I'm 21."
"Who is your uncle who told you about us?"
You took a deep breath, already exhausting from the questioning. "Moon Younghyun." All the eight men look surprised.
"Your uncle sold you, his own niece, at a human auction?" Seonghwa asked with a frown and you nodded in response.
"That bastard," Mingi growled, surprising you. Why was he pissed about that?
"What did your uncle tell you about us, Kiah?" San questioned.
You bit your lip nervously. "I can't tell you."
"Why not?" San asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Cause you'll shoot me or rape me to death due to how offensive it is," you mumbled. "And honestly, I'd rather not die that way." The boys were shocked at your sudden boldness, not expecting you to say that at all. Half of them looked offended.
"Excuse me, woman, we're not rapists," the guy with purple hair said, clearly offended.
You raised an eyebrow. "That's not what I heard." You were wondering where your sudden confidence came from when these men could literally kill you in a fraction of a second.
"Well, then what did you hear?" San asked. "Tell us and we'll honestly tell you what's true and what's not." You contemplated that; you had nothing to lose anyway if they choose to kill you.
"I heard that Ateez is a mafia gang engaged in mostly human trafficking, drug deals, raping and murdering innocent people."
The guy with light brown hair, who looked like a Greek God, cleared his throat. "Out of everything you said, only the drug deals were true."
You snorted. "And why would I believe you?"
"Well, why would you believe your uncle who just sold you?" he retorted.
"But you guys fucking bought me at a human auction!"
"Would you rather be bought by someone else who would actually treat you like a fucking sex slave?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. You kept quiet at that. "Believe me, Kiah, that's what the people there were for. They were all looking for sex slaves."
"Yeosang's right," San stated. "You should be grateful that we saved your life."
"What were you guys doing there then?" you questioned. "If you claim that you don't do all that, then why were you there in the first place?"
"Your uncle is our enemy. We had to see what he was up to," Yunho answered.
"Then why did you buy me?"
"You ask way too many questions," Hongjoong snapped in an annoyed tone, trying not to lose his temper completely.
"Joong, chill," Seonghwa said, making Hongjoong roll his eyes.
Mingi moved to stand in front of you. "I was the one who begged Hongjoong to adopt you," he said with a smile.
"Terrible decision," Hongjoong muttered under his breath.
You snorted. "Adopt?"
Mingi shrugged. "I don't like the word 'bought' so we're just going to say that."
You smiled a little at his words. "All right, Mingi, care to explain why you... adopted me?"
Mingi grinned. "Well, I've seen you a couple of times near your university’s hospital," he stated, making the guys look at him in surprise; they didn't know Mingi knew your face before. "And besides, you're beautiful. It would be such a waste if you were sold as a sex slave when you're so talented." Hongjoong gives Mingi a look that didn't go unnoticed by you.
You chuckled. "What makes you think I'm talented?"
"I've done my research," he said. "You're the only nursing student intern who is allowed to watch surgeries and help in minor ones."
"No wonder you wanted to adopt her," Yunho remarked.
You heard a groan behind you, coming from the bleeding man who just gained consciousness. You felt really bad for him.
"Don't worry about him," Yeosang said, noticing the concern in your eyes. "He deserved it."
"Why?" you murmured. "What did he do?"
"You wouldn't want to know," Seonghwa laughed before turning to one of the guys. "Remove the handcuffs, Jongho."
Jongho nodded and unlocked the handcuffs around your wrists with a key. You stretched your arms out in front of you, feeling a little free now.
"All right, I can go home..." you trailed off, realizing that you didn't have a home anymore. Your uncle would definitely sell you again if you went back there. Looks like you would have to crash at a friend's place.
"I'm afraid we can't let you go," Hongjoong stated.
Your eyes widened. "You're keeping me hostage?!"
"You know too much about us," San said with a small smile. "We're sorry."
You scoffed, getting up from the chair. "I refuse to be a fucking prisoner here in your dungeon!"
"Holy fuck, you're so tiny!" Yunho said in awe, stepping forward to tower over you. "I think I'm a foot taller than you! How cute!" he squealed. Was this guy really in the Mafia?
Before you could respond, Yunho lifted you up like a baby. "I'm gonna show you the house."
He carried you out of the interrogation room and up a flight of stairs until you reached a living room that could easily fit more than three hundred people. Your eyes widened at the sight of it; surely this was a joke, right?
You were in a luxurious mansion.
You glanced around in awe, noticing how one side of the living room had floor to ceiling windows, complemented with maroon and gold curtains. There was a large open-kitchen right next to the living room, and a wooden staircase on the other side where pictures adorned the wall. You wondered how many rooms were in this mansion and what the exterior looked like.
Yunho set you down on your feet. "You're free to move around the house, Kiah. We aren't going to lock you up," he said, chuckling at your stunned reaction.
"How many rooms does this place have?" you questioned while walking around the living room.
Wooyoung plopped himself on one of the sofas. "There's nine bedrooms, ten bathrooms, and six other rooms for different purposes."
"The guest room is still under renovation, so you will be sleeping in Hongjoong's room for the time being," Mingi informed.
"What?!" You and Hongjoong yelled in unison.
"Not the bad temper guy of all people!" you whined, making all the guys except Hongjoong laugh. "Can't I sleep in your room instead?"
"You could," Mingi laughed. "But then my girlfriend would have my head."
"There's a woman in this house? Thank fucking goodness!" you sighed in relief.
Jongho chuckled. "There's three, actually. Well, now four."
"Where are they?" you questioned.
"Seonghwa's girl is on a mission so you'll see her next week," San replied. "I don't know where Mingi's girl is, and my girl is—"
"Hi!" you heard someone yell before running and pulling you into a tight hug. She pulled away and gave you a bright smile; you liked her already. "I'm Jiwoo!"
San chuckled at his girlfriend's actions before moving to wrap his arms around her waist. He kissed her forehead, making her smile. They were so cute! "This is my girlfriend, Jiwoo. Babe, this is Kiah."
"San and Jiwoo are the hyper couple here," Yunho stated. "They're both just so full of energy."
"We're going to be great friends, I'm sure of it!" Jiwoo said, making you smile.
Maybe living here wasn't going to be so bad after all.
-
Hongjoong's bedroom was huge. The walls were a penny brown and most of the decor was white and beige. There was a large TV right in front of the king sized bed. There was also a small flight of stairs leading down to a Jacuzzi that could fit six people in it.
You realized that you didn't have any clothes except for the red dress you were wearing right now. You didn't even have a phone anymore.
You heard footsteps behind you, making you turn to the source. A shirtless Hongjoong walked past you to the wardrobe, stripping until he was left only in his Calvin Klein hip briefs. You couldn't help but stare as he picked out some clothes to sleep in. You absentmindedly bit your lip when he wore his grey sweatpants and a black tank top. You quietly left the bathroom after washing your face, hoping he didn't notice you staring.
After several seconds, Hongjoong came into the bedroom, stretching his hands above his head. "You're gonna sleep in that?" he asked.
You rolled your eyes. "I don't have anything else to sleep in."
Hongjoong sighed before heading back to the wardrobe, coming back with a plain white t-shirt. He tossed it to you and you went to the bathroom to change. His t-shirt smelled so pleasant, you couldn't stop inhaling the scent.
When you went back to the bedroom, Hongjoong was in deep thought. "You know," he started, looking at you from head to toe, secretly loving the way his t-shirt looked on your small form. "I just realized that you didn't really protest to live here."
You sat on his springy bed. "Well, I don't have anywhere else to go."
He scoffed. "Or maybe you just want to live here."
"I used to live with my uncle. If I had my own place, I wouldn't even spend a second here," you deadpanned.
"So you've never worked?" he asked. "Not even a part time job?"
"Do you think medical students have time for that?" you retorted.
"Whatever," he mumbled. "Looks like you'll get along with Yeosang and Seonghwa."
"What makes you think that?"
"They're Ateez's doctors," he stated. "Well, Yeosang mainly works as our hacker, but he's almost as skilled as Seonghwa.
There was some silence for a while until you spoke, "Are we even in Seoul right now?"
"We're at the outskirts," Hongjoong answered. "Gwanak-san, to be precise."
"Ah, near my university!" you said happily. "Actually, you know what?"
"What?"
"I can stay with a friend," you said. "He has an apartment right beside my university."
Hongjoong chuckled, but he clearly wasn't amused at all. "I'm afraid that's not possible, love." Your heart skipped a beat at the way he said 'love' but you ignored it.
You frowned. "Why not?"
"Well, you already know too much about us," he stated. "Besides, you've already entered the Mafia world. There's no going back."
Your blood boiled. "I don't give a fuck, Hongjoong. I didn't ask you to buy me and pull me into your stupid Mafia world!" your voice was rising.
Hongjoong got annoyed at the way you raised your voice at him. "For your information, you got pulled into this world the second your uncle got involved in it! You lived with someone who's in the fucking Mafia!"
"At least my life was normal!" you retorted.
"You know what? Fine!" Hongjoong raised his voice, scaring you a little. "I'll personally drop you at your fucking uncle's house tomorrow, okay?!"
"You don't get to decide that and I'm not going back to that monster!"
"Then shut the fuck up and appreciate the shelter you've been given here goddammit!" Hongjoong runs a hand through his hair in frustration. You just keep quiet, looking away while your eyes filled with tears.
"Why the fuck did I even agree to buy a brat like you?" he murmured, but you heard him.
"Fuck yourself," you whispered.
In a flash, you were on your back, Hongjoong hovering above you.
"Don't you dare talk to me like that! You make me want to punish you so fucking bad," Hongjoong growled. Your heart was racing at how close he was.
"Get the fuck off me," you said, avoiding eye contact.
He grabbed your chin, making you look at him. "You piss me off so much, Moon Kiah."
You controlled the urge to roll your eyes. "Well, then tame your damn temper, Kim Hongjoong."
"Tame your attitude first, love," he chuckled bitterly before getting off of you. He lied on his back, looking up at the ceiling of his room. He clapped twice and the lights turn off, making the room pitch-black.
You bit your lip, wondering what to do. You couldn't stay here; you didn't even want to. You weren't meant for the Mafia world— you decided to get into the medical field so that you could save lives, not take them away.
You wanted to run away right now, even though it was half past midnight. But you needed a plan since you don't exactly know where you are were.
"I just realized," Hongjoong starts, smirking in the dark. "You haven't protested to sleeping on the same bed as me."
You snorted. "Why would I?"
"That's what girls usually do, don't they? And the guy will offer to take the couch instead of her."
"Well, I'm not like other girls," you stated. "I'd rather sleep on a bed than a couch outside, and I'm sure you'd prefer that as well. Besides, this is a king-sized bed. There's plenty of room for both of us. In fact, there's extra space cause you're tiny."
Hongjoong snorted. "Excuse me, I'm not tiny."
"You are."
"I'm more than half a foot taller than you, Kiah."
You shrugged. "Doesn't matter, tiny boy. You're still tinier than the other seven boys."
"But I lead them," Hongjoong said proudly with a smirk that you obviously couldn't see.
"What do you mean?" you questioned without thinking.
"Think, love," he answered.
You gave it a thought before your eyes widened in realization. "You're a... Mafia King."
He chuckled. "We actually use the term 'boss' but I like that," he said, pulling the blanket over your bodies.
"So the other seven boys follow your orders," it wasn't a question. You actually thought Seonghwa was the boss.
"Yup."
"I pity them," you murmured, but he heard you.
He scoffed. "You will be following my orders too," he said. "That's if we decide to make you one of us."
"Yeah... no, that's never gonna happen," you remarked. "I want to save lives, not take them away."
"Actually, you would want to take these lives away if you knew what these people do," he said, lying on his side to face you. "Ateez doesn't kill innocent people." You felt a little relieved at that; at least you knew you wouldn't die by a gunshot or something.
"And what do those people do that makes you want to kill them?" you questioned, turning onto your side as well so that you were facing him.
He snorted. "Do you really want to know?"
"I wouldn't ask if I didn't."
"We usually kill rapists and human traffickers. These people mostly target women and children. They kidnap children, rape them, and then sell their organs within the country or internationally. The women are usually sold as sex slaves or kept in prostitution centers. Some mafia gangs own strip clubs where their strippers get assaulted or raped by customers and they do nothing about it."
"Your uncle used to run a fake orphanage," Hongjoong continues. "I came across that place when I was fifteen years old and found out that they were keeping those kids there to sell their organs. I told my parents about it and we bombed that place after rescuing those children, and put them in an actual proper orphanage. Two boys who were just a year younger than me had escaped from the orphanage. They ran after my parents just to thank them for saving their lives. My parents saw a lot of potential in the two boys and decided to take them in. That's how Yeosang and Wooyoung became a part of my family."
The story really broke your heart; you couldn't even imagine what those two had to go through when they were just in their early teens. You were curious about the other six boys' stories too. You wanted to ask Hongjoong about it, but now didn't seem like the right time.
-
You don't really know how and when you fell asleep after hearing all those disturbing things, but somehow you did.
And when you woke up, you were in Hongjoong's arms.
You tried to escape from him, but his hold around you was too strong. You gave up on trying and chose to admire his beautiful face instead.
You had to admit, Hongjoong was extremely handsome. You've never seen anyone look this good while they're asleep. He looked so soft and angelic, you found it hard to believe that he was in the mafia, let alone a mafia boss.
You heard a knock on the bedroom door before the door opened, revealing San and Jiwoo.
"Hi!" Jiwoo greeted. "Good morning!" You wondered how she had so much energy in the morning.
"I see you've slept well," San commented with a smirk while gesturing at Hongjoong's arms around you.
You blushed. "Help me." San easily lifted Hongjoong's arm off of you.
"He sleeps like he's in coma," San said, making you chuckle while you stretched your arms.
"We're going shopping today," Jiwoo said to you. "You need clothes."
"I don't have any money, Jiwoo," you said.
She snorted. "You don't have to worry about that, we're paying for you."
You opened your mouth to protest, but San interrupted you. "We don't have any plans of letting you go, Kiah. Think of it as a gift for joining us." You just nodded in response even though you wanted to disagree. You weren't going to join a mafia gang; that was the last thing you wanted to do.
You had to escape.
-
You had just come back from shopping with Jiwoo, exhausted from walking around the mall; you were pretty sure that she made you spend more than ten million won.
"So Kiah," Yeosang starts, sitting on the sofa beside Mingi and Seonghwa. "You're a medical student, right?"
"Yup, majoring in nursing," you nodded. "Hongjoong told me that you and Seonghwa are the doctors of the gang."
"What were you planning to do after graduation?" Seonghwa asked. You didn't miss how he used 'were' instead of 'are.'
You gently cleared your throat. "Well, I want to become a surgical nurse for the cardiac department."
"Ah, that's great!" he said with a smile. "I wanted to get into Neuro."
"Why didn't you?" you asked while absentmindedly playing with a strand of your hair.
"Once you join the mafia, you have to sacrifice having a normal job," Yeosang replied nonchalantly. You couldn't tell if he was sad about it.
"I wanted to ask you all something," you murmured, but the three of them heard you clearly.
"You can ask us anything you want, Kiah," Mingi encouraged. "We'll answer everything."
"Well, if you're gonna keep me here..." you hesitated for a second. "Um, does that mean that I can't work?" Yeosang and Seonghwa exchanged a glance that didn't go unnoticed by you.
"You'll have to ask Hongjoong about that, but mostly yes. You won't be able to work," Seonghwa said. "It's too dangerous. You can only work for us." You only nodded, unhappy with the words you heard.
"Can I at least attend my own graduation?" you were mentally begging they would agree.
"When is it?" Yeosang asked.
"It's on the day after tomorrow."
"Of course you can," Hongjoong said, entering the living room and plopping down on one of the sofas.
"Really?!" you squealed in excitement.
"I was being sarcastic," he stated, making your smile immediately falter.
"I didn't study my ass off for nothing, Hongjoong," you said, crossing your arms over your chest.
He scoffed. "Do you think I care?"
"Well, I do." You were starting to get angry. Yunho entered the living room, not saying anything due to the tense atmosphere.
"You'll put us and people you know at risk," Hongjoong shrugged.
"That's your problem," you remarked, pissing him off. "I didn't ask you to buy me, Hongjoong."
"Adopt," Mingi mumbled, but you ignored him.
You and Hongjoong were locked in a glaring contest. Yunho cleared his throat after a while, catching Hongjoong's and your attention. "Hyung, you disguised yourself. No one knows that it was you who bought her."
"Adopted," Mingi murmured, getting ignored again.
Hongjoong gave it a thought. "Fine," he agreed. "But we all will attend it too, whether you like it or not."
“Deal.”
You were seated in your respective seat, desperately waiting for the graduation ceremony to get over even though one of Seoul's top doctors was invited to talk. All eight boys and Jiwoo were attending your graduation. You wished your father was here to watch you graduate.
Once the ceremony was finally over and all the students collected their diplomas, you all gathered around to throw your dark blue caps in the air.
"I can't believe we successfully survived four entire years," Dongyoon remarked.
"Time to try to survive med school now," Yonghwa said and Chanhee nodded in agreement; they were on the road to becoming doctors. "But for now, let's get fucking wasted!"
-
You were at one of Seoul's best nightclubs in Gangnam; you didn't tell anyone in Ateez that you'd leave with your university friends. This was your way of running away. You were going to stay with Chanhee until you found a place.
Being a Tuesday night, the club wasn't crowded. Most of the people here were definitely high school or university students. After all, it was graduation week in Korea.
You drank and danced with your friends until you were drunk as fuck and your feet hurt. You felt so relaxed, just paying attention to the blasting music while the alcohol in your system gave you some energy.
"Oh? Who do we have here?" you heard a familiar voice say behind you while you took another shot. You had no idea where your friends were.
You turned around and squinted to look at the man. "Moon Bojoon...?"
"Hello, sister," your cousin chuckled, putting his arms around your drunk form. You hated him with every fiber of your being— he tried to sexually assault you a couple of times. Living under the same roof as him was hell.
"Get your hands off me," you yelled over the loud music, weakly trying to push him away; he didn't even move an inch.
His grip around you tightened. "I wonder who father sold you to. How lenient are they to let their sex slave go out to party...? Or did you run away?"
You tried to push him away again. "Fuck off!"
He grabbed you by your arm and pulled you along until he reached the parking lot of the club. He pushed you harshly against his car, making you groan in pain when your head hit the window.
Bojoon moved his face closer to yours. "I'm gonna sell you this time," he whispered in your ear. "But I'll have my fun with you first, of course."
"Get away from me!" you yelled while your vision got blurry. Before you could comprehend what was even happening, you passed out.
#ateez#ateez imagines#ateez scenarios#ateez mafia au#mafia ateez#Hongjoong#ateez kim hongjoong#kim hongjoong#ateez fluff#ateez angst#ateez smut#ateez mafia imagines#ateez reactions#san#seonghwa#yeosang#choi san#mingi#wooyoung#jongho#yunho#jeong yunho#kang yeosang#song mingi#jung wooyoung#kim hongjoong imagines#hongjoong imagine#hongjoong x reader#ateez hongjoong#ateez hyung line
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can you do a one shot where kaz keeps saying he doesnt like nor does he care for the reader; she overhears him, and goes out into ketterdam but ends up getting seriously injured; also if it too much to ask, can i also add that he does end up giving her a hug but he hesitates at first —this corresponds with the fluff (angst and fluff at the end please ?)
thank you for a request! i hope you're okay with my slight change, enjoy xx
TW: blood, death, disgusting men.
kaz brekker x fem!reader
You were standing, leaning harder against the door of Kaz’s office. You wanted to talk to him about your next job, since you had to buy some bullets and a new knife for Nina and yourself. But what you overheard made your heart shatter into little pieces.
“I don’t care what happens to y/n, she’s another member of the Dregs. I can easily replace her if something happened to her,” bastard’s words were like daggers, cutting your skin and making their way into your heart. You were so stupid falling for him. “Now, Wylan, go and build a bomb or should I replace you as well?”
You heard Wylan’s huff and his steps. When he got out of Kaz’s room and noticed you, his eyes got wide. You sent him a crooked smile and made your way into Brekker’s room.
“I need a list of what you want for the job.” You said, voice steady even though you wanted to fall apart.
“On my desk.”
He wasn’t looking at you, busy with counting his money, you rolled your eyes and took a piece of paper from a wooden desk. You made your way out, not saying another word. Your heart clenched, you wanted to punch yourself for feeling even the slightest emotion for him. You should’ve known better than that, you should’ve known he wouldn’t feel nor show you any kind of emotion except hatred or disgust.
You got out of the club onto Ketterdam’s streets. You loved the city, even though it was dark and dangerous, you felt this was your home. You came here from northern Ravka, before your parents made you to join the First Army. You ran away from them and from the responsibility to protect your country, but you hadn’t felt bad about that, those two years ago and certainly you didn’t feel bad then.
You walked to the best shop with knives you’d known. You bought your first dagger there and you were sure about the quality of blades that were sold in the shop. The old Fabrikator was working there and when he learnt you were from Ravka, he started treating you as his daughter, selling you everything you need with lower prices.
“Hi, Milosh how are you feeling today?” you asked, entering the small shop, the older man smiled seeing you.
“Hello darling, I’m doing great,” he replied, eyeing you and noticing your dark circles underneath your eyes. “You haven’t been sleeping well, have you?”
You only nodded, didn’t answer his question further. You gave him the list and when he was looking for the items, you looked out of the window. You noticed three Black Tips but you didn’t pay them more attention. You looked away and focused on Milosh. He had fair hair, probably after his father who were Fjerdan. Few months ago, when he’d found you wandering around Ketterdam, he’d asked for you to come with him to this shop. He’d given you hot cocoa and had told you some stories and myths from both Ravka and Fjerda. He’d told you about his father who once had come with a wolf and the wolf had stayed, about his mother who had been the warmest woman alive, especially when she’d made him a warm bread slice with butter and then read him stories. He was your spirit connection to your mother country, so you knew every legend, every myth and even the story about the Fold.
You heard a door bell ring and you looked behind you only to see those three guys from Geels’ gang. Your spine straightened, your palm subtly went to your belt in order to take out the knife if needed. You looked at them, but they were already looking at you with smirks on their face. You cursed under your breath, knowing it’d be troubles and you didn’t know how it’d come out.
“Who we have here boys? Brekker’s girl.” One of them said, making his way towards you, eyeing you up and down.
“I’m wondering if he got some, she’s even pretty.” The other one came behind you, grabbing you roughly by your arm. You tried to free yourself, but his second hand quickly found its way to yours, cutting your only way to defend yourself.
“I have what you needed, darling,” Milosh came out from the small room, closing the door behind him, when he noticed your position he closed his mouth, forming a thin line. “I think you should leave her.” He said to the guy who was holding you. You clenched your teeth, praying for Milosh to back out. You knew Black Tips, they weren’t the smartest, but they were first to kill and you wanted your friend safe.
“Milosh, get away from here.” You ordered, trying to shake off the hands holding you, the Black Tip only hardened his hold and pressing you to his body.
“And leave you? They should leave, not me.”
“Listen, grandpa, the girl’s right. You leave and we’re going to have some quality time with her,” disgust twisted your face, you wanted to kick him, but you knew they would outnumber you.
Milosh only looked at him and from behind him, the knives started to levitating, he used his powers to push them forward, targeting an opponent’s chest. One of the knives hit him in his neck, killing him. The guy behind you let you go and you quickly turned around, placing your dagger in his crotch. He screamed making you cringe.
“This is why you shouldn’t touch a girl without her permission.”
You looked at the third Black Tip, but he took out a gun, targeting Milosh. You threw a dagger at the same time he pulled the trigger. Knife stuck at his neck, making the pistol fall out of his hands. You looked at Milosh to check on him, but you saw a pool of blood and the man laying on his side.
“No,” you whispered, stumbling against your own legs. You fall on your knees, seeing the shot wound was on his chest, that still was slowly rising. “Milosh, please, stay with me.”
“Y/n, my dear, Saints are going to keep me safe,” he said, making your eyes water. “But you have to let me go.”
You shook your head, placing your hand on his chest, trying to stop the blood from leaking. You felt the hot tears streaming down your face. He was like your father, he couldn’t leave you. “Please.”
But his eyelids closed, making your heart break into pieces. You hugged Milosh, messing your shirt with his blood, but you didn’t care. After what felt like hours, you stood up and went for items you had come here. You felt guilty, you should’ve gone to a different store, you put Milosh in danger.
You walked out of his shop, closing the door gently. The Stadwacht would be there the next day, perhaps someone would four dead bodies, laying on the floor. Your hold on the bag with bullets and a dagger, grew tighter. You tried to calm yourself, but tears still were threatening to pour out of your red eyes. You didn’t want to show how miserable you were, you tried to wipe them off, but you didn’t notice the blood on your sleeve. Now, with blood both on your shirt and face, you looked like a psycho.
You entered the Club with the back door and you go to Kaz’s room, hoping he’d be there. You knocked and instantly after, you let yourself in. He was sitting in his chair, but when you came in, he looked up, his eyes widened at the blood which was everywhere.
“What happened to you?” he asked, getting up and making a step towards you. But like he thought better of it, he stopped, placing one of his hands on his desk. “Are you injured?”
You wanted to say something, but when you opened your mouth, only a sob came out. Kaz seeing how you barely could stand on your legs, took your arm and gently led you to the chair next to his desk.
“Y/n, I need to know if you’re wounded.” He said, looking at you, his eyes soft.
“It’s not my blood,” you whispered, making him let out the breath. He felt better knowing you were not bleeding. “It’s my fault he’s dead.”
Kaz’s head snapped, he tried to understand who you were talking about, but you only looked dead into his eyes. “I killed him, Kaz.”
You were never a person who cried after killing someone from another gang, he knew it had been hard for you since the beginning, but he had never seen you crying. He felt his heart clenched at that sight. “What happened?”
You started playing with your fingers, trying to avoid this conversation, but you knew he had to know. “Do you know who Milosh is?”
Kaz frowned, trying to put a face into the name, he nodded his head when he recalled the old man working in the store, where you bought your weapons. “He was like a father to me,” you wiped off the tears from your cheeks. “Even though I still have one, he acted more like my dad than my real one,” you laughed, but the sound was dry and humourless. You told him everything that happened. About the Black Tips, how Milosh wanted to keep you safe but he failed. How that one Black Tip was still lying unconscious on the shop’s floor. Kaz’s jaw clenched, he wanted to kill this man. You looked up at him and slowly got up. He made a step back, letting you.
You walked to the door, eyes dry and you placed your hand on the door knob.
“Wait.”
You turned around, facing Kaz who was slowly walking towards you. One minute he was beside the chair and the second one his arms were around your back, gently hugging you. You were shocked, but after a second, you hugged him back, tightening your arms around his waist. You heard him taking a breath, and you wanted to let go, but he only held you closer.
“Are you okay with that?”
“I’m great.”
#kaz brekker x reader#kaz brekker#shadow and bone#the grisha trilogy#grishaverse#six of crows#crooked kingdom#soc inej#inej ghafa#jesper fahey#milo the goat#nina zenik#soc kaz#soc wylan#soc jesper
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Visiting your hometown
What happens when you take your man to your home town? As your memories, people and places come together how will he react?
A small/long drabble to get me back into writing. Enjoy!
Victor Creed
This mutant never thought that he would walk in your hometown. He didn't expect to see cultures that morph together into one special town, your town. A place where you grew up. So keeping all that in mind he was cautious. Various not to offend someone or to say a rude word in your mother tongue. For the first time in his life, he is frazzled and nervous. he will keep in his front pocket a small leaflet some words he heard you say a few times that may be of some assistance. trying to woo you.
-that old hag showed me the middle finger. let's go.
Unfortunately, anything that he says wrong, will be your responsibility to amend it. so good luck.
Loki
you just know that Loki will have your mother tongue in his little finger (that sounds weird but let's carry on) but do not be fooled, he can not survive the morning wave of people in the farmers market. something that is pretty much normal for you. Loki doesn't know how to feel when he sees the local butcher wrapping the meat in todays' newspaper giving it to buyers or how people shove him to the side as his black suit with the green scarf is more than brought down in value. he will hear the near shouts of Famers that are trying to sell their livelihood to him as his head goes from one side to another in a split second. he will easily get reeled in by the old farmer who just smells the innocence on the Midgardian addressed god. you know the moment you grabs his hand he looks at you.
-how did you ever survive in this chaos?
-I thought you said that chaos is your middle name.
-it is however my kind of chaos is more dignified.
-survive just a little bit more, I need to go to that man in the corner.
-oh, no...
Thor
we all in the fandom know that thor is a ball of joy. but when he lands in your city, your territory he is stoic. he is here on a mission and no one should stand in his way. he will glue himself to your side and he will hold the dictionary book in his mighty right hand and your hand in his left. he will not stand for wasting a day on mundane stuff that you do with him back in the HQ so say goodbye to lazying around. when you go to the oceanic part of your country you are now almost ready to drown him in the ocean. or just leave him on the road, it is getting that heavy.
-thor, think it is time to stop.
-what do you mean?
-to be honest, I don't know anymore I am so tired.
-you are right... let us stop. for 2 minutes and then you can drive again.
-I will leave you here.
Bucky Barnes
bucky loves to travel. he loves to see you in the role of a guide you tell him about the park where you cut your leg open and when you got to the hospital as a nun stood above you praying for your recovery. bucky loves to feel the fresh air going into his nose thinking to himself how this was the same air that you breathe in. he loves to see all the different parts of the city where you went to. even so much that he went to your former hairstylist.
-bucky, you don't have to do this.
-nonsense, doll. I want to experience it. just like you did.
-that was eons ago. and I wore super short hair, like a hedgehog.
-hedgehog?
-yeah, it was so short that I only put on gel and made small spikes.
- I will give everything I have and say that you looked beautiful.
-alright, your call.
Steve Rogers
steve cannot wait for enough for him to arrive in the city where you walked, ran, and laughed. he cannot wait to enter your old apartment and see all of the hidden pieces that he wants to know. he loves to help you clean the apartment and see a big box of your old photos. he will look with your through on the hard wooden floor with one arm around your shoulders as you talk about each photo. even showing him the photo of your sister.
-when will I meet her?
-I don't know.
-didn't you say that she lived here, still?
-yeah...
-I want to meet her. I think am ready for it.
-okay...
Bruce Wayne
you just know that when you told him to pack his bags to go with you he did his research. he knows when, how the city was built. he will try to memorize the tongue twisters and say them horribly wrong just to make you laugh. when he looks at your old apartment he tries to envision the day you left it all behind to go to Gotham and it breaks his heart to imagine you in tears.
-bruce.
you take his calloused hand feeling his fingers tighten the grip.
-sorry, I immediately imagined you when you moved out. I got sad.
-why?
-because, you surely cried.
-I did, a little, but this city didn't have that something.
-and what is that?
-you dumbass. now stop sulking we need to clean.
Clark Kent
as Clark arrived at the farm where your aunt lived he couldn't help feel but prepared. he saw the cows eating grabs and was ready in a split second to milk it just to show off his soft and delicate side. Clark heard the stories of your aunt, well one of them, and from what he concluded, for now, this aunt was the beginner level, nice one, the one who won't tear him a new one if he doesn't treat you right. as the door opened you greeted your aunt in your mother tongue and introduced your man. Clark shakingly trying to reply in the mother tongue feeling the few letters that stood together could fall more apart than from his mouth. your aunt laughed hugging him and roughly patted him on his back. almost like a punch if you will. you look at your aunt and Clark cannot help but stand behind you as he whispered.
-what did she say?
-she said that you seem stiffer than a goat's turd.
-you said that this aunt was nice.
-she is. but that is the way we express ourselves.
-with curse words???!!
-what better way.
Arthur curry
Arthur was relaxed when he arrived, he was laid back when he slept in your apartment but that all suicide jumped off a cliff as he shook hands with your mother. Your mom wasn't that intimating but he heard the stories of her standing to your abusive father and running away with just some change in her pocket and a used car. he knows that the woman in front of him is strong can make or break your relationship. so he held the coffee cup in his hands as if was the key to everything he needed to know how to make your mother happy. he saw how your eyes sparkled when you talked to her how your smile ever left for a second you take what seemed to him in complete gibberish but cute gibberish. your mother turns to him asking in English.
-so Arthur, can I call you by your first name?
-yes, madam. of course, you can.
-thank you. well, then Arthur what do you do for a living?
with a small nod from you, he tells the honest truth.
-I am a superhero. but minus the stupid cape. I am here to keep you and your daughter, of course, safe from all danger. and I hope you will like me!!!!
you turn to your mother with a small chuckle as you tell her in your mother tongue.
-he is helpless.
-he seems like it, good luck, Y/n.
Orm Marius
nothing can save his pulse from rising as he walked with the crowd of people in the town square only your hand which he held more than tightly enough. you stopped pointing at a big statue of a colonel on a horse placed in the middle of the square.
-he is a big deal.
-yes, I can imagine the poor people that had to lift it up to place it here.
-yes, but thanks to those people, people now in the present can always remember what they went through at that time.
he didn't find any specialness in the statute for him it lacked in far more than that he can count but when he saw your face looking at the statue he knew that whatever that stirred in you he wanted to see it every day. he only squeezed your hand placing a kiss on your knuckles.
-does this mean you want in your likeness?
-sure, but only if you will make it.
-oh, darling, that is a recipe for chaos.
The Joker
j never put effort into himself. he did in destruction, in chaos, in mayhem, and even in covering his white skin with some basic foundation as he meets your off the edge aunt. when you told him that every second sentence from her is a curse he was more than ready to meet her. because sometimes crazy people click with the people who like to curse. everyone knows that. so when he sat in the house of your crazy aunt he firstly observed, he watched you talked together and exchanged laughs, even more, when you ever brought to tears as you laughed off the curses she threw at you so playfully making even j smile. so when she turned to him it was game time. and you were the translator.
-my aunt asked what is that you do for a job?
-tell her I am the man of your dreams.
-I told her that.
-damn, then tell her-WHAT?!
you giggle at his shock as you heard the playful quote she told you when you were little and j wanted to know what she said.
-what did she say?
-she said "if a girl gives a man a hand, she will give him her ass"
-your aunt is a wise woman.
- I knew you would like her.
Duncan Vizla
Duncan likes to take walks and taking a walk with you next to him as you showed him around your old neighborhood and told him stores of the always pissed on metal slide and the always filled cafes that were always the pinpoints for some scammers he found in question why you like it so much. as you showed his around you stopped at your old elementary school. you showed him the main entrance was where everyone hurled in the morning hours and where you sat with your friends and talked about the horribly proffers that still to this day haunt you. something he heard you mumble in your sleep.
-she was that awful?
-yes, and people like here never get old it's like the evilness she has in her keeps her eligible for work.
-am i not the same?
he couldn't ask a stupider question. and for that, you punched him in the shoulder.
-don't compare yourself to her. you aren't evil.
-you are forgetting my job, darling.
-you kill for money, she kills for fun and to keep herself alive. a difference now let's go home I need to remind you just how good and attentive you can be.
-lead the way, dove.
hope you liked it. Tell me what you think❤️
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#marvel imagine#marvel#avengers imagine#loki fanfic#loki laufeyson imagine#loki x reader#victor creed imagine#victor creed x reader#xmen imagine#steve rogers x you#steve rogers imagine#captain america imagine#bucky x you#bucky barnes x reader#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne imagine#Batman imagine#clark kent x reader#superman imagine#arthur curry x reader#orm marius imagine#aquaman x reader#joker x reader#suicide squad x reader#dc x reader#dc imagine#duncan vizla imagine#polar netflix#thor imagine#Headcanon
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Not too late - Nikolai Lantsov
Request: yes “maybe a Nikolai x reader fic where the reader almost moves out from their house because Nikolai is always working and they have a fight but make up in the end? please?”
Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x reader
Summary: you decide to leave the palace, and nikolai rushes to catch up with you to change your mind
Warnings: mild angst I think?
Word count: 1.6K
A/N: I'd sell my soul to have the scene in which alina punches nikolai in the show I loved it so much when I first read it. thanks for requesting, enjoy reading! :)
You wake up and the first thing you notice is Nikolai's absence. Again. He’s never there when you wake up. You know he’s busy. After all, he’s a king. You knew what you signed up for, and you thought you could handle it.
But it’s hard.
It’s hard because he’s always away, visiting ministers or checking up on the progress of whatever project he was currently working on. And if he was at the palace, you barely see him.
His schedule is packed with meeting after meeting, as well as dinner parties with important people you were never invited to.
You felt like you were slowly drifting away from him. And not just Nikolai, but also your friends. Whenever you wanted to hang out with Genya, Tamar or any of the others, they were busy as well.
You never thought a life in a palace surrounded by people could make you feel so lonely.
Of course, you tried to talk to Nikolai about it, but he merely waved his hand in the air, telling you he’s busy but that he does try to schedule some free time every now and then. You doubted it. Nikolai’s first love had always been Ravka.
You didn’t intend to, but you just stopped being as excited as you used to be whenever you see Nikolai. Maybe you were naive to think a life with him would be something like a fairytale. It had been in the beginning, but it seemed like all the magic that once was there, had faded away.
You simply couldn’t accept you’d always be second place. Ravka first, then you. Nikolai is spending all of his time and energy on his beloved country, and you felt forgotten.
Life at the palace could be amazing. You had everything you could have ever wished for, except that one thing you so desperately needed: Nikolai.
Which is why you had decided to head back to Os Kervo. it was where you had first met Nikolai, but also your hometown. You longed for the sea, and the Saturday market, you missed your friends.
It broke your heart, but you had decided for yourself that no life with Nikolai was better than a life in which he was constantly absent.
It would be best if you left in the evening, you’d be able to slip out and start your journey to Os Kervo. Tt would be a three day journey, but by the time Nikolai would find the letter you had written for him, you’d be long gone.
You take one last walk around the palace, taking everything in. This would probably be the last time you’d ever see it.
Luckily, you only see one or two servants as you make your way to the stables. You take your favourite horse, and after one last look at the palace, you’re on your way.
Once you’re out of the city and in the open fields, you let the tears fall. No one would be around to see you cry. You could already imagine the storm of gossip that would hit all of Ravka if anyone saw you leaving the palace with tears on your cheeks.
You ride for hours until you take a break. The tears had stopped rolling down your cheeks a long time ago. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, calming yourself.
You keep thinking back to Nikolai, and if he would have found your letter by now. You shake your head, drowning the thoughts out. Instead, you start to think about your family and friends in Os Kervo.
They were happy for you when you left for Os Alta, even though they’d miss you terribly. You could already imagine the looks on their faces when you came home. You couldn’t wait to eat a home cooked meal, and help out on the docks.
Meanwhile at the palace, Nikolai has found your letter.
He saw it immediately when he entered your shared room. You’d placed it on your side of the bed. It was late, and he was tired, but he didn’t want to go to sleep just yet.
Because you aren’t there. Instead, there was a folded piece of paper on your pillow. It looked like you had never laid down that night.
Frowning, Nikolai picks up the piece of paper, folding it open. He recognises your handwriting and starts reading the letter.
My dearest Nikolai,
I'm sorry, I can’t take it anymore. Ravka is your first love, it always will be. You’ve got a country to run and I don’t want to wait around for you anymore.
It pains me to say this, but I'm leaving. I've tried to hold on, to stay longer, but I just can’t do it anymore. I'm leaving for Os Kervo once I've finished this letter.
Our paths may never cross again, but know that I will always love you,
Y/N
Nikolai reads the letter over and over again, letting the words sink in. You left. And you weren’t coming back. Time and time again he had promised you he’d spend more time with you, but there was always another meeting coming along.
It seems like he had waited too long.
After tucking the letter in his pocket, he grabs his coat and rushes out the door. As he’s sprinting through the halls on his way to the stables, he runs into Tolya.
‘What’s got you in a rush?’ he says.
‘Move everything that’s planned for the rest of the week to next week.’ says Nikolai, not stopping as he keeps on running.
‘For what?’ yells Tolya after him.
‘Emergency!’ yells Nikolai over his shoulder as he throws open the doors.
A servant approaches him. ‘Are you going out for a ride, sir?’ he asks.
‘Yes.’ says Nikolai. ‘Get me the fastest horse we’ve got.’
The servant gestures for a horse behind Nikolai. ‘That’s the fastest one we got, sir.’ he says. ‘Would you like me to wake General Nazyalensky and the twins so they can accompany you?’
‘No.’ says Nikolai. ‘I’m going alone.’
If the servant had his doubts, he hides it well. ‘Very well then, sir. We’ll wait for your return.’
With one last nod, Nikolai mounts his horse and takes off.
Along the way, he keeps ushering his horse to go faster, not caring about how tired it might get. He has to get to you as fast as possible.
When it’s almost dawn, Nikolai spots a horse in the distance.
He could recognise your silhouette anywhere. Nikolai sighs softly and catches up with you.
You hear someone approaching you from behind and keep one hand on your revolver. Just as they catch up with you, and you’re ready to shoot them, you hear a voice.
‘Careful not to shoot me, darling.’
You whip your head around so fast you could have snapped your neck.
Nikolai is riding next to you, his eyes tired but somehow still gorgeous. He’s still in the clothes he wore when you last saw him, and his golden hair is messy. Still, he smiles at you.
‘Nikolai?’ you say. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Very romantically chasing after you, of course.’ he says.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper.
‘I read your letter.’ he says. ‘And I realise I've been an idiot.’
You raise your eyebrows. ‘Nikolai Lantsov admitting he can be an idiot? What kind of reversed world did we fall into?’ you say.
‘The one in which I speak the truth.’ he says. ‘I promised you I would make more time for you, and then I didn’t. I hadn’t realised how bad it had gotten, until I read your letter. I don’t want you to leave, Y/N, ever.’
‘We both know Ravka needs you, Nikolai. I was young and naive to think you could spend as much time with me as you did with your advisors and ministers.’
‘I still can.’ he says. ‘I told Tolya to move everything I have scheduled this week to next week.’
You look at him. ‘You did?’ you say.
He nods. ‘Yes, so I could spend time with you.’ he says.
‘That’s nice.’ you say, smiling at him.
‘It’s a start.’ he says. ‘How about this: we pick a few days, and I never schedule any meeting on those days. I spend them with you, and don’t let anything or anyone interrupt them.’
‘But Ravka-’ ‘Can handle a day or three in a week without me.’
‘Alright.’ you say. ‘I could live with that.’
‘Thank goodness.’ says Nikolai, looking relieved. ‘I don’t know what I would do without you.’
You smile and stop your horse. You tug on the reigns to turn around.
‘Where are you going?’ asks Nikolai.
‘Back to the palace?’ you say, a bit confused.
‘I was thinking we could go to Os Kervo for a day or two.’ he says. ‘After all, I did ask Tolya to schedule the rest of the week free. We’ve got plenty of time. Besides, I met your family like two times before, it’d be nice to see them again.’
‘Alright then.’ you say. ‘After you, your majesty.’
Nikolai rolls his eyes at the nickname. ‘I hate it when you do that.’ he says, making his horse resume walking again.
‘No you don’t.’ you say with a wink, turning your horse around so you can ride beside him.
A/N:
If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules
Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist.
Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!!
Thank you for reading!
Much love,
Marit
#I cannot WAIT to see who they cast as nikolai in the show#they better get it right#nikolai lantsov#shadow and bone#grishaverse#nikolai lantsov x reader#nikolai lantsov x you#nikolai lantsov fanfic#nikolai lantsov fanfiction#nikolai lantsov fanfics#nikolai lantsov fic#nikolai lantsov fics#nikolai lantsov oneshot#nikolai lantsov oneshots#shadow and bone fanfiction#shadow and bone fanfic#shadow and bone fanfics#shadow and bone fic#shadow and bone fics#shadow and bone oneshot#shadow and bone oneshots
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ʀɪᴅᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ - 1
ʏᴜᴛᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴍᴀʀᴋ ʟᴇᴇ
ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ɢᴏɴᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ʏᴇᴀʀ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴠᴇʀʏ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ. ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀʟꜰ ʙᴏᴛʜᴇʀ’ꜱ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴀ ʟᴇɢᴇɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʀᴀᴄᴇꜱ. ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀᴍᴇ ɢɪʀʟꜱ ʜᴀᴛᴇ ʏᴏᴜ. ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀᴍᴇ ʙᴏʏ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴍᴀᴋᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ʀᴀᴄᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏɴ’ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ʜɪᴍ ɢᴇᴛ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴏ ʜᴜʀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. ɴᴏᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ.
ᴍᴀʀᴋ ʟᴇᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴏᴡɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ’ꜱ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱᴛᴀʏɪɴɢ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴛ ᴜᴘ ᴀ ꜰᴇᴡ ꜱᴛʀᴇᴇᴛ ʀᴀᴄᴇꜱ, ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴍᴏɴᴇʏ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜰᴜɴ. ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ꜱᴛɪʀ ᴜᴘ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʙᴇɢɪɴꜱ ʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪꜱ ꜱᴘᴏɴꜱᴏʀ’ᴀ ʜᴀʟꜰ ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ’ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʜᴇʀ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʜᴇ’ꜱ ᴘɪꜱꜱɪɴɢ ᴏꜰꜰ.
ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ, ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅʀᴜɢꜱ, ɢᴜɴꜱ, ɢᴜɴꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ, ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴊᴏᴋᴇꜱ, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴛꜱ,
ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5,3ᴋ
next
three years ago
you slide out from under the car you've been working on when you hear an unfamiliar engine approaching the garage. it must be a customer, you think as you go to the front desk to help them.
the man who enters the office surprises you. he has light brown hair and is wearing black jeans with a white shirt with black flowers. his dark brown eyes sparkle with curiosity as he sees you. a black maserati is parked behind him.
"can i help you?" you ask, freely.
"i have a faulty spark plug and my garage is on the other side of the planet. they told me this was the best place in town."
"and it is. go ahead and go into the store."
"don't mechanics normally keep people waiting in the office?" he asked amused.
"only when the person doesn't know anything about cars. obviously you do, so you have to keep me company while i fix it," you smirk.
"what's your name, suh? -he asks, using the last name on your work shirt.
"y/n. yours?"
"yuta. nakamoto yuta."
"nice to meet you. let's get that car fixed, shall we?"
a few minutes later, the black car is with the hood open in the garage. yuta, on the other hand, is helping you by handing you the necessary tools. you let his fingers brush a little more than strictly necessary when yuta hands you a wrench.
yuta smiles and leans back against the car once you're done. "how much do i owe you?" he asks quietly.
it takes you a second to really register how close you are to each other. you look him in the eye. "how about you take me out to dinner and the debt is settled?" you ask in a sudden flare of audacity.
fortunately, he smiles.
"my thoughts exactly. what time will you be out here?
“six.”
he looks down at that ridiculously nice black gold watch.
"it's only an hour from now. how about i keep you company until then?"
"i'd like that."
"so what were you working on before I showed up?"
"my charger over there. there are some bastards who want to compete with me saying their luxury imports can beat it. tonight they're in for an ugly surprise."
you assume yuta has heard about your garage, knows about your regular clientele. they consider themselves the best store around to the fellow street racers. but to everyone else, it's just a small garage.
"that sounds like something i'd like to see. mind if i stay and watch you kick their asses?"
"it'd be my pleasure," you smile.
as expected, you end up following yuta back to his apartment after winning the race by a solid car length. the endorphins from winning the race flood your senses, and yuta is amazed that he had managed to stumble upon such an amazing girl. someone like him.
sl walking, you find yourself wrapped in warm arms and leaning against a hard chest. you caress the dragon-shaped tattoo on his right shoulder and plant a kiss on it.
a quiet moan tells you she is waking up. his arm tightens around her. he plants a kiss on your forehead.
"Good morning to you too," you say.
yuta rolls you onto his back and rests his torso on top of yours. "good morning."
"You look happy.
"i woke up with a beautiful, bad-ass, street-racing woman in my arms. how could i complain?"
you laugh. "well, i could say the same thing. it's not often i get to wake up next to a hot guy and that brother would probably beat up if he knew where i spent the night."
he barks out a laugh. "you're most likely right..." he bites his lip. "there's something you need to know."
your smile disappears. "you're not married, are you?"
"no! god, no," he replies instantly. "i just want to know if you want it to be more than a brief fling."
you are silent for a moment as he thought.
"yes, i think so. i mean, we could get to know each other better but yes," you explain.
"then we're on the same page," you nod absently. "do you want to have breakfast before we go on with our talk?"
you can't help but get a little nervous. what does he have to say?
"what do you want for breakfast?"
"uh..." you sit up, holding the black sheet against your chest to cover yourself. "whatever. i'm not particularly picky."
yuta nods and gets out of bed, pulling on a pair of gray sweatpants. he leaves his room and you lie back down on the bed. your cell phone rings somewhere in yuta's room and you grunt getting up to look for it. you find it inside your jeans.
"y/n! where the hell are you?" johnny asks as soon as you answer the phone. “you didn’t come home last night, and jaehyun said there was a guy watching you the entire race.”
“don’t worry about it, brother. that guy was my date last night. i’m at this place right now,” you grin.
“hold on, you had a date?! who? why didn’t you tell me?” johnny bombards you with questions.
you sigh. you saw this coming.
“everything all right?” yuta asks, entering his bedroom.
“my brother,” you say with your mouth. “johnny! easy with the questions. i’ll tell you later, bye!”
“be responsible!” it can be heard from the phone and you hang up.
you exhale dramatically and fall back on the bed.
“trouble, dear?” yuta inquiries.
you raise your head to look at him. “big brothers are tedious,” you announce after a minute.
“i wouldn’t know; i’m the older brother.”
“oh?”
yuta smiles warmly. “i have a younger brother. the idiot used to fight older bullies in the yard, and i was the one who had to finish them off.”
you smirk. “you protected him. my brother’s the same way.”
“let’s eat, okay? i still need to talk about something important,” yuta declares.
you nod and he tosses you slightly one of his shirts. you put it on and grab your panties putting them on.
yuta made sunny side up eggs and french toasts. between bites, yuta begins to speak. “i work for the korean mafia.”
“huh?” you stop eating and stare at him. “you what?”
yuta laughs lightly. “i work for the korean mafia.” he repeats. “i bet you’re wondering what a japanese guy is doing working for the korean mafia.”
“not exactly my first thought but yes,” you shrug. “what do you do?”
“let’s say i’m a middleman between the korean mafia and the yakuza,” he confesses.
you frown. “so you buy goods from them and sell them?”
yuta raises an eyebrow at you. “what are you? a businesswoman?”
you laugh and have a bite of your toast. “i went to business school, but i dropped out this semester.”
“hot,” he plants a kiss on your lips. “so yes, that’s my job. aren’t you scared?”
“of what? you? your job?” you snort. “i’ve seen way worse in the underground. i gotta say i’m surprised because i thought you were a good boy.”
yuta chuckles. “i am good at other things,” he winks at you.
you push the plate aside and sit on his lap. “i can’t recall, do you mind refreshing my memory?”
yuta grins and places his hand on your ass cheeks. “aren’t you too sore?”
“pain is my best friend,” you nip at his lip and he groans.
yuta kisses you and his hand goes to your throat tilting your head to the side and biting your neck harshly. you whimper at the painful yet pleasurable sensation. yuta shushes you and darts his eyes to you. “i thought you enjoyed the pain, baby girl.”
one year ago
you’re standing in front of his gravestone and place the flower bouquet next to it. the only sound is the wind, rustling through a nearby copse of trees. it has been five days since yuta died and the hole in your chest only gets deeper.
it hurts.
you’re broken.
your life without him means nothing. the city without him means nothing. nothing makes sense without him.
“you shouldn’t have died,” you say. “we could have been better.” you mumble, sitting in front of the grave. “it’s weird, today i woke up and i thought i heard your voice. am i going crazy?” you scoff.
you stare at the gravestone and then lower your heard. “i came to say goodbye. i can’t stay here anymore. everywhere i go i see your face. everyone reminds me of you.”
you feel tears streaming down your face. “i’ll never forget you, yuta. i love you so much.” you burst out crying.
after you left town, you were pretty much everywhere: singapore, thailand, indonesia, philippines, malaysia and even japan for a few weeks. racing and making a fame known as the ‘nameless girl’ who would beat everyone.
you left a note to johnny saying you’d be okay and you would return when you feel ready to.
you didn’t stay long in every country and you didn’t make any relations so things didn’t attach to you there. you were lonely but you got used to it. and you didn’t dislike it.
one night, you decided it was time to come back home. yuta would never come back and you felt you moved on.
the train arrives at its last stop and you grab your small suitcase exiting it. you walk and take a taxi to your house, or johnny’s house just to find a party. people and their racing cars everywhere.
of course. it’s friday.
you get into your house and see people everywhere. people dancing, no, grinding on each other’s bodies and blowing some smoke. perhaps weed. you walk through the crowded living room and spot johnny sipping a beer. you don’t know how he's going to react since you didn’t tell anyone you’re back.
you walk to johnny but he’s interrupted by a red haired and kissed him. you roll your eyes, johnny and his bitches.
you change your direction walking to the kitchen and see jaehyun talking to some people. he turns to you and doesn’t seem to notice you, it’s when he turns again and his face brightens up with a smile. “y/n!” he walks to you and tugs you for a hug, lifting you from the ground.
“hi,” you giggle, placing a kiss on his cheek.
jaehyun puts you back on the ground and smiles, "i almost didn't recognize you, you've changed so much."
“i just dyed my hair: i got babylights,” you grin.
“i like them, you look great,” jaehyun nods. “but where have you been?!”
“huh everywhere?” you shrug.
“and you couldn’t call?” he stares at you.
“i know, i’m sorry,” you rest a hand on his shoulder. “we’ll talk later, okay? where’s everyone?”
“johnny is lena, jungwoo is having a blunt with jinsoul in the yard and of course jisung is in his room, he’s not allowed to come downstairs,” jaehyun comments.
you nod and rest your hands on your waist. “i don’t know half of these people. who are they?”
“johnny became kind of a sponsor?” jaehyun frowns and you laugh. “no, it’s true! half of these people are rich kids betting on johnny's people, he met two guys that are literally gods of racing.”
“i’d like to see that,” you add. “what are their names?”
“mark lee and lee donghyuck,” jaehyun hands you a beer. “they’re dickheads but we’ve been getting so much money because of them.”
you scoff. “they’re just lucky. i am back.”
jaehyun whistles, smiling. “that’s the attitude, baby. i can’t wait to see you race again.”
you smirk. “i bet you wanna.”
“ah, johnny’s coming,” jaehyun murmurs.
you turn and see a blond haired johnny walking towards you. you tuck your hands into your jeans pocket and smile nicely. “hi brother.”
“when people started saying my sister was here i didn’t believe it because maybe she left this fucking town a year ago leaving just a note!” johnny exclaims. “and thought ‘why would she return just like that?’”
you sigh. “i’m sorry, johnny. but i’m back and i’m okay. that’s the only thing that should matters.”
johnny rolls his eyes. “are you dumb?”
you frown. “just because you’re my brother i d-
“half-brother,” johnny remarks.
“fuck you, johnny,” you hiss and leave the kitchen
when johnny gets upset he tends to be the classical dickhead and uses the ‘half-brother’ excuse just to hurt you. you think you might deserve it, but why is it so hard for him to understand why you left? why you need to leave?
maybe it’s because he has never loved someone the way you loved yuta. or maybe he’s too selfish to understand it.
of course you also think you didn’t do the right thing by simply disappearing out of the blue, but again, you don’t owe anything to no one.
you go to the bathroom that is next to the stairs and groan when you realise it’s locked. you lean against the wall and sigh. next to you, there are three girls whispering and laughing. you don’t care, until you hear your name.
“did you see y/n? she’s back,” one of them says.
“yeah. i thought she was in jail,” the other mocks.
“in jail? for what?” she laughs.
“apparently she was the one that killed yuta,” she comments. “and ran away, but my boyfriend told me the police caught her.”
the blonde one laughs. “poor thing.”
“and i’d go back to jail for ripping your ugly faces off,” you murmur, still leaning against the wall.
the girls stare at you and they decide to leave. you groan, rolling your eyes. “assholes.”
someone walking down the hallway whistles and smiles at you. “should i be concerned about my well being right now?.”
you look at them and you see a black haired guy, wearing a green jacket with black ripped jeans and black shirt. you scoff. “fuck off, dude.”
“but please don’t rip my face off.,” the guy rests his hand on his chest.
you stare at him and clench your jaw. “bugger off, dude. really, i’m not in the mood to take someone’s shit.”
“sorry,” he nods. “i’m mark by the way,” he passes the bottle of the beer he’s drinking to his free hand and extends his hand.
you look at his hand, hesitant. you shake your head and take it. “y/n.”
he grins, gripping at your hand. “you’re the famous y/n.”
you chuckle. “and you’re not the famous mark lee.”
mark smiles sideways. “so you’ve heard about me.”
“very little,” you shrug. “nothing impressive.”
“ah, they weren’t wrong when they said you’re a bitch,” mark frees your hand.
“did i hurt your feelings?” you pout mockingly.
“you’re gonna need more than that to hurt my feelings, gorgeous,” he winks at you.
you nod. “noted, boy. well, it was nice talking to you.”
“you leaving already?” mark asks.
“yeah. i’m tired and i need a place to sleep,” you say. “i guess i’ll see you around.”
mark nods. “have a good night, y/n.”
(...)
“when did she get back? how come i didn't see her?” donghyuck slides off the plastic armrest of the outdoor sofa he was sitting on.
jeno walks away to get a drink. “who 's back?” he asks.
“y/n suh,” mark replies.
“johnny’s sister?” jeno looks at him.
donghyuck and mark nod.
“what was she in jail for, like, a year?” jeno’s voice drops to a whisper.
“she was in jail?” donghyuck stares at mark.
“no. she just disappeared last fall,” mark explains.
“it was probably jail,” donghyuck adds, “that or she had a baby. i mean, the timing kind of fits for that, don’t you think?”
“and where’s the baby, smartass?” mark glances at him.
“gave it away for adoption,” donghyuck shrugs.
“what are you fuckers talking about,” johnny questions, going outside the house.
“your sibling,” jeno admits, earning an elbow to his side by mark.
johnny laughs and turns to look out over his yard. “which one?”
“y/n.”
“watch it, dude,” jaehyun warns him, joining them outside.. “johnny’s not too forgiving when it comes to his siblings.”
“noted.” jeno nods.
“anyways, i’m here to talk business,” johnny sits in front of them.
“back to the things i like,” mark comments.
johnny grins. “there’s a race next weekend, 15 grand for the winner.”
donghyuck whistles. “i like what i’m hearing already.”
“it’s a bit complicated since it won’t be in an enclosed area as usual. it will be in downtown LA,” johnny adds.
“count me in,” mark says.
“dude, do you know how risky it is?” jeno stares at him.
“i’ve done riskier things and here i am,” mark rolls his eyes. “i’ll be there, johnny.”
“you’re my favourite,” johnny smiles and looks at jeno and donghyuck. “you two are disappointing me.”
“i can live with that but not in jail,” donghyuck smirks.
“pussy,” jaehyun hums.
“sorry mr. in-n-out-from-jail,” donghyuck rolls his eyes.
mark chuckles. “that race it’s already mine. and the cops can suck my dick, they wish they were as fast as me.”
“my canadian boy right here is the shit,” johnny smiles.
(...)
the bright neon lights. the skimpy clothing worn by chasers. the many cars lined up.
it's another night in los angeles, and another night means another race.
mark breathes it in as he leans on his orange acura nsx. not a single scratch in sight on the top of the car. although he's working with a sponsor, he has his own gang known as death angels, because they’re risk takers, or most of them are.. he can hear the countless bickering of his gang, who are also his closest friends. donghyuck, jeno, and earphone yves, lucas, bickering about god knows what now. jeno and lucas are conversing about seeing some new people joining the race.
there's no doubt he probably owns the most showy and expensive car in the entire parking lot. until a brown haired girl, who he knows, motioned him to come over.
you.
"seems like you got a challenger," donghyuck murmurs.
"tsk, anyone can beat her. what's so special about her anyway?" mark says, annoyed.
yves clicks her tongue. "i wouldn't be so sure about it, babe."
you get off from your car, hair tied up, perfectly showing your features. your toned eyes are slightly covered with black eyeliner. wearing tight jeans, black t-shirt and a red leather jacket.
you look like you are meant to be there. not a chaser wanting attention, not a flag girl wanting to show herself off, but. tracer. the crowd don't bother you. you begin to slightly look around, and that's when you see mark. you and mark lock eyes, and with a strut, you walk with a confident walk over mark.
crossing your arms, showing off your figure, you take a breath, and open your mouth. "no shit you're here as well."
mark scoffs. "i'm a car racer, where else was i supposed to be?"
"junior leagues," you shrug and you hear one of his friends laugh.
mark stares at you and grins. "i challenge you to a race. simply, nobody else. that is if you are up for it."
the offer is rather simple.
an easy 10-second style race, just the two of you, nobody else.
you let out a breathy chuckle, nodding your head. "alright then, it's settled." you reply, standing up to his level, and leaning over his ear. "but don't be crying when you loose, sweetheart"
mark scoffs at that. "you're underestimating my ability right now, gorgeous." he says, poking his lips out in a seductive manner.
you laugh and he smiles.
you turn around for just a few seconds, yelling over to him words that are barely audible. “te veré al inicio de la línea,” (i'll see you at the starting lineyou say.
mark’s orange acura nsx is a perfect fit considering the late at night arrival they have been in. it’s his prized possession, obviously. he checks the side of his car, smirking to himself seeing the NOS lined up on the passenger seat. however, your white nissan gtr is a good contrast. no dent is seen on it, and the engines flare when you start it, earning an erupt from the spectators. fifteen thousand dollars are on the game, and you need that money.
you notice the flag-girl as one of the members of death angels. she wears a simple purple and black outfit: purple harem pants and a black bomber jacket, carefully showing her slightest laced bra. she looks good, there’s no denying it. and with that, she points at mark, starting his engines and giving a show for his car. then she points to you, and you’re wearing a smile on your face. your engines starting.
and time seems to stop when you hear words emit from her mouth. “go!”
mark and you immediately go and hit the accelerator at about the same time, so you two are neck and neck. you know your strategy, and mark knows his.
8 seconds left.
knowing this, mark uses his NOS, eating a prideful laugh and his back hitting the seat. but you have different plans. you wear a smug look, and let out a giggle. “the NOS he’s using will take a shorter time than it relatively should.” you think you yourself, and activate yours.
6 seconds left.
you fly back to your seat, seeing the crowd erupt in cheers. mark sees your white nissan catch up to him, and before he knows, you’re way ahead of him.
“shit!” he yells.
2 seconds.
and before he knows, you are at the finish line, turning your car around and creating a donut with it, earning praise from the crowd. marks ends up second, or last in this case. he gets out of the car with a scowl, and you make your way to him, with a smile on your face, and your hair is out of the ponytail you have been wearing.
“the NOS you used, doesn't take up as much time as normal NOS used. it was a bit too early,” you say, giving your hand out to him. he clicks his tongue, now slightly irritated to know the fact you're indeed right. marks gives you the money. “pass by the shop any time you want.”
“why would you want to help me anyways? we’re rivals now,” he cocks an eyebrow.
you sigh, when you are interrupted by the shouts of numerous spectators and blaring sirens.
“cops! cops!”
everything happens so fast. next thing you know, you are in the back of your car, hitting your foot on the accelerator and immediately rushing out of the area, keeping an eye out for cops in your view mirror. luckily, you don’t seem to spot many. but where you don’t look?
right in front of you.
bullets ricochet throughout the alley way, earning a slight flinch from you. you are scared. only a few times bullets have been in front of you. you quickly take out your silver handgun from out of your shirt, shooting at the cop, not enough to kill him, but it’s enough to get him to surrender.
“bullet proof vests don’t cover the legs, idiot,” you mumble, smirking ever so slightly. you turn a sharp left, going back to the place where you call home. a right. then left. another right. straight forward 2 miles, and there you are.
“ＳＵＨ ＭＥＣＨＡＮＩＣＳ ＡＮＤ ＭＡＮＵＦＡＣＴＵＲＩＮＧ” is written in bold letters. you love this place, you and your brother practically grow up there. you make your way inside, after swiftly parking your car into your garage. the shop is somewhat connected to the house from behind, so you make your way out of the garage, locking the door swiftly, and arriving with 2 familiar faces.
“you had no business ruining mark’s race!” johnny stands in front of you. he’s angry.
“forget about that!” jaehyun stares at johnny and then at you. “you just returned like two hours ago and the cops are after you already? can you be more careful?”
“ah, br- sorry, half-brother, jaehyun. i appreciate the concern and all, but i got this covered, you know?” you reply and look at your brother. “and please, if you really cared about mark you would have recommended him a new NOS. his sucks.”
jaehyun presses his lips together. “it’s true. i’ve been telling you about that for weeks.”
johnny rolls his eyes. “it’s not my fault. the kid won’t change them.”
“well, then you should find a new guy because you won’t make much money with him.” you say and you take out your money. “and me? i am back, baby.”
jaehyun smirks. “then i guess beers are on you.”
“you guess right.”
(...)
mark rushes off in his car, having donghyuck joining him. he locks his gun, having his fingers on the trigger for any given moment. mark sighs out a stuttered breath, immediately hitting the accelerator and rushing out of the way. he has another tank full of NOS, that donghyuck simply swaps out, for mark to use at any moment.
“jeno and yves have made it back alright,” donghyuck tells him, while mark drives at an inhumane pace.
mark nods and takes the exit 12, driving to glendale. and after almost 25 minutes, they arrive at their warehouse. he parks his car next to jeno’s and they make their way inside.
“dude! that was fucking awesome!” jeno approaches him. “now i understand why the streets wouldn't shut up about her.”
yves rolls his eyes. “it was just lucky. she’s not that good.”
“then you wouldn't mind racing against her,” donghyuck hums.
“please, she’s nothing to me,” yves smirks.
“she got you mad,” mark walks to the kitchen. “she is something to you.”
“anyway,” jeno locks the door. “who sent those policemen? it’s weird, we have been using the same location for months,” jeno asks.
“someone was there. someone who’s purpose wasn’t to spectate or race, but to infliritrate,” mark sighs, adjusting his belt from his jeans.
“i’m wondering if suh is single,” donghyuck sits, ignoring the talk his friends are having.
“johnny or y/n?” mark mocks him.
“she doesn’t date,” yves sits next to him. “or that’s what i’ve heard.”
“since when you’re a fan of gossip?” jeno frowns.
“you don’t need to gossip, everyone talks about her and her tragic love life,” yves shrugs.
“so she wasn’t in jail?” donghyuck inquiries.
“i already told you she wasn’t in jail, smartass,” mark tosses him a beer.
“then where was she?” jeno sits in front of donghyuck.
yves slides a little on the couch. “you ever heard about nakamoto yuta?”
the three men shake their heads. yves rolls her eyes. “he used to work for the korean mafia and the yakuza doing what? i don’t know, but he was well known before we arrived here.”
“and what happened to him?” jeno asks.
“he messed with the wrong people, and he paid for his mistakes,” yves says. “they got him and killed him.”
“and how is he related to y/n?” mark rubs his chin with his index finger.
“they were together,” yves pulls out a box of cigarettes. “and days after his murder, she went away.”
jeno grimaces. “i would’ve done the same. it’s sad.”
“well, he’s dead and we can’t do shit to help her,” donghyuck stretches out his arms. “she’s hot.”
“dude,” jeno chuckles. “we were just talking about his dead boyfriend and you’re saying she’s hot?”
“donghyuck only uses his lower head,” yves mocks. “why are you even surprised?”
mark laughs and donghyuck rolls his eyes. “i’m gonna race against her again.”
“dude, you want to lose again?” jeno stares at him.
mark frowns. “a little bit of support?”
(...)
a few days later, you are working at your peace in call, the mechanic shop. you work with jungwoo, jaehyun, and johnny. jaehyun is an incredibly talented racer, that’s for sure, he was the one who taught you everything you know. johnny and jaehyun are practically always together.
they have been friends since high school, and he’s close with you as well, despite you going to a different school.
so, there you are currently stocking up the shelves and displays with certain kinds of replacements and NOS, to whoever needs them. you wear leather pants, along with a white turtleneck shirt. your hair is down.
“do you have everything locked? storage room too, jungwoo?” you ask the blond.
“yep! johnny is currently working on the new car by the way. he said the client wanted something old school, and because of this, he got inspiration from somewhere,” he informs.
you raise an eyebrow, handing jungwoo the remaining products form the shelves, and making your way inside the shop. you see a black haired man glancing at the shelves with NOS.
you approach him. “hi, welcome. can i help you?”
the man turns and he smiles at you.
mark lee.
you stop the urge of rolling your eyes. “and we see each other.”
“you told me i could pass by whenever i wanted to,” he shrugs. “
“that was me being nice because i beat you,” you smirk.
mark grins. “then i suppose i should go to the Fascinare’s shop? i heard they’re nicer.”
if you and johnny didn’t hate the Facinare you probably would’ve told him to go, but since they are your competition you couldn't afford losing a customer.
you sigh. “of course we can help you.” you fake a smile.
“that’s what i thought,” mark says. “how many days will it take?”
you take a look at his car. “up to 1 to 3 days.”
he nods. “fantastic. i’ll be looking forward to racing against you again then.”
you scoff, crossing your arms on your chest. “i can give your car all the NOS in this world and yet, you won’t beat me.”
“you were just lucky the other night, gorgeous,” he winks at you.
“maybe if you focus on racing instead of flirting you might beat me,” you grin.
mark chuckles and nods. “right. i’ll leave you my phone so you can give me a call when my baby is ready.”
“my god,” you hum. “be right back.”
you go behind the counter and grab a small notebook and a pen. you hand it to mark and write his number down. “i’ll be looking forward for that call.”
“hopefully it won't be me making it,” you smile falsely.
“alright. see you then,” marks says, exiting the shop. “don’t miss me much, gorgeous.”
you roll your eyes again, and smile lowering your head.
you then frown and shake your head.
#yuta x reader#yuta smut#yuta imagine#yuta nct#mark lee smut#mark lee imagine#mark lee x reader#mark lee nct#nct smut#nct 127 smut#nct 127 x reader#mark lee#yuta nakamoto#nakamoto yuta
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Spilled Pearls
- Chapter 6 - ao3 -
As Lao Nie had predicted, Lan Qiren won the music competition.
This by itself would not excuse him from punishment – disobedience was disobedience, regardless of the result – but Lan Qiren’s brother, proud of the glory that had accrued to their sect under his leadership, decided that it mitigated it somewhat, and as a result the imposition of the appropriate penalty was postponed until they returned to the Cloud Recesses. There was a strong implication that any future misbehavior during the trip would be added in when determining the extent of the punishment, but Lan Qiren didn’t care about that: with his brother’s word, however careless, overriding his teacher’s, he was finally allowed to go out to look around the Nightless City.
Of course, by now all the other disciples had settled firmly into their groups, so he was still alone - he opted not to mention that to his brother. Given how cautious his brother was being to make sure that the conference went well and without interruption, he knew it would invariably result in his either being forced into someone else’s group or to not go out, and he didn’t want either of those. Anyway, he could take precautions by himself: since he knew he was traveling alone, he would be careful to stay in the areas that were indicated as safe, although he thought happily to himself that soon he would be old enough to go wherever he wanted without concern – not that he especially longed to go to the districts full of brothels or drug dens, of course.
It was reasonable to be cautious for now, though, given his unfamiliarity with cities. He was as dazzled by the massive night market – as boisterous as any of the daytime markets – as any country yokel, and the items available for purchase were as many and varied as the people who came to the Nightless City to sell them. It was almost a pity to have to return to the Sun Palace the next day for the remaining events of the discussion conferences, largely academic discussions and skill exchanges, or the day after, to spectate on the other competitions, both the minor ones for things like calligraphy and mathematics and, more importantly, the second main event, showcasing skill in riding.
Lan Qiren wasn’t competing, of course, but he obediently showed up to observe – or, rather, to daydream about something more interesting while keeping his face carefully oriented towards the competition stage – and the second he could, he slipped away into the depths of the Sun Palace once the competition itself was over. Actually leaving entirely would be rude, of course, even if it would have been his real preference to return to the wonders of the city. Still, he would much rather walk through the halls than endure the inevitable rounds of mutual congratulations that invariably occurred during the celebration held after the discussion conference’s main competition. All those sect leaders buttering each other up…
There were times, he reflected, when he was very happy to have been born a younger son.
Lan Qiren did his best to avoid any places where people were gathered, turning back at once if he saw the rooms were occupied. There was no formal banquet tonight, to his relief – they’d all eaten while waiting for the competition to finish – but the socializing had started in earnest, and it felt like there were people everywhere. It would go on late into the night, with sect leaders toasting each other from the endless jars of wine that could be found everywhere, and there would be a thousand and one boring retellings of the same old stories everyone always told at these things.
Better to avoid people.
Certainly better to avoid people like Wen Ruohan, Lan Qiren thought, backing away from a room that appeared to be a small library, where the sect leader was standing and gazing out of the window, not far from a small table with two place settings already laid out. Its presence suggested a more private rendezvous was anticipated, and others more inclined to gossip than he might have chosen to stay and try to see if they could figure out who Wen Ruohan would be meeting – probably Lao Nie, if Lan Qiren had to guess, given the whole Hanhan situation – or possibly to try to form a further connection with the aloof and arrogant sect leader, but Lan Qiren kept his brother’s warnings in mind: Wen Ruohan was dangerous.
Anyway, he’d gotten into more than enough trouble for one trip.
After a little more searching, he found a small, secluded garden – quite possibly the very same one from a few days before, now that he thought about it, though he’d long lost any sense of direction he might have had – and settled down on the bench with a relieved sigh. The party was far too loud and too boisterous for his taste, with far too many people. He might long for adventure and new experiences, but it was the lonely road and quiet towns that called to him, and sometimes also the massive and faceless cities, not the full-of-themselves sect leaders, each one in love with their own voice, that seemed to pride themselves on talking at least once to everyone who attended.
At any rate, it wasn’t his problem. His brother had made clear that he didn’t want Lan Qiren to assist him in forming connections for the sect – assuming he even could, with his terrible social skills that mostly made his brother and most of his etiquette teachers want to forget he even existed – and that meant he was completely justified in hiding himself away here where no one would find him.
“I never got a chance to congratulate you on your victory,” a low voice said from behind him, and Lan Qiren started in sudden surprise, having not heard someone enter the room.
Though, he supposed as he rose to salute, he wouldn’t – the difference between his cultivation and Wen Ruohan’s was like night and day.
“Sect Leader Wen,” he said respectfully, keeping his head down. His brother had been especially clear that he wasn’t to cause trouble for this man in particular. Not like last time, even though Lan Qiren still wasn’t entirely clear on what it was that he was supposed to have done wrong previously. He was starting to think he’d never figure it out.
Wen Ruohan walked into the room, his pace as slow and graceful as it had been three years ago – the glide of a very self-assured predator that knew itself to be the unquestioned master of its domain, not only fearless but also smug in its self-evident superiority. The aura of power, his cultivation at a level that could scarcely be dreamed of by most people, draped around him like a gaudy cloak, meant to excite envy and fear in equal measure.
Lan Qiren had heard rumors that Wen Ruohan would sometimes use the sheer weight of his power to lock people into place, forcing them to their knees or backs on the floor in front of him, humiliating and tormenting them for his own amusement, but he didn’t feel anything like that. It was a display of power, yes, but no more so than the priceless spiritual gem that hung on Wen Ruohan’s forehead or the luxurious quality of his clothing, white and red flame, black belt and gauntlets, the finest fabrics and the best embroidery.
“I thought I saw you earlier,” Wen Ruohan remarked. “Or at least the hem of your robes – were you running away from me?”
Lan Qiren’s face suddenly felt hot with embarrassment. “No, of course not!”
That interpretation hadn’t even occurred to him. Had he really been rude? Should he have stopped to greet him properly? He hadn’t thought so, since he hadn’t even entered the room, but his instincts on such things had always been terrible…
And there was still his brother’s exhortation not to spend time with Wen Ruohan.
“Forgive my rudeness, Sect Leader Wen,” he said, dropping back down into a second low bow before rising again. “No slight was intended. I’m not supposed to be alone with other sect leaders.”
“No? And yet yesterday I recall seeing you sitting here with Sect Leader Nie.”
That was true.
What was he supposed to say to that? ‘Yes, but he’s nice’? ‘But I’ve known him for years’? ‘He’s one of our sect allies, you’re too dangerous’? ‘I was told to avoid you specifically’?
Lan Qiren might not be the best at social niceties, but even he knew he couldn’t say something like that.
His face must be demonstrating some degree of his panic, because Wen Ruohan chuckled.
“You can make it up by spending some time with me now, little Lan,” he said, waving a hand in forgiveness. “Come with me – the study is far more comfortable than this garden, especially at this time of year.”
Lan Qiren didn’t really have any knowledge of what the garden was like at this time as opposed to other times, being that this was his only visit so far to the Nightless City, but he had no reason to question Wen Ruohan’s judgment on the matter.
A quick mental review suggested that he had no choice but to comply. His brother had been emphatic that Lan Qiren wasn’t allowed to draw Wen Ruohan’s ire, even if it meant complying with his instructions as if Wen Ruohan were an elder of his own sect; moreover, refusing now would probably be impolitic, especially given the other man’s misinterpretation of his earlier avoidance. In short, despite his best efforts, Lan Qiren had clearly stumbled into a social trap of what he assumed must be his own making. It usually was, after all.
It’ll be another punishment for this, probably, he thought, resigned. He didn’t think that anyone was going to come get him out of this anytime soon, no matter what his brother had said, and he was bound to trip up and say something embarrassing sooner or later. At least there’s only this evening and then the closing ceremonies in the morning – the sooner we get home, the sooner discipline can be imposed and the entire fiasco put behind us.
“Of course, Sect Leader Wen,” he said, and belatedly noticed that some of his resignation had seeped into his voice. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I will join you.”
Wen Ruohan chuckled again. “Most people would say that they were pleased to join me,” he remarked, turning and leading the way, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. “But you don’t lie, do you? It’s one of your rules.”
Lan Qiren felt helpless, following a few steps behind him like a small fishing boat caught in the wake of a warship. “It is one of our rules,” he agreed, since saying that he was happy to join Wen Ruohan would in fact be a lie. “I try to obey them whenever possible.”
“You’ve gotten wiser since we last met. I think I recall that last time, you said always obey the rules?”
“Wisdom comes with age.”
“Is that flattery?”
“Respect for one’s elders.” Lan Qiren paused. “Also a rule.”
“Of course,” Wen Ruohan opened the door to the study that he had been in earlier, the small library with its single table and two settings and window showing the outdoors, and swept inside. “Tell me, then, as the expert in your rules – what rule is it that allows the Lan sect to develop such skilled politicians? One would assume that lying was a prerequisite.”
He doesn’t actually care about the rules, Lan Qiren tried to remind himself, his brother’s voice echoing in his ears. And yet what else could he possibly talk about with Wen Ruohan? It was a question the other man had posed directly, and he was supposed to be obedient, or at least try to be…and he really, truly enjoyed talking about the rules.
“There’s some debate on that subject,” he temporized, but Wen Ruohan arched an eyebrow and inclined his head in an invitation for him to continue. “Some posit that the rules regarding the obligations to honor one’s elders and protect one’s family require that the benefit of the sect take priority over other obligations. Others take the view that not lying is an obligation of general good conduct, which cannot be disregarded, but that it is mitigated by other rules – do not speak frivolous words, for instance.”
“I take it that you’re in the latter camp.”
Lan Qiren was, as it happened, but he wasn’t sure he should say so. After all, it was Wen Ruohan’s ancestor who had first raised up his family and started the tradition of the clan as the sect rather than schools as it had once been, and by all accounts the process of doing so had been a bloody one – what was that if not a belief that your family takes priority over the common good?
He couldn’t say that, though.
Speak meagerly, for excess words only bring harm.
“I am,” he finally said, since Wen Ruohan was still waiting for him to respond. “It is a matter of personal opinion.”
He bit his tongue to keep himself from continuing to talk. There were at least fifteen other points of interest that had come to mind at once - the rule against lying was one of the more debated ones, and of course there were all sorts of writings on the subject of balancing worldly concerns with philosophical ideals more generally. And it was so rare for someone to actually express interest in it!
Speak meagerly, he reminded himself desperately. Meagerly! Haven’t you done enough harm already?
“I see,” Wen Ruohan said. “Come, sit.”
“I wouldn’t want to impose on the sect leader’s time,” Lan Qiren protested automatically. “If you’re already expecting company…”
“Who says I am?”
Lan Qiren looked helplessly at the table. There were two place settings, as he’d briefly glimpsed earlier, and a few snacks laid out already, mostly grilled vegetables – it was perfect place for a private meeting to talk business with another sect leader, which Lan Qiren wasn’t, or else to sit and converse with an old friend, which Lan Qiren definitely wasn’t.
“The servants make it up that way preemptively,” Wen Ruohan said, and Lan Qiren twitched as he realized that the other man had come up behind him, standing a little too close. “They do it in all the rooms, in the event someone wishes to use it. There’s no one coming.”
For some reason, that sounded almost ominous.
Presumably just Lan Qiren’s bad social sense again. Such a display was likely nothing more than the Wen sect showing off yet again, this time in terms of their wealth and the number of servants.
And, well, if the table really had just been set out to be used, surely it would be wrong not to use it? There were rules about avoiding waste, too.
“In that case, I thank Sect Leader Wen for the honor of the invitation,” he said, and sat down properly, sweeping his sleeves back and arranging himself. That it got him a little further away from Wen Ruohan was not as much of a secondary consideration as it probably should have been. “Would you like me to serve tea?”
“I was thinking something stronger,” Wen Ruohan said, sitting down as well, and reaching for the jar already there. “Why not a toast to your family’s victory? A double victory, no less, with you taking first in music and your brother the same in riding. Most impressive.”
Lan Qiren hesitated. That was a very appropriate toast, complimentary – exactly within the boundaries of what an elder ought to say to a junior, really. And yet, at the same time…
“Sect Leader Wen,” he said uncomfortably as Wen Ruohan poured out a double helping in each bowl. It was clear liquor, not wine. “This one apologizes, but…I am not accustomed to drinking.”
“No?” Wen Ruohan was smiling, but when Lan Qiren obediently met his eyes, there seemed almost to be something dangerous about his expression.
“It’s not that I question the quality,” Lan Qiren said hastily. “It’s only – you see – alcohol is prohibited –”
It was one of the rules. Unfortunately, it was one of the more controversial ones: it was generally waived outside of the Cloud Recesses, given how often hospitality required some form of drinking, and there were still elders in the Lan sect who simply refused to obey it at all, citing its uncertain lineage.
They were not in the Cloud Recesses now.
Wen Ruohan started laughing. “Little Lan,” he said. “Are you saying you’ve never had wine before? Aren’t you sixteen already?”
Lan Qiren’s shoulders involuntarily rose to his ears. “I’ve had wine!”
But only peach blossom wine, or rose wine, served at weddings as a toast for good fortune – but he couldn’t admit to that, since that was all kid’s stuff, barely classified as alcohol. He’d never even tried Emperor’s Smile, for which Gusu was famed.
Wen Ruohan’s smirk suggested that he’d guessed the truth anyway.
“It’s only a toast,” he said instead of calling him out on it, picking up his own bowl. “Surely you wouldn’t reject my good faith?”
When it was put like that, of course, there was nothing to be done for it.
Do not draw his ire, his brother had counseled him. If he approaches you, respond gracefully and comply with his wishes until someone comes to recover you.
After all, Wen Ruohan was well known for being moody and unpredictable, for having all sorts of strange whims and no inclination to refrain from indulging himself in them. Lan Qiren had no idea why he might suddenly be inclined to desire Lan Qiren’s company, of all people, nor as to why he would insist on him drinking a toast – at most, he could only speculate that it amused Wen Ruohan to force him to do things with which he was visibly uncomfortable.
And yet, as the saying went, it was unwise to refuse a toast only to be forced to drink a forfeit. Wen Ruohan, as the host, as the elder, as the powerful, could very easily press the issue even more than he already was, escalating from an interpersonal discussion to an intersect issue.
And how could Lan Qiren explain that to his brother?
“Of course not,” Lan Qiren said, giving in and lifting the bowl. “Thank you for your toast, Sect Leader Wen.”
He put the bowl to his lips and drank.
The liquor tasted sharp in a way with which he was unfamiliar, he observed, curious despite himself at the new experience, and it burned his throat when he swallowed. The sensation was almost distinctly unpleasant, actually, and he had to force his gag reflex not to activate, tears coming to his eyes.
He wondered, briefly, why people inflicted such a thing on themselves.
And then, just as he was thinking that, the alcohol hit him all at once like a tidal wave, descending in an overwhelming crash that obliterated all his senses.
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Interview with a Queen “groupie”
Cross-posted to AO3. I encourage you to leave any comments you have there.
---
I compiled this interview following a long email exchange with J, a very sweet lady who went to Ealing Art School between 1972 and 1974. She knew all four members of Queen personally and was part of their larger circle of friends.
First off, you may find this hard to believe. I don’t blame you. But I assure you I’m not pulling your leg. As well as the pictures I share in this post, I have seen current pictures of J (which I will not share to protect her privacy). There is no indication as far as I am aware that she isn’t who she says she is.
Nastally, hold up. How exactly did you find this lady?
She found me. It turns out that she has been following my story Dawn of Aquarius for quite some time. The story is set in 1969. A lot of research about the era went into it, because I wanted to portray that time period - and Freddie’s and Roger’s surroundings - as accurately and realistically as I possibly could. That was what drew J in. She tells me it brought back a lot of memories for her. One of the reasons I love DoA so much is the nostalgia, she says, which genuinely means the world to me. Eventually, she talked to me in the comment section. Of course, I freaked out!
And then, I asked her for an interview, to which she replied: I will give it a go, but you must remember that I am 65 and there were great drugs in the 70s, and at 16, away from home, I had a lot!
And so...
Here’s what is IMPORTANT TO KEEP IN MIND when you read this interview.
These are one woman’s 50-year-old memories and subjective impressions. J has been incredibly kind to let me pick her brain, trying to recall everything as best as she can. In her own words:
Just remember that when I answer the questions, it is from a 16-year-old who is 9 years younger than Freddie and a little girl with no family and friends in a strange country trying to fit in. The only reason I was there, was because some hippie thought I had a unique art style.
---
J as a teenager.
[I have edited the interview together from our long, and somewhat messy at times, email exchange. Typos have been fixed and some punctuation added for clarity, but I have not changed anything J has written to me. Again, bear in mind these are personal opinions and impressions.]
So, J, how did you end up at Ealing Art School in 1972 and what was it like?
This was the painting done for the Australian school-leaving certificate.
It placed first and gave me a scholarship. I could pick France, the USA or England. As a dual citizen of the UK, the choice was easy. The scholarship paid for board and fees, so had to be and sell whatever for spending money.
This picture is from the dorm. We all had a 10pm curfew and a very thick rule book that, I am proud to say, I broke every one of them, one by one. The rooms were on the 1st and 2nd floor. We were on the first floor, rooms one side and admin staff the other end. We had two bathrooms for 18 girls. One of them had two baths. The walls were your standard half wall, so it was a given that if you had a bath you run the risk of having a bucket of cold water dropped on you. Downstairs was the kitchen and lounge room.
I want to ask you a few things about life in London in the early 70s, to get a picture of what it was really like. For example, was there alcohol at the music gigs you went to?
If it was a school, church or community hall, no. If it was a pub, yes.
Did you and your friends drink as much then as young people tend to drink now when you all went out?
No, we didn't. I think it had a lot to do with money. We didn't have the disposable income, and it was unheard of to still be living at home with the parents after the age of 20.
Was weed and LSD as big and easily accessible as depictions of the 60s and 70s would have us believe?
The drugs! Got to have drugs. Pot (weed) was easy to grow, very cheap. Used to smoke it in bongs rather than joints, more bang for your buck. Trips [LSD] were cheap, I think. About 2 pounds and you were on the high for over 24 hours with no sleep. My drug of choice was hash. Either the oil or the block. It was a nice high, but you could not function well. But if you listen to the music of the time it really does reflect what it was like, to have a group of friends over for a session. Having said all that the most outlandish and shocking drug I ever saw anyone use was the birth control pill. Didn't you have to hide that stuff away?!
Can you tell us some 70s slang that isn’t really in use anymore? What in the world does “ultra-blagging” mean? (As written in a letter penned by Freddie to his friend Celine in 1969.)
Abso-bloody-lootely!
Man, I thought I was the bees knees to be on a scholarship in London. But that didn't stop me from jigging or having a skive day. They were the days that I blagged my way into a pub, had too many lagers and ended up chundering in the gutter. That was how you knew your night was ace. I would get a right bollocking if anyone found out. It would be a bugger when all that you could find at a car boot sale was chavtastic, but sometimes you could be Jammy Dodger and tickety-boo you find something brilliant. Bob's your uncle. Anyways, I need to see a man about a dog.
[It seems to me that J uses a bit of Australian slang here, like chundering, which makes sense because she is, after all, Australian. She also provided the translation:]
Cheers
J
It would be my honour.
I felt very privileged to be given a scholarship that let me study in England. But being so young and having no family to guide me, it was often tempting to not turn up or give a false excuse for being sick. (I had a lot of food poisoning). These would often happen if the night before I had been drinking beer and ended up vomiting outside the pub. But in my young mind that was a good night. If any of the teachers found me drinking I would be in a lot of trouble. Often I would have to say I was holding it for someone else. Not having much clothes with me, I would buy them second hand from church jumble sales or other students and, yes, Kensington market (the market). Some of the stuff would not be very tasteful or in good condition. But sometimes you would find something that was cheap and in good condition. I will stop this text now as I must go to the toilet.
PS: Ultrablagging sounds very Freddie. Blagging was used, but not ultra, meaning to persuade someone to do something or act better than you are. They were always rock stars.
Sincerely
J
[It was at this point that I realised I was talking to an absolute legend. She also told me then that the majority of her old photographs had sadly been lost when her house was flooded in 1988, including most of the photographs from her stay in London. Noooo! :(]
When you went out to dance, did you have only live music? Were there DJs yet?
You know, that is hard. We did not have a DJ. Sometimes there would be a band. Often we looked for places with a band or the jukebox. I think pubs closed at 10pm and some stayed open to 12 or 1, but public transport stopped at 9. So if you had not arranged a lift then you had to make the last bus. Most of the time we would be heading back to someone's place to get stoned and then crash there. In the morning you would have to work out where you were. When I got back to Australia, the discos were all the rage. They could have been in London too but it was not cool to like disco.
How many people would show up to Queen’s gigs when they played in pubs or at, for example, the Imperial College?
Depending on the location and the night: 10 to 1000!
So how did you first meet the Queen boys?
I was at the pub talking about a band we saw last week when Brian stuck his head into our booth telling us he knew a better one. Thinking about seeing them at the stall... Roger not often, Freddie quite a lot. Often on different stalls, I think that is why I can't remember the name. [The name of the stall. Other sources confirm that Freddie also worked at Alan Muir’s stall, for example, selling shoes.]
How well did you know them?
Just looking at your tumblr account. [she has had a look at my blog, where somebody asked if ‘groupie’ meant she had slept with the band] No, I never slept with the boys. I would not say I was a close friend, but I started at Ealing Art College in ‘72 and moved in the same circles. I loved the music and could be called one of the first groupies. I had to sneak into the pubs because I was 16. Roger always teased me for being so young. They all did seem to be one very large family, not just the band. It was a group of about twenty regulars, both male and female. Everyone knew that Fred was too gay to function. We were all at the gay rights march in London in 1972, had to run after the march. Lots of sharpies [Australian slang: youth gang, thugs] wanting to bash us. Back then I was in every protest that was going, student union rights, even the secretary protest. Just part of the times, stick it to Man or Woman. I left London in ‘74 for Australia, been here ever since and lost track of the boys but have never stopped being a fan.
What do you remember about them? How would you describe their personalities?
Don’t let the trolls hate me, but I did not like Brian. I found him to be rather full of himself. Space was a subject you never brought up around Brian or you would die of old age before he stopped talking. He was always the first to speak and start a conversation and then quickly passed you off to John, who was always tired and shy. Roger was also quite shy at times. He was very self-conscious of his looks, as he felt being pretty, nobody would take him seriously. Fred, well, he was not yet the big star, so I think he was working on his stage persona. When talking to groups at parties, he had the best stories of things that had happened to him or close friends. They were very funny and very descriptive. He was the life of the party. When he had a few to drink or was the centre of attention, he would take a cigarette out of the closest person’s hand and start smoking. Now remember this is the point of view of a 16-year-old girl that was a fish out of water, trying to fit in and not having much worldly experience.
It is said that Freddie and Roger were very stylish. How did they dress in everyday life?
Fred would do his hair and makeup to check the mail. Yes, he was always turned out, but so were a lot of people. Freddie did go over the top with hats, scarfs and jewellery. With Roger, it is a surprise he was able to have kids his jeans were that tight. And his shirts were always open unless he was in a jumper. I think it could have been so that you knew he was male, as it was the start of the unisex clothing. When I travelled out of London I realised it was a London thing. When I got back to Australia everyone thought I was a show-off.
There are some disagreements about how tall especially Freddie was. I know this is a difficult thing to try and remember accurately. But do you remember?
Freddie was taller than me but everyone was. Roger was shorter than Fred, but I never saw Roger in platform shoes. I did meet up with the band by chance at Sydney airport in 1984, said ‘hello’ but they did not remember me, or if they did then they did not say anything and I did not want to be a dork. At that time Fred was the same height as me (5ft 8in/1.72m), Roger was taller than me. It made me think at the time that he had a growth spurt! John was shorter than me and Brian has always been tall. [I have a feeling the platform shoes - or lack thereof - played a vital role here! Although 172cm for Freddie seems likely.]
You said everyone knew Freddie was “too gay to function”. Attitudes towards homosexuality have changed so much that it can be hard for us, now, to fathom what exactly people must have thought of him. Was it more of a joke that he was so camp? Was it something he would have been teased for? Also, he had a girlfriend. Did you ever meet Mary or the other girlfriends?
In 1972 a whole group of us - and I am pretty sure that Fred, Roger, Brian and Tim were there - were in a gay pride march. [Since then, J has found and showed me a picture of a boy she thought was Tim Staffel, and it wasn't, so Tim was most definitely not there. Whether Freddie, Roger and Brian really were there or if J is misremembering, who knows?] Us youth believed you could not choose who you fell in love with and if it was same sex, so what? However, if it was two girls then it was every guy’s duty to change her!
It was also a time that the gayer the guy was, the more the girls were interested. Also, if a guy was gay then you did not have to worry about him and he was a good person to take with you if you were going out drinking. However, the police, parents, teachers and anyone of authority were horrified and treated them badly. I did meet Mary a couple of times at pubs and once after a gig. This is just my opinion, but I found her a bitch. It could be that I was so young. It could be that I was very Australian. It could be that she felt threatened as my accent was a magnet to people around. And the boys (Queen) were no exception. Brian had a cousin in OZ and was always asking questions. I remember that my close group of friends thought that Mary made the perfect girlfriend for Fred as they were as fake as each other. Having said that about them, I often wonder if I would think the same now and if my perceptions were just because she would not give me the time of Day. Chrissy and Jo were a lot of fun.
This was before your time, but I read that Freddie's nickname at Ealing Art School was ‘Freddie Baby’. Any ideas how this came about? His showmanship or maybe personality traits?
I don't think so. There were an older crowd that would talk like that. I think the slang ‘baby’ was a 60’s thing, like groovy baby.
How long, roughly, did Roger and Freddie have their stall? I can't find anywhere when it closed down. What did it actually look like? Was it a sort of wooden stall type of thing? Or an actual room? What were some of the other things people sold at Kensington Market? Mostly clothes or all sorts?
The markets were little divided shops. The back was brick and the walls wood. I have been trying all day to remember the name. [Of the stall.] I think it was something hard to say. More often than not it would be Freddie's dad in the store. It was still open when I left. Roger and Freddie were both in the store on Saturdays and some Sundays. There was a girl, I think Jill, who was in the store more. And during the week it could be anyone. You name it and you could get it at the markets. Second hand or designer clothes, shoes, jewellery, pot and assortments. Hair cuts, food, bric-a-brac.
Wait, wait. What? Freddie’s dad? Really now?
Yeah, it was an older Indian man. so we just assumed it was his father. It was my understanding that he started the stall then the boys would work it as the whole markets were set up for younger people, but if needed he would work there. I don't think the boys would be able to pay the rent on their own. [I have since found out that the stall closed in late 1971, and Freddie continued to work at the Market until '74, for Alan Mair and possibly others. So the stall J witnessed wasn't their original stall - explaining all the different people she saw there - but she had no way of knowing that it wasn't.] They always had incense burning that was very big in the 70s. I still occasionally bring out the sticks, but it does not last like the candles and diffusers of today. If you could get in touch with Robert Daniels, he ran ChaChaDumDum it was the stall across from Freddie. He would know the dates.
[J says it’s this look, in a picture she happened across while looking at my tumblr] Yep, that is the one. It usually means that he does not believe or agree with something that was said and is working out how to respond, or he has lost the plot.
You mentioned Roger seemed shy to you at times. Was he also quite charming? We read a lot about what a chick magnet he was. Was this the impression you had?
My favorite subject! I had a thing for Roger. Everyone has a type and mine is the blue-eyed blond. Now, before you ask, was he brunet? No, he was a mouse/dirty blond. If it was summer he would have blond streaks mostly at the ends. He knew he was pretty and was always dressed in the latest fashion and had the current hairstyle. So, being my type I was constantly watching him. Everyone slept around during that time. I did not notice Roger doing it more or less. 80% of the time he was with Jo. Yes, he was a chick magnet, but he did not do the chasing. He was always very polite to everyone. If it ever looked like there would be any conflict he would be the first to leave it. It was not that he was a coward, just not into conflict. If he saw anyone that needed help he was right there, and often had to have Freddie's back. I never saw him in a fight. He could always talk his way out of things. He was also very patient and would listen for hours to other people talk. However, he would get this vacant look in his eyes at times.
And Freddie would either click his fingers, change the subject or just give up. I don’t think that Brian noticed, and it would be fair game for John, he would see how far he could push it. Roger liked to drink a fair bit and when drunk he would be hanging all over Jo. If she was not there then he missed Jo. If, however, he thought that he or his friends were not being respected, then look out! It was a verbal volcano heading your way. That is what happened to me one time. I was trying to talk with my friends close to where a drunken Roger was and I yelled at him to shut the hell up, you wannabe blond. We/I coped a mouthful back, all in the same sentence, that finished with: Sorry, I didn't realise you were on your rags (period)! I have to have the last word, so I told him the truth: I don’t get them yet! (I was a late starter.) He went so red in the face and called me JB [jail bait] from then.
You also mentioned Roger’s cat Ziggy having kittens. I read about this but never when exactly it was. Do you remember?
I think it was winter ‘73. I remember being cold when he was asking around the pub. [To find homes for the kittens, I gather.]
Is it quite strange reading fictional interpretations of real people you knew? When did you first find out there was Queen fanfic?
No, we used to make up stories about people all the time, a verbal fanfic. Was looking up Adam Lambert and came across the fanfics. Some had me in stitches! Others, like DoA, had me hooked.
Please, allow me to be a little self-indulgent at the end. What's one thing I got totally RIGHT in DoA?
All the Ibex stuff.
What's one thing I got totally WRONG in DoA?
Roger did not have a temper, and I don’t know what the go with his father was, but he would talk about him quite a bit and was always visiting his mum. [Absolutely fair, not only did I change the timeline of Roger’s parents divorce in DoA - for lack of information at the time - but also created a completely fictional narrative around it for the sake of storytelling.]
J, thank you so much for all this, sincerely. Can you tell me a little more about yourself? Are you still an artist?
I don't paint or draw any more. At the age of a 50 the doctors operated on an aneurysm or three, and now my eyesight is very bad, I have no fine motor skills and a tremor. I was married in January 1984 and have just celebrated our 37 year anniversary. I have one daughter who is 30 and two great, although tiring grandkids. A girl, 11, and one boy, 5. I have lived my life as the average middle class Australian with great memories. Talking with you has helped me a lot to remember a time when the world was mine for the taking. When I returned to OZ I started nursing, met my best friend, and we planned that once we graduated we would go back to London to study midwifery. But I fell in love instead.
J's wedding in 1984. As you can see, she found her own blue-eyed blond.
---
Upon request, J has shared some of her past and present artwork with me.
These are from her time at Ealing Art School:
These were done later, back in Australia:
J: Did this just before Christmas as you had inspired me. It did not require fine motor skills!
So there you have it! I hope you found this little glimpse through a 16-year-old girl’s eyes as much of a fascinating read as I did. I urge everybody one more time to remember that J did not have to share any of this, and I think we all owe her a big thank you for delving into her memories. She is likely to see the responses on AO3, so I have comment moderation enabled there as I will not let anybody harass this lovely lady. The tumblr she created is @since72, but she isn’t really an active user and also very new to it all. Again, I can only urge everybody to be respectful.
If you have other burning question for J, feel free to leave them in the comments on AO3. I will either pass them on, or she may want to reply to them herself directly.
#Queen band#Freddie Mercury#Roger Taylor#John Deacon#Brian May#interview#i am so excited about this#so much into#information#JB
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sweet as pie.
a/n: please join me in welcoming sam wilson to the page. first story dedicated to this classic man, surely not the last.
pairing: sam wilson x black!reader
rating: 💙
main masterlist | taglist | divider © @whimsicalrogers
sum: sam is home. although times have changed, his sister’s intentions for him have not. sarah would love for her brother to settle down, and she knows the perfect person to make him do it. but when sam gets caught up with work, he misses the date sarah has set up for him.
words: 2.3K
It’s funny how the human mind works.
How easily certain moments can slip through its cracks. Names, dates, songs, conversations, faces lost to the wind, never to be remembered again. In the same turn, how those same things can be retained, recited down to the last detail in perfection.
Sam Wilson has seen enough in his lifetime--more than most men. No one could condemn him for forgetting the smallest of details from time to time. Sometimes he does. He is human. But, strangely, he can never forget a single detail when it comes to you.
Sam can still remember the first time he saw you.
The coffee-colored, cardboard box you carried in your arms--'living room' written across the front panel in your mother’s flawless penmanship. The dark curls pineappled to rest atop the crown of your head--a last-ditch attempt of fighting the Louisiana heat. The oversized Purple Rain t-shirt faded from too many runs through the wash. The round, black sunglasses sliding down the brim of your nose as you paused to take note of the boy watching you from his front window. Down to the scuffed, worn high tops that could barely pass for white.
He even remembers the soft smile you gave him once he froze--too embarrassed to move from the window after being caught watching you for the third time--before turning to lug the box up the steps of your front porch.
It was the summer of ‘94, and Sam Wilson was running late. He was expected to be at the docks assisting his father. Instead, he was peeping around his mother’s powder blue curtains, attempting to score glimpses of his new neighbors. Primarily their teenage daughter.
It’s not every day that Delacroix welcomes a new resident--let alone an entire family. Later that night, over dinner, his mother shared that you were entering your senior year--same as him.
He still remembers the knotting of his stomach. The strange and unusual experience of being tongue-tied when he’d tripped over his name--his name for god’s sake--that morning, you opened your front door to find him and Sarah on the other side. The kindness of your dark brown eyes as they met his, the soft giggle you released as you ignored his sputtering to accept the chocolate chip cookies his mother sent her children to deliver.
He also remembers the vision of you in your wedding dress. The smile he had to keep plastered on his face the night he learned his skepticism, surrounding death by broken heart, faded. You’ve never felt pain until you’ve seen the woman you love marry another man.
Sam must admit. When he returned, he expected--hoped--that those feelings would have disappeared. That they would have been erased from his life. Only, the moment he returned home, Sam discovered those feelings remained--were stronger even.
Five years later, he found you in the same house. Your parents no lived there. After their return from the blip, they packed up their things. Suddenly, tackling their bucket list was their main priority. You still had your husband’s last name but no husband. He was gone, lost to a younger woman.
Five years later, and Sam Wilson finds himself still frozen by the sight of you.
The long-sleeved maroon shirt he’s tugged on is not his number one choice. It’s all he had in his bag. The time on his watch had forced him into an ultimatum. Either run home, shower, and change into the outfit Sarah helped him pick out and risk being five hours late. Or head straight to your house, and risk being four hours and forty-five minutes late.
Sam opted for the latter.
Flowers in hand, he stands in the gateway of your backyard. His eyes admire the glow of the string lights against your skin. The yard has been transformed. Several tables and chairs, enough to host the entire neighborhood, squeezed into its space. Filled with music and laughter a few hours before the backyard is now quiet. Only the sounds of crickets, and the rustle of the trash bag in your hand, can be heard over the racing of Sam’s heart.
“Hey.” Sam takes a step forward, clearing his throat. “Sorry, I’m late.”
“Late is an understatement.” You don’t bother looking up from the plates stacked in your hands. Dumping them into the black trash bag, you move towards the next table. “You missed the entire party.”
After dumping the trash, you realize that Sam is no longer in the backyard. You find him in the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” You ask, coming to a stop in the doorway.
Sam glances up from the soap-covered glass in his hands. “Helping you clean up.”
You glance around the kitchen, only to find that he’s managed to wash nearly the entire stack of dishes you’ve been dreading the entire night.
“I didn’t realize you still did stuff like this,” you tease. “What with you running off to save the world. Figured you’d just hire someone to do it for you.”
“Guess it’s a good thing I got you to keep me humble,” he winks.
Sam dries his hands with the bumblebee printed hand towel, a satisfied grin on his lips as he takes in the spotless kitchen. He’s too busy admiring his handiwork to realize you’re standing alongside him.
He turns, the snarky comment he’s prepared lost in his throat as he takes you in.
You can’t deny him a smile as you watch his eyes widen, a boyish grin brightening his face as he takes in the plate you’re holding. On it rests a single slice of homemade apple pie, topped with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and perfectly drizzled caramel.
“I think you’ve earned this.”
“You saved me a piece?”
“No,” you sigh, allowing your eyes to roll. “I actually saved it for me. But if I have to look at your pathetic attempt at puppy dog eyes one more second--”
“You were hoping I’d show up.” The grin on Sam’s face has morphed into a trademark smirk, the sight pulling a giggle from your lips. “You and I both know you don’t save, or share your pie with just anyone.”
Sam’s observation is spot on.
You don’t share your pie--or food, for that matter--with just anyone. In the chaos of hosting the neighborhood, you didn’t have a moment to stop and enjoy your own party. Let alone a slice of the apple pies you’d spent the previous night preparing.
Apple pies--specifically yours--were Sam Wilson’s true weakness.
The moment he sees you lugging home a bag full of granny smith and macintosh apples, he’s on full helicopter mode. You’re not sure how he knows, but he’s got a radar. One that somehow allows him to prophesize the exact moment the pies are out of the oven and set aside to cool.
He’ll show up, stopping by to say hi, or to see if you still need the drainpipe your ex-husband never got around to working on fixed, or to “pass along a message” from Sarah--as though your best friend couldn’t pick up the phone and call. Whatever the excuse Sam Wilson always manages to be the one to get the first slice of your apple pie. He’s smart enough to know that once the children of the neighborhood catch a whiff, they’ll show up on your doorstep. And as much as he loves the kids--Sam isn’t letting them steal his pie.
Sam’s words come out muffled through a mouthful of apples and crust. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, Y/N. You should sell these. You'd make a killing.”
“And I’ve already told you, it’s just for fun,” you dismiss his advice, taking another spoonful of ice cream. “Besides, what do you expect me to do? Quit my good paying--although painstakingly boring--job in the hopes that enough people will like my baking to keep me afloat?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Sam nods, a smile growing as he watches your eyes roll.
It’s a conversation the two of you have had for years. Here is the rundown of how it plays out--every single time.
Sam: suggests that you finally open up the bakery you’ve been talking about since your teenage years.
You: dismiss his words of advice, reminding Sam that most teenage dreams are foolish.
Sam: ends the conversation with, “I’d show up every day for a piece.”
You: spend the rest of the night wondering if he’s right, about taking the chance, only to psych yourself out before going to bed.
“I’m just saying,” Sam sighs, sliding the plate to the side. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned. Life is going to pass you by, regardless, no matter what you do. If you give it a shot, and it fails--which is never going to happen--your life isn’t going to end.”
You glance up from the table, a tiny smile on your lips as you take in his soft smile.
“Maybe you’re right,” you shrug. “If all else fails, I’ll just tell everyone it’s the Falcon’s favorite pie--”
“You’ll have people flooding in from across the country.”
“It’s settled,” you giggle. “I’m using you in my business model.”
“Hey,” Sam chuckles. “As long as I get a cut, I’m not complaining.”
A silence falls over the tiny kitchen as your gaze drops from his.
Sam lightly raps his knuckles against the table before pushing his chair back.
“Uh—I should probably head out. You’re probably tired. I just wanted to come by and apologize...again.”
“Wow,” the light laugh you release halts Sam’s act of standing up. “The second you get what you came for you hit the ground running?”
The response is automatic. The chance to tease him is one you never pass up.
Sam’s brow raises as he takes in your smile.
“That’s not what I came for,” he admits.
“What did you come for then?”
“To ask you over to my place for breakfast tomorrow.”
The proposition hangs in the air, Sam nearly squirming in his seat as you take your time studying his gaze. You let out a sigh, your shoulders shrugging lightly, once you finally speak.
“I don’t know, Sam” You shake your head. Picking up the plate, you stand and cross the kitchen to the sink. “You just have so many responsibilities, nowadays, running around trying to save the world--”
“I’m not going anywhere tonight,” he’s quick with the reassurance. “Or any day, until we get through that date you promised me.”
You turn to face him, arms crossing over your chest as he comes to a stop before you.
“Say I show up. You have to promise me something.”
“Whatever you want.”
He knows that promise can end up being a slippery slope, depending on how hard you’re willing to make him work for it.
“If something comes up, in the future, you call me. And you tell me exactly why you can’t be here. Nobody gets to stand me up. Not the Falcon. And sure as hell, not Sam Wilson. Understood?”
Sam’s eyes drop to your interlaced fingers, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he gives your hand a gentle squeeze.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.” Standing on your toes, you place a kiss against his cheek. “Now, go get some sleep. You’re making me breakfast in the morning. I’m expecting waffles, bacon, freshly squeezed O.J.--the works.”
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#sorry its up late ya'll already know i had to watch the new episode of All American#sam wilson x reader#sam wilson x black!reader#sam wilson imagine#the falcon x you#tfatws imagine#anthony mackie imagine
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The Archer and The Wrestler.
Written by: @thegirlfromoverthepond
Prompt 90: The Olympic committee is selling sponsorships and heavily advertising the upcoming games. The most photogenic of each sport is asked to pose for pics and attend functions, film commercial together, do some interviews. What sports represented by Katniss, Peeta, others? Required to look cozy? Animosity behind those smiles? Competitiveness? Banter? Any secrets? Do they have a “breakfast club” ending? by @567inpanem
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Summary: Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark meet in the office of Trinket Advertising, where they have to shoot pictures for sponsors.
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Thank you @567inpanem for the prompt ! I had fun writing it :) PLus I could place it in my country which is always a plus. I hope you won’t be disappointed …
My deepest thanks to @sunsetsrmydreams for pre reading and betaing.
To @xerxia31 and @javistg thank you for hosting such a nice event … and So sorry for the delay !
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I should be practicing, she thought, instead of pacing the long, white, corridor of Trinket Advertising.
Katniss still had a ton to do for the Games. Be sure to be fit, to be healthy, to be accurate. To shoot straight.
She really didn’t want to spend her afternoon waiting for some photographer to ask her to act natural in front of a camera. But she was just glad she didn’t have to shoot with someone from the team, as she was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to focus with the constant bickering between Johana and Gale or how Haymitch, their trainer, would “Sweetheart” this or that.
Still no clue as to why she had been picked to be the representative of her sport for the sponsors and advertising. She wasn’t really sure she knew what it entailed, how much time she would spend parading around the media instead of practicing. She knew archery wasn’t such a popular sport in the States, preventing her from spending huge amounts of time in talk shows, or interviews.
Plus, seeing the recognition made Prim, her sister, so proud and happy, Katniss hadn’t been able to turn down the offer when it came.
“Kathy Everdeen? You’re up next.” The assistant’s piercing voice echoed in the long corridor. Katniss closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to not correct the woman.
“Welcome to the Strange Name That Can’t Be Taken Seriously Club.” Another voice, male this time, made her open her eyes.
In front of her was a man of around her age, wearing the male version of the US Olympics shirt she had on..
Only his was stretched across his broad frame, where she was glad hers was loose around her lean body.
He extended his hand.
“Peeta Mellark. Wrestling. Founding member of the club.” She stared at his hand, before moving a step forward to shake it. “You’re the archer ? Katniss right?”
She stopped mid-movement. How could he know her name ?
“I saw your name on the list, so I figured you’d be next ?” He said, almost shyly, as if he had offended her, or invaded her privacy.
She saw the movement of his hand, that she had left unshaken, going to his hair, his fingers raking through his mane of curls.
He had done nothing wrong, she realized, just tried to clear the air. She took a breath, before extending her own hand in front of her.
“Yeah, I’m Katniss. Archery. How much is the subscription to the club?”
He laughed, before shaking her hand.
“How about tea after you’re done ?”
“Too bad I only drink coffee … but I guess if you can wait a bit, that’s doable.” Katniss almost smiled when Peeta started to laugh.
“Oh my goodness, I have a genius idea !” A voice froze their handshaking. “We are going to do pair shootings! Mix the sports together, along with the portraits. It’s going to be legendary !”
A woman with very pink hair matching her very pink outfit stood in the entrance leading towards the studio. As soon as she stopped talking, a flock of what Katniss could only think were assistants came in view, all clapping their hands or praising the Pink Lady.
“Effie, this is another grand idea! We should start right now with these two!” The woman that had misspelled Katniss’ name said, “as they are both here.”
“What are you waiting for, Octavia, take her to make-up right now! I need to call Plutarch, I am having a ton of ideas ! Hush hush, now come on, quickly!”
Katniss saw the assistants moving as one, starting to circle her and Peeta, moving them forward inside the studio, where a couple were checking their cameras and the large umbrellas reflecting the lights.
“Cinna, Portia, I had an epiphany!” The Pink Lady walked towards the couple as quickly as her pencil dress and very high heels allowed her, while Katniss was ushered to the make-up table. She noticed that Peeta was following right behind her, with the other half of the assistants. She met his gaze, saw him shrug before he was taken to another table, shielded from her view by the different makeup and hair artists around them.
“We’ll start with you, Kathy!” Octavia said a few minutes later. Katniss took another deep breath, calming her temper. In just a few minutes, she’ll be gone. Archery wasn’t high on the list of sponsors, nobody cared about them, but for the bow and arrows brands.
Katniss didn’t have time to muse as the sound of Octavia’s heels on the tiling started again. She rose from the chair, following the young woman towards a dressing cabin.
“You’ll find your uniform inside. You’re a S, right?”
“How do you know?” Katniss asked, surprised that the woman guessed correctly.
“I have an eye for that. Plus, it’s written on your card.”
She repressed another eyeroll, trying to keep in mind that Octavia was only doing her job, before she entered the dressing cabin.
White pants, blue polo lined with red, and a white undershirt to protect her arms. The standard equipment.
Yet, it was something to see it, to realize she would represent her country in the most important tournament there could be, that she had achieved one of her goals. To be an Olympian.
She took the polo, turning it slowly, almost afraid to read what was on the back.
Everdeen.
Her father’s name, embroidered in the cotton of the shirt.
Pride rushed through her veins as her fingers traced the letters.
“I did it, Papa. I’m going to the Olympics.”
______________________
It was now official. She hated photoshoots. First, because it was taking an awful lot of time, then because you had to smile. All.the.time. That Katniss hasn’t screamed yet or ran off the door was entirely due to her willpower gained from years of training.
The photographer, Cinna, wasn’t a talker. He was taking his time to snap picture after picture, never acknowledging Octavia or Effie’s advice for her to smile this way, or that way. Because there was apparently a way to smile properly.
She could feel her anger rise with each passing minute, the incessant chatter of the women, the silence of the photographer, the heat from the spotlights, the wind from the huge fans, the itching from the label of the polo on her neck…
“I think it’s time to pair them up.” The photographer’s voice calmly said, silencing the two women.
From being Effie and Octavia, Peeta made his way towards the scene where Katniss was standing.
Before anyone could say a thing, Cinna turned to Effie and his assistant.
“Ladies, can you please check if we have athletes that can be paired tomorrow too? I’m sorry to ask in such short notice, but I think Effie’s idea is something we have to work on.. of course it will mean you change all the schedules..”
“Oh, my, Cinna, but yes, of course! If you think so ? But will you be able to manage with these two?” Effie Trinket asked. Katniss could feel the sharpness of her gaze as the older woman looked at her.
“If there is the slightest problem, I’ll make sure Portia comes to get you.”
“Yes, please. Because if we can manage to pair Brutus and Enobaria, we might be on something, right?”
“Right.” Cinna nodded, before moving towards his material, his back to Katniss as he rummaged through his material.
She looked at her partner in the photoshoot, who seemed as lost as she was. He kept running his hand in his mane of blond hair, before shoving them in his pockets. Seconds after, he was doing the same movements again. She realized she was doing the same, undoing the end of her braid before redoing it, over and over again.
She really couldn’t wait to be out of the studio.
“Will you two stand back to back, please?” Cinna’s voice startled her, even though it was barely over a whisper. “Portia, can you please close the door?”
That’s when she realized how silent the place was without Effie and Octavia. Without their neverending chatter, their disapproving tongue clicks, or their exaggerated sighs.
It almost felt … good.
Almost.
She started to move then, turning her back to Peeta, before crossing her eyes, hoping he would take the hint to do the same. The sooner they were done, the better. She had her bow waiting for her, after all.
She felt the fabric of Peeta’s polo on her arm, yet, never his weight on her back.
She looked at Cinna, who nodded approvingly, before starting to take pictures.
“Should we smile?” She heard Peeta’s deep voice right behind her, asking the question she didn’t dare ask.
“Do what you want, don’t mind me.” the photographer answered behind his material.
“What we want?” Katniss echoed, unsure she had heard correctly. The previous hour had been filled with recommendations on what to do, on poses to take, on how to smile …
Cinna lowered his camera.
“I’m not Effie. Beauty is everywhere, it doesn’t have to be faked by poses or false smiles. Just do what you two want.” He shrugged before checking something on his camera. “I’ll need a few minutes to fix this, try to relax.”
Katniss turned to her partner in shooting, to realize he had already moved and was facing her.
“You told me you were a coffee girl, right?”
“Yup. Black, no sugar.”
“I don’t take sugar in my tea, either. See we have something in common.” Peeta put his hands high. “Oh, no high five ? We’re not close enough yet.”
“Definitely not, singlet boy.”
“Ouch, that hurts. Know, Miss Everdeen, that a lot of women find that uniform .. appealing.” He raised his eyebrows, wiggling them explicitly.
“I bet they do. The main question is, do you have to shave your torso, so your opponent won’t have the opportunity to pull at your chest hair ?”
Katniss didn’t know what came to her to ask such a question. It was like Peeta made it easy for her to talk, when she usually wasn’t famous for speaking or making her voice heard without shouting.
It was like he had a calm, soothing temper, like a lazy river, ready to cover the fire that was in her.
Maybe they made a good pair.
“Yeah, the worst is the wax under the armpit.” He deadpanned, not even letting a smile on his face.
She could totally imagine him taken down to “Beauty Base Zero” as the woman at the beauty parlor had told her the only time she went there. It included all sorts of treatments, each worse than the others. She even told her sister to not gift her with that kind of torture anymore.
“Ouch.. I hope your girlfriend covers you in aloe after that …”
Katniss knew she wasn’t the most girly woman around, yet she sometimes put on mascara or had her legs waxed from time to time, mostly for competitions when she had decided to wear the short-skirts or the long bermudas.
“Well, meet Hanna, my girlfriend.” Peeta said casually, showing his right hand, wiggling his eyebrows - again.
It took Katniss a few seconds to catch up on the double-entendre.
“Oh, my, you’re disgusting!” Her words couldn’t completely hide her smile. There was something to this man that somehow made her want to talk, to speak, to even trust him.
“I bunked with Finnick Odair at the Youth Olympic Games. That was disgusting! He shaves himself ! the room was full of his hair!”
“Well, you could have collected them before putting them on Ebay. You’d be rich by now.”
“I should have, yes. Dam, why didn’t I know you back then to give me good advice!”
“I wasn’t at the YOG.”
“I know, I would have noticed you.”
She looked at him, with questions in her mind. His eyes were blue, so clear nothing was shadowing them, she was left without words.
Click.
—-
Katniss couldn’t believe she was at the Olympics. In Paris, France. That her childhood dream of bringing a golden medal home was nothing but a few arrows away. A lot of stress, too. She raised her bow, lining the target with her eye, throwing a quick glance to the small flags lining the area to check the wind, took a deep breath, before letting go of the arrow.
She knew right away that it would miss the center of the target. A breath of hair on the right, still not enough to get full marks. She had underestimated the wind on this large, open area that the Esplanade des Invalides was.
“Not too bad.” She jumped at the voice behind her. Maybe some kind of volunteer that had been allowed inside the arenas for training. She needed to focus on the target, on the little golden area that would make her mark a ten in the competition.
She took another arrow from the quiver on her left hip, slid it in the bow, looked at the wind, took a deep breath, lifted her weapon, aimed at the target. With the next exhalation of air, she let go of the arrow, knowing right away it would hit the center.
She had never been able to explain how she knew, each and every time how her arrow would behave. It was a feeling, a sensation, deep inside of her.
Thunk !
She looked at the target, saw that indeed the arrow was in the yellow area. She almost let a smile show on her mouth, when the same voice distrubed her again.
“You might win if you shoot like that.”
Katniss closed her eyes, letting a sigh escape before turning to face whoever decided to disturb her training.
“Peeta!” She felt a smile forming on her face. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugged. “I was practising, then decided to go for a walk. It’s Paris after all!”
“Here?” Katniss was pretty sure she hadn’t seen any other sport on the green grass in front of the Invalides.
“Oh, not here here, over there!” Peeta turned, his right hand moving over his shoulder, showing the Eiffel Tower. “Wrestling is on the Champ de Mars, at the feet of the tower”
“Really? You’ll have to tell me when you’re in the tournament. So I can come and see you.”
Peeta’s hand went to his head, his fingers raking through his mane of golden curls.
“You’re sure ? If the press sees you there….”
“I’ll tell them I came to support a friend.”
“But you know how the paparazzi are …”
“We’re in France, not the US, nobody cares about archery or wrestling - no offense intended.”
“None taken.”
Peeta looked around, before coming closer to the barriers surrounding the archery arena, then leaning slightly on them, giving Katniss the opportunity to see the muscles in his forearms. She wondered briefly if he already had his waxing treatment.
“Something on your mind, Everdeen?”
Who was he again? A mind-reader ? She quickly turned her eyes from his arms, not lingering on the broad expense of his chest, or how bright his eyes were.
“Yup. I have to finish training if I don’t want to look too ridiculous when the competition starts.”
“What do you say we try one of these cafés when you’re done?” he casually asked. Katniss could see something in his eyes - was it hope ?
Damn, was he playing unfair by throwing coffee into the mix. As if she was known to refuse a cup.
“I still have a few minutes of practice, maybe a raincheck?”
He shrugged, before looking around. “I’m in no rush. I can wait. Patience is a virtue, young grasshopper.”
She nodded, before taking another arrow out of her quirrel.
“Yes, Sensei.”
The arrow hit the center of the target.
———————–
Katniss knew she shouldn’t be there. Not that she didn’t want to, but after pictures of her and Peeta laughing in a small café had hit the stands, her phone hadn’t stopped beeping, demanding a confirmation if there was something going on between the two of them. That, perhaps, all the rumors that had been born after the photoshoot with Cinna, were not rumors at all.
Effie Trinket was, of course, delighted. Jo wouldn’t stop asking about LoverBoy, Gale was threatening to beat the shit out of Peeta (Katniss was almost ready to let him try to do that), and Haymitch kept on asking her if her little romance would damage her results in the field.
Everything was peachy.
Yet, she couldn’t find it in her to regret the time she had spent with Peeta. She couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed so much, that she had been able to confide to someone as she had done with him, how he had been open to her too. Like two old friends rekindling a friendship after spending years apart.
Friends they could have been, they had realized when discussing their native places. They had grown up about a hundred miles apart, in the same district of West Virginia. They could have crossed paths about a dozen times, sharing memories of the Meadow Park, where they both had spent time, Katniss had even worked there when they were younger.
Sometime during their afternoon chat, a photographer had spotted them, recognized them, and snapped pictures.
That was a trending subject on Twitter minutes later, before someone even created a ship name for them. The hashtag #Everlark trended for more than a day.
Katniss had pushed her phone away, blocked all the numbers she didn’t know, called Peeta to apologize, before focusing solely on her training.
Her perfect plan had crumbled in hours, when Peeta had caught her in the Victor’s Village Cafeteria, explaining how he was sorry for everything, as the idea of coffees had been his.
They had ended up sharing a meal with Gale and Jo, as well as some of Peeta’s teammates, who kept joking about the Everlark hashtag. In a matter of two hours Katniss was laughing with them, the pain of Effie’s scheme forgotten.
That was why she was currently in the corridors of the Arena where Judo and Wrestling competitions were being held. Her own tournament was starting in two days and Katniss would rather watch sports she didn’t understand, then stay in her room, anxiously waiting for her turn to compete.
Maybe it was time for her to play team mate too. She had put on her US Team attire, gotten her accreditations cards, before jumping into one of the buses that led her to the Champ de Mars.
She hadn’t seen Peeta since breakfast the morning before, when she had forgotten to ask him if he was still okay for her to come.
The building was elegantly sitting on the green grass. In the back, she could see the Eiffel Tower, all dressed up in her beauty and dignity.
In a few minutes she had found the hall with the wrestlers, and a seat in the ranks reserved for athletes. She recognized Thom and Thresh, two of Peeta’s teammates, who waved at her. She talked to them for a few minutes, learning their categories were competing in the coming days.
“Peeta should be in two matches.” Thresh informed her as she sat on the plastic seat. “He should make it to the quarters easily. After…”
“After?” She asked, unsure what THresh meant.
“After, in the quarters he should face Katø, the Russian. A beast. “
“A beast?”
“Yeah, 164 pounds of malice and nastiness.”
“Charming… Maybe someone will eat this Katø first ?”
Thresh shook his head.
“Na, not with this draw. His first worthy opponent will be Peeta.”
She looked at Thresh, thinking back to the afternoon she had spent with Peeta, remembering what he had told her.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed so much, her cheeks still hurt. They had walked away from the Olympic Archery range, following the banks of the Seine, looking at the amazing monuments, walking by the Musee d’Orsay that Peeta had told her he wanted to visit.
They had crossed the river on a wooden bridge only for pedestrians, walked along the Louvre, until they had found a small café near the Palais Royal where they were still sitting.
“You all have bread names? Why? “
Peeta shrugged, before leaning down a little on the metallic table, as if he was about to confide his deepest secret.
“We own a bakery, back in Panem. Maybe one day, I’ll tell you my real name …”
She laughed, leaning over the table too. She felt bold enough to run her hand on his definitely toned forearm, letting her finger wander up to his shoulder.
She saw the color of his eyes change from crystal blue to a darker shade, heard him take a breath in.
But Katniss was on a mission.
She leaned closer to him, her hand coming closer to his neck, her nimble fingers playing with the collar of his shirt.
She could feel him tense under her touch, and lifted her eyes, to find his locked on her, as if he wanted to get lost in her. It took Katniss a few seconds to return to her task. With a movement of her wrist, she grabbed his accreditation cards, pulling them over his head before leaning back into her seat.
“That’s disappointing, actually. Your name is Mark ? Mark Mellark ?”
“Because your name is really Katniss?”
She put down his accreditations, took hers from around her neck, holding them out to him. He took them with a smirk before looking at the name written on them.
“Your name is really Katniss?”
“Yep. My mom’s Lily, my dad is Alon, and my sister is Primrose. You’re a bread family, we are a plant family.” She snatched the cards from his hands. “ You’re lucky you didn’t bet a thing, Mark Mellark.”
“Don’t call me Mark.” He grumbled, leaning back onto his chair.
“Well, then if you don’t want the world to call you Mark, you know what’s left to do, Mellark!”.
She casually put down his cards on the table, taking her time to lean back too.
“Oh? And that would be, Sensei ?”
“Easy, Grasshopper. Make sure you don’t get a medal.”
“That, Robin Hood, is not an option.”
The steadiness, the certainty of his voice made her shiver. Or maybe it was the wind, coming from large trees nearby. Surely the trees, she thought.
“I mean,” he started “ we all came here for a reason, and it’s not to give someone else our place on the podium. Plus with all the visibility we have this year, we have to give it our best, right?”
She nodded. That was what they had to do, what they had trained for, what they were in France for.
“Katniss?” Thom’s voice took her out of her memories.
“Sorry, I was lost in thoughts.”
“Look down, on the mat. The guy in blue? It’s Katø.”
“That’s a man? He looks like a mountain of muscles …”
“Well, he is a mountain of muscles … “ The referee interrupted Thom’s sentence with the start of the first period. “That won’t take long, he isn’t known for dancing around.”
Katniss watched as the blond man, so different from Peeta rushed into his opponent, pinning him on the mat in a few seconds.
“Told you. That lasted 25 seconds, he won’t be tired for the next round.” Thom said. “Peeta’s next.”
Katniss nodded searching the ground until she spotted him, wearing a red singlet.
“Why is he wearing red ? Blue is a better color for him.” She asked, her eyes trained on the now familiar figure walking towards the mat. Damn, these singlets left little to the imagination. To say they were fit-forming was the understatement of the year. She could see all the lines of Peeta’s muscles moving as he approached the fighting zone.
“Because he’ll be the first one called. It’s the rules.” She turned towards Thresh, who had the biggest smile on his face she’d ever seen him don.
“Why are you smiling?” She was wondering what had been so funny in her words.
“‘Blue is a better color for him’ - you sound like -”
“Be careful, Thresh. She shoots arrows…” Thom interrupted. “Now if you want to see Peeta wrestle, maybe you can look at the mat ?”
With a last threatening glance towards Thresh that was met with another huge smile and air kisses, Katniss turned towards the arena, noticing how different Peeta’s posture was from Katø’s.
“He’s going to tire the Georgian who isn’t as flexible as he is. And as soon as there will be an opening, he’ll go for it.” Thom explained, as she watched the complicated dance of joint locks, takedowns, and other things she had no idea what they were.
“This must be exhausting…” she whispered, as she saw Peeta finally going for the pin, immobilizing his opponent on the mat.
“Well, it’s not crochet that’s for sure!” Thresh chimed into her thoughts as the crowd applauded the winner of the match.
This was going to be a long day.
__________________
She needed to focus, now. Forget she was in the final of the Olympic Archery Tournament. Forget her dream was an arrow away. Forget she needed a nine to win the gold.
She had to remember the wind, how it came lightly from the right to the left, how she needed to bend the trajectory just a little. She had to calm her beating heart.
To forget Peeta was in the stands, watching. Katniss had cheered him on as he won his own gold medal two days ago, but now it was her moment.
She needed to forget.
The way he had chased her when she tried to make a quiet exit.
To forget how they had kissed.
Their own celebration.
She had to clear her mind of all this.
Forget. Focus.
A deep breath.
Visualizing the arrow hitting the center of the target.
The chronometer was ticking. Tick. Tock.
It was her last arrow. Her concurrents had already shot their own.
She needed a nine.
Only twelve seconds remain.
She rose her bow.
Eleven seconds.
Remembered her father’s proud look when she had won her first trophy.
She let the arrow fly.
She knew it would be a ten.
She had won the gold.
She fell to her knees, feeling the tears pooling in her eyes.
“I did it, Papa, I won … I hope you’re proud..”
The applause around her made her lift her head, then stand up, before she ran towards the stands, her bow still in hand, her eyes fixed on a figure that was coming down the stairs, towards her.
She felt his arms around her as he hugged her over the bleachers, felt his hands going to her face as he looked into her eyes.
“You remember to shoot straight, Grasshopper…” he whispered, for the two of them only.
“Yes, Sensei”, she replied before kissing him.
Click.
FIN
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Unholy Matrimony Pt. 1 (Nessian)
Nesta’s part of the Damnation Series.
OOF this took so long sorry. I rewrote it, changed it, then deleted it entirely about 9 times. I literally started writing the version before you, from scratch, on Sunday. All parts are linked below, so I’m only tagging people on this version! To go to the next chapter, there is also a link at the bottom <3
ALSO, an important caviat: Nesta is an only child in this one! I originally wrote it for her to be adopted and not know it, but it wasn’t really relevant to the story, so... idk. Just ignore that plot hole I guess.
Parts 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 -- pls like each part I’m insecure
______________________________________________
~Cassian~
“You’re getting married.”
The glass of bourbon halfway to my mouth pauses, because despite being known for being rash and unpredictable, even I’m surprised by the sudden change in conversation.
My eyebrows raise as I look over at Rhysand, my best friend and Capo, trying to figure out if this bastard is serious. His tone says he is, but that doesn’t make sense, because before a few seconds ago, the word “marriage” was in neither of our vocabularies.
He’s been single for as long as I have, although I’m starting to suspect he’s got a bird in the city. He’s too damn happy these days, and the other day I saw him laugh at something on his phone.
Which is weird, because we both know long-term commitments don’t really do well with our lifestyle.
We were raised to not give a shit about anything except the job. We kill without remorse, live in the shadows, and whatever other shitty euphemism you want to use. Settling down in some suburban, picket-fence prison has absolutely no appeal to Made Men.
Don’t get me wrong, most of us get married at some point. But never for love.
Some men choose a bride that’s pretty and sweet. Someone who will donate to charity and help clean up their image. Governors’ daughters, women from old-money families, and social princesses make up this category.
Some men marry to advance their station in the Family. Second sons who will never inherit the business marry daughters of Underbosses to get a nice boost to their status.
And then there’s the ones who are forced to marry by their capo--ie. me-- so they choose whatever attractive woman that’s in the Family and available. Those are always the happiest.
But regardless of the reasoning, marriage in the mafia is heartless, political, and for me, unnecessary.
I know I’ll have to pick someone eventually, but there aren’t a whole lot of desirable options at the moment. Not many of the other Underbosses have daughters that are over the age of fifteen right now, and I have no interest in doing the child-bride thing.
Plus, there’s no way I’d marry someone outside of the family. At my rank, it isn’t an option.
That leaves... a widow?
The only one I know is Ianthe, and considering I highly suspect she killed her last husband and the fact that she’s crazy, there’s no way in hell I’d legally bind myself to her for life.
So he must be joking.
I take a pull from my cigar and look over at Rhys with narrowed eyes. “Uh huh. Sure. To who, exactly?”
“Volchonok.”
The Wolf Cub.
The cigar snaps in my fingers.
“You’re fucking kidding,” I say, honestly hoping that’s the case. He’s either that or insane, and I’d hate to lock someone who’s like a brother to me in a padded room.
Rhysand’s unflinching gaze doesn’t change, but his tone morphs from that of my friend to my boss. “You will marry her, Cassian.”
“She’s a fucking Russian,” I spit, not understanding. That should be reason enough for him to be joking.
In our world, being Russian is a crime similar to stabbing the Pope.
We’ve been at war over New York with them ever since they decided to try and get a stronghold on the east coast, and I’ve killed more of them than I can fucking count. Now I’m marrying one?
“Yes, she is, and so is her father, Alexei Olov.” Aka the Bratva Boss responsible for blowing up half of St. Petersburg last year when the local police refused to buy his weapons. “You will marry her, move to New York full time, and run the city with her by your side.”
“Why? Two or three more years, and we’ll have the city anyway.” Every day the Russians get weaker, and I’ve been responsible for pushing them out of my city block by block.
So there has to be a reason we’re suddenly okay with the enemy.
Rhysand sighs. “It was his idea, not mine. Orlov has agreed to sell our coke in Moscow and Seattle instead of his usual dealer and will supply us all the weapons we need for five years. There will also be no more midnight raids, bullshit arrests on bullshit charges, or missing shipments. He’s offering you a dowry, too.”
I don’t need his money, but the old fashioned term makes me laugh.
“Yeah? And how much does he think his wolf cub is worth?”
His lips twitch. “Ten million.”
“She must be a real pain in the ass, then, if he’s going to pay me that much to take her,” I chuckle.
Not that ten million dollars is anything but pocket change for the man. Orlov may be losing the fight in New York, but the bastard is richer than sin.
Selling arms to half of the entire world will do that to a person.
“I hear she’s beautiful,” he says, trying to tempt me to not fight him.
“Then you marry her,” I shoot back, not ready to give up the argument.
“I don’t feel like it.” Fucking typical. Rhysand sighs. “You and I both know we can work this deal to our advantage, so what will make you say yes?”
He could order to me to say yes and I’d have to, but he hates enforcing that kind of authority with me.
So I think it over, make a show of lighting a new cigar. “I want Sera.”
It’s a burlesque club in New York I’ve always been a little envious of, owned by Orlov and operated by his men. I’d tried to buy it a few years back but hadn’t had enough leverage on the Russian to strongarm him into selling.
Now I do.
Rhysand--the only one who knows about my failed attempt to buy the place--nods and tells me he’ll make it happen.
“When’s all this happening, anyway?”
He looks like he might laugh. “Wedding is in a month, but she’s flying in tomorrow night.”
A quick laugh forces its way out of me. Also typical of him to give me absolutely no time to change my mind.
Well, I have a month. That’s already longer than any relationship I’ve ever had.
Sighing, I stand and shake his hand, cementing the deal before I can even lament the loss of my bachelorhood.
~Nesta~
“Chto sluchilos?”
I slide my gaze to my father, because seriously, that’s the stupidest fucking question I’ve ever heard.
What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Everything.
“Nichego,” I lie, assuring him for what feels like the tenth time as I look out the window. The plane picks up speed and lifts off, taking me towards an uncertain future, an uncertain place.
I might have told him nothing’s wrong, but inside, I’m screaming.
Three days ago, I woke up to find a marriage contract on the pillow beside me. There was a blank space where my name had been typed and a pen waiting for me to remedy that.
I still haven’t.
I’m not signing anything until I meet this... Cassian.
God, what an Italian name.
An image springs to mind, one of a slumped-over, hairy-chest beast with slicked back hair and a gold chain.
I know it’s stereotypical and hopefully incorrect, but I’ve never been to Italy and Alexei strictly forbids me watching movies that portray Italians as anything except revolting.
But looks aside, there’s one thing I don’t need to guess to know.
My future husband will be like all the other men in my life: controlling.
Men in the world I live in take what they want, don’t ask for permission, and feel like they’re entitled to anything and everything. I’ve dealt with it my entire life, so it’s more amusing than anything at this point.
I guess I’m a bit non-traditional in that sense, considering most of the women around me have no problems taking orders from their fathers or husbands. But Alexei and I figured out pretty early in life that wasn’t going to work for me.
As he frequently likes to tell me, I started telling him to fuck off when I was five.
What did he expect? All the kids I hung out with were the opposite sex and at least five years older than me, so my vocabulary and mannerisms became pretty... colorful early on.
Regardless, I’m just not looking forward to having to deal with yet another man who thinks he can control me.
“Ty vresh',” Alexei accuses, lips twitching. You’re lying.
“Konechno.” Of course.
Of course I’m upset, but I understand what’s happening. I might have found out about it three days ago, but I’ve known it was coming for far longer.
As the only child of the great Alexei Orlov, Wolf of Moscow and Pakhan of the Russian Bratva, I’ve been told my entire life that I will one day be used as a pawn to gain more power.
It would--should--piss me off, but I’ve also been told I’m to one day take my father’s place and run his company.
So by gaining more power for him, I’m also doing the same for myself.
Not that I really give a shit about that kind of thing. I started officially working for Alexei years ago, and I already have enough money saved to never have to work again.
But in the Bratva, there’s no getting out. I was put in this world by birth, and the only thing that will take me out is death.
In case it isn’t obvious, I’m not a typical business woman.
My father is an arms-dealer.
A less than legal one, if you believe the heinous lies the media spreads about him.
He sells weapons to governments, private armies, and whoever the fuck else has the money to buy.
He’s also built himself a shipping empire to haul said weapons around the globe, runs the drugs and prostitute rings in Moscow, and has enough real estate to rival most small countries.
It probably sounds like I don’t care, and that’s because I don’t.
I like what I do in the sense that I have a mind for business. I went to business school and graduated at the top of my class, and I enjoy running the clubs and hotels I have. Trained by Alexei himself, I’m ruthless in negotiations, enough so that people started calling me the Wolf Cub by the time I was twenty.
But despite being good at it, I’m not particularly fond of the aspect most people think of when they picture my career in the Bratva. I detest drugs, have never hired a prostitute, and don’t really enjoy selling arms to bad people.
The alleyway meetups, the broken bones and bullet holes, and the blown up houses are all a little tiring to me.
Sure, it sounds exciting. And for a while, it was. I used to lose myself in the chaos, used to enjoy coming home with busted knuckles. But I honestly just got tired of it.
Right now, I don’t have to deal with it as much because Alexei’s still alive. But when he dies and I officially take over the family business, I’ll have to be more involved. Even if the thought makes me want to sigh.
I pull out my laptop and look over the financial report for Sera, my newest club in New York. As predicted, everything’s running smoothly.
I turn the laptop around to show my father, grinning when he pulls out his reading glasses and leans closer.
“Starik,” I tease. Old man.
He flicks my forehead, then reads the report and nods. Then he turns to his phone, probably playing Angry Birds or some shit, and leaves me to work.
The plane ride goes by quickly, and by the time we’ve landed in Chicago, I’ve gotten ahead on my schedule for next week, slept, and changed into what I’ve chosen as the “meeting my future husband” dress.
It’s simple and sleek, the black material clinging to my curves without being obscene. It’s long enough to hide the holster on my thigh, not that I feel in any danger with four personal guards stationed near me at all times.
My heels click as I make my way down the plane stairs and across the tarmac to the waiting sedan, and once my luggage and belongings are unloaded, we head to the Italian Capo’s house.
We’re meeting here, finalizing the contract, and then Cassian and I are flying to New York.
My new home.
“Try to look happy,” Alexei tells me, his heavily accented English almost ridiculous to hear. He speaks English only when he’s in the states, and considering he hasn’t come here since I graduated B school two years ago, he’s a little out of practice.
“I’m ecstatic,” I say, intentionally using a word I know he doesn’t understand.
His eyes narrow, because it isn’t the first time I’ve used this trick, but he doesn’t call me out on it. We continue to ride in ecstatic silence, eventually pulling up in front of the Capo’s... house.
It’s almost obscene to call it that, considering it’s fucking huge. Like obnoxiously huge.
I heave a sigh, step out of the car, and take in my surroundings. The neighborhood’s quiet, likely filled with friends of the Cosa Nostra too scared to make any noise.
A butler--seriously, a butler--opens the door and welcomes us inside, and as soon as I step in, I have to repress the urge to roll my eyes.
The amount of dirty money in the air is suffocating. It drips off the vaulted ceilings, down the artwork on the walls, across the marble floors. It’s in the little details of the crystal chandeliers and the mahogany staircase.
Ridiculous.
One look at Alexei’s disgusted face says he’s thinking the same thing.
Don’t get me wrong, we’re rich. Grossly so. Alexei could have ten houses just like this, if he wanted them.
But he doesn’t. He owns property all over the world, but most of it is commercial or apartment complexes--property that makes him money, in other words. This, however, is a massive waste of capital.
The butler leads us further through the house and into an office where four men wait.
One is immediately identifiable as their lawyer, his over-priced cologne making me have to resist the urge to sneeze. The humongous man in the corner is hired muscle, if the boxy shape of the guns under his jacket is any indication.
The man behind the desk is obviously in charge, so I’m guessing he’s the Capo. Rhysand or Rhyland or something weird like that. He takes me in silently, bright eyes not seeming to miss any details.
That leaves the man leaning against the desk to be Cassian Azara.
My fiancé.
Our eyes meet, his golden gaze beautiful and wild, and I have to remember to keep my expression bored.
Because the stereotype, the horrible image I’d conjured up in my mind, couldn’t be further from the truth.
For one, he isn’t hunched-over. He stands tall, leaning a hip against his Capo’s desk with obvious confidence. But I see more than just self-assuredness in his eyes. He seems a little too rough around the edges, wild gaze almost like he’s daring someone to swing at him.
If the confidence didn’t already make him attractive, his looks sure as hell get the job done.
His hairs long and dark and curly, half of it pulled up in a rouge manner that clashes with the suit he’s filling. He has a few days’ stubble, too, like standing still long enough to shave just isn’t an option.
His shoulders are impossibly wide, narrowing down to trim hips and legs long enough to make him tower over everyone in the room.
His knuckles are tattooed and split open, and there’s a cut above his eyebrow that tells me I was correct to assume he’s a fighter by nature.
Usually, that would be a deterrent for me, but there’s something about the way he’s dressed in a dark suit jacket and crisp white shirt while also looking so untamed that has me cocking my head to study him some more.
He studies me, too, beautiful eyes taking in the long blonde hair and bright blue eyes offset by pale skin. He looks at the dress like he can see everything underneath, and I have the strangest urge to blush. Jesus, he’s toxic.
He’s attractive, is what I’m getting at.
Which is not what I had planned on, considering I’d been trying to think of a plan on how to not sleep with him, but suddenly that’s all my mind can focus on.
His lips twitch like he knows what I’m thinking, and I realize we’ve just been standing here staring at each other for a bit too long.
So I turn back to Alexei and shrug like I’ve seen what my future husband has to offer and aren’t impressed in the slightest.
I toss the marriage contract on the desk, grab the Capo’s fancy little fountain pen out of his hand, and sign my name on the blank above my name.
Cassian watches, but I ignore him entirely until the ink has dried. Then I look up at him through my lashes and wink, turn on my heel, and leave the room.
~Cassian~
I think I’m in love.
Fuck.
She hasn’t said a single goddamn word, but the way she looked at me has me feeling itchy all over, anticipation and nerves rolling through me. I feel like I feel before I fight or something exciting happens.
Like I’m primed and ready and need it to happen now.
Nesta Orlov, my bride to be, is nothing like I expected.
I was fully braced for some meek little woman, similar to most of my friends’ wives, to come in and smile and say hello.
But nope. Nesta didn’t smile; she came in like she was walking onto a battlefield.
And she didn’t smile. She looked me over, clinical blue gaze noticing too much, and left me feeling winded. God, she’s beautiful. Just looking at her made me hot.
She also didn’t say hello.
Just signed the contract and left, like this was nothing more to her than a boring business deal. I mean, that’s what it is, but... I don’t know, I expected more of a reaction.
I’ve heard from some Underbosses that their wives cried or raged when they were forced to sign, but shit if that were the case with Nesta. She honest to God looked like she didn’t care.
Alexei, on the other hand, does look a little pissed about the situation, but I couldn’t care less of the old man’s opinion. He’s signed the contract, so to me, he’s irrelevant. Regardless, he and Rhys proceed to iron out some of the details about the wedding and other shit I’m not paying attention to.
Then they shake hands, and the Russian warlord turns to leave.
He reaches the door and looks over his shoulder at me, and there’s amusement in his cold gaze as he mutters, “Udachi.” Good luck.
As soon as he’s gone, Roman and the lawyer follow, leaving me alone with Rhys.
He slides the contract to me, and I sign my name next to hers, making this shit official.
“This should be interesting,” he comments, vague as usual.
I sigh, because I have a feeling interesting isn’t going to cover it.
_____________________________________________________
NEXT CHAPTER
Tags: @elorcan-trash @januarystears @emikadreams @sjm-things @santas-dwynwen @thebitchupstairs @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @masstrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace
#nessian#nessian fanfiction#acosf countdown#acosf#nesta archeron#cassian#acotar#acotar fanfiction#acosf fanfiction#a court of mist and fury
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Cinnamon and Roses- A Cupcakes and Therapy moment
Summary: A soft night in the bakery, fresh flowers and cinnamon sugar.
A/N: Here's the next bit of Cupcakes and Therapy, a late night date and some deep conversations. Hope you enjoy!
Word Count: 1707
Warnings: Angsty sadness
Part 1
Masterpost
The day had felt like it would never end. The bakery had been busy this morning, a rush of people almost selling out the fresh pastries you’d spent last night baking. The afternoon had brought an unbearable heat that was only made worse by the warmth of the oven. The only thing keeping you going was the thought of seeing Bucky after you had closed the shop for the night.
You’d scoured your recipes trying to find something you’d think he’d like. You knew he liked the simple things, so you’d found a cinnamon bun recipe that you hoped he’d enjoy. You’d closed the shop a few minutes ago and were now preparing the kitchen when there was a knock at the door. You walked out from the back and saw Bucky standing on the other side of the glass, a bouquet of fresh flowers in his hands.
You open the door and let him in, accepting the flowers that he hands to you, “Bucky! These are beautiful, thank you.”
You reach up to place a kiss on his cheek, and suddenly he’s blushing like a teenager and you’re giggling at him. Bucky follows you into the back and watches as you place the flowers in a vase, “It’s rude to stare, ya know.”
Bucky chuckles at that. “Not starring, just admiring the view.”
You busy yourself with grabbing the last few things you need for the cinnamon rolls, willing the blush on your cheeks to go away. You turn around to face Bucky, handing him an apron, “Here, put this on. We’re making cinnamon rolls, you’re gonna get messy.”
He takes the apron from you and ties it around himself while you start explaining the first few steps. You begin preparing the dough mixture while instructing Bucky on how to do the yeast. You move in a sort of synchronized dance, the both of you falling into a comfortable rhythm, the only sounds being you uttering the next step of the recipe.
When it comes time to let the dough rise, you invite Bucky back into the front and bring out two bottles of beer. “When did you open the bakery?” His voice is a smooth break in the silence.
“When I was 20. I’d decided university wasn’t for me, dropped out after the first semester and ended up travelling for about a year. I ended up in this little town on the border of Spain and France. There was this bakery I’d go to every morning, run by a pair of older ladies, the spunkiest women I’d ever met, Emile and Lucía. After about the third or fourth day, they stopped me and asked in broken English, why I was always alone. I ended up spending the day with them telling them everything I could, a conversation of broken words. At the end of the night they offered me a job, said we could teach each other languages and I could learn to bake.”
You took a moment then, to catch your breath, to ease away the pain of the memories. Bucky hesitantly grabbed your hand, running his thumb along the back of it. With a shaky breath, you continued. “I spent months there, learning every recipe I know. Then one day when I came in, Emile was sitting at one of the tables, and she looked at me. I knew something was wrong but couldn’t bring myself to think about how bad it could be. She told me that Lucía was gone, she had went to bed the night before and never woken up. Suddenly the dream I had been living for almost a year had turned into a nightmare. Emile couldn’t bear to run the bakery anymore and my visa was about to expire, so I helped her sell it. We had a small funeral, Lucía had no family, so it was just us. After that I came back here, took some courses and bought this place.”
You wiped a few stray tears from your cheeks and looked at Bucky. He’d been watching you with a soft gaze, lost in your story. “They meant a lot to you, I can tell. They were your second family.”
You scoff at this, “More like my only family. After I left university, my parents cut me off. Haven’t spoken to my sister since highschool. She moved across the country with her football scholarship boyfriend after graduating, I think she’s got a little boy now. Emile and Lucía were all I had.”
“I know what it’s like to lose everyone. My family’s long gone, blood or not.”
The two of you share a moment, realizing that you might be more alike than you thought. Hands still intertwined, looking into each other's eyes softly, a domestic moment. You lean in slightly, a breathes space between the two of you. Fluttering eyes and a warm hand against your cheek. A sudden ringing, a reminder of where you are and a moment gone.
You pull away from Bucky and motion for him to follow you back into the kitchen. You fall back into a peaceful silence, Bucky rolling out the dough the way you instruct as you make the filling. The two of you laugh as he spills some of the filling on himself, a small comment about the apron slipping out of your mouth, a pinch of flour being thrown at you in return.
Before you know it, the pastries are in the oven and you’re sitting back at the table. The sun has set and the moon is bright in the sky. You watch the last few people in the streets as they head home for the night, the city turning over to the hands of those seeking a drink.
This time, it’s your voice that breaks the silence. “Tell me about your family.”
Bucky looks at you, hesitancy written all over his face. The life he lived not one he shared often. He begins slowly, leaving out the terrible details, “My parents died when I was young. My mother to a sickness that took her in a week, and my father to a war. I had a sister, Rebecca, she went off to boarding school after our parents died and I didn’t see much of her. Met my best friend during school, the two of us enlisted in the army when we were young. He went in as this scrawny little kid, came out someone I ended up looking up to, literally.” A small chuckle escapes him at the memories, “After the war I spent a lot of time hating myself for the things I’d done, the people I’d hurt. Ended up finding peace for a little while, before the blip. After that, I lost everyone. No one came back the same, and now I’m here, just me and my cat.”
You look at him for a moment, the two of you basking in a soft understanding. Yesterday, you were strangers, but today you’re something more. An ache begins to form in Bucky’s chest again. He doesn’t fully understand what this is, but as he follows you to the kitchen, he’s lost in a dream of what life could be. He’s known you for 24 hours, but he already knows that you’re meant to stay, in whatever way you want.
You catch him staring at you again as you’re pulling the cinnamon buns from the oven. You think to comment on it, but decide against it, finding it endearing. “Grab me the icing please. It’s better to put it on while it’s hot so that it can soak in.”
Bucky grabs the bowl and hands it to you, your fingers brushing for a second, the ache in his chest growing stronger. You drizzle the icing over the buns carefully, almost like it’s an art form in of itself. When you’re done, you take them out of the pan, placing them gently in one of the glass containers, keeping two out on plates. “We’ll eat these two now, and the rest you can take home.”
You hand him one of the plates, taking the other for yourself, and lean against the counter. The lighting is dim and the room has grown warm from the oven, a feeling of peace falling over the pair of you. You watch as Bucky takes his first bite, a smile coming to his face, “Reminds me of the ones my Ma used to make.” Memories float behind his eyes at the thought, and you’re happy that you can allow him this peace.
Bucky’s beside you now, your head resting comfortably on his shoulder. You sit in this moment for as long as you can, enjoying the domesticality of it, something you haven’t felt in years. A small yawn escapes you, the long hours of the day finally catching up on you. Bucky looks down at you, a soft smile on his lips, “Seems like I’m keeping you up past your bedtime.”
You glance at the clock, noticing the late hour, “I’m an old lady at heart, I’m in bed by 9:30 most nights.”
Bucky chuckles lightly at this, moving to start cleaning up. He begins washing the few dishes that won’t fit in the dishwasher while you finish wrapping up the pastries. It only takes a few minutes, and soon you’re both standing at the front door, wrapping your coats around yourselves. “Can I walk you home?”
You give him a small nod, exhaustion keeping you from doing much else. You walk in silence, Bucky’s arm rubbing against yours every few steps, hands slowly inching their way towards each other, but never fully intertwining. Your apartments only a few blocks away, and before you know it you’re standing on the steps saying your goodbyes.
“I had a nice time tonight, thank you for this.”
You smile at Bucky and reach to kiss him on the cheek, “Anytime. Don’t be a stranger, call me, or stop in and say hi.”
With a small wave, you head into the building and make your way to your apartment. Bucky waits until you’re fully inside before turning and heading to his own building. A soft smile playing on his lips as he disappears down the street.
#bucky barnes#bucky barns fanfiction#bucky barns x reader#bucky barns imagine#bucky fanfic#bucky imagine#bucky x y/n#bucky fluff#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes smut#marvel one shot#marvel fanfiction#marvel#sebastian stan#sebastian stan smut#sebastian stan fluff#the falcon and the winter soldier#tfatws
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